They went directly from the ceremony in the audience hall to the King’s council chambers, where the King was attended by what was explained to Turgeon to be a full council of war. Summor’s emissary was getting anxious to return with an answer, and the King had delayed far too long in providing one.

  When Turgeon and the Swordmaster entered the council chamber, only a few steps ahead of the King himself, it was already filling up with the Kingdom’s leaders and advisors.

  The council chamber itself was an elegant room. Three times the size of the large and very solid oak table that sat in the center, the rooms walls were also paneled in a rich wood and hung with elaborate works of art depicting every corner of the kingdom. One entire wall was occupied by the most detailed map of Falkaria Turgeon had ever seen. The room’s only window was opposite the map, and it was currently covered by thick, rich drapes that blotted out the midday sun outside leaving the room to be lit by lamp light alone.

  At the table there was easily room for twenty to sit comfortably, but today there were only chairs for a dozen councilors.

  Many of those councilors had arrived from court ahead of Turgeon and the Swordmaster.

  Talking quietly with each other near the map on the wall Turgeon saw the castle steward and a woman he didn’t recognize at first, but when she turned to see who was entering the room he realized it was Melora, the castle healer. It seemed odd to him that she would sit in council with the King, but he knew he wasn’t really in a position to question the King’s judgment.

  Master Jesphat, the castle Librarian, had arrived shortly before them. He also seemed an odd choice for the council, but Turgeon supposed he knew a lot about the history of the Kingdom and previous wars with Summor that might be valuable for the discussion at hand.

  Also awaiting them was a tall and severe man, finely dressed and sporting a well trimmed beard on his craggy face, standing along the wall with the closed window conversing with a squat and unkempt man in rough leathers. Their discussion was quiet, but both were gesturing wildly with their empty hands.

  “Stand here,” the Swordmaster directed Turgeon, pointing to a spot beside the room's only visible door, “Guard the door and say nothing.”

  He nodded his acknowledgement of the orders and was moving to take up the indicated place when Daelrud strode confidently into the chamber, declaring as soon as he had crossed the threshold, “The Swordmaster Elect will serve as my advisor in council today.” He nodded at Turgeon and indicated a chair next to the seat he was moving to occupy for himself. The Swordmaster scowled, but nodded briefly to indicate that Turgeon should accept the Duke’s offer.

  One of the two men that Turgeon did not know, the taller one in fine clothing, frowned at Dael and interrupted Turgeon’s move to take his appointed seat by standing between him and the table. “What would your mother think of this… boy as your advisor, Dael?” His voice dripped condescension, but if his use of Dael’s familiar name bothered his friend he didn’t let any indication of it cross his countenance.

  “Good day to you as well, Duke Y’gurth,” that explained the man’s attitude. Like father, like son, Turgeon thought but kept to himself. “Mother has changed much since father was killed saving your Duchy, Uncle. Something you’d know if you’d bothered to visit your sister in the years since her husband died.”

  The older Duke scowled at Daelrud, but didn’t have a response to Dael’s scathing cutdown.

  Both were saved from further indignity by the entrance of the King and Suzette, behind whom the door to the chamber was closed by a guard who took up a post in the corridor outside.

  Upon seeing Turgeon moving to sit at the table, the King scowled and glared at the Swordmaster. “Not my idea, Maebric. Duke Ko has requested the Swordmaster Elect serve as his advisor for today’s council meeting.”

  That did nothing to assuage the King’s displeasure, merely turning it on Daelrud instead.

  “Please, take your seats, councilors. We have much to discuss and decide this afternoon.”

  Once all had been seated around the table, the King of course at its head, the discussion began in earnest. With a gesture, the King indicated that Master Jesphat should open the discussion.

  “I think we are all aware of the circumstances we are meeting in, but for those who aren’t,” a pointed glare in Turgeon’s direction with that statement, “We shall set the stage for today’s meeting.

  “Our guest, Comte Merise du Verais, in his capacity as emissary to our King, Maebric, from Queen Isolde of Summor, has made certain demands if we wish to avoid war. Demands that I think we can all agree are quite unacceptable.” He paused there to look around the table, making sure to look each person seated in the eye before continuing.

  “Simply put, he has demanded that Falkaria cede the Duchy of Ko – the entirety of it – to Summor’s authority. If we choose not to meet this demand, it has been made clear to us that Summor intends to join forces with Klaav and invade Falkaria by summer’s end.”

  Well that was a bit of a surprise. Like everyone else in the castle, Turgeon was aware that Summor had sent an ambassador to treat with the King. He had been in the dark, as had much of the court apparently, to the actual demands the ambassador had made. If the rest of the Falkarian court had been aware of these demands they would’ve been the talk of the castle for these past few weeks.

  “As we are all aware,” Duke Y’gurth interjected, “that Falkaria’s military is in no position to take on Summor’s, much less the combined might of Summor and Klaav.”

  “What would you have us do instead, Duke? Give up the Ko valley?” Jesphat retorted in a most uncharacteristic biting tone.

  “It is an option we should consider seriously.”

  “I will not be the King who lost the Ko valley to Summor again. Just look at how the histories speak of Maerdryn,” the King sounded almost petulant, “Despite everything he did for the Kingdom over his long and glorious reign the one thing he is remembered for above all else is having lost Ko to Summor in the Second War.”

  “Yes, your majesty, that is what the common folk remember him for,” Jesphat attempted to soothe the King’s preemptively wounded pride, “But the learned know that he set the Kingdom on the course to stability and greatness.”

  “Who cares what the sages in their scroll lined towers think of a King? A King’s reputation is made by the people. My decision is final, I will not submit to these bullies.”

  “Thank you, your majesty. The people of Ko thank you, we do wish to remain Falkarians,” Daelrud took a chance in an attempt to aid Jesphat in improving the King’s rapidly souring mood.

  “The Duke’s question still stands, Maebric,” the Swordmaster steered the discussion back to the primary concern of the council. “We don’t have the military power to stand up to the might of the rest of the continent with force alone. Our enemies won’t be afraid to employ magic against our forces either, which will put us at further disadvantage.”

  “You will refer to me as your highness or your majesty in council like everyone else, brother,” the King’s voice was dripping venom now, possibly still angered by the Swordmaster’s stunt during Turgeon and Suzette’s promotion ceremony, but Turgeon sense the animosity between these two men might rest deeper than that recent event. They stared each other down for long moments before the King swung his gaze to the castle healer.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Melora, what is our enemy’s disposition?”

  A strange question for a healer, Turgeon thought.

  “Your Majesty, Summor has prepared to take the initiative it seems. Sources report that they have already begun massing troops near the border south of the Ko valley. Their camps aren’t close enough to be an overt threat, but thousands of troops could easily be in Ko within the week from where they are positioned.

  “Klaav, on the other hand – and strangely, as they do seem to be the instigators of this whole situation we find ourselves in – has not engaged in any obvious troop build up. They have overstocked supplies at their border posts, but the garrisons have stayed consistent in size to where they have been for the past decade or more.”

  King Maebric was nodding along as Melora gave her report, completely unsurprised that his healer was in possession of the details of his enemy’s movements of men and materiel for war.

  “However, Klaav has begun efforts to undermine your majesty’s authority and ability to wage war here in Falkaria City. I’ve received multiple reports that the Syndicate houses have foiled attempts by Klaav’s agents that would have resulted in major disruptions to the city’s grain supply, or worse.”

  Her last statement finally drew looks of surprise and anger from the King and many of the other councilors seated at the table.

  “Klaav has agents within the city?” asked Duke Y’gurth’s advisor.

  “Of course they do, Lord Shergarth. Summor does too. The Syndicate is aware of many of the agents, and keeps them under watch, hence their plots being foiled. Their agents within the castle walls are the ones that concern me the most. They must have them, as we do within their courts and keeps, but exactly who those agents are remains a mystery.”

  “And our own disposition?” The question was apparently directed at the Swordmaster, but the King didn’t even look in his direction.

  “We have begun calling all of the members of the Falkarian Army to muster. The King’s Own Regiments are amassing on the plain east of the city and the nobility has been given word to muster their regiments. The Duke’s should speak to their own progress and that of their vassals.”

  Duke Y’gurth took the opportunity to address the King first, “Your majesty, as you are aware the armies of Fjaarlgard always stand at the ready to respond to any threat from our unruly northern neighbors. We have begun laying down additional supplies, including food and weapons, at all of our outposts and keeps throughout the Duchy. We will be prepared for Klaav when they strike.”

  “Are you able to send any of your troops to aid in the Kingdom’s efforts to repel the Summorian invasion?”

  “No, Swordmaster, I do not believe we will have any troops to spare. If Klaav is able to leave their Summorian border undefended we will be able but hard pressed to repel them as it is.”

  “A fine line you walk then,” the Swordmaster seemed to be referring to more than just Y’gurth’s troop dispositions, “Ko?”

  “My lord. Ko’s armies have been mustered and already stand guard along the border. My lord uncle, Kaeldar,” the specificity was apparently necessary to distinguish his father’s brother from his mother’s that was in the council chamber, “has command of Ko’s combined forces, including those of our vassals.”

  “Can anyone speak to Meritinian’s preparations?” the Swordmaster asked the council.

  “Where is Duke Charbon? He should be in the city by now,” the King complained.

  Duke Y’gurth snorted and attempted to hide a small grin.

  “I believe he has just arrived, your majesty,” Melora supplied, “But was… indisposed, and thereby unable to attend court or council today. Perhaps he will be available tomorrow.”

  “He’d better be, and I hope for his sake he’s begun his preparations as ordered. We will need Meritinian’s navy if we are to stand any chance of winning this war.”

  “Well then,” Jesphat took charge of the room again, “It seems we all know where things stand, and we have determined how we shall respond to the Comte. Shall we reconvene the court in the audience chamber, your majesty?”

  “I think not for tonight, it has grown late and is nearly time for the evening meal.”

  Turgeon hadn’t realized how much time had passed while the council debated, with the window drapes shut tight he had lost all sense of time. Now that the king mentioned eating though he realized he had grown quite hungry.

  “Of course your majesty, the emissary can stew for another night. We will send word that he will have his answer in the morning.”

  *****

  When the appointed time came for the Comte’s final audience the following morning, Turgeon once again found himself on the dais alongside the rest of the royal family. It felt strange to think of himself as part of that family now, and of course he wasn’t really a royal. The Swordmaster may have adopted him, but he would never have the blood of Falkar in his veins.

  Falkaria’s full court was nearly assembled as nobles trickled in to prepare for the midsummer festival and the audience hall was more crowded than Turgeon had seen it in his time in the castle. Word had been sent to every corner of the Kingdom requiring every noble house down to the smallest barony to send at least one representative to Falkaria City. Ostensibly this was for the festival itself, but now that he was privy to the deliberations of the King’s council Turgeon understood that it was a crucial step in the preparations for war. Gathering the nobles would provide the King with an opportunity to rally his vassals and motivate them for the coming conflict.

  He had finally had an opportunity to talk to Dael, Ted and Ed before he was summoned to the dais this morning. After congratulations were bestowed for his promotion to Swordmaster Elect, Daelrud steered the discussion to the coming festival. Turgeon knew his friend well enough by now to know he was trying to avoid discussing yesterday’s council meeting and the impending war.

  “It’ll be the first real midsummer festival in the City in ages!” Ted had nearly shouted in excitement, “Falkaria City hasn’t even celebrated at all for the last decade.”

  It was true, though the reasons for that were somewhat murky and it wasn’t a topic that was discussed openly in the castle. Turgeon knew it had something to do with the Queen’s tragic death, but he’d always had more important questions to answer than those regarding what had happened to Suzette’s mother. Until recently, he hadn’t even realized a midsummer festival was something that was celebrated in Falkaria. Apparently it was still a popular event in the duchies though, and his friends were overjoyed that it would be celebrated again in the capital.

  “I’ve heard the King is planning a big announcement as well, some news he’s been waiting to share until all the nobles are gathered for the festival,” Ted continued.

  “Where did you hear that?” Dael questioned. Turgeon suspected he was concerned that news of the impending war had gotten out, but it seemed like everyone already knew that was the case. By the time the festival began he expected the war would be old news, not worthy of a Kingdom wide announcement.

  “I don’t know who said it first, it’s just the talk of the court, Dael. Everyone’s talking about the big announcement, but nobody has any clue what it might be.”

  “Just think, the food, the wine… the women,” Ed shifted the conversation back to less mysterious topics, “And best of all, the tournament!”

  This was the first Turgeon was hearing of a tournament associated with the impending festival, and he was more than a bit curious. Before he could ask questions though the Swordmaster beckoned him up to the dais to stand beside him for the emissary’s appearance.

  Which was where he now found himself as the Comte was ushered into the audience all. His retinue had been pared back from his first appearance, but he was still attended by two of his guards in their shining armor. He seemed more than a bit disgruntled at having been made to wait so long for an answer to his demands.

  After dispensing with the necessary introductions, the emissary launched into the topic at hand without any additional formalities.

  “Have you made a decision, your majesty? Shall we call Ko a Summorian province once again?”

  The public statement of Summor’s demand landed on the assembled court like a wet blanket, silencing all side conversations and turning every head in the room towards the King to see how he responded.

  “We have made a decision. Ko will remain in Falkaria,” the emissary seemed disappointed but not surprised. “On penalty of death, you, Comte, and all other Summorian citizens are hereby banished from Falkaria effectively immediately. Leave my sight, and leave my Kingdom. If you are seen within my borders after nightfall tonight my soldiers have leave to execute you on sight.”

  That last clause did seem to shock the emissary, he sputtered in confusion, “But… but you majesty, it is at least two week’s ride to the border. It would be impossible for me to…”

  Realization dawned on the Comte shortly before the rest of the nobles present and the fear was visible on his face. King Maebric had no intention of allowing the Comte or his retinue to return safely to Summor. That would certainly send Isolde a message, one from which there would be no turning back. War was upon them.

  Without another word, the Comte beckoned to his guard, turned and walked out of the audience chamber. Presumably he went to gather the rest of his retinue to flee the Kingdom, but Turgeon learned later that he didn’t bother. In a desperate attempt to save himself, the Comte had proceeded directly to the stables where he mounted his well rested horse and galloped away from the castle at full speed. Hopefully he was smart enough to realize he could reach Klaav faster, or at least would have a better chance of hiding in the rough terrain to the north than the wide open farmland between the City and Falkaria’s border with Summor.