Freyja Thorsdottir: The Chronicles of Mattias

By Douglas Roff

About the Book

The War of the Western Pagans was over. 

Mattias Denson has withdrawn to his home in the Compound in the Southern Kingdom and exercises sovereignty over the Seven Realms, including the Memmet Valley and the entirety of the northern plains. His wives and consorts have likewise settled down, and he is once again a father - many times over. 

Life is peaceful and happy.

Yet …

Not all of his wives are content with the quiet life and, like Mattias, seek relief from the boredom of peace and quiet, remembering the thrill of conflict, battle and war. They are still young, and their lives are not yet fulfilled. Like Mattias, they see further adventure. 

That opportunity comes in the form of a call from a mysterious western queen seeking his help in ending a possible foreign and civil war. She seeks his aid as mediator and more. Though knowing little of her or her kingdom, he readily accepts the invitation to visit Frijia, the kingdom to the west of the defeated Kingdom of Dar Galan.

With his wives and children reluctantly following him, he first visits Galana Prima, the capital of Dar Galan, where he encounters the warlock prince, Lord Mestin Marlat. He first encounters wiccan arrogance and betrayal, then treason from his own witches, causing a rift in the family.  

From that point, Mattias and his family have each made fateful decisions. They part ways in anger, with Mattias moving west to the Kingdom of Frijia to meet its queen, Lady Freyja, while Mattias's family returns to the Compound.

Conflict with the warlock east in Mortem, capital of the ancient caste warlock empire, begins with the first issues arising between Mattias Denson and Emperor Q'in.

Mattias continues west as new trouble, as yet unknown to Mattias, foments in the east.

Treason and betrayal, war and conflict litter the pages of Freyja Thorsdottir, as matters culminate and redefine the direction of the Chronicles of Mattias. The novel twists and turns, ending with the conclusion of another great war: the Wiccan Wars.

How will it end? 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Douglas Roff
• Release date: Jun 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223061298

Douglas Roff

Douglas Roff is a retired corporate executive. He has lived around the world working in various capacities for government and industry.  Doug has written twenty-nine novels to date, mostly in the mystery, paranormal and fantasy genres, but not exclusively.  He currently resides in Latin America, speaks Spanish, and is a dual citizen of the United States and Canada.  

Book preview

PART ONE

THE MARCH WEST

PROLOGUE

Queen Aphaea Svensdottir LXXXVII rose early one morning, awoken by the news of a messenger, newly arrived at the palace, with word from Lord Mattias Denson, warlord and woodsman of the now fabled Compound in the Southern Kingdom. She dressed quickly and without regard to her handmaidens fussing that it was quite impolitic for her to receive a messenger, any messenger, before midday meal. She shushed her ladies-in-waiting, reminding them that decorum in her royal Court was determined by her, and by her alone.

This is why there is friction, milady, said one of her principal handmaidens. You flout established norms and the etiquette of Court; it’s why your husband, Prince Ostergaard, challenges you and your modern ways. You cannot expect the palace to simply change direction overnight. It simply isn’t possible.

"We move like a turtle, burdened by our own past, weighed down by arcane rules; our enemies are far nimbler and do not care for our sense of etiquette and protocol. When they attack, they won’t agree to a convenient time and date to accommodate our social schedules, nor our rules of war. They will attack, slash and burn, pillage and rape. It will be the end of our civilization. I intend to initiate reforms, preserving everything that is still good about us, and eliminating things that are not. We must change; we must modernize. To accomplish that, we’ll need help." 

"You place your trust, our hope, in a foreigner, a man not even king in his own realm?"

I do.

What else do you seek from him?

The queen smiled.

"His mind, his body, and his soul if I am nimble enough to claim them. I seek friendship with this man, maybe even his seed. I seek his knowledge and wisdom, and his manner of governing. I intend to start a new nation, a revitalized nation with new bloodlines. I seek political union with him and his people. Our sons will someday rule our worlds, his and mine. Our daughters will be queens. To accomplish my destiny, I need this pagan warlord and his army here and in residence while I cow my adversaries in the court and prepare for war against the invaders. It will not be easy; our people are soft. Even our Bjerne are complacent, having forgotten their own warrior past. Our Lesti are pampered and lazy; our wiccans are over-proud and too enamored with powers long forgotten and now lost, favoring instead only earthly pleasures. We have forgotten how to be our martial selves; it will be our downfall if we don’t learn to change and adapt."

Your husband objects, and he gathers supporters who are mounting in opposition to any of your proposed reforms. You face civil war from within, and a war of aggression from without. Pray your hoped-for savior arrives with an army before your total destruction.

"You mean our total destruction. I pray daily to the goddess for our deliverance. My prayers are answered in Mattias Denson; of that, I am certain. Bring the messenger here, and quickly before my husband finds out."

Yes, milady.

Her handmaid, Minerva, went directly to the messenger as bidden, then straight to the Prince Ostergaard, the queen’s husband and consort, to report the news on her mistress. Minerva knew that Ostergaard was looking for new ways to impose his will on the young queen, but had been largely unsuccessful thus far. Her reforms were tepid, and well within her rights as queen to modify the minor codices of law, culture and protocol. He sought the right means to usurp her power and send her to her private rooms alone for good. Only censure and a forced regency over his wife would satisfy his lust for wealth and power.

You’ve done well, my girl, said Ostergaard. Come to me tonight for your reward. Gold for your purse, and pleasure for yourself. I’ll bring my new concubines, skilled in the Lesti and Wiccan ways of Eros, who will spark your passions before I take you myself. It is what you desire most, is it not?

Separate me from her service and take me into yours, Lord. I shall serve you faithfully, no matter the task.

I accept your service, child. But you shall serve me best where you are for now. Say nothing and go back and see what your mistress has received from this upstart Lord. I must know her mind as he approaches Tor Luz.

Yes, Lord. A taste before I go, my prince?

Tonight, I said. Now go.

It was early morning in early spring as Lord Mattias Denson was busily preparing for his departure to the west. His new experiment in recent years was wandering with family and friends, visiting the untamed realms outside of his established borders. Before he could leave this time, however, he had to visit with his entire family before going off on his latest set of adventures. Many were the women unhappy with the news; they preferred him to be home, safe, and available. He had many more admirers these days, including the Lesti who waited their turn for his seed. Now they would have to look elsewhere, or wait for his return. That wait might be for years, if they understood his mission correctly. That was a very long wait, assuming their Lord ever returned home, which was far from certain.

There was danger out there.

His family, too, did not understand the urgency of this departure, and questioned his motives and reasons for the journey west. The journey? The journey where, exactly? Mattias would not say, only that he had urgent business in a kingdom far to the west, beyond the conquered Kingdom of Dar Galan and that he needed his closest advisors with him. As his only advisors were family and close friends, he naturally leaned on them for support in whatever he chose to do. Mattias wanted to think he had earned that right, and that those who loved him felt the same way. But they also believed that they too had earned certain rights, namely, to know what they were doing and where they were going. If there was danger, they should be made aware of it - beforehand.

There was little that Mattias could tell them; he didn’t know what dangers lay ahead, only that he had heard a plea for help, and had decided to give the requested aid. Help; just help. The details were fuzzy; he’d been invited by a powerful queen to intervene as a peacemaker in her hour of need.

What more could a man like him ask for?

In retrospect, seeking permission, or at least having a conversation with his wives first, should have been his starting point.

It was not.

His family and friends gathered with Mattias to discuss his royal progress; they had no idea that such was not exactly the object of his journey west. He would tell them later, before their planned departure from the realm, should any wish to remain at home once the full truth was finally revealed.

Mattias knew his gambit was risky; no doubt some wouldn’t have agreed to come along earlier knowing the real purpose, the perceived risks, and the time required to complete his mission. Children were to accompany Mattias; moms would not likely be impressed or happy with Mattias’s full explanations, whether or not they ultimately decided to come along.

Not everyone was unhappy with Mattias’s secrecy; those who had decided to come along immediately thought they already knew what was at stake. They had been to Mattias University and had graduate degrees in interpreting their Lord. They were convinced that there was little chance that Mattias was going to wander aimlessly in search of a far-flung people for a collegial chat; there was no need. The supplicants and dignitaries seeking an audience came to him, which was far more efficient. No, his intimates well understood that they were leaving on a project, not attending an event or simple negotiation. When confronted with the fact that family was coming along, they acknowledged that Mattias would never go far from home or for an extended period of time without taking family with him. He would take his family this time, at least those willing to come along, therefore it was evident by simple process of elimination that they were going somewhere far from home and for an indeterminate period of time. To those on board, this meant adventure, danger, and possible conflict, everything that was now lacking in their current lifestyle diet.

The ladies most anxious for adventure now had children. Eir Haraldsdottir, his old rival, and Inga Sigursdottir, his old friend, were now moms and raising children of their own with Mattias at the Compound. When asked what they intended to do, they were adamant that they would journey with Mattias along with their young ones. The peace and tranquility of the years following the final battle in the War of the Western Pagans were healing years for everyone. But over time, Eir and Inga became increasingly anxious with the pace and challenge of the simple life. They loved Mattias. He was everything they hoped for in a mate; he was an attentive and devoted husband and father. But they needed something more to keep them happy; peace was nowhere near as much fun as had been expected.

Peace was boring and dull, filled with process and planning; just not for war or conflict.

Mattias had always been right about both Eir and Inga; while they both wanted to conquer, they were far less enthusiastic about the complexities of governing. They wanted back in the field, with Mattias and their children. Compound life was too slow; they needed adventure.

When Mattias suggested that an adventure was unfurling in the far west, they began making preparations.

What do you want us to do?

Stay close, say nothing, and begin planning for our departure in the early spring.

"What do you need us to do right away?"

We’ll need provisions, Bjerne warriors, and mounted Lesti, at least five thousand each. There will be wiccans, my wives, our children and our family traveling with us. Not sure about Gabriella and Mariella, but I think we can convince them to come along with our sons.

They don’t like camping or the martial life.

Neither do I; this time, I’ll bring comfort and security on our caravan. They’ll come because they don’t want to be left out. The ‘resistance’ will fold as soon as they hear my plan. They’ll beg to come with us. It’ll be fun. You’ll see.

"For the record, papa, our Lesti nannies and Bjerne mounts have already agreed to travel with us; they are as committed as we are to whatever fantasy you have planned. But if the mission turns out to be just diplomacy, we’ll all scream. Loudly."

Mattias assured them that while there would, of necessity, be plenty of diplomacy, there would also be war and civil unrest to quell, hearts to conquer, and a new system of governance to implement replacing the old, the moribund, and the irrelevant. There would likely be conflict and challenges, some of which might devolve into armed insurrection. After all, when new rules are put in place, there are winners and losers. Sometimes the losers are sore losers.

Besides, change will inevitably create conflict, only some of which can be managed peacefully. We’ll have no idea of our challenges until we get there. By then, who knows what kind of mess I’ll have gotten us into.

Mattias continued, "But I promise nothing; I know what I’ve been told, not all of which I believe. I believe the situation is more tenuous and precarious for the queen than she admits; we shall need to assess who the good guys are, and who the good guys aren’t, once we get there. For now, I accept that she is the hereditary sovereign of her kingdom, and is a popular and faithful ruler doing her best to govern in an arcane and outdated system. She wants reform; we shall have to assess exactly what the concept of reform means to her."

You actually know very little then. No more than we do.

Exciting, isn’t it? We journey together into the vast unknown.

If you say so. Leaving with all of us together will not be that easy. I’m skeptical of your plan so far.

As am I. Don’t breathe a word though, it’ll be our little secret. Chaos and havoc.

Our battle cry?

No. The new nicknames of our two sons.

Mattias met with his women in the Compound and polled each to determine who wanted to come along and who wanted to remain behind. It wasn’t, however, quite that easy. It wasn’t whether or not they wished to accompany their Lord, but that, if they remained behind, how long would they have to be alone with their children? Nobody wanted separation, whether they were enthusiastic about traveling in tents or not.

The women and their kids who had already agreed to go with Mattias still wanted clarifications and commitments before finally agreeing to anything. If the women didn’t hear and see compromise and accommodation, Mattias would be going away by himself. He thought he could count on the wiccan girls and his wives, but beyond them, there were no commitments likely without knowing much more.

Even his wives, however, wanted specific assurances. Traveling with small children meant hardship. Mattias and his military types, including Eir and Inga, could not be allowed to force the pace of travel as if they were on a military campaign. The children, along with many others attending this diplomatic mission, were not military, and this was not war. They were family, not troops or camp followers.

In addition, the women were adamant they would never agree to let Mattias and his military entourage travel ahead of them, exposing the stragglers to danger from bandits and raiders. Mattias had to agree to traveling with the caravan every day, and not taking off to explore ahead for days at a time. His wives and children would need constant daily assurances; he would have to provide them along with his physical presence.

There was much to discuss, but this time Mattias was prepared. He outlined his plan and his schedule.

Ladies and children, friends and family, welcome to our first meeting to organize our diplomatic mission west to the Kingdom of Frijia. I am excited to undertake this mission, but don’t wish to leave unless my family and friends travel with me. But it must be voluntary and informed, so I wish to allay justifiable fears of danger as we depart the Compound on our journey.

We haven’t decided to travel with you, Mattias, said Mariella. I’m concerned not just about the unknown dangers inherent in this undertaking, but the effect on the children of being away from home and familiar surroundings for so long. Where we’ll wind up day to day, only the gods know, and moving about willy nilly from place to place for such a long time is not a good strategy for the children. They may be separated from all who love and protect us in our close knit community here in the Compound. Why do we need to poke our noses into the affairs of others, whom we don’t know, and haven’t even met?

A fair question, and one I must answer you honestly. We cannot consider our goals accomplished here in the south, in the Fells, on the plains or in Memmet until all kingdoms that are near to us have been introduced to our way of life. We must spread this seed of tolerance and interdependence, not just for us, but for others too, those who would, or might, be allies. The best way to avoid conflict is to engage with our neighbors and learn from each other. We have been contacted on just such a mission, and our help is needed. Our reputation has preceded us, something we should all acknowledge and be proud of. We are now part of a movement; we should help our brothers and sisters in need when asked.

Why us? I mean us specifically, as in you, me, and our children? Why not send our diplomats in first and us later if necessary? We hardly have any idea what we’re walking into, or what we’ll find once we get there. It’s one thing to expose ourselves to danger, known and unknown; it’s quite another to expose our children.

Agreed. That’s why I have a plan to proceed cautiously and safely. We will not move quickly or alone. We will move slowly and in stages, the final stage requiring an army from Frijia to accompany us from our western-most border to their capital city of Tor Luz. I will send a messenger ahead to convey our demand for security and, if met and agreed to, we will move.

Where?

First to the Kingdom of Dar Galan, now governed by the Warlock, Prince Mestin Marlat, his Lesti wife, Arianna, and his witch wife, Telara. He was named Governor-General, and given broad powers to carry out the Covenant and the Charter of Rights, the laws we all must obey. He has successfully and peacefully resettled some pagans, previously expelled, back into some cities, towns and fortified castles. Lesti and Bjerne colonists from our lands and others have likewise been integrated into the principal cities and farming communities. Lesser administrators have been appointed from the gentry, and the land seems to be healing well. I know little of the warlock prince, but look forward to meeting him. He has accomplished much in a short time. I now want to understand his methods.

Erin said, Be careful what you wish for, papa. This warlock is of the ancient caste, from the warlocks in Mortem, not Brucksburg or even the Dark Kingdom. We have little knowledge of his powers or aims, or those of his Lord, Emperor Q’in. It is said his personal appetites are voracious, though welcomed by a certain segment of the populace. I’m less certain why.

Then you and your wiccan sisters can help me to understand him. It is essential that we have Dar Galan and the capital of Galana Prima as a fully pacified safe harbor before moving on. I expect full cooperation from all in residence when we arrive.

No doubt you will get that cooperation and more, or so it seems. I suggest you send emissaries ahead to assess the quality of our welcome, and the culture of the palace. Remember, these are warlocks of the ancient ways, old wiccan culture. They have their own rules and world view.

Perhaps in their kingdoms, but here, in our realms, they have agreed to follow our rules.

"But we're here, and they're there by themselves. They make the rules in our absence. Don’t be surprised by what you find."

You expect trouble?

I expect you to find warlock ways that you may not like. But we shall see what we shall see.

Cryptic.

And mysterious; I’m all of that, said Erin.

Mattias thought she was kidding; she was not.

Chapter 1

The troop left the Compound and traveled west slowly and without incident, arriving at Galanta Prima, the capital city of Dar Galan, in early spring. The scouts and messengers sent on ahead never returned; instead, Mattias received a message from Prince Mestin Marlat that the scouts and messengers were at the palace awaiting the arrival of their Lord, Mattias Denson. The note stated that there had been confusion about their orders; Mestin invited the advance team to await their Lord in the comfort and security of the royal palace.

I shall have them whipped, said Eir. They have failed you, Mattias. We should camp on the plains and send new messengers; we should not move into Galana Prima until we hear back from them. I don’t like this development. It portends trouble.

They’re allies, not enemies; as well they are few. They have no army.

The wiccans of Mortem need no army to pacify pagans; they have primal powers.

We shall continue on and discover the truth. Let’s not get all crazy without just cause. Not yet, anyway.

If you say so. This is outrageous.

Mattias was not going to be a beggar at the door of his own palace; Prince Marlat was only allowed to govern, not rule. He could be removed at any time and replaced, and if there was any question about loyalty or obedience to the rule of law as set down by Mattias, he would not hesitate to send the prince packing. Mattias himself had voted in favor of placing Prince Marlat in his position as Governor-General; he was the son of a powerful warlock king in the Ancient Empire ruled by Emperor Q’in. His reputation for bravery in battle and forbearance from indiscriminate slaughter earned him a stellar reputation as a battlefield commander.

Mattias had met the man only once or twice before, though he seemed unremarkable at the time; his reputation was earned from the stories the warlocks under his command told later.

Mattias and his troop passed through the gates of the capital, and, within the hour, presented themselves to the prince and his entourage at the steps of the magnificent palace of the former King of Kings. Standing beside him was his wiccan wife Telara, and her wife, the witch Nara; on his other side was his Lesti wife Arianna, and her wives, Kaa and Elise.

Prince Mestin and his court were decked out in formal royal dress; rich robes and silks that glistened in the sun, making the reception committee both colorful and a spectacle. Mattias was unimpressed, but then to each his own governing style. After all, Mestin Marlat was a foreign prince, and a warlock at that. Perhaps this was how things were done in the far distant east.

Lord Mattias, welcome to our humble home. We have long hoped for a visit, and now our prayers have been answered. Let me introduce you to my family, then perhaps you will introduce yours to mine.

I thank you, Prince Mestin, and am overjoyed to meet with you once again.

You are too kind, but can you refresh my memory? I don’t recall our first meeting.

It was during the siege of Avil Baden. As I recall, you had assaulted a position of escaping pagan warriors and were pinned down by stones, projectiles and arrows. My warriors and I relieved your position. We met, said hello, then went back to the fight. I’m surprised you don’t remember. You were but minutes away from death when I arrived.

I vaguely recall now. It must be the fog of war. I don’t recall being relieved in battle. Oh well.

No one there assembled failed to understand the veiled insult; the warlock had been saved from imminent death, but was so ungrateful, so focused on himself, that he could not acknowledge, or perhaps even remember, the events of the day.

His wiccan wife, in typical witch fashion, remarked, Perhaps our Lord confuses you with another; it is said that warlocks often look alike to uninformed pagans. No doubt this is the case.

And when your husband was introduced to me later in the surgical tent? Was it an error that he clearly stated his name and thanked me then?

Mestin said, At least I thanked you then. Please forgive my lapse in memory now. I have been rude, as has been my wife. Forgive us, and let us move on.

Of course. We thank you for your hospitality and would now appreciate being shown to our quarters. The ride has been long, and we are weary from the road.

We are just now making ready your rooms in the annex. You will be quite comfortable there.

And even more so in the palace. You will take me to my rooms immediately, and be quick about it. I tire already of your attempt at slights and derision. If I hear one more insult, I will take heads. Yours included. And keep your wives at bay. Your clumsy insults are heard and understood. I will have you flogged if you speak another word to me in this manner.

Sire, there is no need for anger. We meant no injury.

You are wiccan, and from a distant land. Mind your tongue and your manner; I have little patience for pups who yelp for attention.

Marlat’s guards, all warlocks of the Ancient Empire, started to unsheathe their swords and move toward Mattias. With a wave of a hand, they were gasping for air, levitated off the ground, and appearing to have someone, or something, choking them.

You threaten me, worms? The sentence is death for treason.

With that, the men fell silent and tumbled in a heap on the ground. They were all dead.

You’re next, my prince, along with your wives and theirs. This is typical wiccan behavior, worse as I see it, and it will not be tolerated. When I finish my business here in the west, you will be replaced. I shall report this affront to Emperor Q’in, and let him deal with you.

He will do nothing, as there is nothing to do. I am well within my rights as a warlock to manage this realm as I see fit. It is within the charter granted to me.

I will be the judge of that. I suggest you and your women disappear until we leave. We have no need for your further impertinence.

You will regret this, Mattias Denson. You insult me and my wives; this is intolerable.

This began with you and will end with me. Now vacate the palace, and take your staff with you. I will only ask once.  You have one hour.

The prince and his wives departed; they spoke to the staff, mostly Lesti, then said they would depart for their hunting lodge on the outskirts of the city to wait out Mattias’s stay. Then the prince would decide Mattias’s fate; he had been asked by Emperor Q’in to assess the new sovereign and propose ways to assassinate him. There were wiccans in the east who wanted what Mattias possessed, and thought assassination the best and cleanest option to eliminate him. In the ensuing chaos, warlock royalty and armies would bring order.

Mattias and his army occupied the city and set up defensive perimeters around the palace. There was little actual risk of attack within the city; the military elements of the old order had been utterly destroyed by Mattias in the final great battle. Still, many wiccans from the Dark Kingdom and the Ancient Empire did not believe that Mattias commanded the elements, or was anywhere near as powerful as a warlock noble. They believed the final battle of the War of the Western Pagans was actually won by warlocks who destroyed the enemy for Mattias. They considered Mattias a coward, taking credit for a warlock victory, then not giving the wiccans, especially the warlocks of the east, their due.

Prince Mestin knew better, but said nothing. He had witnessed the destruction and Mattias’s awesome power; he had no desire to confront the man, but he would still test him. Such was warlock arrogance, and Mattias was already tired of it.

The witches attending Mattias from the Compound, especially Erin, had a different take. The prince was an ancient warlock, different in aspect, power, and attitude from the warlocks descended from the wiccan of old in the Southern Kingdom. Theirs was old magic, neither black nor white, just powerful. And while they were individually very powerful, they did not meet or match the power of Mattias Denson. His magic, his power, was thought to derive from the life essences of all races and factions, infused with the forces of nature. He was not to be trifled with, though some feared his powers would not protect him from wiccan machinations in the shadows.

He was too trusting, an opinion shared by many around Mattias.

In large part, they were right. Mattias was unfazed by childish behaviors better suited to the playground, though once raised, his ire could be deadly. The witches of all castes in attendance were aroused by the presence of a warlock prince; they could sense his primal powers in a way they could not with Mattias. Erin and Ithiria were both inclined to visit Mestin and his women; they did not understand why.

Most of the witches of the Compound, including Erin and Ithiria, soon recovered from their curiosity, but not Serena or Nesti, witches who were part of the original seven witches rescued from Manzil Al’ahzan. The pair decided to pay Prince Mestin a late-night visit after Mattias retired for the evening one day. They arranged to meet in the city, at a villa owned by the prince. It was late as the women slipped out of the palace one night, and moved quickly to the villa residence, greeted there by Lesti maidens and pagan servants.

Mestin, Telara, Arianna and their wives welcomed the pair into their bathhouse, with young women, naked and oiled, waiting to attend to them.

Join us for a thermal. The girls are well trained in the ways of pleasure and pillowing. Feel free to indulge yourselves however you wish. Command, and they will obey.

Thank you, Lord. You are generous to a fault.

The one rule you must obey in this household is that while you are here, I am the master of the household, and you will obey me in all things according to wiccan law. Do you understand and agree?

Yes, Lord. We feel your primal strength; we wish only to experience your power.

Then you shall have your wish. Now, allow our Lesti to undress you and prepare you for me.

As you command.

Lesti maidens approached the girls and began to undress them, removing their simple attire, oiling and massaging them, then taking them to the scented waters occupied by Mestin and his women. The encounter lasted all night and well into the next morning.

When the women awoke the next day, they were in bed, finely wardrobed, and all alone. If anyone had been with them the previous evening, no evidence still remained.

The only evidence they could describe was the way they felt. They were sore, bruised and battered. Whatever had happened the night before was going to make walking difficult that day. They were sore everywhere, but had no recollection of the previous night’s events.

They looked to change back to their normal togs, then obfuscate about where they had been. However, their clothes were missing; they had only the fine silks that they were given the night before, and that was the only clothing left in the villa.

This was going to be awkward.

Very awkward.

It was what Prince Mestin wanted.

Chapter 2

The women walked back to the palace, attempting to enter through rear entrances. But those were now locked, forcing the women to re-enter at the front of the palace to return to their quarters. They were identified as soon as they approached, then escorted to Mattias, who was in the dining hall eating a late first meal alone. He was made aware that the women had left the palace the previous evening, and was informed where they went. He elected to do nothing at the time, waiting for an explanation when they returned. He expected them to skulk home later the night before, not mid-morning the next day.

He was expecting excuses, something credible. However, what he got was a pack of bald-faced lies that no one could believe.

Mattias settled back to question the women, starting with Serena.

Serena and Nesti were seated opposite Mattias at a small table. Nesti knew she was in for it; Serena, as usual, was contemptuous of anything Mattias said or did, including even bringing her to account for her behavior. Mattias was used to this game, and was prepared to cut through the noise and get to the critical events of the previous night.

Mattias reached out to hug the girls and touch foreheads, their usual greeting in the morning. Mattias, being a man well known for enjoying physical touch, was permitted this familiarity by both witches. Nesti was a thoroughly angry witch on her best days, and openly hated pagan men, but she inexplicably enjoyed the warmth of Mattia’s touch. This morning was no different.

Serena knew better.

You just sunk our cause, Nesti. Not that we could prevent him gaining our knowledge; we could not. But he just learned everything we did with Mestin and his entourage last night.

We hug every morning. I look forward to his touch.

He is more wiccan than us. By his touch, he entered our minds to see where we went and what we did. We can dissemble all we want, but now it won’t matter. Will it, Mattias?

Why don’t we talk, ladies?

About?

"The prince, his wives, and their wives, and all those hunky aide-de-camps escorting you around the villa, room to room. I can see what you did, but often not why you did it. Your explanations may help your case."

What business is it of yours? I’m not bound to answer to you; neither is Nesti. We are wiccan, and if we wish to enjoy pleasures and pillowing, that’s our business, not yours. Besides, that’s the culture in our coven, and it’s not prohibited by the Charter.

The Charter of Rights was the new constitution and initial set of laws established under the auspices of the Covenant governing the rights of all citizens within his realms. The rule of law was instituted everywhere by Mattias after the War of the Western Pagans.

Your behavior, in general, is your own, just as you describe. In the normal situation, I would have no interest in your private life, nor should I; that’s very true. But this is not the normal situation, and your behavior is called into question.

We did nothing wrong.

You snuck out of the palace, well past midnight.

So?

You informed no one that you were leaving or where you were going, as is required in camp. You agreed to this as a condition of coming along with me.

An oversight. Apologies.

You went directly to a villa owned by the prince.

We went for a walk; we bumped into him by chance.

You sent the prince a message, and he replied. I have the parchment right here.

You had no right ...

What? To search your rooms? To catch you in a bald-faced wiccan lie? I’m afraid I do when suspicious behavior is noted. You’ve had quite a correspondence since our arrival. You were required to report all contact to me. You did not, once again, flouting the rules.

So, spank me. Apologies for my failures. May we go now?

Hardly. As I understand the events that followed, and briefly, they are these. You made a beeline for the villa, guided by a servant from here in the palace; you were both admitted inside right away. There you met with Prince Mestin, his wives, and their wives, and his aides. You were bathed and scented by Lesti pleasure girls, then returned to the prince and his people. As you suggest, you engaged in pleasures and pillowing, rather vigorously I might add, then were sent to the prince’s private bedroom for more ... duty. There you were asked for your help with a task the prince undertook for his warlock masters back home. This is the part I wish to understand. You were asked to give him maps; detailed maps of the Southern Kingdom, the Northern Fells, the Memmet Valley, the new Kingdom of the Northern Plains, and the Compound. This you did. Is that not so?

It is. I make maps all the time, as do you. People need to know how to get places; we often help. There’s no intrigue there.

Those are trade routes for merchants, not the locations of the military outposts with troop levels.

Who said I did that?

You did.

You’re wrong.

You gave a detailed map of Dura Moran and its defenses, as well as a detailed map of the Compound and all paths in and out. You gave the prince a map of the lodges, including mine, and who slept in which rooms. I don’t give out that information; that is the work of spies and traitors.

You’ve no proof.

"Nesti? You’re awfully quiet. What did you witness?"

I don’t remember. I think a spell was cast. I am without recollection.

Nesti, you may not like me, but I’ve always left you alone with your anger. You have served me, and I have rewarded you. I have never borne you any ill will, nor have I ever mistreated you. Now is not the time for amnesia. If you do not speak openly and honestly, you will be sent to the cells to think it over. It is wet and dank; there are bugs and creepy crawlies. I know you will not enjoy reminiscing about your memories of Manzil and the cells there from which I once rescued you.

"No, papa, please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to help. I know it was wrong, but we had to tell him. He made us."

With pleasures?

Any actual pleasures would have been nice, but no, he’s a warlock through and through. No pleasure but his own.

Then what?

When we arrived, and he welcomed us to his villa, we saw all the delights to be explored and tasted. Then he made us promise something. He admonished us, and then made us agree that while we were in his villa, he was the sole and absolute master, and we had to agree to obey his every whim. We thought, or at least I did anyway, that what he meant was sexual obedience during pleasures. At some point, we were brought to his rooms for more pleasures, but then he asked about you and the various realms.  He bound us with a spell, then questioned us at length, finally asking us to draw the maps and disclose military information. I’m so sorry, papa; I never meant to cause harm.

And you, Serena?

He’s an ally. He was entitled to the maps and information. Why not?

"I see. It was up to you alone to decide that."

"No matter, Lord, I did decide that. I did nothing wrong; neither did this coward seated next to me."

She knows better than to bluff and prevaricate, while you have no repentance in your heart. You have betrayed me, both of you.

Nesti was in tears, either because she was caught, or because she really didn’t want to help the prince. It was only in that moment that she realized the gravity of what she had done.

Please Lord, I beg you forgive me, said Nesti. To go back on my promise to the prince would have meant death; it is the wiccan way. We cannot give an oath to a warlock, then renege. It is instant death.

But you can renege on an oath to your Lord? To me?

Yes, papa. I’m sorry, but you don’t normally kill oath breakers. That’s well known. A warlock will kill a witch without a second thought for disobedience to an oath. It’s the law, and I am bound to obey.

"You acknowledge my right to execute you for breaking my law."

Nesti said, dejectedly, Yes, Lord.

Hell no, I don’t, said Serena. This is a wiccan matter. You have no right ...

Mattias waved his hand, and Serena fell silent, still trying to talk. The words were mouthed, but no sound made.

Mattias turned to Nesti.

You will confess all in open discourse to our companions for judgment?

Yes, Lord. I have no choice. Then I will be put to death?

Confess, and I will pardon you, as is my right. Then you will serve me faithfully until we return to the Compound. It’s that, or I kill you right now for high treason. Erin was right; this place, and this warlock, are not at all what they seem.

Nesti said, I see the wisdom in repentance and confession. When you assemble the troop, I will confess all, beginning to end.

The details of pleasuring may be omitted.

You have seen my wanton behavior in my mind?

I have. And you will now serve me. That is your punishment.

Yes, papa.

Mattias freed Serena’s mind; she was given the same option. She declined, saying she could only be judged by her fellow wiccans in council that day, with her punishment set only by them. Her wiccan sisters would have their say, and Serena was confident they would never go against her. She was wiccan, after all, and they were members of her coven. That had to count.

I did nothing wrong. My wiccan sisters will never allow me to be punished, except by our laws. Your threat is empty.

The faces gathered in the great room of the palace that afternoon were glum. Word had spread of the nocturnal adventures of the two witches, and rumors of what they had admitted doing with Prince Mestin had also begun to circulate. The reason for being so glum was that they each understood that they would each have to sit in judgment, then decide what to do with the women, and about their treachery.

All agreed that the behavior of the two witches was a betrayal, and they had given Prince Mestin information only a spy would wish to possess. That much was clear. But had the women been trapped into the result, or had they knowingly and willingly gone along, indifferent to the seriousness of their crime? Was it a crime, or did they have a defense to excuse such reckless behavior?

None thought the charade that afternoon was for the purpose of trial and judgment; no, it was designed to make the wiccans, his wives and family, along with the military, go on the record about what the women had done, whether they were legally culpable, and what the punishment, if any, ought to be. The entire group understood that their opinions and judgments ultimately did not matter; the only thing that really mattered was what Mattias thought. Still, he would make them decide and speak the words out loud before sharing his own private thoughts.

For Mattias, this was a major test of the new regime, the new rules, and his understanding of his own people. Mattias loved his family, but this was governance and his trust in their judgment and their fidelity to his vision at best seemed shaky. Some thought that family was a free-for-all; no or few consequences ever. New divisions were opening up, causing cracks in consensus, as factions vied for power and primacy in their regions. He was sure of no one any longer, not his Lesti, his Bjerne, or his pagans; the Leston were a different story being up front and honest to a fault in negotiation. But he mostly sought to test his wiccans, the group he knew was already challenging the full implementation of the Covenant and the Charter of Rights. They wanted their own law, and only their own law. They could have it in their own realms, just not in his.

And they seemed far too cozy and besotted by the nobles of Emperor Q’in.

He did not relish confronting Erin or Ithiria, but he would. Within weeks they would depart as a family for the Frijian domains, and its capital city of Tor Luz. He did not want dissenting and contrary voices in his entourage; the wiccans had been agitating against the rules and their rights as wiccans ever since the war ended, chafing against the Covenant and the Charter of Rights. Mestin and his family were no great surprise; it was only what Mattias expected from wiccan arrogance, though not from this prince, not in this city, and not with Mattias in residence.

He was already considering sending his wiccan women home before; now he would see what they thought about Nesti and Serena’s betrayal.

Today would decide their fates, but not theirs alone.

Mattias assembled the leaders of the factions traveling with him, along with family and close advisors. The news of the events of the previous evening had spread like wildfire among the populace as well as the troops traveling with Mattias and his family. The wiccans were on high alert, saying nothing to anyone before their meeting with Mattias.

Mattias got right down to business. His mood was solemn and serious; he was in no mood for dissembling today.

You have all heard of the events of the past evening, as described by Nesti and not disputed by Serena. No doubt you’ve heard what each has told me.

Lia, a witch of the Seven, said, Papa, perhaps it’s best if you recap what they told you so there is no confusion. I’m not as absolutely clear about what happened as I should be, and what involvement the women had with Prince Mestin. Perhaps we should start there.

Of course. It’s best to dispel false rumors.

Mattias explained the actions of the two women leaving the palace well after midnight, sneaking out of a rear door, and going directly to the villa owned by the prince. Mattias recounted Nesti’s story of events, along with Serena’s dissembling and lies to excuse behavior and cover up.

Now, for each of you assembled here, I would like to have your assessment of events, your conclusions as to significance, and what you think we should do moving forward. This includes your judgment about the prince and his wives, and our witches who attended him last night. I would like to begin with the assessment of the wiccan faction, as this matter concerns you most directly.

Erin started to speak up, pre-empting a dialogue with her sisters.

I think ...

Mattias interrupted, Hold your thoughts, love; I know you are completely and wholeheartedly committed to me as your husband, so your assessment may not shed as much light. I would ask your sisters to speak up first, and let their views be known. Who speaks for the sisterhood, the coven?

Lia spoke up. I do, papa. I speak for my sisters.

Good. Then please, tell us what you think.

This is not complicated, Lord, though it may seem so. As I understand it, as my sisters entered the villa, the prince, a warlock of the Ancient Empire, required an oath from my sisters to obey his commands while in his home. To this, the women agreed, as would be custom among our kind.

Go on.

As I understand it, the women were at the villa to seek pleasures and pillow, as is their right. They thought the oath had only to do with their recreation, and nothing else. In this they were mistaken. Perhaps they were tricked, perhaps they simply had a lapse in judgment and were careless. In any event, at the end of their romp, they were asked serious questions about the Southern Kingdom, and associated and allied realms, and asked for detailed maps and military information. Among allies this seems reasonable. We’re not at war with the warlocks; they’re welcome in the south. I see no reason to be upset, and there is, therefore, nothing to do about it.

"Even though the ancient caste warlocks are not allowed to enter the Southern Kingdom? Why would they ever need any of this information? You’re saying that the underlying conduct or behaviors, what they did, does not matter? Ever? But what matters to me is that an oath was given by a witch to a warlock requiring the witch to do ... what? To tell all the state secrets of the allied realms just because a warlock asked? To discuss troop strengths and locations in the south and in the Memmet Valley? You suggest that the oath to a warlock is absolute, and therefore nothing Nesti and Serena told the prince could ever be treason? Is this correct?"

Correct. It is the wiccan way. Wiccan oaths are absolute. You know this, Mattias.

No, actually, I do not. You have made oaths to me. What of them?

Subordinate. We have a long-standing agreement to live among your people and to obey your rules. If we can no longer comply with your rules, we must leave. That’s our agreement.

A short memory, witch. At the inception of war, you swore an oath to me of absolute loyalty and fealty. This oath predates the warlock oath.

The war is over. So is the oath.

The oath was absolute, not conditional, or have you forgotten?

I do not recall the nature of the oath given. No matter. It no longer obtains as far as I’m concerned.

I see. But it does matter, witch. Assume you are correct. A second absolute oath was sworn to me at the signing of the Covenant among all the factions, including the wiccan. You swore a new oath to me at the Compound. You swore to subordinate the law of the wiccan to the law of the Covenant, did you not?

That hardly seems likely. Perhaps we misunderstood what was being asked of us. A simple mistake.

Erin was getting nervous; she could game out where this conversation was going. This was a trap, and she could not warn her sisters.

You do not recall your oaths? Any of them?

My recollection seems faulty. In any event, what does it matter?

Why do you ask?

An oath to a warlock is absolute; an oath to a pagan is not. The oath given to a wiccan always takes precedence over an oath to any other faction. That is the wiccan way.

So again, no matter the underlying offense, a wiccan is not culpable when another wiccan is involved, and oaths to me therefore have no value.

We uphold an oath to a pagan if we can. If not ...?

"We are talking about treason. You do understand this, don’t you?"

No, we are talking about oaths, and their significance. I have explained this to you. If you choose not to understand, perhaps we should depart this city. Perhaps our time here with you is at an end.

You do not have my permission to leave; you will remain here in Galana Prima until matters are resolved.

You cannot stop us. We are not your subjects. By prior agreement, we shall leave this place. Now.

What agreement, Lia? I too do not recall any such pledge or agreement. My memory is faulty. You will stay put until I find Mestin and his people. If he has already left the city, I will assume treachery, and that all wiccans are complicit, either before or after the act of treason. Oath breaking is serious to me, and you are doubly guilty of that offense.

You cannot prevent our departure; we are uncollared and free.

No more.

With a wave of his hand the witches were all collared with gold chain, even Erin and Ithiria.

Husband, what is the meaning of this?

I’ve read your thoughts, and those of these traitors. I am saddened by your lack of commitment to me, Erin, and of your scheming. There will be consequences. Extreme and serious consequences.

I have no idea what you’re talking about. What scheming?

You were going to say that the two witches are guilty of treason, no matter which law applies, wiccan or the Covenant. They should be put to death for treason. But you also agree with your sisters about everything else. Your oaths to me, twice given, and our personal vows, are meaningless. Now I understand why you didn’t want parchment and marriage; you didn’t want to forsake your wiccan ways. You have dishonored yourself, and our love. You will share in the fate of your sisters, whatever that may be.

Husband, what insanity is this? I am your wife. We have a son.

You are a traitor waiting to betray me, along with the rest of your kind.

Mattias called out for the guards.

Guards, escort these witches to the cells. Lock them up and chain them to the wall. No one in or out except me. No exceptions.

The guard was puzzled, Lord, what of Lady Erin? Lady Ithiria?

Put them in chains. Take them to their rooms. And guard?

Yes, Lord?

Pain of death for anything going wrong. Should any escape, I will deal with you myself. There will be no pardons, no leniency. Tell the jail keeper and her jailers; no excuses.

As you wish, Lord Mattias.

Chapter 3

Mattias looked around the room at the remaining faces, including his other wives. None held his gaze. Gnar and Malasooven said nothing and were silent. The Lesti, likewise, were quiet, waiting for someone else to speak up.

None did.

None of you have a word of defense or condemnation? No thoughts on the matter?

Eimear said, What do you intend to do with the witches, starting with Nesti and Serena?

Do you have something you wish to share?

I have a question, just asked.

What would you have me do?

I would have you answer me directly so I can decide for myself if you’ve lost your mind?

You agree with the witches?

I do not. Neither do I agree with you. You are once again being rash and influenced by anger. There’s more to this, isn’t there? Things you haven’t shared.

"There are. I just want to understand who’s with me, and who cares so little about the society we’re trying to build. One thing I know for sure is that trust cannot flourish with factions going off on their own, changing the nature of commitments made. If we do not all cleave to the Covenant, and to oaths made, there is no future for us as I see it. If you disagree, perhaps I don’t know any of you at all. Any of you." 

Eir Haraldsdottir and Inga Sigursdottir each spoke up.

Eir said, I once broke an oath and was punished for it. My conduct was immature and unworthy of a princess of the House of King Harald Gunnarson. But I am alive and happy; I was pardoned and expelled for admitting my crimes. I will not let Mattias go out into the world unsupported and alone in circumstances such as these. The one thing I agree with is that, whether a wiccan or a pagan oath, it does not matter. It is an oath, and we are nothing if we do not serve our Lord with honor. Serena should be put to death immediately for the obvious treason she willingly committed, and a search conducted for Prince Mestin and his family. I would pardon Nesti for her honesty and repentance; I don’t think she intended to cause harm. The other wiccans and Nesti can never leave this place. It’s clear they will go east to the Mortem, and will tell all they know. This cannot be allowed. It’s clear what the warlocks of the Ancient Empire intend.

Inga said, I agree. This is treason, and it is endemic to wiccan philosophy. They cannot be trusted, and, as I suspect, they will try to unite with the wiccan east and rise up against us. It was only a matter of time. Perhaps we should deal with them first before we go west to the Frijian capital.

Mattias said, My thoughts exactly. However, we’re on a schedule, and a tight one, so I will push on to Frijia. But before we leave, I will deal with the wiccan question in our own community.

You intend to confront them further? All of them?

I do. Once and for all. I suspected their treachery might one day arise; the only thing that was unclear was when they intended to begin their revolt, and would it be a betrayal or just a disagreement. I expected it to begin in the Compound, initiated once I crossed the border into Frijian territory. The warlocks, and my other enemies, will then assume a clear path, and attempt to subvert my authority when I leave. When they arrive at our border in the Southern Kingdom, if they do, I will return to the south to deal with the problem. Until then, they pose no immediate threat. If their armies begin to assemble and move, we will go to war.

The warlocks are very powerful. I’m not sure we can defeat such a large army as theirs, said Gnar. Perhaps we should be more cautious and enter into negotiations.

We have no time for diplomacy with this kind of treachery emanating from the wiccan world. If we go to war, I will destroy their kingdoms, lay waste to their cities and lands, and banish them for a thousand years. I offered peace and friendship; a better way. They have bitten my hand; I will not soon forget the afront. They had everything they ever wanted.

What’s the rush then, Mattias?

Gnar was resisting his friend.

You’re bothered about Erin, I assume? And our son together?

Both. Erin has done nothing wrong, nor has Ithiria. Neither have the other sisters, other than Nesti and Serena. Even they do not deserve death. Banishment, yes. But have we no compassion for the sisters who have long dwelled among us? Erin is the mother of your son. Do you suspect your young son too?

Were he older, yes. I have learned the hard way that betrayal is best accomplished by those closest to me. I have relevant experience in the matter of trust; I will not be betrayed again, at least not this easily. Those who are offended by my decisions should choose to leave and go home, or go wherever you wish to live. If you do not see what I see, then we have a serious problem in matters of judgment.

The meeting broke up, and leadership of the factions went their separate ways to decide matters for their own people. This aggravation was eerily familiar to Mattias; as soon as things had begun to normalize, the factions began to separate into their own camps with their own petty disputes. The wiccans' behavior was predictable; expected. But not the others. Mattias was gravely disappointed. He was no longer certain his dream was any longer shared by his people; he began to believe that each wanted independence and separate territory to govern, free of all other factions.

The dream of a multi-faction, unified nation was slipping away.

Mattias would accept this result if he had to, but before he exited permanently, he would have his revenge for oath breaking and treachery, even if he had to do it alone.

He would begin with the wiccan in camp, then draw out Ithiria further over the matters. She had been silent, which typically meant she was preparing to leave without notice.

Perhaps he was wrong; he hoped so. But, then again, she was wiccan and royal. Which loyalty tugged harder, Mattias or the wiccan way of life? He would soon find out.

Mattias decided that the first and only tests of faith would happen overnight after giving out instructions to his military. His orders were not to be discussed outside of the few tasked with carrying out his instructions.

He was clear and concise with his Lesti generals.

Tomorrow at midday, there will be a public execution of the witch Serena. Say nothing until morning; I will attend the event and carry out the execution myself.

And the wiccan sisters? Lady Nesti? What of them?

"I have not decided, but likely I will punish