Several times, Ronald complained about the long march. He wasn't used to this, and neither was Relma. But Relma didn't feel like complaining.

The odd thing was that Relma was tired. Her feet hurt from the constant march, and her mouth was dry. But she wasn't weary in her mind. She judged that she could keep going like this for a long time. Her feet hurt. But she didn't mind her feet hurting. Relma had never been like other people. She wasn't sure how to feel about the fact. So she thought about things.

And at last, they came out of the woods and saw the castle.

It took Relma's breath away.

Gel Carn had been built into the side of the black mountain, but it was made from white stone. The walls were massive, perhaps thirty feet high. It had thirteen spires, all of the different heights. The rightmost one was the shortest, and they got taller as you looked further left. The tallest of them was on the keep and reached so high that it was taller than the knees of the Black Mountain.

The roofs of the castle glittered in the sun. Was the surface coated in gems? It looked like the road leading up to the gate was cobbled with them. Yet that couldn't be. They must have been colorful stones or magic or something to that effect.

"At last, Gel Carn," said Aren.

"It's beautiful," said Relma.

She didn't feel detached from this. In fact, it was almost familiar. Like Relma was returning to a home she'd never been in. But which had a part of her within it.

"Once, it was the greatest castle in all of Harlenor," said Aren. "Anoa the Bright's capital. But those days are long past."

"You mean it used to be even better?" asked Ronald.

"No," said Aren. "It is one of the few things in this world that hasn't changed. Even so, stonework and city building have come a long way since. It looks wonderful, and there are potent spells on it. But Brisgald in the northwest of Antion is the more remarkable fortification. Still, there is something to be said about history.

"This castle has seen many long years. And it will see many more to come."

"I have never much liked the place," said Aunt Pan. "It reminds me too much of Anoa."

"Isn't that a good thing?" asked Ronald.

"No," said Aunt Pan. "Anoa the Bright and I never got on very well. He was a competent administrator and a great war leader. But he was reckless and bloodthirsty."

"You only saw him toward the end of his reign, Pan," said Aren. "And anyway, you always were a sap for Orsen and Gwendoven."

"Who are they?" asked Ronald.

"Orsen was the greatest knight of Harlenor," said Aunt Pan. "And Gwendoven was Anoa's Queen. They were both very kind to me when I was a girl. Then Anoa had them both butchered."

"Why would he do that?" asked Relma.

"Because they betrayed him. Orsen started it," said Aren.

"There is no excusing what Anoa did, Father," said Pan.

"He might have overreacted," admitted Aren. "But it was Orsen who drove the country into civil war. He created the situation. The situation would have been resolved if he'd just let Anoa burn Gwendoven at the stake."

"He loved her," said Pan.

"He loved another man's wife," shot back Aren. "Now quiet, we're near the gates."

As it turned out, it really was magic. As you drew near the cobblestones, they became steadily less glamorous. It must have been some spell. Even so, the walls only became more imposing. Soon, they came before the gates.

A postern opened, and a footman emerged to meet them. "Hail, Gail Arengeth, the sorcerer of sorcerers. I am to escort you to the Steward at once."

"Hello to you too, Davian," said Aren. "I see you remain as formal as your grandfather."

"But I address you only as you are bidden, you the noblest and greatest of Elranor's servants," said Davian with a grin.

"I don't know about noblest," laughed Aren. "Lead on."

"I shall. As soon as you and your companions have bathed and dressed," said Davian. "It would be unseemly for one of your noble blood to appear in such unbefitting rags."

"My, you do have an interesting definition of 'at once.'" said Aunt Pan.

"I know not of what you speak," said Davian. "I am merely performing my duties. Follow me."

Relma looked to Aren. "Is he being sarcastic?"

"I'm not really sure," admitted Aren. "I've never been able to read Davian. Or any of his family for that matter."

They were led into side rooms, dressed in far finer outfits than any they had worn. Well, Aren and Aunt Pan had probably worn finer in the thousands of years they had been alive. And Ronald was a Lord's son, so he had dressed in a similar quality.

So it was really only Relma who was wearing something she hadn't. Though halfling fashion was much less ornate and more practical.

She now wore a flowing white dress that seemed as if it had been designed to fit her. Servants helped her get it on, and when she emerged, she was very pretty. "How do I look, Ronald?" she asked.

"Like a princess, if you want to know," said Ronald, looking at his reddish doublet. "I hate this sort of outfit. Give me a traditional waistcoat any day."

"I think it's nice," said Relma.

"That's because it's a novelty to you," said Ronald. "Wear this sort of thing a few more times, and you'll be sick of it."

"Well, don't kill the moment for me now," said Relma.

Aren emerged then. He was clad in flowing blue robes. His beard had been combed, and he wore a red hood. He looked very sorcerous. However, his expression was irritated. "Well, I'm glad you finished in less than three hours," said Aren, stalking up to them. "Pan seems to be taking her sweet time, as usual. I am pleased to see that you are more timely than her."

Aunt Pan came in. She looked absolutely stunning, dressed in a flowing black dress. Her hair was tied up behind her head, and she looked regal. "I'm here, Father. You need not drive yourself to an early grave."

"The way things are going, it can't be early enough," said Aren. "Come, let's go see what Benarus has to say. Is that acceptable, Davian?"

"But, of course," said Davian. When had he gotten here?

Then he led them through several more halls and into a grand throne room. The ceiling here was very high, and statues of ancient kings of Harlenor United stood tall on either side. There were several empty alcoves, however.

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At the far end was a throne upon a dais. Above the throne was a brilliant, shining white gem. But no one was seated in it. Instead, at the base of the throne was a simple black chair. Sitting in it was a balding black-haired man whose hands were clasped together. He looked at the ceiling as if contemplating the stars painted upon it.

Davian coughed, and the man shook as if startled, then looked up.

"My Lord Benarus," said Davian, "I present Gail Arengeth and his daughter Pandora to you. They are among the most well-documented of heroes. And some company of smaller note." He glanced at Ronald and Relma.

"Very well, Davian. I will see them alone," said Benarus.

"Excellent," said Davian. "Shall I order the guards to withdraw as well?"

Guards? What guards? Relma looked around and saw no one.

"Yes. That is what I meant by alone," said Benarus.

"As you will," said Davian.

Then he departed. There was a shifting of sorts in the room. But Relma still didn't see anyone. Yet something must have left because Benarus watched it go.

"...I hate that man," said Benarus finally. "No matter, Arengeth, I didn't call you here because I wanted you to devise a solution. So you need not be concerned."

"Really?" asked Aren. "Well, that is a refreshing change of place. What exactly did you desire my presence?"

"I need your help with negotiations with Telix," said Benarus.

"Negotiations?" asked Aren. "I am not in the mood for jests, Benarus."

"I'm not making one," said Benarus. "The situation was never meant to get this far, but things got out of control."

"How so?" asked Aren.

Benarus opened his mouth. Then he shut it. Finally, he looked back to the ceiling and took a deep breath. "Very well, I'll begin at the beginning. Some months ago, Adrian Wrynncurth contacted me. He informed me that he was yielding his domain in the Forest of Claws to the wolf demon Telix."

"And you didn't stop him?" asked Aren.

"I thought it a foolish decision and argued against it," said Benarus. "However, Wrynncurth often consults Duke Vanion Gabriel. They exchange letters regularly. Something to do with his previous lives, I think."

"Wait, why would Wrynncurth give Telix his holdings?" asked Relma.

She realized suddenly that she had spoken out of turn. But to her surprise, Benarus glanced at her in tired amusement. "His daughter and her clan of dragons were moving to different parts. That left the forest unguarded, and it wasn't long before gangs of bandits began to set up shop there. It was a nightmare putting them down. Wrynncurth wrote to Vanion for suggestions. Vanion suggested that he offer the forest to Telix in exchange for his fealty."

"Well, that is the usual sort of Vanion move," said Aren.

"Fealty from a son of Baltoth cannot be counted on," said Aunt Pan. "The will of the Dark God courses through all his children. But, please go on; I want to hear how Vanion managed to make things worse while keeping his hands clean."

"Actually, things went splendidly at first," said Benarus. "The wolves stayed out of human lands, and Telix's brood kept their hands off our flocks. But, of course, the first warning sign was when he didn't destroy the bandits. Instead, he organized them and forced them to serve him directly.

"Still better than my brother, Cervan, though. May he burn eternally in hell."

"Let us not get into Cervan. I assume Telix broke the truce," guessed Aren.

"Not directly, no," said Benarus. "Wrynncurth did that. One of the younger black dragons came down from the hills in a rage and attacked a village. He killed many villagers and devoured many cattle.

"Fortunately, Argath and his protege, Tanith, were there. Apparently, they killed the beast."

"Strange behavior," mused Aren. "Black dragons are usually more contemplative and less reckless than their brighter counterparts. What happened next?"

"As soon as that happened, Telix's brood launched a series of raids on the livestock," said Benarus. "There was a skirmish, and both sides took losses.

"There are also tales of women being kidnapped and taken into the forests. We don't know why. Fortunately, they are all commoners, so we haven't had any irreplaceable losses."

"I see," said Aren. "It seems obvious that Telix is using the situation Wrynncurth created to start a war. The usual sort of Calishan opportunism."

"That was my thought as well," said Benarus. "The problem is that Telix is allied with Wrynncurth, and he maintains that we started it. So if I try to deal with Telix directly, I'll end up attracting the wrath of Wrynncurth. He's already furious about the death of his child.

"Everyone I've sent up to try and speak with him has been driven back down the mountain. If things go on like this, I must have a war. I don't want to fight Wrynncurth or Telix, let alone both at once."

"Yes, yes, I see why you called me," said Aren. "This is one of those situations where you need an outsider to step in. Very well, I'll see to it. But I want you to do something for me in return."

"Name it," said Benarus.

"I'd like you to take these two under your wing," said Aren. "The girl is Relma, and I want her trained as a knight. However, I also desire her to teach reading and writing. As well as other things administrators need to know."

Benarus looked at Relma keenly. "Is this her?"

"Yes," said Aren. "She already figured it out. The other is Ronald, and I want him taught as a knight."

"Very well, Lord Arengeth," said Benarus. "We have an accord. I will see to it that they are taught well."

"Excellent," said Aren. "I'll set out first thing in the morning. Pan, you'll come with me."

"I think I should meet with Telix," said Pan. "I wouldn't have much to add to the discussion anyway."

"Are you sure?" asked Aren. "Telix is dangerous."

"Quite. Son of Baltoth or not, Telix is a part of these negotiations, and I want to get a sense of what he wants," said Pandora. "Once we know his objectives, we'll better know how to deal with him."

"I suppose it must be done," muttered Aren. "It has been a long road, and I'd like to retire."

"Of course," said Benarus. "Rooms have been prepared for your arrival."

"My thanks," said Aren with a smile. "Assuming no one takes any more good advice from Duke Vanion, we may avoid more disaster."

They were led away to luxurious rooms with soft sheets and pillows. But Relma was curious. Aren had mentioned this Duke Vanion before. "Aren, who is this Duke Vanion you always seem to curse."

"A man with a silver tongue and ambitions as high as the stars," said Aren, who had started to carve a block of wood with a knife. "What he lacks is the character or skill for either. He's one of those lords who appear now and then. They think they will reunite with Harlenor and become mighty kings of legend.

"I've disliked him ever since we first met. And it's only gotten worse since."

"How did you meet?" asked Relma.

Aren sighed. "It was after the First Battle of Desora that I met the real him. I'd gone to great trouble to rally the three Harlenorian Kingdoms. All our might was converging on Artarq to counter the Calishan armies.

"Unfortunately, Vanion had other ideas. He defeated them in one battle and had tea and biscuits with the Calishan King. Then he proclaimed him a worthy opponent and convinced him to go home."

"Isn't that a good thing?" asked Relma.

Aren looked up in surprise. "It could have been a decisive battle to set Baltoth back by years and years," he said. "The advantage was ours. Do you know how hard it is to get all three kingdoms to work together for even one battle? But Vanion ruined that to take all the credit for himself."

"Father, that battle could have also been a horrible defeat," said Pan. "If things had gone badly, we could be fighting off an invasion from Baltoth. So the decision was the safest one."

"Anoa and I didn't forge Harlenor by playing it safe, Pan," said Aren. "There has been all too much thought of safety. It is safer to stay at home than hunt a wolf who attacks your flock. But that doesn't make it the right decision.

"I remember when I met with him. It had been raining, and he was drinking with his officers. Raynald De Chevlon was among them, oddly enough. When I arrived with Argath Marn and met with him, he was very courteous. There wasn't a harsh word to be said to us, like a snake.

"You could tell he was always turning every situation around in his mind, trying to find all the angles. That is why I suggested King Andoa find someone else when the matter of who should run Artarq arose. He sold the position to Argath instead and filled up the treasury. We were nearly bankrupt, so it averted a major crisis.

"So it all worked out."

"But he is the Governor of Artarq now," noted Relma. "I remember you said so."

"Well, Vanion didn't take it well," said Aren. "He made a pact with a demon and used it to expose a conspiracy. One was created by a man called Duke Borinius, who was an ally of House Marn. It discredited Argath by association. Then, rather than conceal it, he feigned repentance and sought pardon from King Andoa.

"King Andoa supplied it and gave Brisgald to House Gabriel, and it was given to Arthur Gabriel. He is a good man but loyal to his family, and so is our antagonist. Later, Vanion managed to get his hands on Artarq. And now it has passed to him. Andoa always was far too nice for his own good."

"How do you know he feigned repentance?" asked Relma.

"Everything about the man is feigned," said Aren. "It's why I don't like him."

"What do you think about him, Aunt Pan?" asked Relma.

"I haven't met him in truth," admitted Pan. "Father and I don't usually stick around the same place for long, and I was busy in Escor then. Vampires and werewolves and all that." She paused. "Now, I think we should get to your lessons."

Relma was hoping things would be more exciting than this.