The Cost of Peace

By Frankie Waters

Overcoming isolation from the thousand-year war, the Bourdha Lands were rebuilding and taking their first steps to re-joint he Empire and fulfill the peace Treaty. Yet one fatal decision sends shock wages through the Empire, threatening to tear peace apart.

Full of drama, adventure, romance, sorcery and intrigue, the epic fanta

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frankie Waters
• Release date: Jan 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9780645071450

Frankie Waters

Frankie Waters has been writing for 30 years, but did not make a decision to publish until 2020. Frankie is strongly driven toward equal opportunity and is an LGBTQIA-ally.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Elias sat quietly in the tavern; his back to a corner, ale barely touched, hood tipped low and eyes roving the faces of those milling before him. The message that brought him here was somewhat garbled, having been relayed from one messenger to another. Perhaps he was lucky it reached him at all, or perhaps it was originally news of a much different kind. Whatever it was, he was here now.

Master Elias – a Reader awaits your first night in these Lands the girl had said.

Her eyes were upturned to his with pride; for few would be sent to elicit his attendance. Aye, the girl was proud, though she could tell him nothing further.

And so, he came from the heart of the City and side of the Princess to this tiny village that had been rebuilt a half dozen times over the last century. It marked the border to the Dark Lands and had been besieged more times than he knew. Despite the bloodshed he had witnessed, he still thought of it fondly, for here he had slumbered his first night in the Bourdha Lands.

The moment he stumbled into the village, as a mere child, was a night he could not forget – not for all the willing in the Lands – half starved, clutching his father’s sword and all but falling through the door of the inn. His body had sustained much damage from a fight the day before as he fled across the border.

He clutched the leather at his hip, hearing the steel drag and bump over the broken cobblestones, though barely. Sound was muffled, his breathing ragged, and the world about him became hazy as his steps became slower and fewer.

With the last of his strength, he spoke three words to a figure before him, standing as though guarding. Not hearing his own voice, he stopped, breathing as deep as the pain in his chest would allow; hoping that the warning would be heard.

Falling sideways through the threshold as he tried to turn away, the world turned black.

He remembered the child-that-was with a touch of regret for being so ignorant, wrought with fear and alone in a world wracked with war. How he had changed. How the inn had changed. Where once bodies were strewn throughout in various stages of death and pain, today was it filled with people in various stages of inebriation and lust for life.

A serving woman smiled at him, her eyes sparkling as she looked him up and down and spoke in the musical twang of the Madi Lands though most the accent was gone.

I heard you was summoned. She sat down beside him, dipping her head to look beneath the brim of his hood. There’s not one soul in this place that doesn’t know you, no matter how you try to hide.

Hello Neitha, he said somewhat reluctantly, trying not to catch those beautiful eyes of hers.

They had caught him in their thrall not many years before and he found it easier to stay at a distance if he could avoid them. She deserved better than a wanderer with no hearth.

With a sense of sarcasm, she said, hello Elias. Ma wanted me to say your room is ready. She looked thoughtful. How is it you came to have a standing order at this tavern? None else do. Not even the King’s own. But you – you have a standing order for a room and a ready companion.

He winced and looked down to his ale briefly before raising his eyes again to bodies that milled among the tables with their own drink, their song and their games of dice, cards, and darts. Aye, she had always been worth more than what short, sparing nights he had to offer. Neitha-

His words were cut off by her silvery laugh.

"Oh, none know that standing order. Fear not, my sometimes toy. She stood with a grin as though she could read his mind. I have things to play with when you aren’t here. Don’t think I pine for the likes of you."

It was a confident smile that she passed over her shoulder as she walked away, and Elias could not help but think fondly of those hips that swayed the sweetest of dances across the tavern floor. Would he run from it all and pair with a woman like Neitha? That he had come to love so long ago? He could settle and hide from what he knew. Let the world pass them by in ignorance.

No sooner had his eyes returned to their roving, that they settled upon a cloaked and hooded man entering the tavern. The man stood down the hood and slowly removed the cloak as he looked about, never resting upon any one thing. The gold gilding on the dagger at his waist would have raised scorn had Elias not noticed the set of his boot and coat sleeves that spoke of more. While the blades on display were for no purpose excepting stature, Elias would warrant those out of sight held far more functional intent.

Unlike Elias, this man was tall and almost slender. He did not lack the dark, sturdy features of this realm but, much like Elias, bore features that marked him of another land. His eyes were of the sea with their grey and blue meld, marking him of the Maratek Lands. The Maratekien’s were an ancient people, derived from the Lakes that stood at the heart of their Lands, and were the only matriarchal realm within the Empire.

He knew this man that walked across the room, and not with fondness. While Elias thought of the Maratekiens with honour, that was not a word he would ever associate with this man. No wonder the message was so cryptic, for had he known, he would have marched forth with a battalion for the man’s head before he reached the village. Though the man ought to be struck down that instant for stepping foot within the Bourdha Lands, as was promised, the message spoke of a Reader of the Scrolls and that bought him time at least to justify the trespass.

And Elias would not violate this tavern, of all places. He clutched at that one sacred place in all the Empire.

The man slid onto the bench, but not at his side where Neitha previously sat. No, he was far more careful. His back was against the wall, granting clear view of the room, though set apart from Elias as though he were of no consequence. Elias knew better.

Danne, he said softly, mug to his lips.

Elias. The man said quietly as he brought out his pipe and began packing it. I’m surprised there is no sword being drawn at my presence. You honour me. There was some mirth to his features as he spoke.

Elias found himself grunting, roiling for the man dared to not address him by title. I have no honour for you, Danne, but have never shed blood beneath this roof and will not. Which you well know. He saw the man nod slowly, almost imperceptibly. Are you that cowardly? Spit out what you want and leave these Lands.

The man chuckled deeply, leaning to take a lit twig from the nearby fireplace to light his pipe. It was not yet the cold season, but still the nights had more than a small chill this close to the border.

He took his time before settling into steady puffs, finally speaking around the stem in a muffled, odious manner. I will not be leaving so soon Elias. I am petitioning the King for a place in your ranks.

Anger welled in Elias. This man a part of the Guard once more? This man to have access to the Crown that they shed blood to protect?

There is not one Master among us that will take you, Danne. Not one. The King has no ruling on that.

He put the mug to his lips, though only little was taken. There would be no dulling his senses with this one about. That he was not protecting his Princess while this treacherous man was within the realm was irksome enough.

The smile on Danne’s face was broad. You will have me in yours. We are of the same Sept – brothers. You will make me a part of the Princess Caela’s Honour Guard again. You will have me, Elias, whether or not you wish it.

A stream of fire ran through Elias’ mind. You ceased to be a part of the Sept when you were exiled. Do not think you can use its oath against me.

The oath is for life, and we are both still alive.

For now.

Elias’ mind was in turmoil, for this was a man with a plan – one that was likely more than disastrous to not only the Sept and the Crown, but the realm and the Empire. He was too weak, too tainted, to be of value in protecting the Princess and, with it, the Treaty. What was his ace? There had to be something up his sleeves that encouraged the man to make such wild claims.

Why would I have you in my ranks? Elias controlled the tone of his voice, though barely. He would not give this man the satisfaction.

Danne’s spoke quietly, looking down as he spoke, cleaning the stem of his pipe. I know what you are, Elias, and I know what you will make the Princess.

The fear that spread through Elias was as sharp as the sword at his side. He would be hunted to the ends of the Empire for his blood, for his curse. His blood for her Crown, his heart for her honour, his soul for her Gods and his life for hers. It was an oath he would never have taken if he had known what he was. That his man… this traitor… could know. The Princess would never be safe so long as she was with him.

The Oracle had told Elias, long ago, that he would be needed to save the Princess and secure peace between the realms, but those obligations were complete. The Treaty was signed, her marriage secure and, with it, peace between the realms.

He willed his eyes to stay away as Neitha came to take an order from Danne, along with a silver mark, a wink, and words of flirtation. She eyed him, looking briefly at Elias before moving on with smugness on her face. She was quick to return, neither having spoken and still silent in her presence. Though looking between them with suspicion, Neitha made no remark. She did not recognise the man, and nor should she.

The only thing I will see become of the Princess is her crowning, her delivering the Blood Prince and with it the satisfaction of the Treaty. No more, no less. It is time for you to leave on fear of death.

No, Elias. I’m sorry but you won’t. Danne’s had a tender note to it that surprised Elias. The eyes that he briefly met were pained, darkened.

Elias’ hand tightened about his mug as fear constricted his breathing, the other hand resting upon his sword hilt. This was his curse, and one that he would never allow his charge to share. Do not accuse me of such. His voice was aflame. I would never bring such a horror to her Ladyship. Not now. Not ever.

I saw it in the Prophecies, Elias. Large as life. And I am sorry for it. He paused as a drunken couple stumbled close, carefully pushing a chair from their path with his foot. Courtesy? From Danne? But. Your first honour is to the Treaty, and you shall do what is needed to fulfil it.

Why would you come back to the Guard? You have no few enemies among our ranks.

To make sure you fulfil the prophecy. And do not think you can silence me, he added quickly. Care has been taken. If I fall, others will ensure you do is needed. The vile man drained the last of his ale and stood, turning his back to the tavern as he set his cloak in place. One word brings down the Empire. You will have me in her Honour Guard, Elias, for that is the price.

1. BEDFELLOWS

Wild horses thundered across the plains, stretching their long legs and throwing their heads high. Chestnuts, bays, piebalds and even the occasional black beauty made up the herd. They moved as though strength and majesty were one, lost in the love of the run. The blood they needed to fuel the battalion’s lines.

That is a fine herd, my Lord.

Mikaala barely heard the man at his side, enthralled as he was in the wild nature of the beasts. His own steed pranced beneath his weight though never moving forward nor back. Simply pacing, almost… dancing. Wild scents filled his horse’s nostrils, bringing back memories of running with the herd across the hot, dark plains of the southern desert. Such freedom filled Mikaala’s heart, feeling his horse’s spirit. Such was the Bond.

Bring them in, Master LeCabe.

Orders travelled down the line, the battalion moving away in all directions. Mikaala watched, feeling his own yearning to return to the ranks he knew and loved. His time spent in the Guard brought pride, while his present days learning matters of State were regretful. All those native to the Bourdha Lands served in the Guard if not the Temple, and neither nobility nor disparity were exempt – not even the King himself.

His mother spoke against the custom, now that peace was upon them, but to no avail. Incessantly throughout their history, their Lands were besieged by foreign forces. So much so, for all the beauty of the dales, it could not drown out childhood memories of bodies and blood caking the land with death. Those days still haunted him as it did many, yet none more than his mother, who had known no such carnage before her arrival in their realm. As a child, he had watched her struggle with their customs. While he and his father celebrated his induction into the Bourdhain ranks as a child, his mother wept. He did not understand then, but now, as he lived in a tentative peace, he began to see what she had.

He had been in mid-teens when the Treaty with the Dark Lands was signed; marked by the marriage of his sister, the Princess Caela, to their King Elum. It brought peace between their realms yet domestic turbulence for them both. They had warred for a thousand years, after all, and there were citizens of both who could not accept foes and friends.

Peace with the Dark Lands enabled the Bourdhain to turn their efforts to the threat of from Akari, who were then turned away with ease. Since then, Mikaala’s home was mostly peaceful. True, the Septs brought a small amount of civil unrest with their disparate prophecies, however for the most part they lived amicably and could be used to the Crown’s advantage.

One hand absently brushed at the kaumto strapped to his leg, while the other rested at the black mane of his otherwise pure white gelding. The kaumto was a traditional weapon in their lands. A staff by most means, though bladed and hooked with the strongest of steel. In their trained hands it was the deadliest of weapons.

Only Mikaala’s Honour Guard and the Master LeCabe stayed by his side, watching as the wild steeds were rounded up by the battalion’s Master of Horses and her dedicated Guard. Those not working on the horses surveyed their surrounds with a dedicated eye.

How goes Master Elias’s preparations, Master LeCabe? he called over his shoulder.

With Mikaala’s marriage only a few moons away, the Princess Caela would soon leave them, to live with her husband and be crowned Dakien Queen. With the Dakien King not being royal by blood, only the birth of a son would seal his right to the crown. Mikaala’s only comfort was the battalion that would accompany her, not as a dowry for the King, but for her protection.

He prepares well enough. The Master rested arms on his legs as he spoke, ever watchful. His Commanders, all, are fine Guard who will serve him well. If I may be so bold, my Lord, I believe his concerns lie with her Ladyship. Though we all love her spirit and have never doubted the fine Queen she shall become, Master Elias knows the adjustment will be harder on her most of all.

Aye.

The Prince could not put Master LeCabe at ease, for he himself could find no peace for his own concern. Though Master Elias would never fail her, Mikaala was familiar with the fire of his sister and the danger she had repeatedly incurred with her wilful spirit. How would she fare without an older brother to call for peace? There were very few days that he did not see at least one of his siblings and, perhaps for their similar age or the attention she invariable secured at her antics, most often it was Caela. Eighteen though she was, she often took it upon herself to act more alike Rubi and Beyren, their twin siblings six years her junior. It often drove himself and their parents to despair, while secretly they revelled in her freedom with smiles and forlorn sighs. Master Elias, meanwhile, was regularly plagued by panic and frustration in his efforts to keep her safe.

The role of an ylien, that Master pledging themselves and their battalion to the sacred duty of protecting a member of the Crown, was always the most dangerous and honourable of roles within the Guard. But no matter what risk they faced, no ylien was as tortured as Master Elias, assigned to Caela. Whether at her hand or no, he had defied death more times than any had care to count, death rites prepared until they resolutely gave up. He simply refused to die, as equally as the Princess was determined she would not move to the Dark Lands. Though as she aged, she had begun to accept that fact, still it plagued her attitude to life.

Mikaala had the better life of the siblings, or so he thought. Though all their marriages were, or would be, arranged, he would be the only one to stay in their home. Worst off was Caela, who would be in a Land that was once their enemy and now a tenuous friend at best.

I believe I shall miss her, Mikaala said wistfully. He grunted. Even for all the uproar she leaves in her wake and the sleepless nights I have had at her mischief. Mikaala looked to Master LeCabe and saw sadness in his eyes. Sadness that was not for his sister. Is it my sister you shall miss, or has your heart be taken by Commander Cori?

Aye. LeCabe did not meet his eye, opting instead to stare out over the horizon.

As Master Elias’s second, Commander Cori was destined for the Dark Lands. It was not a heartbreak Mikaala ever wished on LeCabe, who had been at Mikaala’s since he was a child. The grey of LeCabe’s hair marked his passing years as nobly as the counsel he dispensed freely as Mikaala’s ylien. As were all ylien, LeCabe was not just a protector. He had schooled Mikaala in the good grace it took to be King, teaching him humanity above all else, and, equally, the tools of a Guard. Leathers oiled, steel shined, and weapons forged at his own hand as he learned what it took to be a Bourdhain Guard and the best of Kings. It was a gruelling school, and LeCabe deserving of happiness.

As fine and honourable a woman as I would ever wish for my faithful friend, though I never thought to wish such loss on you. I suppose it never occurred to either of you to make arrangements; given you both were aware of the future of the Princess’s Battalion.

I could not love a woman that put herself or her lover before the Crown, and she is no different in her expectations of me.

Perhaps it was Mikaala’s imagination that saw the man sitting a little taller, prouder, in his saddle as those words were spoken.

As the Guard rounded up the herd, Mikaala pushed his own eager horse into action. He spurred the gelding back to the city, leading the charge of the wild ones to the stronghold.

Mikaala’s eyes looked over the city before him as they rode down the hillside, with its winding streets and guarded outer barrier. Within its heart lay the stronghold: the high, fortified walls of mountain stone that surrounded the palace and its grounds. Between the main entrance and the palace lay an open, paved greeting area, a public space to the east and garrison to the west and most of the south. Between palace and garrison was the courtyard of beautiful gardens, often hosting celebrations but otherwise secured for the privacy of the nobility.

The palace rose tall and proud above the stronghold walls, its graceful spires topped with the standards of the King, Queen, and Emperor, each fluttering in the breeze.

His ride stretched long legs to eat the ground, eager for the gallop. Mikaala moved instinctively with his steed; knowing every turn, every step the instant before it was made. He could feel the ground beneath the hooves changing and smell the familiarity of the herd.

Never did his horse tire as the scores were directed through the city streets to the stronghold. The merchants, well accustomed to the running of the heard, cleared the path at the calling of LeCabe. A seasonal activity, the wild ones were collected and sorted. Strong blood was sent back to the wild for breeding while others supplemented their ranks.

Occasionally, though not for many years, they would see a winged horse. They were rare and considered good luck, though any attempt to domesticate them was a cursed, futile endeavour. He had seen only one in his life, and he cherished that memory. It was the day before his father announced his engagement and how Mikaala came to know such marriage was good.

The village children, come to the city for the running, waved flags and skipped about, calling to the Guard as they raced by. There was such life in their calling, scraped knees and dirty elbows adding a sense of childish abandon as they ran along the road trying to keep pace. Their escort finished at the stronghold gates.

Excepting the Guard when on duty, citizens rarely entered the stronghold, ordinarily reserved for royalty, visiting nobility and the occasional merchant or commoner seeking the King’s Court. The Guard were the largest population within the walls. While serving in the stronghold, they resided in the garrison, consisting of stables, mess halls, training arenas, yards, weapons store, dorms, and the heart of the garrison – being the Masters offices and accommodation for the senior Guard. Below ground were stores and the gaol.

Despite the dust and noise that kicked up about them, Guard lined the way to direct the horses to a sorting yard. As they moved toward the stables Mikaala could make out the sounds of the Master Elias calling to his charge, trying to keep her in hand. It was a familiar anger that brought a smile to Mikaala’s face, though still he tried to resist the urge to watch their battling. The Master was so lenient with the Princess when she could not see, but blind stubborn where she could.

The Princess rounded the stables, skirts in her hands, trousers flashing beneath as she ran to the spectacle with the Master jogging to intercept her. He hailed Mikaala as he rode past, though his words were lost. Caela, meanwhile, was loud enough for them both and her calling to her brother was well audible.

Brother! You bring me gifts! Her lilted voice teased, as she feigned an expectation to be spoilt. They did spoil her at times, though not so openly. She ran behind them to her faithful Master Elias, grasping him by the wrist as he tried to wipe oil from his hands. No doubt coming from the armoury. Come, Master Elias! Her steely fingers pull his weight with hers. There was a growl on his face while hers was coloured with laughter and joy.

Mikaala pulled up to the side and the horses raced past, throwing dust behind them as they were corralled into the yard. Here the horses would be sorted, schooled, tamed as much as a wild beast could be. They threw hooves into the air, pawing as though to fight, nostrils flaring.

As they circled their temporary gaol, Mikaala came to stand by the Master Elias. By now the Master was relinquished and half watching the Princess scan her eyes over the herd, enraptured in the freedom they expressed despite their capture.

My Lord- Elias cut his words with an oath, running to his charge.

She was caught, almost tackled, as she grabbed a hold of the gates of the arena, making move to swing herself atop the rails. Though she was a mature woman (in age at least) she was naught but a rag doll for the strength and determination of the Master.

Princess! The Master lifted her from the rails, her grasp not as strong as his demeanour. He was indeed steeled for a fight.

As she struggled with the hold of her captor, Mikaala walked to them, allowing his horse to be taken by a trusted stable hand.

I want to see. Caela pushed at the arms that embraced her, fighting the strong hands.

You can see well enough from here, sister, Mikaala said, watching as Master Elias tried to salute him without letting lose his charge.

She was a pertinent child when the mood took her much to the chagrin of those that tried to care for her. And at this moment she wished to indulge her desires rather than heed safety. In many ways, Mikaala was entirely jealous, for never as a child was he able to be so carefree as Caela. When such occasion arose, he was well past an age when it was seemly and had already begun grooming in preparation for King. Even once made Queen of the Dark Lands she would remain freed of such burdens, for her obligations were much different, and a far steeper price for peace, in Mikaala’s mind.

For the good graces, my Lady! Master Elias said as he locked his arms about her waist, which she tried but could not budge.

Mikaala could not decide who was more frustrated as he looked upon them, each as iron-willed as the other. He chuckled to Master LeCabe behind them, shaking his head from atop his horse.

The Master Elias was of solid stature with dark skin and a brown eye – typical features of all Bourdhain. But there was a slight curl to his hair, his other eye was green, and his face was more round than square. His crooked nose and scarred hands told tales of his youth, the scar on his chin more recent from an incident with the Princess. Indeed, many of his scars were of similar origin. Of all his features, the most striking was the black glitter of his skin in the rain and the living tattoos down his spine. He was an unusual amalgamation of the Lands that most people took to be reflective of the Citadel, home of the Emperor himself, though the Master never spoke of his origins.

It was Caela that had told Mikaala of the incident that landed the scar on his jaw, the Master never once betraying her foolishness. For this man had been a loyal companion since the day he took his oaths and had kept every one of her secrets. He had only been a child himself when he took the oath and had never failed her; not against her own foolishness, would-be abductors, or assassins, taking the knife was that meant for her and leaving scars over ribs that were pulled apart to mend damaged inners.

That occasion Mikaala remembered more starkly than most other. Mikaala had only been able to watch as his sister had sat with her ylien night after night, feeding rum to peeling lips to keep the pain at bay. Blood pooled around her feet and soaked through her boots and woollens though she refused to move. She sat in soiled clothes, never moving from his side, kaumto in hand as if ready to fight the reaper. She had watched over him in the same manner as Elias had done for her countless times before.

Are you wearing trousers beneath your dress? Mikaala now asked, staring at his sister.

Well, it would hardly be fit for a Princess to be revealing her underclothes in public.

Her physical fight with the Master Elias almost ceased as the verbal fight with her brother began, for she knew she would be admonished. They all knew she would have been climbing the old tree, the biggest in the gardens, to watch for the returning Guard and the fruits of their labour. Still the Master Elias would not release his hold.

You know ‘proper’ when it comes to your underclothes, yet the impropriety for a Princess, a soon-Queen no less, to be scaling trees is unknown to you. He crossed his arms. One day, you will behave in a manner befitting your station, Caela. For until you do, how may I bring my bride to our home?

The Princess smiled as a devil to her prey. Mikaala, I would always be kind to your bride, and show her nothing but the same dedication she shows you, my brother, my dearest. And I would certainly only ever show her the best of trees and ensure she never fell.

Mikaala threw his arms in the air, listening to her laugh.

Caela! Mikaala!

The sharp voice of the King carried across the compound from atop the walls. He was an imposing figure, grey hair wrenched back, beard falling beyond his shoulders to his broad chest. His voice boomed as he called for his children, and though some Guard looked up to the imposing voice that was their realm’s leader, others were too well accustomed, or otherwise occupied, to pay attention.

The Princess sighed, her fight with them coming to a welcome end. She turned and bowed her head. Until our ride, Master Elias. There was a twinkle in her eye for both knew the mischief she would chase on such ride, much to the Master’s chagrin.

Elias looked regretfully over his shoulder at Mikaala as he dutifully started after her, smiling as she called to her brother to fasten his pace, much to their amusement. Regret? Or was that resignation? Whatever it was, it appeared some cause for concern. What had she done now?

As the Prince passed through the walls to palace within, he felt comfort at the Masters Elias and LeCabe that kept step behind he and his sister – once she had slowed her pace to one more becoming her station of course. At the door to the King’s chambers the Masters took their place alongside the King’s ylien, Master Bayne, lining the outer wall.

Mikaala paused by Elias before he passed through those doors, the Master having put a hand on his arm. The man was troubled, his eyes earnest in a way that brought some alarm.

I will speak with you after father, Master Elias. My word on it.

He wasted no more time and turned to follow his sister through to the King’s private meeting room.

It was a harsh room, despite the plush grace of the anteroom through which they had passed. A timber and stone table ran the length of half the room with chairs set about. The other half of the room was a smaller, round table by the fireplace with seats far more cushioned and harrac and pipe close by.

Father. He raised his fist to his heart in traditional salute, while his sister greeted their father with a warm embrace and kiss to his bearded cheek. Setting his kaumto to the long table as he sat, Mikaala looked over the map of the Empire that was set about, the Seven Lands surrounded by the High Seas. How is mother?

Their mother had been meeting with the Lady of the Lake to negotiate the marriage of the Prince Beyren, Mikaala’s only brother, to a Lady of the Lake’s Court.

Of the five siblings, the three youngest were yet unsecured by betrothal. Though in days past, the Land was shadowed by war and outside marriages subsequently rare, now their world was changing. Nothing marked that more than Mikaala’s betrothal to the blood of the Emperor, for it marked their first admittance to the Staff’s lineage since before the war. Though an auspicious day in their history, it had brought a pang of regret for Mikaala for his parting ways with the one that stole his heart. Neither had any misgivings of course, for they had always known it to be a possibility.

I hear your mother is well, the King said. She will be home tomorrow. He was momentarily silent as his thoughts drifted to other matters. The Emperor has sent word that he and the High Lady are on their way for the wedding. The Empress and High Lord will arrive shortly before the day. The look to his daughter was as stern as his words. You would not have seen the messenger, for he arrived from the north. Your beloved steeds, from the west. Turning to his son, his tone was no less hard. How do you expect to control the realm if you cannot even reign over your own sister?

Both stayed silent, knowing there was no answer expected, nor any answer that could put them back in his good graces. Instead, the King continued.

With unrest in the Akari Lands, the timing could certainly have been better. However, the High Lady Mortaigne is of age and the wedding must not be delayed. Naturally all the husbands, and prospective husbands, wives etc. have accepted invitations.

The King waved his hand indicatively as he stood looking out through an unshielded window across the lands. In the cold season it was mostly closed and padded to shut out the weather and during war it was reinforced with the thickest of their timbers. Yes, it had seen ugly days, which made days like these sweeter to the memory.

You will both be set the task of meeting the Emperor and High Lady and escort them to the stronghold. Ensure you are home in time for King Elum’s arrival. He intends to do so early, well before the wedding, and it would suit your mother if you were here for his arrival. His voice changed, pleading as he turned to them once more. I beg you not to upset your mother.

Yes father.

His words were softened by eyes that already missed the young woman that would one day leave her home and loved ones behind. Though he had not been pleased to see his daughter wed his enemy, such was the price of peace and the crown.

I hear good things of his rule. The villages thrive with good trade, he maintains good relations with the Emperor, and has a strong and loyal people that keep the dissent at bay.

The Princess had seen the King Elum only a handful of times since they married, never alone. The lack of love did not weaken the intent between their Lands. There had been such loss on both sides over many generations as they warred, the cost to the Empire was great. Too many had perished, and they had to acknowledge they could not recover if the war continued.

I have no concerns Father. I hear time treats his Lordship well, that he is handsome and strong hearted. You chose well for me Father, for each of us. Caela smiled at her father – bravely, perhaps.

The High Lady, as much a stranger as she was, had a kind heart and peaceful nature. Their ways were strange to her, though never did she fear them as others had. Never did she baulk or hide. "Ignorance is the fuel of wars" she would say. Mikaala had come to think fondly of her for that.

The King nodded, almost sadly as if there were more to tell. Then as if something occurred to his weary mind, he nodded a finger at his eldest daughter. And Caela, please stop putting yourself in situations where it becomes necessary to wear trousers beneath your skirts.

Yes, father.

Your mother is expecting you both for dinner tomorrow night. She will be breaking the news to you of the Prince Beyren’s betrothal to the Lady Nia of the Lakes Court. Be surprised.

Yes, father.

So, for now, my dear Caela, you will be with the Guard. Best it consumes your energy before your mother’s return. My dear son, I trust you have the new horses in hand and can see to rotating the border Guard. After your mother’s return it may be one or both of you will ride to the Forests to personally deliver invitation to the wedding, now that a date is set. I have a mind that the Princess Rubi’s suitor may be among them, however as always it will be your mother’s idea.

Mikaala stifled a smile. Yes, father.

That will be all. But Mikaala, if you will. The King watched as Caela departed. A frown came upon him, his hands clasped behind as he strode the length of the table to stand beside Mikaala.

What is it, father?

You know Master Elias was summoned to the border. He awaited Mikaala’s acknowledgement before he continued. He met with Danne of House Mebieshk. The King’s voice was somewhat hard, for there was no love lost. He will be petitioning for a place among Caela’s Honour Guard.

Mikaala stood silent, knowing this was the news Master Elias had wished to speak of. Danne had been an auspicious Commander within Master Elias’ battalion, until a feud between the Master and Commander had threatened the stability of the battalion and endangered the Princess. Though both were of the Blood Diamonds Sept, who believed in the Treaty before anything else, their interpretation of prophecy and the role of the Treaty were vastly different. As the battalion splintered, Master Elias had stripped him of rank and exiled him from the lands on penalty of death.

Master Elias has assented.

What!? Mikaala was not ready for those words to leave his father’s lips.

A tirade was to follow the brief outburst, but the King held up a patient hand. Mikaala’s blood seethed in silence. When Mikaala finally broke his silence, it was a crescendo of anger starting a forceful almost-whisper. "Master Elias nearly killed the man, and indeed would have, had Master Bayne not intervened. May the Peace know that I nearly did! The division of the battalion brought dissension and distraction at a time that Caela needed protection! His voice was rising, his fists upon the table. How close we came to losing the Treaty."

Do you think I do not know this, Mikaala? That Master Elias does not? That he does not have the right? The harshness of his father’s voice bowed Mikaala’s head.

But he would not stop. No, father. No matter that he petitions you, no matter that the Master Elias assents I cannot allow it. I will not permit Caela to be endangered once more. He felt that nothing would stop him. She was not only a beloved sister, but the key to a Treaty that would fail without her. The other Princesses were not of age – not by Bourdhain law, at least, and the Dakiens would not be inclined to wait.

Do you believe you can decide that, soon-King? His father taunted. The Crown has control of the Guard, yes, but not the battalions on their own merits. And Danne was not exiled by the Master, not the Crown. This falls the Masters and the Masters alone.

Then demote Elias.

Mikaala could barely believe the words left his lips, but there it was. Let the man keep his oath to protect his sister, but in a lesser station that did not permit his granting this man a right in their ranks. Once upon a time he would have defended the Master from such a suggestion. But that was their yesterdays, and this was today.

The King chuckled, though barely with humour. Would you do that, son? He is the most revered of our Guards and you would make yourself his enemy? No, not enemy, too strong a word. But you see how the Guard would look at you for that decision. What would that do for Caela? Her own battalion no less. And Peace protect us all from your sister’s wrath.

What you would have me do, Father? Will you accept this?

The King nodded, turning to look out across his lands once more. Aye. For I entrusted the Master Elias with the keep of my blood and I know none that are as dedicated. Were it not for that, for all he has ever done to keep your sister and the Treaty safe… Mikaala saw sadness in the face that turned back to him. Master Elias will have Danne of House Mebieshk in his ranks if he so desires. If chaos rules, my son, then I will give you leave to demote Master Elias if that is what you see fit to do. But the burden of that decision, and the fate that comes, will be yours and yours alone.

At a wave of his father’s hand, Mikaala bowed and left his company, to find the Master Elias at the door in LeCabe’s place. He gave a silent moment to rue the poor Master LeCabe, for no doubt that was who looked over Caela, if only for a very brief time. There were other matters requiring attention, and LeCabe’s sacrifice in that regard was certainly appreciated.

Mikaala thinned his lips as he continued to walk, ignoring the presence of the man that, until now, he had always looked upon with respect and gratitude. There was time he had looked up to Elias as much as he had the King, the thought of which made him feel betrayed. But this man was not to stay silent.

My Lord, I beg a private moment.

For a second Mikaala had rounded on him, then paused, mouth open, as his eyes stared back. Those eyes. So strange for a Bourdhain, yet keen and always focused on his sister. Elias deserved to be heard and the Prince had given his word they would speak after the King.

My chambers, was all he said, his voice tense and boots stalking down the corridor seemingly of their own mind.

The walk to his quarters was long and silent, but for their steps and the sound of the servants.

The First Prince had fine chambers, equal to the Queen, and second only to the King. The anteroom was plush and inviting for those who awaited his presence. But that was not where they would talk. Not in a place frequented freely by servants and Guard who moved back and forth unannounced. The Master asked for private audience, and private audience he would have.

Of the chambers leading from the anteroom, Mikaala took them to meeting room and set Guard at the door for privacy. His Honour Guard, those two dozen men and women that were a constant in his chambers as they were for each of the Crown – though none more rigid than those protecting Caela, for she was the most wayward of them all.

As the door closed at his back Mikaala motioned that Elias should sit, though he declined. Mikaala settled himself beside the quiet hearth with fists clenched, bouncing on the cushioned arm. Warm embers kept the chill off the old palace without the need for the fire that would heat the air in the cold season, which would arrive with the new moon.

My Lord, you are due explanation for my decision, though I beg you allow me to keep those secrets that keep her Ladyship safe.

His eyes widened, his breath catching. You think I would betray my sister?

He could hear the hiss in his voice was and knew Elias would hear it also. He knew it unfair to take Elias’ words as an accusation, but for all the confusion, hurt and angst he felt at Elias’ decision it was hard not to.

A secret kept from all is the safest, my Lord, for I trust not these walls, our dreams or future selves to be kept unmarked.

Mikaala stood suddenly, turning toward the fire, and arching his neck to stare at the ceiling. The moulds that graced the otherwise empty expanse occupied his eyes as his allowed his anger to subside. Elias did, after all, deserve to be heard.

What then, Elias, can you tell of this decision, for I can see only disaster in its making. He bit his tongue for having showed such disrespect as to drop the man’s title.  You should know I have the King’s consent to take the mantle of Master from you.

Elias did not blink, did not swallow, did not show any concern for the threat. "I will tell you that one knows that secret, and I must keep it close, keep him close. If not under my watchful eye I cannot guarantee the safety of her Ladyship. I put that before your trust in me, my Lord, and I ask no forgiveness. I have no compunctions with killing the man if he causes dissent, though I doubt it will happen."

Mikaala rounded. Doubt? I would rather a guarantee. It should have already been done!

The Prince cared not for his words, threats of penalty that were rarely exercised in their Lands. None in the Bourdha Lands had been subject to such the death penalty outside of war and mercy for the dying. If Elias dealt such a penalty it would mean his imprisonment.

The guarantee is his death, my Lord. Those eyes were colder than Mikaala had ever seen. There was no emptiness as he had seen in others resigned to taking life. No. These were the stones of the mountains – unbreakable and unforgiving. You have my word that you will hear of no dissent, that you shall hear only of his death.

Mikaala sighed, bracing himself against the hearth’s mantle, then pacing, one hand pulling the long plait from its bun while the other tightened upon itself. Finally, he stilled and turned to Elias.

How is it that a man can hold you for ransom?

Her Ladyship is my only weakness, my Lord.

Mikaala knew that to be true. The man had forsaken any true relationship of a personal nature, barring the odd one he had with Master Aylan. Aylan was a force of nature in her own right and no one’s weakness. Elias had no family that any knew of, and he forged no other strong friendships. Allies, yes, many across the Empire, but no personal ties to be held against him. Except his ward.

If someone threatens my sister-

His or her heart would stop beating before they next drew breath, my Lord, as is my oath. Passion had returned to his voice, no doubt bitter at the very notion that any thought he would not see to his duty.

Mikaala nodded. Very well, Master Elias. You shall have Danne without interference from the Crown. But my threat stands.

Yes, my Lord.

Elias waited as though expecting to be dismissed, but Mikaala hesitated. He leant on the mantle and stared into the embers, forcing his fists to uncurl and mind to still. Does Caela know? Given she had been of good spirits he doubted it was the case.

No. He hesitated. It is I who must bear her bite on this, my Lord, though I believe she will turn to you and the Master LeCabe before the night is through.

A part of his voice broke at those words for he knew that it marked a loss between the Princess and his ylien, that the Master would have to fight to regain. Never before had he broken her trust.

We will be nearby, Master Elias. He breathed deeply. And we will send her back to you. Mirth came to him momentarily as it seemed a fit justice that he would suffer her. You have borne her wrath too well over the years.

With resolution, together they walked through the palace to the practice yards where Caela gleefully fought the Master LeCabe with staff. She was always very good, light on feet and quick to respond to her opponent’s slight shifts. They knew that Caela would not be holding back with fresh meat opposite her. LeCabe could be called no more than that given the fire in her face as she struck out with all her energy, determination etched into her face.

Light, Caela! Elias called from the sides as he watched. This is practice! I’ll knock you down myself if you don’t let up!

They each knew it would not have been the first time Elias forced her to the ground, simply to prove she was the not the strongest in the yard. No one else would do it. There was no timidity from them for her being a Crown, but rather their fear of her reprisal. Being beat was not something she liked, and the pride was well-deserved.

She smiled briefly as she parried with LeCabe, though she had lessened her strikes - slightly. Will you not protect me, valiant brother, from such a threat?

Rolling to the ground beneath LeCabe’s well-placed blow, she hooted as she bounced to her feet in time to block another coming for her ribs.

Mikaala laughed heartily at her comment but declined the verbal dance. He watched the well-matched parry as she jumped a swing while thrusting out with the butt, pushing him off balance long enough to land and put a blow to his head. By now, she had regained the heat of her blows to the displeasure of both Masters. She had always been determined to be the best in the yard, even as a child.

Peace! LeCabe called eventually, defending the last of her blows and stepping out of the ring. He turned to look at Master Elias. You can have her back.

Elias motioned Caela to the railing, almost pulling her beneath for she did not want to stop sparring. Small mutterings of objection ceased when she saw his face. Though Mikaala could see no difference, she could, and it worried her.

Come, was all Elias said, leading her to the garrison offices.

The structure was a fort unto itself with stone walls and slits high above that had been carved out during wartime. Though never targeted, it protected the Crown when they could not make it to the palace for a hail of fire, stone, balls of steel or arrows. That was when the cavern beneath the palace had been extended to the garrison.

The kitchens and mess halls in the outer garrison clamoured with life that, at any time of day, was a constant breath of life. Here within its heart, each the Masters bed chambers and offices were grouped into four areas for the four Septs: The Blood Diamonds, Nine Winds, Children of Chakara and the Robes of Muake. The office atop and central stairwell remained mutual ground. While Mikaala did not consider them enemies, he often thought of them as competitors.

To a Child of Chakara the sanctity of the Bourdhain Gods, high within the mountains to the south, was at the heart of all they did. The Bourdhain held the belief they were sent to these Lands to protect the mountains, and with it, their Gods. The war that threatened the mountains brought those Guard to the fore more than ever before in their history. Mikaala’s own LeCabe of the House of Vaic was counted among their number.

As a child barely old enough to stand, Mikaala watched his former ylien, the Master Dor, being taken down defending his life. LeCabe, only an Officer at the time, charged without leathers or thought to rescue Mikaala, bearing him to the garrison despite grave wounds. The account of his actions was heroic but dismissed by LeCabe. He had confessed to Mikaala that it was pride and lack of thought, not bravery, which drove him so recklessly, though Mikaala had always doubted his words.

Now, he rested outside the Master Elias’ office with Mikaala, lounging against the wall in such a manner that none would seek them out. Guards moved here and there, saluting them in passing. They soon found it easier to face the wall and door more than the halls.

Mikaala quietly explained to LeCabe what was to happen, keeping watch for the Guards nearby. It was not a secret – all would soon know – but it was the manner of their knowing. As expected, LeCabe’s face darkened and Mikaala raised his hand.

Master, you are not to utter not one word of dissent. Mikaala ordered. The Master Elias will manage affairs as he sees fit, including my sister. He shifted as LeCabe came to rest once more against the wall, arms folded in quiet defiance. Besides. You would have no words to say that have not already been said.

Voices inside the Master’s office were barely audible. Not that there was any need or desire to hear the conversation, simply notable that the expected eruption from the Princess was not to be heard. It was the Master Elias who at times spoke with strength and near anger.

A very loud ‘you will not’ came through the door, causing the Guard who moved about to hesitate, staring, before hurrying on at seeing the Prince and his ylien. Clearly this was not an ordinary matter for the Guard.

Master Bayne came to rest with them momentarily, a salute for Mikaala and a nod to LeCabe. She would have been the first of them to know.

Her Ladyship? she asked, nodding her head toward the door.

Bayne was the simplest spoken of them all. Not for a lack of intelligence, but for her directness and an economy with words. There were better things to spend time on, in her view, than ‘dancing’.

Aye. LeCabe’s voice was curt as he looked away from them. Some others also had a simple economy when the mood took them, it appeared.

Another burst from the Master came through the thick timber after mutterings of what could only have been Caela’s. I’ve strapped you before, my Lady! Don’t think I won’t now!

That gained raised eyebrows from them all as they stared incredulously at the door. Strappings were known of course, when she was far younger and putting herself in danger heedlessly and needlessly. But what did she say to engender such a threat from her ylien now?

A retort from Caela, that he could not quite make out, was met with a resounding