Only a select few people knew of Venna’s familial connection to the king. Since she was illegitimate, she had no claim to status or title. However, after proving herself without peer among shield maidens, the king, at least in private, acknowledged her, and had her join his retinue as a soldier and bodyguard. The king was quite amorous as a younger man. Because of this, he fathered many bastards. To his credit, he endeavoured to see to the basic needs and welfare… at least the children he knew about.

They remained in their embrace for a few moments more, while the king whispered in her ear. What words they exchanged, those gathered could only guess. He held her away from himself as he looked upon her, to ensure that she had recomposed herself.

The king turned, with one arm still around Venna’s shoulder, and waved away his guards. He led them all inside the palace to where the rest of the nation’s rulers had gathered.

King Ulden brought Venna, Jarl Sigtrin, Erik and Orn into the meeting room. There was a large, varnished, oval-shaped table in its centre. The table was a six-inch thick cross-section of a gigantic tree that was around sixteen feet in its widest diameter, with six thick legs attached to it.

Some servants brought in additional chairs for the new arrivals, while King Ulden made the introductions. Present were Grand Duke Viggin of Holvela, the crown prince and heir to the Utstad throne; Duke Thayn of Skord, the king’s second son; and Duke Harolf of Bruderman, the king’s youngest. All the men in the room dressed casually, similarly to their father.

Governmentally, the King is lord of all Halder people and governs Ustadland directly. He also controls the three other nations indirectly through their rulers, his three sons. The Kingdom of Ustadland is on the northwestern border of Holvela.

The first to speak was Grand Duke Viggin, a tall wiry man. His features were a strange contrast of dark, almost black eyes, with blonde, on the verge of being white-coloured hair, and a long thin beard that reached his sternum. He addressed Venna. “So, half-sister, eh? I have heard of you, but I am not surprised that you made a name on your own, considering your bloodline.”

Venna dipped her head and responded, “Your Grace.”

“Come now, we aren’t in public, so no need for formality. After all, we are family…apparently.” As he said this, the other rulers laughed and thumped the table, throwing suggestive looks in the king’s direction, as they had already had a few horns of mead.

Orn could only sit there silently, as he was still exhausted. But Erik, feeling that his mother was being insulted, stood up and thumped the table as he glared at Viggin.

At which point, a bear of a man with deep blue eyes, red-brown hair and beard, slapped the table. “Oh-Ho-Ho-Ho-o!” he chortled, and then said “Would you look at that Viggin! The pup bares his fangs!” This brought out fresh gales of laughter.

The remaining man, who had light red hair and beard, with light brown, almost golden eyes, set in a sharp-featured face that seemed to look perpetually amused, chimed in with, “What do you expect, Harolf? He is our nephew, after all.”

“You make a fine point, Thayn, a fine point.” Harolf stated as he continued laughing.

The king allowed his sons to joke around a little longer, before standing and banging his empty horn cup on the table like a gavel. “My sons, we have a new situation. It would seem there was an attack on our people, violating our sovereignty.”

At this, the smiles and relaxed air of the meeting evaporated. The king continued, “While it requires further investigation, evidence is pointing towards an incursion into Sofjorland by a group of Nevan Imperial Legionnaires.” King Ulden allowed that to sink in, before continuing, “Venna Avdlak here, killed some of them, and captured one who is being held in the guardhouse cells as we speak.”

As the king was saying this, Orn slid off his chair to the right, and Venna quickly moved to grab him. The King saw this and yelled, “Get Gereld in here, now!” as Venna gently lowered him to the floor. Outside, the sounds of chinking metal and running feet as palace guards ran off to summon Gereld Vinter, the king’s mage.

Venna was holding Orn, a frantic look on her face. After a short while, an elderly man in brown flowing robes with long, light grey hair and a beard walked into the room.

He was not tall by Halder norms, standing at around five foot ten inches, however he carried himself with an undeniable gravitas. He crouched down with surprising ease, and held his right hand over Orn’s forehead, and turned to the soldiers at the door and signalled them as he said, “Bring him to my quarters. You…” he pointed at Venna, “…come with us.” And with that, they carried Orn from the room, with Venna trailing behind.

Erik started moving to follow when Grand Duke Viggin said, “Boy, stay. You were present in the village?”

Erik swallowed nervously and nodded. It was all he could do. His mind was a rush of thoughts, trying to navigate all these revelations that were dropped on him in quick succession. How he was supposed to get all this new information straightened out, he had no idea. For the moment, he would do as asked of him. How could he not? It was a direction from his sovereign. He resolved to have a long talk with his mother about this after he had fulfilled his duty.

“Good, you can give your testimony in place of your mother.” Viggin stood, placed his hand on his heart and declared formerly, “As you are my kin by blood, I Viggin Uldenson vouch for your words as truth before Everrin, the all-knowing father of the Gods!”

King Ulden then interjected with, “Now Viggin, this is your domain. So you will summon the Nevan ambassador. We’ll want the prisoner too, so we can gauge the ambassador’s reaction to the boy’s telling of the events that night.”

Viggin responded, “Of course. Father, might I suggest we conduct this in the throne room? A more formal setting seems appropriate for this business.”

“Very well, it shall be as you say.”

To give the occasion a bit more formality, they retired to their rooms momentarily to don their stately robes and crowns. They then proceeded to the main throne room. The king took his place on the throne, and standing on the dais to his right was Grand Duke Viggin. Duke Harolf with Duke Thayn were to his left. Erik was down in front and off to the left of the dais.

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The palace guards brought the prisoner in and pushed him down into a prostrate position before the Halder rulers. He made as if to speak, but a vicious kick from a guard cut him off. The other guard hissed at him, “You will speak when spoken to maggot!”

The prisoner had no clue what the words meant, but the implications were obvious, so he kept silent.

A herald’s voice cut through the low chatter of the assembled royals, as the deep voice announced, “Gellad Crassus, ambassador for the Nevan Empire.”

Not long after that entered a short man with short dark hair and hazel eyes, wearing a toga, with a light blue cape hanging off the left shoulder, in the Nevan fashion. He stopped ten feet from the dais and kneeled before the array of royalty before him.

“Rise,” said the king in a soft, but firm voice that carried clearly, such was the acoustics of the audience chamber, especially since it was mostly empty at this time of the day.

“You summoned me, Your Majesty?”

“I did, Gellad. I did.”

“Ah forgive me Your Majesty, but why?”

“Do you see that man, facedown there?”

“I see him, Your Majesty.”

“In your native tongue, ask him his name.”

“As you wish.” Gellad turned to the Prisoner and in Nevan, asked his name.

The prisoner responded with a long pleading diatribe, which was sharply cut off by the ambassador, who asked the same question again. He got an answer this time, and faced the king to tell him, “He said his name is Luca Vannur, your majesty.”

“Luca Vannur,” the king drawled. “Tell him I may, may spare his life if he tells me why he was involved in an assault on my lands and people by Nevan men wearing the uniforms of the Nevan Imperial Legions.”

Gellad’s face suddenly drained of colour, and he stood there wide-eyed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Did you not understand the request, ambassador?”

“m-m-m ah, Your Majesty, yes, I did,” Gellad stammered. “But I, ah, this cannot be right. This cannot be.”

“Erik, speaking slowly, to the best of your recollection, recount the events of the night raiders attacked your village. Please begin with the moment you first realised your village was under assault and leave nothing out.”

Erik did as the king asked, and as he went on, detailing what he remembered, the Nevan ambassador looked like he was going to be sick. He emphatically assured the king that he did not know of the assault on the village and that it was not an action sanctioned by his government.

He turned to the prisoner and spoke in a harsh, pejorative tone in Nevan, before turning back to the king, “Your majesty, this man is a citizen of the Nevan Empire, but I offer him no protection. May I go now, Your Majesty? I need to send a message to my government. By your leave, Majesty, and Your Graces.” He said as he bowed to each one on the dais.

King Ulden, from his seat on the throne, simply turned his face to the left slowly, and with a dismissive wave of his hand, as though to brush fluff from his clothes. As the ambassador hurried from the chamber, the guards dragged the prisoner to his feet and took him back to his cell.

The king then waved toward some hanging tapestries, in a gesture that signalled for someone to come forth. A man emerged from concealment and approached the dais.

He had tanned skin, a prominent hooked nose and dark brown eyes with a hard look in them. He had black curly hair peeking out from under a dark blue fez and dressed in loose-fitting, billowy blue silk pants, topped by a green long-sleeve shirt and a black silk vest.

Shufi Bin Sayid, a middle-aged Azahri nomad, and the king’s spy. The Nevan imperial legions inexorable march south through the desert to expand their empire resulted in the enslavement of his people. He knelt before the dais and said, “I live to serve, great king.”

“Rise, Shufi. I have need of you. See to it, the Nevan ambassador’s messages do not leave Holvela. Not a one.”

“Your command, great king.”

Once he was gone from the chamber, the Halder royals, with Erik, returned to the meeting room. As they neared the side door behind the dais, Viggin clasped Erik’s shoulder and said to a nearby guardsman, “Take him to get something to eat, and then to his family in Gereld Vinter’s quarters.”

“Right away, your grace. This way, young master.”

King Ulden then turned to Viggin and said, “I know you have a good working relationship with the ambassador, and that you find him somewhat trustworthy. I cannot put faith in that, because while he may be ignorant of this, we don’t know the extent of his government’s involvement, so confine him in comfortable quarters, suitable for a man of his status.”

“Father, surely that won’t be necessary, if we just talk to the man…”

“I have spoken, so shall it be.”

“As my king commands. On an unrelated matter, may we…” Viggin’s face took on a pained expression as he hesitated.

“Yes, what is it, my son?”

“May I have a word with you, in private, Father?”

Harolf interjected in a chiding tone, “Come now brother, no secrets from us.”

“It’s unrelated to this happening. It’s a…ah, personal matter, and one that is none of your concern, Harolf.”

“We are family, son. Harolf is right. Well? Out with it, what’s on your mind?”

Viggin’s expression became pained. He took a deep breath, and sighed and said, “It’s about the boy, Erik.”

“What about him?”

“As you know, I am twenty-nine, and I have had many, well…I have been as indiscreet as Father was in the past. But unlike Father, nothing has come of it. I think…” Viggin closed his eyes to collect himself, before ploughing on, “I think I will never father my own child.”

The throne room was quiet. The brothers all glanced from one to the other. None of them knew what to say to this revelation.

The king finally broke the awkward silence with a simple, “Ah.”

Thayn finally snapped out of his shock and offered, “You mentioned the boy. What about him?”

“A good question. Well, Viggin?” asked the king.

“He is a direct descendant of yours, Father. And you just saw him. He must be going through hell in that mind of his, and yet he gave his testimony like a veteran statesman. The boy flared at me in defence of his mother’s honour, knowing full well who I was. Your blood is his blood, and it shows, by the Gods, it does! If I adopt him, it will legitimise him, and I can name him my heir.”

“What nonsense is this? You would have the son of a bastard, our future king?” shouted Harolf indignantly. “If you are half-man, then I will be Grand Duke, and you can go to Bruderman!”

Viggin launched at his brother, his face red from shame and anger. Before he could close the gap, Thayn intercepted him, hugging him and holding him back. “You have always been an avaricious little turd, you fat sod! I should have drowned you when you were born!” Viggin spat at Harolf.

“Enough!” roared King Ulden. He turned on Harolf with a hard stare, and in a menacingly calm voice said, “You Harolf are my youngest. Though I love you, you are an idiot. Thayn, you are not much more intelligent, but you are wise enough to know your limitations. Know this! Viggin will be your king. And you, Harolf, will never mention this again, understood?”

Harolf was still hot with anger at his ambition being thwarted as soon as he had a taste of it. However, he was still aware enough to realise he had just received a royal decree. He bowed his head and muttered, “Yes, Father. Your will be done.”

“What of you Thayn? We know Harolf’s thoughts as, clearly, he never learned the art of subtlety. Do you have any objections? Do you not think you should be considered to assume the throne I shall one day vacate?”

“No, Father. I don’t want to be king. I love my land, I love my people, and I love having as much freedom as I do. I am happy as I am. I have no objections.”

The king chuckled softly, “As I thought. Well, then. Viggin, you have our consent to ask the boy’s mother. I would say after we satisfactorily resolve this recent happening would be an appropriate time.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“But what of the younger brother, Orn, wasn’t it?” asked Thayn.

King Ulden answered soberly, “He is blessed, Gods touched.”

“You mean God touched.”

“No. I mean Gods, as in plural. He will be an elemental mage, and from what I hear, an extraordinarily powerful one. Untrained, he caused the ship carrying them from Sofjorland to make the journey in less than two days. Normally, it would take at least a week.” Thayn let out a long low whistle. This astonished the two other princes, so much so that they set aside their dispute from before. The gravity of Orn’s potential to be a valuable asset or an existential threat pressing on all of them.