War Prize

By James M. Greensweight

Thomas Silverlan had enjoyed studying at the Corlan University until called upon by his father to be the governor of a distant colony. He found himself forced to exchange his scholarly pursuits for a leadership role in a primitive land fraught with hardships.

Elizabeth Waldon would have been content spending her life reading tales of heroic deeds in the home of her wealthy family, and spending her evenings listening to the bards that performed for the patrons of Silvertide’s opulent tavern. Her father’s arrangement of a contract marriage for her with the Governor of a colony on the other side of the ocean changes her simple life. She quickly finds that reading about grand adventures was one thing, while being thrust into one was quite another as she journeys to a new home. One that served as a haven for pirates and was plagued by orcish raiders.

Tarken was a warrior of the Tempest Blade, nomadic orcs that had wandered the northern steppes for generations, a clan that fought viciously against the growing threat of humans in their lands. When one of his raids yields an unexpected prisoner, he sees the opportunity to deal with the human threat as no orc had done before.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James M. Greensweight
• Release date: Jun 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311402608

James M. Greensweight

James Greensweight was born and raised in southern California, where he spent massive amounts of time engrossed in fantasy novels and roleplaying games. As an adult, he served in the U.S. Army in North Carolina where he met his future wife, Angela. After leaving the military he attended college and became a high school history teacher in Arizona. He now lives in Oregon with his wife, son, and two dogs.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Year: 1131 ATF

The light of the hearth fire and oil lamps cast the main room of the Silver Fox a warm orange tinged glow that was especially welcome when contrasted with the bitter cold of winter and the snow that was falling outside.

The Silver Fox held its name as a tribute to the Silverlan family, or more precisely to the original Baron of Silverlan, a miner named Carsyn, recognized for heroism in battle a few generations back by grant of noble title and his choice of available lands that were not already deeded by the crown. People had thought him daft when, after nearly a month of thinking it over, he had chosen a hilly area on the eastern coast of Corlan.

Over the course of the first year, the harbor town was constructed. Since the newly landed Baron refused officially naming it, the locals had taken to calling it Baron’s Folly, though never to his face. There was no point in making a port on the east coast of the isle that made up the Kingdom of Corlan. The great trade cities were all along the southern and western coasts, closer to the main continent and other kingdoms with which to do business.

It was the following year that people found out why this land had been chosen and why the baron had decided not to name his lands or the harbor town yet. That was the year that the first ore began coming out of the mine. That was when the New Barony became Silverlan the land of silver, and Baron’s Folly officially got the name Silvertide.

The baron had spent the month selecting his land taking a journey to confirm that the area was as rich in the precious metal as a friend of his had once told him. What others thought as a poor choice had turned out to be a rich land indeed.

Carsyn became the first Baron Silverlan, and his shrewd choice earned him the nickname the Silver Fox, from which this inn proudly took its name.

Being the namesake of the Baron, The Silver Fox was no common taproom. Part of the agreement with the original baron’s heir was that the establishment could only bear his nickname as long as it maintained an image and atmosphere that was a suitable tribute to him.

Most of the inn had tables for those who came to partake of the the food the kitchen prepared, but a few padded sofas were arranged for those who merely came to socialize and listen to musicians. Fine rugs covered large sections of the floor, insulating patrons from the chill wood beneath.

The one thing that most spoke to the opulence of the Silver Fox was the windows. Only a half a dozen or so of the more wealthy homes in Silvertide had real glass and the tavern was one of only building with stained glass. Though its windows did not tell stories, like the ones at the Temple of the Holy, their images of foxes playing in the woods were still an extravagant display by local standards.

Because of its high quality, this inn catered solely to the wealthy, the cultured, the heads of the craft guilds, minor nobility and others of like sort. It was for the kind of people that sipped wine while enjoying the sound of whichever bard was playing, just as Elizabeth Waldon was doing that night.

Her parents used to bring her here as a little girl once a week. Her father, as the head of the carpentry guild, was always given a good seat, the same cushioned couch on which, as a young adult, she now sat with her mother, Ilayna. Unfortunately, as the guild grew in influence, and the council of Guild Masters became more and more involved in the politics of the Silverlan barony, her father joined them less and less often. It had been roughly a year since he had joined one of their music nights.

Still, Elizabeth never missed the chance to hear the bards and, more often than not, her mother joined her, as was the case this night.

In addition to the entertainment, it was a chance to wear her nicer dresses. The royal blue silk dress trimmed with black lace she now wore was one of her favorites despite the fashionably tight corset and wide hoops being difficult to move in. Her mother always told her how the blue and black made her blonde hair and light blue eyes stand out in contrast.

More importantly, at least in her opinion of things, these nights out were opportunities to hear tales of adventure and romance from the performers of the night, and have stories she had read take on life in song.

Four regular entertainers lived locally and performed at the tavern, three men and one woman. Each had their set nights and their particular specialties. One was a lute player with a decent voice but a limited repertoire, one played the fife but did not sing at all, the other two were a husband and wife duo, she danced and he played a hand-drum that was designed to make a tambourine like noise along with his playing.

Tonight was the fife player’s night, and his melodies had provided a wonderful atmosphere for the evening, but it was the bards that followed after who she had been most eager to hear.

In addition to the regular, with his instrumental pieces on the flute, two other bards were present that Elizabeth had never heard before. This had been the reason she had been even more eager than usual to come this particular night. For all the wealth and prosperity the mines had yielded, the Silverlan barony was still quite a bit off the beaten path for most travelers.

New entertainment was a rare treat and the regulars were always happy to share the stage for an evening, within limits, secure in the knowledge that the profits from a crowd drawn by the fresh act would more than outweigh any lost tips from being on stage for two candle marks less that evening. The standard agreement was for any visitors to perform once each candle mark, while the regular would have the rest of the night, and consequently the majority of the tips since each kept the amount placed during their performance time.

Tonight’s extra performers were a husband and wife duo that had arrived off a ship only two days before, but word was already spreading of their skill. Rumor was they were sailing out again the next day and Elizabeth just had to hear them before they left.

She watched as they clasped hands with the flute-player, while trading places with him for the performers spot near the hearth. The man was of average height, his hair brown had a touch of lighter highlights to it. His physical appearance was average, the type of person that could blend in easily with any crowd without being that memorable, but when his fingers began to coax the music from his lute, she knew no one that heard him play would ever forget him.

Renowned through all the known land was the bard

Traveling the long roads from inn to inn

Out on his own under the night sky starred

The wandering minstrel named Elosin

This bardic duo wove a tale that she had heard many times before. It was one of her favorites, the song of Esolin and Krysten, but they did it in a new way she had never thought of. The man sat by the hearth, playing the sweet strands of the melody on his lute and singing the part of the Esolin. Telling in rich full tones of how the great bard, disheartened with playing and thinking about giving up his craft, stopped to set up camp for the night near a secluded area of woods and took out his lute to play before settling in to sleep.

The woman, her red hair waving about her as she danced, sang the part of Krysten, the elusive elf princess lured by the bard’s song, torn between her love of a human and her duty to her own reclusive people.

The woman’s voice was every bit as talented, but in a completely different way. Her voice was light and airy but in a perfect contrast to his as she sang her part.

Through the trees the sweet song reached unseen ears

The sound picked out by the maiden, Krysten

And the tune she heard made her heart quicken

Subtle strands moving Elven eyes to tears

While this was one of Elizabeth’s favorite tales, she had only ever heard it performed by solo bards before. The interaction between this pair, who clearly loved each other as much as the characters they portrayed, lent a completely new element to the presentation. The way the woman would dance close then hasten away just as the male bard reached for her during a rest in the melody only took a few feet of space yet captured the feel of the eleven maiden disappearing into the vast woods, made this, by far, the best rendition Elizabeth had ever had the pleasure to see performed.

As the song continued on, Elizabeth felt her own heart quickening in anticipation of what was coming. She knew the story so well, but these two made her feel almost as if she were there.

When the lute player dropped his notes into a deep mournful dirge and slumped his posture to symbolize Esolin slowly dying from the arrow he had been shot with by an elvish warrior, she frowned in sympathy, despite already knowing the end of the story.

When the dancing woman rushed to his side and took his face in gently her hands, Elizabeth’s heart pounded in anticipation.

She, near unaging, knew what must be done

She had been trained in magic of the fae

Eight centuries more, were her given lot

She gave unto him a half of her life

With a kiss, she begged his spirit to stay

With her sacrifice his future was bought

Not human nor elf, but husband and wife

The dancer playing Krysten slowly leaned in for the kiss that would save the bard’s life by trading away a portion of her own, and Elizabeth could feel a tear escaping the corner of her own eye to roll down her cheek.

The performers lips touched and the lamenting dirge slowly picked of speed again, symbolizing life returning to the Elosin character, until it was a festive tune and the dancer took a seat by her husband, leaning lightly on his shoulder while the last strains faded away, leaving behind the joy of the happily ever after that was to follow.

It was only then that the people in the Silver Fox seemed to realize that the entire time the bards had been performing, the tavern had been in utter silence except for the music. Not just the polite quite of not interrupting one normally expected, but a complete silence, with all attention on the song and the singers.

Even now, it seemed as if no one wanted to break the still, as if the sound of applause would be a sacrilege to the performance. The sharp slapping of hands a harsh sound following such beautifully rendered music.

Then, as if practiced and on some unknown cue, the silence broke and the tavern erupted in cheers.

Thank you, The male bard called as he and his wife took their bows, I trust you will all excuse us for a time. Now that we have sung for out supper, we would like to take a break long enough to feast upon our wages. We shall perform the Ballad of Arwel in a candle mark. Meanwhile, please enjoy Adrian Carvie’s wonderful flute playing.

As the bards stepped from the cleared space by the hearth, clasping hands again with the flute player as he resumed his place, patrons pressed in to offer them tips for their performance with more enthusiasm than Elizabeth had ever seen.

She always tipped performers. The agreement with the tavern owner only secured them a room and food, any additional money they made came from the generosity of their listeners, and for most bards the audience could be quite stingy. She had always considered it a shame how much people underappreciated the skill and dedication bards devoted to their craft.

Tonight the patrons of the Silver Fox seemed more than eager to show their appreciation, as copper coins, and even a few silver ones, began to ring in the hearthside bowel set for collecting tips.

Come on, mother, Elizabeth grinned, I want to meet the performers.

If you insist. After all, they were quite good, her mother smiled in return, But only for a few moments. It is getting late and I am sure they would like to eat in peace.

She practically pulled her mother with her to where the bards sat at the table nearest the kitchens. A table set aside for performers simply because its proximity to the cooking area’s noise and its lack of view towards the performing area made it the least favorable for the regular patrons.

Elizabeth smiled as she approached, but the smile faded when she saw the plates before the performers were nothing more than bread and vegetables. This is all they are giving you? she asked in shock. Even the worst bards who performed got beef stew and these two were of a quality that made her wonder why they were not performing in a noble court instead of an inn, Let me get you some beef, or at least chicken.

No, please don’t, the female bard replied quickly with a slight tone of worry in her voice. Elizabeth figured the woman did not want anyone making a fuss over her, but the man’s laughter made her less sure.

We do not eat meat, he smiled kindly, clearly amused by his wife’s sudden panic at the idea, But your offer is appreciated.

You don’t eat meat? Ilayna asked.

No, the red haired woman replied, her simple smile was infectious, We do not want an animal to die for us when we can simply eat something else. Would you care to join us?

Please, Elizabeth all but begged, and as soon as she had her mother’s consent, she took a seat opposite the performers and set two silver coins on the table, roughly the cost of a new dress or a particularly nice meal, Your performance was amazing and that is my favorite tale.

Ours as well, The male performer smiled as he exchanged a loving glance with his wife, Two hundred years old, that story is. Legend has it, it was written by the very bard and elf whose tale it tells.

We’re both a bit old to believe in elves, Ilayna grinned but Elizabeth frowned in response. She knew elves were just tales for children’s stories but at just shy of twenty, a part of her still resented being reminded they were not true. She liked to imagine that elves were out there in the woods somewhere, but her mother was not one prone to indulging fantasy.

No offence, milady, the male performer ran his fingers through his chestnut hair, But you and I look about the same age, and I most certainly believe in the fae folk.

He saw one, once, the female smiled charmingly, but, please do not get him talking about it, he will go on for several candle marks.

Bah, the man waved a hand in dismissal of the subject, My seeing one is neither here nor there, but the song we performed about Esolin and Krysten, that there is a story true. Have you ever noticed the way the rhyme pattern changes in it? He asked the question in a hushed voice that felt as if he were bringing Elizabeth in on a secret.

Yes, Elizabeth answered him, I always thought it odd, and I have seen it trip up a few of the bards that have played here.

Now there’s a reason for it, he winked, "That song is meant to be a duo, the way we did it tonight. The male part, the part I sang of course, is in the standard rhyming scheme of Corlan poets and many other kingdoms. It rhymes the odd lines to one another and the even to one another, as you may well be familiar with. Most bards can handle that part easy enough.

The bard took a drink of his ale, and Elizabeth thought he might intentionally have been drawing it out to make her wait. There was something about bards, in general, that made them turn everything into a dramatic performance.

And? she asked when he set the tankard down and did not continue with what they were discussing.

And what? the bard tilted his head questioningly, his expression blank.

Do not torture the poor girl, his wife laughed lightly.

Very well, the bard leaned closer, placing an arm on the drink stained wood of the table, as if about to reveal the greatest secret ever spoken, The verses for the female singer rhyme their four lines differently. They match inside lines to each other and outside lines to each other, among more minor changes. Your typical bards get caught up in the standard rhyme set, so when the song switches to Krysten as the focus, they mix up the order by trying to make if fit the male rhyme pattern. We are not as easily mixed up because I only have to worry about one pattern while she only had to deal with the other.

It sounds wonderful, She grinned, But if switching the pattern makes it so difficult for people to perform, why was it written that way? And how does the rhyming make it a true story?

Because, little one, the female bard smiled, The Krysten lines are written in the rhyming traditions of the elves, not of men. The woman brushed a stray lock of red hair back, and Elizabeth found herself so caught up in what she they were saying that she half expected the woman’s ears to be pointed. When she saw they were not she inwardly chided herself for thinking such a thing. She knew the bards were just having a joke at her expense, but that is what bards did, they entertained.

I think it is time we go, he mother stated flatly. Ilayna enjoyed the music when they went out, but Elizabeth got the impression her mother, always the pragmatist, was not as interested in the tales behind the music as she was, I will settle our cost with Gregory while you finish up here, Elizabeth. Then she turned to the performers and set another silver coin on the table alongside the two already there, Thank you for your performance. It was truly exceptional.

As her mother turned to find the innkeeper, Elizabeth made her farewells and stood to leave but the male bard stopped her with a gentle touch on the back of her hand before she could turn away.

I think they’re still out there, he offered in a hushed tone and Elizabeth turned back to see him looking at her, Not just the elves, in general, but Esolin and Krysten, that is.

Even if elves were real, Elizabeth smiled, determined not to fall for his tale, That would have been two hundred years ago.

That it would, the bard nodded, But the way I see it, Krysten traded half her remaining life away to save his, right? The song says she had eight-hundred more years to her. Well, the way I figure, that would mean they would each have four hundred years together, and it has only been two-hundred. I think they are still around somewhere with another two-hundred or so to go.

Whether you believe in elves or not, the female bard’s eyes twinkled like emeralds as she set her hand on the back of her husband’s, Never give up on the idea of love that the story represents. That, young one, is the true magic.

There was no more time for conversation as Elizabeth’s mother gathered her up, handing her the fur-lined cloak she had hung by the door when they arrived, and headed her towards the exit and home.

***

Baron Stephen Silverlan’s carriage bumped along the cobblestone roads of Silvertide’s main street, drawn by two finely bred horses, its lone occupant gazing absently out of the window at walkways lined with snow. Each jarring of the vehicle reminded him why he detested coming into the city proper any more often than absolutely needed and grumbled to himself about the fact is was needed that day.

He would have much preferred it if Edmund Waldon had been willing to come out to his estate to finalize the contracts but he had to concede that it made more sense for him to make the journey into the city than to drag both Edmund and the notary out to his home in the countryside. More to the point, this business venture held massive possibilities for profit and increased profits were always worth going a little out of the way to secure.

The carriage drew to a stop in front of the Waldon residence, a stylish two-story home set on a block of similarly ornate houses. The vehicle shifted as the footman hopped off the back and brought a step around to set beneath the door for the Baron to use as he emerged.

Waldon’s home wasn’t nearly as nice as Silverlan’s estate house but, for the home of an individual who was not a member of the nobility, the baron had to admit that it was quite an impressive residence.

The owner had been quite the woodworker in his day, a specialist in the manufacture of fine furniture. He had quickly earned his place as a master in the cabinetry guild and in time risen to be the head of that guild. His talent showed on his own home through the trim about the roof and windows but most of all in the double door at the top of the steps. Each door was composed of a frame around a central panel. The panels, in turn, were carved with an image of trees and deer in a manner that, when closed, aligned with the opposite door to create a full scene of a woodland glade.

The baron drew his cloak tighter about him and placed considerable weight on his cane as he stepped down. He took great care in his footing as he left the carriage. The cold of midwinter wreaked havoc with his aging joints and the last thing he needed was to add more pain, much less indignity, by slipping on a patch of ice.

He had just reached the bottom step when one side of the double door set opened and a servant stepped out to greet him with an offer of aid in reaching the porch.

It is only five steps, the baron growled. He was only sixty, but the joint pains that many of the elderly suffered had settled on him earlier than was common. As a result, he had a tendency to become defensive when people offered to help him with such minor tasks, Go fetch your master and inform him I am here. My footman will attend to the door for me.

The servant glanced to the baron’s footman and his eyes widened at the sword the man wore, then went to the crossbow in the hands of the man sitting beside the baron’s driver at the front of the transport.

Bandits in the countryside, Silverlan sighed as he took note of the attendant’s unease at the sight of the weapons, Now fetch you master as I already bid you once. Do not make me say it a third time.

Of course, my lord, the doorman bowed and scurried away into the building.

By the time Silverlan had made it to the top of the steps the doorman had reappeared and offered a deep bow, Master Waldon and Mister Javin, of the notary office, are awaiting your pleasure in the study, my lord. I was instructed to bring you to them, at your leisure of course.

Gentlemen, the baron nodded to the others as he entered the study and they bowed before him, I believe we have some business to discuss.

Over the next few candle marks they talked, drank, and ironed out the detail of the agreement including particulars in the wording of the contract that Javin was drawing up for them.

Waldon had become wealthy through his own hard work and advancement, Silverlan through little more than a fortunate lineage, but both were powerful men and both knew that staying that way required cunning and attention to detail. Because of this, the contract took longer than might otherwise have been expected.

The second issue that prolonged the evening was Waldon’s occasional fits. Most were little more than a distraction while the guild master stepped aside to cover his mouth with a handkerchief, but twice had been five-minute ordeals that left heavy patches of blood on the cloth when he took it away; patches he was careful to conceal. The baron, on seeing this, realized the real reason the gild master had requested meeting in town instead of making the journey to the countryside, the man was quite ill.

It was well into the night before the terms were finally reached and both men sat back in the cushioned chairs by the fireplace to enjoy a bit of brandy while Javin ensured that everything was in order on the parchment for the two to officially seal their agreement.

The doorman had discretely informed Waldon that the woodcrafter’s wife and daughter had returned from their night out, but they were both likely to be fast asleep by the time this business was finalized.

My lord Baron, Master Waldon, the notary said at last, looking up from the parchment laid across the finely crafted desk at which he had been working, If I may review the terms as written to ensure that they are correct before we finalize this.

The two men gave their approval and Javin began giving them a summary of what he had penned, As written the contract states that Baron Silverlan shall ensure thirty percent of the lumber from the King’s Port colony, which he manages as representative of his Majesty the king, be marked for delivery to Master Waldon facilities at no charge. That the percent taken for Master Waldon be chosen by himself or an appointed representative who shall have power to select the lumber on Master Waldon’s behalf. It further stipulates that this selection is to take place prior to portions of any given shipment being set aside for any other source. An exception is stipulated in regards to the former clause for those any requests done by command of any nobility above our honorable baron himself, as Baron Silverlan would have no choice but to serve such commands first in accordance with his oath of fealty. Is this agreed?

Each man gave a nod his head in agreement and the notary continued, In turn, Master Waldon is to make the potion selected from each shipment available to Baron Silverlan, or his duly appointed official prior to marking it for any sale or products. From this selection, two percent shall be set aside to be used in projects commissioned by the baron, or on his behalf without fees for labor. Additionally any compensation for additional tangible resources, including but not limited to; paint, nails, glues, hinges and fasteners, shall be compensated from the agreed upon payment to the Baron of seven tenths the sale value of any final products constructed from lumber obtained through this contract. Is this agreed?

Again, the two nodded but Waldon’s face bore a slightly sour expression. Seventy percent of the final sale coupled with free labor was a hefty price to pay for first pick of each shipment that came across the sea but he felt it was worth it for the last part of the deal, the one point he had been adamant on. With that in mind he affirmed his agreement to the terms.

And lastly, Javin continued, This agreement shall become binding upon the signing of both parties involved and take effect upon the marriage of Thomas Silverlan, fourth son of the aforementioned Baron Silverlan and Governor of the colony of King’s Port to Elizabeth Waldon, daughter of the aforementioned Master Edmund Waldon. Thus shall the agreement be bound by both ties of law and by ties of family. Are you both in agreement?

This time Waldon thought the Baron would be the one to grimace but the nobleman, despite his reluctance to the marriage clause of the contract, did not show any emotion at all as he gave his nod of agreement with an almost regal air.

Access to lumber and first pick of the best wood from shipments was nice, even if it came at a steep price in profits, but this had been the entire purpose of the contract for Waldon.

Binding a business contract through marriage was a rapidly fading custom, but it technically remained a part of kingdom law.

Waldon had no sons and the best he could do for his daughter was to ensure she would be well looked after when he and his wife were gone. The opportunity to marry her into the peerage was one that he could not pass on.

With her being wed to the baron’s fourth son, rather than the eldest, their children would not be heirs to the barony. Still, they would bear titles and would certainly carry great influence in the colony as the descendents of the Governor of King’s Port. They may even carry enough influence to be named nobles as the colony grew.

Security, a small title, it was the best he could do for her, even if it meant life across the sea.

Both men reviewed the parchment to ensure that it contained what Javin said it did and nothing more. It was rare but there had been cases where notaries had altered wordings or even added whole clauses to favor one party over the other. Usually this was done when the notary was employed by lower class, and often illiterate, individuals but there had been a few cases of things being slipped past shrewd businessmen before as well.

Waldon signed first. His hand almost trembling as he held the quill and thought of with what this deal would mean for his dear Elizabeth.

Then it was the Baron’s turn to place his signature while Javin was lighting the small candle that would supply the wax for his official seal. A few crimson drops from the candle followed by the indentation of the baron’s signet ring as the wax was cooling and the deal was as set as the seal itself.

Waldon bowed to the baron and saw him to his carriage heaving a great sigh as it pulled away into the night. A sigh followed by another round of coughing, one bad enough that the doorman had to help him back up the steps and inside.

The prolonged negotiation and fine-tuning was exhausting, but tomorrow was going to be the more difficult part. Bartering a contract with the baron had been an ordeal but it was nothing compared to explaining to his daughter that he had just arranged her future in a foreign land.

Chapter 2

Elizabeth rose in the morning, dressed for the day in a simple green kirtle, and brushed out her long blonde hair.

She had loved the performance of the night before. The only thing she felt could have been better is if she and her mother had not arrived just after the couple’s first song of the night, preventing her from hearing them twice before having to call it a night.

Still, if she were only able to hear one piece by such an amazing pair, she was glad it was that particular song. Her favorite tale performed by such an amazing bardic duo had her already in such a wonderful a mood that she found herself humming the tune of Esolin and Krysten as she made her way down the stairs for first meal, following the smell of hotcakes and bacon.

The sound of her parents arguing soon dampened her joyous mood. The food was on the table but her mother was busy accusing her father of not talking to her about something sooner, and her father was saying something about it being for the best.

Worry gripped Elizabeth. It was not like her parents to argue with each other. Certainly, they had disagreements on occasion, as all couples did, but this was something far more accusatory than those minor misunderstandings.

This contract will ensure that Elizabeth is taken care of, she heard her father say. The last thing she wanted was to be the focus of their discussion. Her parents were both kind people, and beneath it all, she was sure they still loved each other. Still, the idea that they were having this sort of a fight over something to do with her brought a sense of foreboding.

I understand that, her mother retorted, But you should have talked to her first. At the very least, you could have told me what you were planning, instead of springing it on me the next morning. Do you have any idea how much this is going to upset her?

Elizabeth found herself torn between her desire not to eavesdrop on her parents and her curiosity at how this argument affected her. Indecision kept her on the stairs, rather than rounding the corner to join them, as much as anything else did.

She’s always talked about wanting to travel, he father pointed out, She’s made no secret of that desire.

Elizabeth had to agree with that. She had been born in Silvertide and never been further outside the town than a rare social function at the baron’s manor. She had a desire to see other places, for as long as she could remember, to have an adventure like in the bardic epics. At the very least, she would love to visit some of the places they happened.

Now she was beginning to think whatever they were discussing might actually be a good thing. Perhaps he had planned a trip to Cor’aven, the capitol city of Corlan. Just as quickly she realized that, whatever it was, her mother was against it and trying to talk her father out of it.

Good morning, Elizabeth smiled as she descended the last five steps down the stairs and turned through the door to the dining area.

The oak table, darkened by years of varnishing, had the places set for the family to take first meal together, the way they usually did, but food was the furthest thing from Elizabeth’s mind at that point.

Good morning to you as well, Her father smiled, but it was an uneasy smile, I need to talk to you about something very important.

I overheard, she admitted with a smile of her own, trying to ease his nervousness, Are we talking about vacationing or a permanent move?

Uh...a permanent move, her father answered tentatively, but it will not be all of us, dear. It is just you.

I do not understand, Elizabeth looked to her mother for clarification.

Your father has arranged for you to go to King’s Port, Ilayna explained, the anger that she had been expressing towards her husband reigned back to a tense tone of contained frustration, In the Vespurian colony.

The words suddenly dampened Elizabeth’s enthusiasm. They were not talking about visiting the capitol they were talking about having her permanently move to an area that only had one town on the opposite side of the ocean from any known civilization.

I have made an arrangement with the baron, her father’s words were hazy through the layer of shock in Elizabeth’s mind, Part of that arrangement involves your marriage to his son, Thomas, who is the Lord Governor of King’s Port.

My what? Elizabeth exclaimed, eye wide, the cloud of confusion in her mind suddenly pushed aside by shock.

Your marriage, her father repeated, You are going to be the Governess of King’s Port. Eventually, I suspect this area will grow into a full barony, making you a baroness. I have arranged your way into minor nobility my dear. He spoke the last part with a slight hint of pride, as if he had brought her a present he was particular happy to have found for her.

You arranged a marriage? Elizabeth gasped then shouted, How could you!

She turned, fleeing back up the stairs too quickly to hear the I told you that you should have talked to her first. her mother was directing at her father.

Moments later Elizabeth was back in her room with the door slamming behind her. The frustration and anger that were raging inside her was making it impossible to stay still. Instead, she paced about, picking up items only to smack them down again as a physical release for the emotions roiling inside of her.

Bethie, she heard her mother call from the doorway. Elizabeth never cared for that nickname. She knew whenever her mother used it, it meant they were going to have a long talk about something, a talk she probably was not going to enjoy.

I just can’t believe he would do that, she choked back the tears as her mother led her to the canopy bed and sat down next to her.

I know, her mother ran a comforting hand through Elizabeth’s hair, But he has a reason for it and, even if he did do it in the stupidest way possible, he meant well by it.

How could he possibly have meant well? Elizabeth protested, wiping the tears from her cheeks and feeling the flush of anger starting to return.

Not to put too fine a point on it, dear, her mother smiled, but, most girls are already married by your age. You have been eligible for two years now. Next year you turn twenty, and you haven’t shown the slightest interest in a suitor yet.

We live in a town where half the population works the mines and the other half works the docks, Elizabeth countered, "The only educated people we get through her

Reviews for War Prize

[Reisha Niles · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great heart of the city of my my friend is the host of other people who who is this a lot of my my phone is is a lot good morning beautiful beautiful and I love you too baby baby baby baby baby baby baby