Artowen reined in his impatience as he strolled toward the feasting hall. Fully groomed, his shaven face, washed body, and clean clothes showed him at his best.

  Strapped at his side was his trusty sword, an essential tool that Aunt Idwyn had been able to win for all the warriors of the Band of the Promised One.

  It had not taken much, a single word to the overzealous Brymoor.

  He frowned.

  I’ve tried befriending the man, but it’s proving difficult. Perhaps we are naturally predetermined to dislike each other.

  The open challenges were beginning to become a problem. It was an issue that would have to be confronted sometime in the near future.

  Artowen smiled. Perhaps he would pray with his aunt tonight, for a nonviolent resolution.

  Pushing aside the thick wooden doors, he wandered into the royal feast hall for the first time. A long, well-crafted table stood before him.

  All the members of the band were already seated. Closest to him at the end of the table was Aunt Idwyn, sitting in the chair that marked her as the guest of honor. Despite Artowen being a key figure, he did not mind her taking that position.

  Isolated from the rest of the band, there was some empty space between them. On the left side, Royce was trying his best to prevent Mav from digging into the feast before the royal family. On the right were Emerii and Eira, the latter of whom appeared extremely uncomfortable.

  There was history there, Artowen knew, but he would not press it. The courage to be here was perhaps profoundly greater than his determination to stand against the world.

  He took the vacant seat next to her, which drew her gaze. He smiled, then turned his attention to the food and the empty spots that would be filled by the rulers of Lenda.

  Calming his nerves, Artowen waited patiently for the arrival of those they would have to convince.

  Quickened steps echoed through the hall, announcing the approach of the King and his entourage. The first to enter was Brymoor, who scanned the room for potential threats hiding at the edges of the room. Finally the man’s glare focused on Artowen, and he snickered.

  Behind was an array of soldiers, who surrounded a decrepit old man and a far younger woman, though the marks of age still creased her face. The King and Queen of the Kingdom of Lenda.

  The King stumbled forward, assisted by a servant to his chair at the head of the table. Brymoor bowed deferentially to Aunt Idwyn, then took the seat to the King’s right. The Queen strutted stiffly to the seat at her husband’s left.

  Soldiers flooded the feast hall, then backed away to the edges of the room, creating a secure perimeter. The atmosphere was rigged as silence ensued.

  “In honor of our guest,” The King finally said with a slow drawl, “The Truthsayer Idwyn. Let us enjoy the feast prepared before us.”

  The meal certainly had the appearance of being exquisite; the perfectly roasted meat invited temptation. The utensils were of silver, something that was never used except among the most affluent families. More servants spilled forth to provide any service required.

  What should have been a merry occasion was solemn, interrupted only by the occasional cough from the King of Lenda.

  Aunt Idwyn took a single bite from every dish, then washed it down with a brief sip of wine. Her cold smile did not reach her eyes as she addressed the King, “Enough pretense, My Lord. You have delayed us for too long.”

  The King avoided her gaze. “I know not what you mean, Lady Idwyn. I have been busy with the defense of my Kingdom. We have simply been awaiting your arrival.”

  “If that is true, then can I take it you are amicable to our alliance?”

  Silence.

  “What say the other Kingdoms?” The King finally replied.

  “They have fallen in line.”

  The dull eyes of the old man suddenly sharpened. “Except Zernau.”

  “After arrangements here were made, the Band of the Promised One was to immediately depart for Znseruff. I hear the roads that lead to the Zernau capital are well maintained.”

  Brymoor sneered. “Such a grand title for a collection of liars and cowards. To think our messiah is so silent during such an important discussion.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  No matter how his features wanted to contort, Artowen set his jaw in a slight grin, determined to hold it no matter what insults were flung his way. “I do not think you understand proper etiquette. Our host is addressing the guest of honor, which I happen not to be. At this current juncture, it is only their place to speak.” He tried to hold his tongue, but he couldn’t help some of his frustration slip through as he continued, “Besides, it was not as if the royal family welcomed my presence. You and your father have made us wait while the Uxsons grow in strength every day. Who would speak at a table with such fools?”

  The Lord Prince bared his teeth. “Come, find which of us is the fool. I’ve been ready since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  Aunt Idwyn sighed. “That is quite enough. I know you are exasperated, dear nephew, but please halt further comment. As for you, Brymoor, it is unwise to stir your guests in such a way that would invite conflict.”

  “But teacher, this could not be who you spoke of.”

  She held his stare, not saying anything until he visibly acquiesced. “Since we are now off topic, I do have a question for you, my dear student. Where is your sister?”

  The Lord Prince froze.

  Aunt Idwyn directed her attention to the King.

  The old ruler cleared his throat. “She is in Zernau, specifically in the capital Znseruff, where she will reside with her new husband, Cwach.”

  She laughed shrilly. “Oh, that will do no good. The King of Zernau is as old as you, My Lord. Besides, he has quite a reputation when it comes to women.”

  “How could you let this happen, Lord Prince!” Eira erupted, drawing everyone’s attention. “You were supposed to protect Brodwyn. You are her knight!”

  Brymoor turned red. “I do not want to hear that from a traitor and a coward. A sulking bitch who should return to whatever hole she escaped from. You do not understand the state Lenda is in after our defeat, nor the sacrifices that every citizen has made. She is doing her duty!”

  The silver fork launched from Eira’s hand in an instant. It spiraled toward Brymoor, who ducked out of the way as it soared over his face. It flew all the way to the edge of the room and past the guards to slam into the wall, slightly cratering the wood.

  Swords being pulled from scabbards resounded in the feast hall as the soldiers shouted. The Lord Prince rubbed his face cautiously. Emerii set a hand on Eira’s shoulder as Artowen began to stand from his seat.

  “Enough!” The King bellowed. “Zernau is our oldest and most trustworthy ally. Far more faithful than Welkia dogs. Lenda will follow its lead. What Cwach decides will speak for both Kingdoms. That is my final words on the subject, on this night of harassment.”

  Aunt Idwyn stifled a giggle, but there were no more words exchanged at the table. No one had had their fill, so the feast continued on in awkward silence. It would be a waste to leave such a fine meal. Besides, if they were to save Dradris, they had to eat.

  Emerii was a drawn blade, waiting to be used. Similarly, Royce’s eyes darted to and fro, no doubt forming plans if something went awry. Always ready to follow me, those two are.

  Mav gorged himself. If only I could eat like that. To have such an appetite is an amazing thing, especially in this situation.

  Eira slouched, obviously reprimanding herself for her earlier behavior. He drew her attention and smiled. I do not know if I can share words with you yet, but I will not punish you for your actions. I know, you are not wrong. Perhaps when she was ready, they could talk as friends.

  Aunt Idwyn and the royal family continued to eat unabated. Whatever plans or thoughts were circulating in their minds were a mystery.

  Artowen rechecked his pack, then slung it over his back. He walked with a quick step, ready for the swift journey to Zernau. They had wasted time here, but he held his restlessness in check. They had done some good, at least to the average Drajin who were trying to find some normalcy in this changing world.

  A sharp corner led him to a corridor rife with tension. Emerii glared challengingly at Aunt Idwyn. Behind his chosen friend was Eira, who appeared to be barely holding it together as she was hunched over some items wrapped in an old cloth.

  “Enough, Idwyn! You push things too far. The others might not be able to see, but I can. Your cruelty knows no bounds,” Emerii hissed.

  Aunt Idwyn sighed. “Calm yourself, Emerii. I thought you were not to question me on this journey. Focus on your own path.”

  Artowen could understand how they both felt. Eira had exploded uncharacteristically at the meal the night before. One could only guess at the history she had with this place, but Aunt Idwyn knew and was salting the wounds. Knowing his aunt, she had good reason to be doing what she was; however, it was obviously exasperating their new companion.

  He made his presence known, but that did not help any.

  “How? Where could you have found this, Idwyn?” Eira asked.

  She shrugged. “It is fate that you have recalled your old self. We need you for the future of Dradris.”

  “I can’t, Idwyn. I’m so tired.”

  “We need to send her to Liofeld,” Emerii snarled, “Or better yet, Haoggen.”

  “Eira will be joining us in Zernau.”

  “You would drag the poor woman everywhere!”

  Artowen laid a hand on Emerii’s shoulder. “I know it is difficult, but it would be more so to send Eira away now, at any rate. Let’s put our trust in Aunt Idwyn and support Eira with everything we have.”

  They locked eyes for a long moment.

  “You always take her side, Arty. Fine, I’ll accept things the way they are now.” She turned to assist their new companion.

  He didn’t say anything more as he continued to the stables, where he would secure his horse for travel. Was he getting better at riding? Most likely not.

  It was a clear day, perfect for travel even in these snowy lands. It would take the three women of the band some time to prepare after what he had just witnessed, but he would be ready for departure at a moment’s notice.

  Mav and Royce were already ready as they joked jovially with each other. From a deep-seated bitterness to the best of friends; simply witnessing that lightened Artowen’s heart and brought a smile to his face.

  That expression quickly turned sour as Brymoor passed him while riding his horse. Smugly, he looked down as he went to join the rest of the mounted soldiers that would be accompanying them on the journey.

  Artowen had respect for the man. Brymoor revered his aunt, which meant he couldn’t be all bad. The soldiers of Lenda respected him, and he had the air of a skilled warrior. However, he sought conflict with Artowen. Open, mocking, sneering challenges were constantly levied. Artowen was not worried about a knife in the back. Brymoor desperately desired a duel, but one issued by Artowen. I will have to deal with him soon. Whether by choice or ignorance, he stands in the way of uniting the Kingdoms. When the time comes, Brymoor will get what he desires, but the outcome will be far from his liking.