“Bring this DOG to heel!” The shout cut through the angry rumbling of the crowd.

Harin looked into the crowd of nobles and lords that filled the throne room of Landor.

The well dressed men and women of the courts of Landor had broken down into a mob when the subject of occupation was raised.

“Sire?” A praetorian stepped forward from behind Harin.

Harin held his hand up to stay the man from entering the shouting crowd. “Hold Brago.”

Harin stood from his throne, the weight of the crown shifting on his head and digging into his brow.

“He’s occupying my lands! Recall your Legion Harin! you threaten war with us.”

“My good Lords, please let us speak about this with civility, as Zufier would want us to.” A tall man stepped forward from the crowd and put his hands up to calm the lords and leaders of the throne room.

The tall man was slim, his face pale, his skin a parlor color of one who did not seek the sun. His clothing was tailored and edged with gold.

The crowd’s rumblings reduced to a murmur as the priest of The Church of Zufier spoke out

“Thank you Father Kent.” Harin said, nodding to the priest. “My lords, you must forget who you speak to. So for that, I will forgive you.”

Silence hung in the air, the crowd of lords bristled at the comment, but said nothing.

Harin watched as some of the lords looked to the priest and then back to Harin. The others nodded along, agreeing that the priest went too far.

All in Landor knew that the Council was really behind the new church of Zufier.

“The lords simply ask for justice to be served. They ask for peace to return to the lands to the south. We know that they are affected so by the armies being there.” Father Kent spread his hands out to Karin, fiending simplicity.

Harin could see the cold calculation happening behind the Priests eyes.

For a moment he considered setting his young Praetorians on the priest. He knew that every word of his court would go to the council. Every word that the priest thought might benefit him.

“I will speak with the General.” Harin commented.

A new eruption of anger could not be calmed by the priest. The lords of Landor, all of them would not be placated this time.

“The butcher of Baratan!” One shouted, comforted in anonymity.

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“He is out of control!” Another protested.

Harin took a deep breath in, not letting his anger spill out, starring ahead into the angry mob.

They rallied, complained, and shouted at Harin.

“Lords!” Harin put his own hands up this time, calling for quiet.

The group continued, faces red and angry.

“My Liege?” a young Praetorian, Brago asked from beside the King.

Harin shook his head. “Let them have it out. This horse needs to have it’s head…”

Movement at the back of the throne room caught Harin’s eye. The door to the room opened up, silent in it’s small movement as three men slipped into the room.

Their clothing was travel worn and dusty. All of them bearded and rough.

Harin smirked, letting his lips move slightly before putting the mask of command back on his face.

The lords and the priest did not turn to see the men quietly enter the throne room, instead they stared beyond Harin, into the shadows beyond the throne.

Harin could not help himself but smile broadly as the once loud men quieted in front of him. To a man, even the priest.

You could feel the shift of power in the room.

“Please, continue your requests to the crown.” Harin said to them.

None continued.

“General.” Harin greeted his father.

“My liege.” Dragh came to stand at Harin’s shoulder.

“Please, Lords, continue.” Dragh barked.

The crowd was silent, the prospect of facing the man they accused of butchery, of invading the south suddenly not appealing.

Harin chuckled aloud, tired of the games of courts.

“If there are no more issues, then we will speak of other business in Landor.” Harin waved.

The mob of men parted, as one man strode forward to speak.

Harin raised an eyebrow. “Lord Parse.”

The Lord Parse was the Master of the Merchants Guild, out of the province of Renthan, far south of Landor. He was slight in his robes, with paunch at his middle from years of ease. His hair receded from his forehead, but he kept it long and tied at the back.

“My Liege.” Parse bowed to the throne. “He needs to leave Renthan. He needs to remove himself from the southern provinces.”

Dragh scoffed at the demands.

Harin watched as Parse’s fists clenched. His face tightened.

“The Guild DEMANDS it.”

Harin raised his eyebrow again. The threat in Parse’s demand blatant in front of the men and women of Landor’s court.

“The army will leave the southern provinces when we find those responsible for the death of the Sunborns.” Dragh said, his voice low and heavy.

“You forget who fought for you, who died for the throne in the revolt!” Lord Horatius of Renthan stepped forward, embolden by the Merchant who truly spoke for his province. “We fought for you when the south revolted, tried to steal what belonged to Landor!”

“Honor is demanded when family blood is spilled.” Cann said.

The court looked back to the Tribesmen from the North. A man of the Argu, defenders of the Tribes.

The Tribes deligation, no longer under the dominion of Landor were quiet. They rarely weighed in on Landor’s dealings, but held their seat of power in the court due to Kallen’s accords with them after the invasion of the East decades before.

Dragh nodded to Cann.

Harin nodded. “Aye, and you think that gives you leave to command a King?”

Horatius looked over to Parse and then to Father Kent.

Father Kent stepped forward, his voice calm and understanding. “My leige, of course the fine people of the southern provinces are simply asking if it is possible for the Legions to be recalled. It is after all very disruptive to trade.”

“My Legions buy their grain, their weapons, their clothing, the very food they eat from the southern provinces.” Dragh said.

The priest looked at Dragh with anger, before the look quickly disappeared to the calm demeanor that he’d held before.

“Of course General -” Father Kent started.

“You’re KILLING my people!” Lord Horatious shouted.

“My son and my wife were killed in YOUR Province Lord Horatius. I will find those responsible.” Dragh said, his words daggers.

Harin fixed his gaze on the lord. “Enough.” he said quietly.

All were quiet again.

The air was thick with frustration. The court was tense.

“I will speak with the General about your concerns.”

Harin turned and walked away from the crowd of men and women, his Praetorian’s following.

“General, I’ll see you now.” Harin called back.

Dragh glared at the court of Landor. They fled his gaze for the doors.