Back in the royal stable, Taréz finally dismounted, with not a little pain. “Greetings, Your Highness,” said the horsemaster. “Did you get lost?”
Taréz allowed a chuckle. “No, though I did occasionally wonder what I was doing there.”
“He seems to have been well cared for,” said the elder Vle. “You must have paid the stablehand something equaling my salary.”
Always trying for a raise, especially now that there was no promotion left. “Actually, it was ten times as much.” Fight the absurd with absurd. And with that comment, Taréz headed for the castle.
His father was waiting for him at the door, showing uncharacteristic anxiety. “Did you learn anything?”
“Well, yes and no.” Taréz wasn’t sure he should go further in the earshot of the servants.
“Come on up to my chambers and we’ll discuss it.” Turning, the King continued as they walked upstairs. “Was it an easy journey?”
“Very easy. We have a peaceful interior, father. I guess that’s something to thank the Great Master for.”
“Indeed.”
Taréz closed the door to the royal chamber behind them. “I wish I could say I was successful. It was a rather long ride to take for nothing.”
“You said, ‘yes and no,’ so you learned something, right?”
“Yes, though it just deepens the mystery. I actually spent the nights on the battlefield—”
“You what?! That’s insane!”
“It made for dangerous mornings,” Taréz acknowledged with a nod. “But it enabled me to see that the human troops start out just as ready for battle as our troops. But within a few hours of attack, the humans can hardly stand, while our troops are even more robust than when they woke.”
“Almost as if their life force is being stolen.”
Taréz was stunned. How could his father conceive such an idea? It fit the facts... “But what agent would create such an effect?”
“You’ve got to try to find out. Again.”
“Not try. Will. I will find out, Father. Any news of the war effort?”
The King grumbled. “No, but the eastern nobles claim to have broken away. They’re siding with the dwarves, and no longer allowing the trolls through.”
“You don’t mean they’re now aiding the dwarves on that war front?!”
“No, thankfully. We no longer have their troop support in the war effort, but it does mean we have one less war front to fight.”
Stecky tapped on the door as he stepped into the chamber. “Your Majesty, it’s about that time.”
“Ah, yes, I should start my bath. Is the water ready?”
“It will be right about the time you are.”
“Thank you, Stecky. Anything else to report?” Normally, a bath was not in the chamberlain’s scope of duties.
“Yes, Sire. We’ve received confirmations from all the invited guests—”
“Even the eastern nobles?” Taréz interrupted.
Stecky smiled. “Yes, even Pimber will be attending. Also, the orchestra has announced they will doing some original music.”
The King's good mood had returned. “Excellent. Excellent! Stecky! Send a message to Baldia- I think it’s safe for Fylen to come back!” The King bounced as much as such a portly Vle could as he left for the bathing room, leaving his son to chuckle quietly.
Only a few hours later, Taréz watched the jumble of carriages from a new vantage point: Up on the balcony with his father. Below, it seemed as chaotic as it had before the flaming Proclamation. Back then, that would have peeved him a bit, but now he realized the jumble was a little different: There was actually less posturing and more graciousness. He watched more closely, and saw that the only ones posturing with their carriages were the westernmost nobles.
Odd.
Nonetheless, he was tickled and his anticipation for the evening to get under way rose. He headed toward the stairs, to go down and greet the guests. The protocol was a bit different, this time: Instead of a welcome from the stairs, the King would be giving the welcome from the head of the table. So, everyone filed into the dining hall, and waited.
The doors opened. The King stepped in. Everyone, standing, bowed. He walked slowly to the head of the table (at the end of the room). A servant pulled out his chair. He took his spot. “Lords and ladies, I welcome you to this joyous occasion, as we mark the establishment of our hierarchical monarchy.” He picked up his fork. He tapped his wine glass. He sat.
As the most esteemed noble in attendance beside the King, Lord Varabia was obliged to begin the conversation. “So, Your Majesty, when do you expect to let the light Vle out?”
Leave it to Varabia to be direct even with the conversation opener. “Well, as soon as the war is over, I suspect.”
“Will that be soon?”
“By the Great Master, I hope so.”
The Lord of Creaz took his turn. “Do you intend to expand our borders beyond the Western Rib?”
“No,” replied the King, shaking his head sharply. “The last thing I want to do is take on more citizens with a grudge. The rib served as a pretty good border against that grudge before, so I really think we ought to keep it.”
“I hear the Chief intends to extend Larmania all the way to the coast, and thin the population as he goes,” said the Lord of Lacigia.
He was a little early with his turn, but the boldness of such a military move obscured that fact. “No, he won’t go that far. If I have to, I’ll remove him from his position.”
“How far do you intend to go?” Varabia again.
“Well, he has told me that we need to strike out onto the plains somewhat, to show that we’re still strong and not to be trifled with. And given his successes, I think we probably could. Even so, fighting through the mountains would be dangerous, I think.”
“What about Zvalja?”
“The not-so-neutral-after-all former fence-straddlers? I must admit, I don’t know yet. My Librarian is preparing a report on precedence. Not that there is much.”
Taréz looked around the table. It was a tricky thing for a King to say he didn’t know, but some of the most remembered, wise kings of history took time to make their decisions. So maybe the next day his father would actually have his librarian work on such a report, or maybe not. In the meantime, the guests seemed satisfied with his answers and ready to move on to cheerier, lighter subjects. And the matter of the light Vle had just possibly been forgotten completely.
“Your Majesty, may I inquire about another matter?” asked Opar, Lord of Percivi.
“Of course.”
“We’ve had a surprising number of trolls come through, but all had invitational papers. Is there something I don’t know about?”
“Apparently so,” replied the King.
The Lords of Percivi were known to be aloof from the events going on in their holdings, so Taréz knew this to mean there were huge numbers of trolls moving through. And this would really unsettle the people there, given many years of past trouble along that border. “We’re sending them to the mines. It’s a very large part of our financial future— our banks posted new gains just today, in fact. We pay them with the metals they mine, and also buy more weapons.”
“Oh.”
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” Hilonia interjected, “but my... meager economic studies tell me that raw materials are far less valuable than the finished product. How can we afford all this?”
“Because one of the metals involved is thale, which we can also sell, and we still have workable gold mines. Those humans love gold, for some reason.”
Most of the nobles chuckled at the irony. Humans still held the peninsula quite strongly... and then they sobered. Neither The Most Reverend Harras, Lord of Kezantopil, nor Thekla, Lord of the Peninsula, could be there that evening.
“Gardric will free the Peninsula from the Humans soon,” the King offered. “At last report, he was bringing his secret strategy to bear on the bottleneck.”
“Do you know the nature of this secret strategy? No intelligence of mine can divine it,” asked Lacigia.
“No, I don’t. If he feels it’s important to keep it a secret, then I’ll let him have the secret until war’s end. His family has been known for the dramatic.”
Taréz kept a smile off his face, so as not to betray his own work to uncover the secret.
“Well,” said Varabia, dropping a cleaned bone onto his plate. “I for one, am worried. But, let’s not let that worry get in the way of a great celebration, shall we?”
“Not at all, Varabia. I suggest we adjoin this dinner, and ready ourselves for an evening of dancing and music. All in favor say Aye?”
“Aye!” was the staggered but enthusiastic response.
The small orchestra played very enthusiastically that evening, and even included some energetic peasant music. Balls in the past had included some peasant music before, but never had participation been so high. Taréz floated around the room, as he usually did, choosing whoever caught his fancy, but he only danced twelve danced before meeting Pimber again.
With a warm smile, she said, “Good evening, Your Highness.”
“Good evening. Would you care to dance?”
“Only if that is an invitation for the rest of the evening.”
“You drive a hard bargain. You might make a good queen.” He pulled her out onto the dance floor, grateful for the slower, more familiar tlora music. He’d need the brain power for the verbal dance that was starting.
She laughed lightly. “Your Highness! You should know better than to speculate on such matters.”
“It is the male mind. Our very dreams are speculation.”
“It is useless to speculate without parental involvement.”
“You know as well as I that the prince can elope whenever he wishes.”
“Ah! So, the Prince wishes to elope with me, is that it? Under the circumstances, that may not be wise.”
Taréz chose not to allow politics into his enjoyment of the evening. “No comment,” he replied with a mischievous grin.
Just then, the orchestra kicked in with another peasant dance number, and the dance shifted back to their feet. The rest of the evening flew by, until the dance shifted one more time... into the prince’s personal quarters.
