It was the saddest day in his life.
Taréz sat beside his father at the council table, surrounded by ambassadors of very nearly every nation in the known world, plus the dukes of the eastern- and westernmost duchies of Larmania.
Some of them were to become kings, while others were to lose their positions entirely.
The King of Zvalja pounded a gavel twice, then once in the international commencement ritual. The conversation in the room stopped immediately. "Gentlemen of royalty and gentlemen of representation: Here begins the peace proceedings for the end of the World War for the Light Vle, 968 AGM. We meet to determine the post-war boundaries of the defeated, Larmania. We begin with Undren, Ambassador of Varmacia. State your case."
Undren stepped to the world map in the wall. He indicated the red line zigzagging generally northeast-southwest across Larmania. "This is the Eastern Light Vle line of occupation." He then added a line, in green. "This is the former Varmacian border with Larmania. We propose, first: As this area was never colonized by dark Vle, this land shall return to the fiefdom of his Majesty the King of Varmacia. We propose, second: As this area has historically been occupied by Vle of both shades, and that much of said area has been ruled wisely and well by His Grace the Duke of Varabia, that this land shall be ruled by him as King, sovereign and separate from the Kingdom of Larmania. So ends the case of the Eastern Light Vle."
"You say you speak for the Eastern Light Vle? Does A'peine concur? You gain nothing in this case."
"A'peine concurs," said the ambassador from that nation. "We desire no trans-mountain territory."
"Very well. Zvalja also concurs, as we wish to return to our pre-war neutrality. Alaitna, Ambassador from Pulinea, state your case."
"I speak for Kamilea as well." He took a place by the map as the Varmacian ambassador vacated it, and indicated a line that extended east-west from Lake Sessel to the Gulf of ‘Elan. "This is the Southern Light Vle line of occupation. We propose that the peninsula, south of this line—" he drew, in green, over the Duchy of Peninsula border— "also pertain to the Kingdom of Varabia. So ends the case of the Southern Light Vle."
"Does Kamilea concur?"
"Kamilea concurs."
"Very well. Brian Worcester, Ambassador of the Human lands, state your case."
Even someone as important as Taréz had never seen many humans. On the battlefield, it had been easy to miss their relatively thick bone structure, and their strangely rounded ears and short heads. "The Humans support the formation of the Kingdoms of Varabia and Kudira, as separate and sovereign nations from Larmania. So ends the case of the Humans."
"Very well. Grfden, Ambassador of ‘Elabina, state your case."
"I speak for both Dwarven nations." Taréz (and, he supposed, many of the others in the room) had to suppress laughs at the short, stocky build of the dwarf. Grfden's accent was heavy, deepened by his low voice. He in turn took the place by the map, and indicated his line, a north-south line very near the camp. "This is the Dwarven line of occupation." He then drew two borders. "This area south of Lake Kdeet was taken into Larmania by aggression. We propose, first: that this area revert to the Kingdom of ‘Elabina. We propose, second: That the duchies of Pecivia, Kudira and Belobon be formed into the Kingdom of Kudira, with the current Duke of Kudira as its King. So ends the case of the Dwarves."
"Your partner Dwarven nation gains nothing in this case. Do you swear by the honor of these proceedings that they concur?"
"I do so swear."
"Very well. King Lajot of Larmania, how do you respond?"
Unlike the ambassadors, the King remained in his seat. Taréz winced at the slight— laziness or girth was no reason to duck protocol. "I do not accept," stated his father. "All agression was the personal agenda of our former Chief of the Army. As he and his prejudiced family has now lost their dynastical military position, Larmania is no longer a threat to any nation on the map. I recognize the formation of Varabia and Kudira as attempts to create buffer countries from further agression. I do not feel this is fair to the people or to the would-be monarchs.
"I also submit that the areas conquered by previous Gardrics were in fact too undeveloped and unprotected by their fiefs." There were a few grumbles, at which the Zvaljan king rapped his gavel once. "I therefore say that, without a prejudiced Chief of the Army, these areas will continue to enjoy great prosperity. Consider the metal industry: As part of Larmania, metals can be sold throughout the nation, tariff-free. As part of Varmacia, which is a smaller market, the metals must be carried and sold throughout more countries. So ends the case of Larmania." Taréz raised his eyebrow at his father, waiting for two more words. "... the... defeated."
"Very well. I will reach a verdict in two hours."
It was a very silent two hours.

Another two raps of the gavel, followed by one, announced the decision. "I, King Rudiga of Zvalja, do accept all propositions as stated today. Dukes Varabia and Kudira, I wish you success in your new royal duties. These peace proceedings of 968 AGM are thus concluded." With one rap, followed by three, the decision was final.
Larmania had lost more than half its territory.
Most of the crowd stood, and filed out the door, chatting quietly, but not very exuberant. "Varabia, friend," called the king softly.
The newly-made king still obeyed his friend and former liege lord. "Yes, Lajot."
"Now that you will be leading a kingdom, do you have need of an experienced chamberlain?"
"Why, yes I could. I don't think Ronnoc is up to the task."
"Very well. I imagine Yis would be uncomfortable serving with me, so, if he accepts, I would like you to hire him."
"Consider him hired. Thank you."
"Thank you."
As Varabia moved for the door, Taréz and his father finally stood. They went to the balcony, where his mother waited. They watched out the window at the departing ambassadors and Kings. The queen consoled her husband, but Taréz remained standing a bit apart from them. "Thanks a lot, Gardric," he muttered.
"No, no it's my fault, son. I should never have given him so much free rein—"
"Nonsense, Father— but please, let's not argue about this right now."
"You're right. There's something we must do." The King stood straighter, and led them down to the throne room. "Stecky! The sceptre, please! Normally, this would be done in the presence of the nobles, but there's no reason we need to wait for them. They'll concur anyway."
Stecky arrived with the sceptre, a cobilum staff topped by an eagle that held a small crystal ball in its upstretched wings. Taréz knew what his father intended to do, though he wasn't sure it was for real.
But his father's words made it real. "Taréz, you have shown great strength of character and conviction in these past months. You are involved and proactive, intelligent and thoughtful. These qualities I have found myself lacking."
"Dear," said the Taréz's mother, "please, just because of an error in judgment and a breakdown doesn't mean—"
"Fylen, my love, do not deny our son what is rightfully his. It is his turn to rule. Taréz, I have no doubt that you will return our nation to its glory."
His father cleared his throat. "And so, I, King Lajot the 24th, do hereby abdicate my throne, the Great Master be my witness, and pronounce you, my son, King Taréz the 15th of Larmania." The King passed the crown from his head to Taréz's. "Rule wisely, my son, and do all in your power to help our nation to prosper."
"In act and deed, in thought and word, I will honor this crown, and the people it represents, until death do us part. This by the Great Master I swear."
Monarch and ex-monarch then bowed to each other, and the elder generation stepped below the dais. Taréz knew this to be his cue to take the throne. It wasn't comfortable to be looking at his parents that way.
King Taréz sighed, and turned his thoughts to the future.

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