Halfur reached across the table and drew the necklace back over to him. High Alden’s crest intrigued him. The two gems atop the third, of equal distance from the one below, and the vine of silver that wove infinite between them. He traced his finger along the silver, noting the blatant differences between it and the mannarim Balvor’s original gift was made from. Urum Brann’s forgery was so close it might even have fooled a dwarf. The copy that Salimod had put around his sister’s neck, however, was cheap enough to be considered a mockery.

His father’s solar had been pleasantly silent since his uncle finally left. Halfur had grown beyond weary of Balvor’s pitiful bleating, and was eager to hear what Salimod had to say. The human King sat across him at the dining table. Halfur noted for the first time a scar on the left side of his face. It was faint and broad like a burn. It had been brought out by the pale blue light of the crystals hanging from the vaulted ceiling of the solar.

“What happened?” Halfur asked, gesturing towards Salimod’s left cheek.

The human smiled, as he did far too often when asked direct questions. “I was reading in my own solar, and pacing about. Distracted by the prose I’d been examining, I strayed too close to a candle ensconced on a pillar and was burned by the wax. I’m surprised you can see it. It’s an old injury, and mostly faded.”

“What were you reading?”

“The Inward Lamp. It's an old text written by Malak Ysling.”

“The last true King of the Shadow Moors, before the unifying of the Marches.”

"So you've read it. What's your favorite passage?"

Halfur thought for a moment. The Inward Lamp offered a very stark view of governance. That he was familiar with it it was telling enough. He did not want to give Salimod any useful insight into his thinking, so he merely recanted the last chapter he had read, the morning Yemi had picked his lock and invaded his bedchamber. "I often ponder over the caged wolf."

"Ah yes. What weakened the wolf had strengthened the ram. There are many potent lessons contained within that axiom."

“Why the deception, Sal?” Grar asked suddenly. He had been standing near a window looking out over the long leagues beyond the mountains. In his hand was a scroll brought by a thrush from his Uncle Lobuhl. “Why put a fake necklace around Idana’s neck, and such a pitiful recreation at that?”

“The deception was for your brother's sake, Dread Sovereign. As to the quality of the forgery, we did the best we could in short time, and with our limited, human grasp of metal work.”

“And with your human grasp of metal work, you expect to learn to forge mannarim by studying one small sample?” Grar sauntered to the head of the table. Salimod was almost his father’s height while seated, but Halfur well knew how dangerous his King Father was when roused. Salimod would do well to speak honestly.

“Grar, when I learned the true nature of the chain, I did not know what to think. Had you been forging mannarim for so long you cared not who knew? Had you legions of soldiers already fielding mannarim arms and armor? Was it a token of your trust? I had only questions, and no answers. If a gryphon were to emerge from myth and roost upon your porch, would you not want to touch its plumes to see if it were real?”

“Who have you shown it to?”

“Do you wish to know the names of my smiths?”

Grar’s hands balled into fists and he stepped towards Salimod slowly. “Had my brother not mewled so belligerently, I might have patience left to be mocked once or twice.”

Salimod turned in his seat to face Grar and bowed solemnly. “Forgive me, Dread Sovereign. I meant no discourtesy. I assure you that only my master smith and his apprentice have seen the necklace. Before we left they had only just begun to examine it closely. If you want, I’ll send word to have it brought here immediately.”

Grar shook his head. “It was a gift, misgiven or not. I blame Balvor for this, but know that regardless of who’s at fault, this is a tenuous situation.”

“Grar, you have my word…”

“I have your sister, Salimod. Never forget that.”

Salimod sat up straighter and his lips spread tight. Well said, Father, Halfur thought. It’s passed time he started taking you more seriously.

“Of course,” said the human, “and I impart her gladly to your care. Please, Grar, believe me when I tell you I meant no slight to you on any count.”

Grar silently held Salimod’s gaze for a moment, then extended his arm. Salimod clasped it and bowed again. He bows far too often.

“You’re a welcome guest within my halls, Sally," his father said. "Be true to Thrond, and Thrond will be true to you.”

“May our kingdoms forever be united,” Salimod said. He left shortly after, and Grar had a half dozen porters sent up for instructions regarding the luncheon the two monarchs would later be having together. Grar was again standing by the window when he called Halfur over to him.

“Do you think he showed the necklace to anyone? Besides his smiths?” Grar asked.

“Most assuredly,” Halfur replied.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“And who would he have shown it to?”

“My guess would be that Casimiri peddler.”

“His name is Malaad. Salimod wanted to bring him here, before he knew my purpose in calling this meeting.”

“Do you think he went to Shah Assalam?”

“No. I doubt he has any direct alliances with other monarchs. He does not command the respect he believes he does. He fancies himself a master schemer, yet he is openly mocked at court in other nations.”

“Then why did King Verrold agree to foster Hale?”

“Because he respected the boy’s grandfather, and hoped to influence him to be more like King Marron, and less like King Salimod.”

“Alden Returned.”

“That’s how he was known, and in many ways it was true. Alden Gace united the Pillars of Dawn against the gnolls and drove them and their twisted pets to Noth. For the gnolls to be returning in force now, and not during Marron’s rule…”

“Other than reminding High Alden of their first king, what was Marron like?”

“Marron was a good man. Strong, brazen, plain spoken and true to his word. My father and he were like brothers, and he was to me what Gund has been to you and Ror. I remember watching Salimod grow from boy to man, and I could never figure out how the apple could fall so very far from the tree.”

“Well, Dad, that apple’s in our orchard now. What do we do with him?”

“Oh, I know what I’m going to do with him. I want to hear your thoughts. I’ll be choosing between you and Ror soon, if only to get your mother out of my beard.”

"Anxious to know, is she?”

“I think not knowing is the wolf to her ram. She’s right though, as usual. You’re both of age, and have shown great promise. The trouble I’m having is that you’re both so far apart from each other. You get on well enough, but you’re almost nothing alike.”

“I sometimes doubt Ror’s even truly part of our family. Then I’m reminded of Yemi and Balvor.”

“Don’t remind me of your uncle. I may have Idana’s life in my hands, but Salimod has the best placed spy he could hope for in my brother. To think that Salimod Gace is to be part of our family...”

“You were friendly enough when they arrived yesterday.”

“That was before you brought me that fake necklace. Besides that, I hope to have some effect on him, like Verrold seems to have had on Hale. If only he were still with us.”

“This may be an unpopular opinion, but I’m a Derrion enthusiast.”

“You and Lobuhl. He sounds well and good, but I’ve met him. I’d sooner have dealings with Primus of Drow than with that murderer.”

“You’d prefer Marcas? The fop that complained of his sword being too heavy, and his horse too tall?”

“I’d prefer Verrold, as I’d prefer Marron,” Grar sighed. “I’m grateful for you and Ror. The choice is difficult because of how competent you both are, not because one of you is a waifish fool and the other a war mongering brute. Now, on that note, how do you propose we handle Salimod?”

Halfur had been forming thoughts on how to respond to the situation in the back of his mind, but needed two questions answered before deciding the best course. “Do we know the layout of the Tall Hill?”

“We have the original plans drawn out by Narvi himself, and more recent drawings made by spies during your grandfather’s reign. We also have maps of the sewage tunnels and siege escapes under Cavanal Hill, should we need to aid, or assault the city.”

“You’re warning about Idana being at your mercy, was that idle? Or would you harm her if necessary?”

“If your warnings and threats are idle, then your whole reign is idle.”

“And Uncle Balvor? What of him?”

“I don’t jest or exaggerate when I speak of my anger toward him. Were I one of the elder kings from before the Sundering, I’d tie his beard around his neck and hang him from it. As things are, your mother swayed me from banishing him. One more brainless breach of protocol on his part, and he’ll be topside and penniless, with Idana in tow.”

“We all admire Mother, but why did you let her sway you not to punish Balvor?”

“You’ve seen me in battle, son.”

“A memory that I hold dear.”

“And how would you style my prowess?”

“Trained and competent. And you master your fury well, letting it grow until the critical moment when unleashing it has the most potent effect.”

“Thank you, son. You honor me. You keep your own blaze in check as well. And while you speak less than others, your words are well chosen. Your mother now, she's different. The fire in her rages constantly, hidden under a thin shield of civility. When I first met her, she was a wild thing, like this Den Mother character Lobuhl found. That wildness is still there, son. A hundred lifetimes in Thrond couldn’t completely chase the Red Mountains out of her. A hard enough blow, and out comes all her buried rage. She loves my little brother the way she loves all four of you. For me to send him away would be to strike that thin shield with a hammer. Better to cool myself toward your uncle than release your mother’s ire.”

Halfur nodded, then weighed the matter in his mind. He ran his finger along the silver pendant of the fake necklace while his thoughts came together. “Find an excuse to flaunt the maps and plans of the Tall Hill in Salimod’s presence. Other than that, we treat him with dignity. After they return to their own realm, we send Yemi or Klar to spend time with their children, or maybe Ror, since their Princess fancies him. We send a large enough guard for the entire capitol to see how easily we could overthrow them. All the while my siblings strengthen their friendship with his children. We put fear of our armies into the hearts of his people, and love for us into the hearts of his family.”

Grar smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder. “My son. As you command, it will be done. This was your first royal edict, and I approve. The outcome, and your response to the outcome, will sway my choice. Now go. I need some time to think before going to this luncheon.”

Halfur went to the door to the solar, when his father called his name one more time. “Yes?” Halfur said, turning to face his father and King.

“Do you desire the throne?"Grar inquired. "I’ve never asked.”

“Not in the least. But there’s nothing I won’t do to protect Thrond.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Good.”