Liofeld was exactly as Artowen had remembered. The aspects that were different, were the unusually layered snow, the new buildings built atop the old, and the towers missing that must have fallen sometime in the past; none of that could change the essence of the capital city of Welkia. The most important thing was still here, thriving despite old faces changing and the introduction of new ones.

  Emerii had been a no-nonsense animal handler tugging the stubborn horse Artowen along through the streets and up the stone walkways by his reins. She had a point, they could hardly stop and greet everyone, there was only so much time until next year’s channao arrived.

  The imposing castle walls faced him as they waited to be emitted inside, but the glorious nature of the last bastion for Welkia Drajin could not hold his attention. Artowen turned back and admired the city they had grown up in, reminiscing of days gone and letting nostalgia take hold.

  That feeling of youth past gripped him further when he heard a familiar voice call out.

  “Arty!” Royce yelled.

  The man running toward Artowen still had the appearance of a boy, despite them being the same age. The armor the Royal Guard used as their uniform hung obtrusively around him, over large and restricting movement, making him appear more like a child. His appearance and height have always been a soft spot. I’d best remember to avoid such topics. Royce may still have looked young, but he was a chosen friend, and the outside was a shell that hid the honorable and brave warrior within.

  Artowen sprinted and met Royce with an embrace.

  “It has been too long my friend,” Artowen said with an overjoyed expression.

  “I would have come and visited if I could only have escaped my father’s clutches.”

  Artowen shook his head, “What matters is that we are together now. Finally.”

  Emerii came from behind, placing a hand on each of their shoulders and bringing their heads together. “He’s right, now is not the time to hesitate Royce.” She sighed in an exaggerated fashion, then continued, “As much as I would like to take a meal and relax, I suppose we don’t have the time.”

  Royce playfully elbowed her in the side. “That’s because you both are so late. Did the snow delay you that much?”

  Emerii let out an anxious laugh. “You could say that.”

  Artowen tried not to show the exasperation on his face, but it appeared too late to hide what he was feeling.

  “That bad?” Royce asked as his tone turned serious.

  Emerii simply nodded her head.

  If it had only been the bandits then they would not have had this kind of reaction. It was what happened after that had truly disrupted their moods, and had caused them all kinds of trouble. They had even spent much of the day at the gates of the city giving a report. Artowen pushed those thoughts away. Now was hardly the time, he had to forge ahead.

  Royce cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure my father and the king are expecting you to come see them first. They know I’ve run off and will bring you to them.” They began walking, and the sweet atmosphere soured. Suddenly Royce swung his head around with a bright smile. “I know Lady Idwyn is waiting as well.

  It had been over four years since he had seen his precious aunt. There were only two people in this world who fully shared his blood. True, Emerii was a cousin, but incredibly distant. He could not guard his features any longer, and he knew that the pure joy in his heart was reaching the surface.

  Royce laughed softly. “There’s the cub we know. If only you showed that expression for our reunion.”

  “I did! On the entire journey. By the time we get to the throne room, my face will be back to normal.” He was smiling for Royce too. No matter the situation, his friend could always brighten his mood.

  Royce’s expression suddenly curtailed. “Emerii?”

  To Artowen’s eye, Emerii had turned pale and appeared downtrodden.

  “Idwyn’s here?” She finally asked with a droopy frown and gloomy eyes.

  Both men guffawed.

  Before Artowen could enter the throne room, he was intercepted by the Lord Captain in the main hall. Royce stiffened and waited back, but Emerii approached with Artowen to give her regards.

  The Lord Captain gave a hearty laugh. “You’ve grown to be a fine man Artowen, unlike my son. Please tell me you’ve come to accept my offer to be a Royal Guard. We could use a soldier like you.”

  “It’s good to see you’re in good health, sir. I’ll still have to decline your offer, my duties lead me to other places.”

  “Damn Idwyn and her weaving of lore. Such a waste of talent, but if it’s you Artowen I’m sure you’ll accomplish something.”

  Emerii rocked her hand against the Lord Captain’s armor, startling him. She cleared her throat, then said, “I thought His Majesty told you to refrain from trying to tempt Arty from his path.”

  The Lord Captain shrunk back. “Well a man has a right to choose his path in life, and Artowen’s too talented to waste with Idwyn’s whims.”

  Emerii let silence way down on the man.

  The Lord Captain bent forward and whispered in Artowen’s ear, “Be careful of this one lad. This lass has transformed into a fierce monster.”

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  “It’s time to go, we are keeping his Majesty waiting,” Emerii said in a dull tone.

  “Quite right, let us go.” The Lord Captain had been playfully chatting with the two, but then his gaze fell to Royce and his expression hardened. “Come along boy, there’s no point in hanging back.”

  Royce hesitantly moved forward and his father smacked him on the back of the head. Perhaps too hard.

  Artowen faced forward. That was of no concern at the moment; he had to accomplish what he set out to do. Problems of that nature could wait, though he felt his fist tightening of its own accord.

  The throne room did not meet the glory of the title. Welkia had once been known for its flagrant displays of wealth, but the current king was not fond of such ostentation. Instead, he kept the treasury locked tight and used gold and grain for the people.

  The King had come under scrutiny because of the lack of lavishness, which in turn made him seem less kingly and regal. However, he was a man of integrity and only gave what needed to be given out at the appropriate times.

  Artowen observed the King sitting in finely woven clothes, a fine pelt of a golden grizzly wrapped around him. The King was in his mid-thirties, but the glow in his eyes still showed the light of someone far younger. He only wore a few pieces of gold designed with the crest of Welkia to accentuate his status. The throne he sat atop was plain and barely elevated.

  Behind to his left was the person Artowen had been so excited to see. She had not changed much in the four years since their last meeting. She looked like a far younger version of his mother, even though they were only a few years in difference. Her golden hair was silk, it being braided in that fashion showed authority as a Truthsayer. A comforting aura exuded from her, though in a different way from his mother. She wore a modest dress of dull colors, a futile attempt to keep attention from her. The only piece of jewelry that adorned her was a crystal armlet.

  Artowen’s smile grew wide, and she gave a slight grin and nod to acknowledge him. However, this was not the time for a family reunion, that would come after the meeting.

  Artowen drew his sword, placing it tip down as he took a knee and bent his head forward. “Your Majesty, I am grateful for this audience that will lead to the protection of our people.”

  The King chuckled. “Oh none of that now Artowen, I’ve known you since you were born. My, how you have grown. You remind me of your father.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “Please call me Rowain, we are all friends here. Or at least not something as stuffy as Your Majesty.”

  “Yes, lord.”

  The King sighed. “What is the point in being king if I can’t even be called what I wish?”

  The Lord Captain grunted but did not comment further on the matter. It had the air of an old argument.

  “Lord Rowain, if you would proceed with the arrangements. If you are not feeling up to the task I could explain his mission myself,” Idwyn said. Her voice was soft but firm.

  “No that won’t be necessary. You’re right, I should save the pleasantries for later. It has just been some time since I have seen our young friend.” King Rowain cleared his throat and the jovial expression disappeared from his face as a new hardness entered his voice, “These things must be done properly after all, and the world has seen it fit to ordain you with a task of the utmost import, Promised One.

  “The time has come for you to unite the remaining Kingdoms of Dradris! Runovaria, Oosaad, Anheran, Zernau, Lenda, Bardoo, and our Welkia. We will ride under your banner this summer to defeat the Uxsons in one final battle. The Uxsons have already defeated us in a sense on that front, this past year they finally united under Dark King Sliva, putting their years of strife behind them to defeat Lenda and leave that Kingdom on the brink of destruction. Henceforth you shall work for the combined might of the Kingdoms. You will eventually travel to every Kingdom, but for now, your first destination is Bardoo. We shall start with the kingdoms that are most opposed to us, as they will be the most difficult to convince.”

  Artowen looked up and nodded. So it had finally begun. His mission was decided, and his intent was known. He would unite the kingdoms, and he already had the backing of Welkia. It was a good start. “I will unite the Kingdoms, draw the sword from the Lake of Origin, and defeat the Uxson horde! Right here and now, I will proclaim it! I will become the Drawalda!”

  King Rowain still held a firm expression, but he nodded in approval. The King continued, “For this mission, you shall take Idwyn into your care. You will guard and act as her limbs so that she can properly steer fate in the direction desired by all. Her title as Truthsayer grants her much protection and indeed is revered even by Uxson swine, but do not let that fool you. There will doubtless be many a trial on this journey and you must be prepared to meet them, Artowen the Promised One!”

  Idwyn gave him a wry smile that he returned.

  The King noticed and laughed, returning to his jovial tone, “I think that about does it. Idwyn will tell you the actions to take when they arise, but for now, contemplate your travels to Bardoo. You will leave the morning after tomorrow, as you need rest from what I hear. Something about bandits on the road. “

  Artowen grimaced but nodded his head. At least there would be a little time for merriment.

  “Royce and Emerii will not be joining us,” Idwyn said calmly for what must have been the tenth time. She did not show the slightest irritation at the argument that had spanned most of the night. “Perhaps you are tired from your travels nephew, best to get some rest.”

  His friends had not been delighted to hear that news either, but the time to let the argument rest was now. The trust he placed in his companions was immense and he suspected that this would not be able to stop them.

  “I’m not giving up to be clear, but I am tired. I don’t know your reasons Aunt Idwyn, but I can guarantee our chances of success will be increased with those two along.”

  Without saying more he went to his room and flopped onto his bed. He cradled his head trying not to think of all that was ahead of them and all that had already occurred. King Rowain and Aunt Idwyn were correct in surmising that he needed to rest.

  When they had finished slaying the bandits, Artowen had felt a pang of shame for the amount of revelry he had experienced, the joy of righteous combat, of vengeance rightfully metered out. They had done the right thing by any measure, but it was the pleasure that was causing him to be distraught.

  When he looked out at the survivors, he could see wounds that would never fully heal.

  “You’re safe now,” He had managed to say.

  One woman scoffed through tears. Emerii worked to grab clothes unsullied for the women.

  “You’re free now. I don’t know where the closest village is, but we are heading for Liofeld.”

  Two of the women looked apprehensive and said nothing.

  “They don’t speak our language. They’re Uxson slaves,” The woman who had scoffed bitterly said. She nodded to the man, who was so badly beaten he could not speak. “That one is a Bardoo slave.”

  Artowen gritted his teeth. He wanted to see these people home, but he could not. “Are you going to assert your ownership over them?” He challenged the woman who held an unfathomable sadness in her eyes.

  “It is not as if they could make it home in this winter if I freed them. They would be raped by other brigands, or die in the cold. The man is broken now too. You will guide us back to Liofeld.”

  Artowen tuned to Emerii, “Haoggen.” Perhaps his mother could do something, though he doubted it. Most of all they could not be slowed further.

  She shook her head. “Too far to go alone. It will lag us further, but we will take them to Liofeld.”

  The journey which until that moment had been a joyous reunion and anticipation of further encouraging events, became a grim procession. Conversation was dead and the progress of their travels had slowed tremendously. Meeting the eyes of the victims, there was some relief at the vengeance carried out in their names, but most of all there was a hollowness that threatened even those that gazed at its abyss.

  When they arrived at Liofeld they then spent hours discussing the events that transpired and made sure the woman who had never given her name was properly settled. She and her slaves.

  The color drained from Artowen’s face as he lay on the bed. There was nothing he could do for them. Not the slaves nor the woman; those who would be scarred for life. He had to hold on and look ahead. He could not let the tears flow.