Chapter 8: Chapter Eight
As the sky begins to darken, the citizens and visitors begin to make their way back home and lodgings before it becomes hard to navigate through the dark streets of Drover.
The cool night air is a welcome change to the King of Runeswift from the day's dry heat. Damian stands before the old manor that the council placed them in. All but the bottom far right window is dark, and without the last one with a warm yellow glow of light and hearing his men's laughter, any passerby would think the place is abandoned. The king cracks a smile, trying to imagine how the Ramilies would react if the monks have them stay in a manner like this one. He heard stories on how the queen and her son are very materialistic, and he's sure those two would throw a fit if they are forced to live in a small manor such as this one.
As he climbs up the crumbling stone stairs, Damian's thoughts wandered to when his parents came here eighteen years ago. 'Did Father Lanney treat them less than the Ramilies? Most likely not since His parents and the Ramilies were friends back then, but I wonder what happens here that could cause the first queen of Tralon to kill my parents.'
The dark hair man gives the front door three hard knocks to let the servants know he's back, but as Damian waits, he realizes no one was coming to open the door for him. 'Hm, I wonder if the men are keeping them busy.' He reaches for the handle, and a feeling of relief that he wasn't lockout of the manor mix with the sense of disappointment of how his men could be so careless for their own safety. 'Amazing they are so worried about me that they are completely oblivious of their own. 'He comments to himself as he makes sure to lock the door behind him,
The foyer is dark due to the lack of candlelight in the small entranceway. He was about to head upstairs when another boastful laugher from Charles caught his attention. He turns around and walks towards the only door that has light seeping out from the bottom.
Slowly opening it, the king is welcome to a peaceful and joyous scene of Royce and Quincy sit in the two overstuffed chairs, enjoying the roaring fire, their fur cloaks slung on the back of their chairs. Charles is leaning against the desk that contains a platter of sandwiches and a large steel pitcher. Holding a mug in his hand, Charles let out another laugh after hearing one of Quincy's jokes. His cloak is tossed on the chair behind the desk.
Please to see his men in great spirits, Damian slowly opens the door, making sure the men didn't see him just yet. The king wants to enjoy this moment even for a little bit. He can't remember the last time he heard them laugh.
The three captains didn't notice their king standing in the doorway as they continue to eat, drink and tell stories. "So, then the barmaid said," Quincy begin another story but gotten interrupted by Royce jumping to his feet and standing at attention, dropping his mug in the process. As the cup clatter on the wood floor, the other two men turn to see what made their comrade jump to his feet so quickly. Seeing their king in the doorway, they follow suit standing at attention. "Sir!" All three men say in unison.
"Relax," Damian tells them as he makes his way into to study and towards the desk, looking at his options for dinner. Sitting on the silver platter are various types of sandwiches; a single metal mug sits next to the pitcher that contains what looks like a honey color mead.
"I'm glad to see you all finally enjoying yourselves. To think it only took what? Several years and travel to a crumbling kingdom for you three to finally relax." The king teases the men as he pours himself a drink.
"Sir, we were," Royce stemmers but his king stopped him by raising his hand.
"At ease, Royce. I wasn't expecting any of you to stand at attention until I return." Damian chooses a ham sandwich with lettuce and tomatoes. He turns around to look at his men. "I hope you're not giving the servants a hard time."
Seeing their king relaxing, the older men begin to go back to where they were sitting. Royce and Quincy back in their chairs, and Charles leaning against the desk once more, looking over towards his king. The proxy smirk and crosses his arms. "Of course not. After the cookies, we just ask for something to drink, and they brought this." He gestures towards the sandwiches and pitcher. "They hung around for a bit, and we send them off for the night."
"They seem very pleased with us telling them to go home, and they hurry out of here." Chuckles Quincy
"I notice the front door was unlocked when I arrive back," Damian says, pointing towards the study door. "I'm surprised none of you mention, nor ask me how I've gotten in."
Quincy and Royce look at the study's door then back at their king.
Royce swallows hard. "My lord, We."
"Didn't know?" Yes, I am aware. But keep this in mind the next time you all object to me going off somewhere without an escort." chuckles Damian.
"Speaking off going off on your own, how was your 'walk'?"
"It was productive." The king answers, taking a bite of his sandwich. As he enjoys his meal, he notices his men watching him. "You're staring; what is it?"
"Well, we would like to know what information you have acquired, my lord?" Quincy asks.
"It wasn't much; a lot of the information I've collected we already know. The merchants are not citizens, and the monks belong to the council and are the only ones that live in Drover. Obviously, I'm not going to approach them. I don't want to risk them running to Father Lanney. I know he favors the Ramilie family, so I rather not have him know what I am doing.
"Wait, you said only monks live here? But didn't we see some farmers when we arrive this morning?" Royce asks, looking a bit confused.
Damian nods. "Yes, there are farmers here, but they don't live in the city or nearby; they live in colonies surrounding Drover. While you three are in the treaty meeting, I will be talking to one of the colonies' leaders."
"Talking to a farm colony leader? What for?" Quincy asks, knitting his brow in concern.
"That's where the council has been sending the refugees when they arrive here. I'm going to ask the leader if they keep records on who arrives and if there is a certain colony that contains people from different countries."
Quincy still looks a bit confused. "But why go through all that trouble right now? Aren't we just here to decline this ludicrous treaty?"
"Ludicrous? Why is this treaty ludicrous?" Royce asks, turning his attention towards his comrade.
"Why? Those fire mages want Princess Ishtar to marry one of their princes. I heard stories about those two, the oldest is a womanizer, and the youngest can't do anything without holding his mother's skirt. None of them are worthy for our princess, and like Vuphae, we will allow her to live in Tralon." Quincy begins to grumble as he takes a drink from his mug.
"Quincy." Damian silences the man with a stern tone.
The tone made the older man jumps a little and turns around to look at his king.
Damian shot him a glare. "Please keep in mind we are here to deny the terms of this one-sided treaty, not the idea of a treaty entirely. I want this war to end, but not with Tralon benefiting from it." He shot Quincy another look to stop him from speaking. "Before you start to argue with me. Of course, I will not agree on marriage with my sister and any of those princes. Ishtar doesn't wish for this marriage, and despite what Cain says, I'm going to support her. But during this meeting, I need you to stay silent and keep your mouth shut. If you had one of your outbursts, they could use that as an excuse to deny the treaty completely and not even bother to work on the terms. Our terms may sound simple, but it will not be easy to convince them to agree on them. Since they will be losing the land, they have taken over and possibly their profit from the people they sold into the market. If you do not think you can remain calm with them in the room, then I suggest for the sake of our people that you stay here." The king looks at the others. "This goes for you two as well, understand?"
Quincy slowly nods and turns back to the fire. "Yes, my king." He grumbles.
The king waits for a moment to see if his guards' captain has anything else to say, but when Quincy didn't turn around, he turns to Charles. "Charles, after they declare their terms, decline them and gives them ours; if they are willing to work on giving our land back, then we can go over the details on another date."
"What about requesting the people they have taken and enslave? I am sure they will argue it will be impossible to locate all of them." Charles points out.
The king nods slowly. "I know, that's gotten me concern as well. I know our system makes it easy to locate and who bought them in case there is a claim on them, but I don't know that Tralon does in their markets."
"Not to mention if they want their people back as well, are we sure Neviland will return them as well?" Charles sighs.
Finishing his sandwich, Damian brushes off the remaining crumbs off his hand. "I doubt it, and since their king is not here, I can't agree on those terms for him."
"I do wish that the king of Neviland joined us; it would have been a lot easier than just us going into the lion's den alone," Royce speaks up as he picks up his fallen mug. "Not to mention this is their war too."
"That knowledge doesn't escape me," Damian sighs. "I did reach out to their king, but he declines to come along or send a proxy in his stead. He just says he trusts my judgment." The king frowns and lets out a frustrated sigh. "Sadly, I'm not surprised; he enjoys fighting behind the battle lines and send his orders to his men." The ebony hair king takes a swig of his mead and notices how sweet it is. 'Ishtar would like this. I must find out who makes this and see if I can take a barrel home with us.' "Charles, will you be able to handle this meeting and make sure not to promise something on behalf of Neviland?"
The proxy gives a cocky smile. "As I said before, If I don't think I would handle this, then I should not be your proxy."
"About that." Royce begins to rise from his seat. "I'm concern that they fell for that trick so easily. I mean, no offense, but Charles is much older than you. How do we know that they don't know who you are?"
"You should have brought this up earlier, Royce," Charles says, crossing his arms.
"I was going to but then." Royce pauses and glances at his king, not wanting to say it's because of their king leaving the manor.
"Those monks that met us at the and manor wasn't Father Lanney. So, there was no point in wasting that potion, so tomorrow Charles will take it before leaving, and it should be fine." Damian assures him.
"But," Royce begins to argue.
"All they know is the King of Runeswift is a young man, no one outside of the kingdom knows what I look like. We have been careful about that." Explains the king.
"But Father Lanney met your parents, and what if the monks already tell him what we look like?" Royce counters.
The king looks at the captain of his army. "Then when you three arrive, and they ask about the older man, and you can say he's out with the page."
"What do we do if he sees through this and then demands to see you?" Royce asks, approaching the two at the desk and reach for the pitcher.
Damian hands over the pitcher. "I am sure you three are capable of making an acceptable excuse on why I am not in the meeting."
"Will you be nearby if Father Lanney demands your presence?" The army captain asks, refilling his drink.
"Possibly, I don't know where this speaker is in the market; I'm planning to find the inn they are staying in and start from there. Like I said, I want to ask them about the refugees that are sent there."
Charles raises a brow. "Is this for the hope of finding our people?"
The king gave a curt nod. "Yes, I'm hoping at least a few of them were able to escape from Tralon 's invasion and come here seeking safety. If they did, then I'm planning to bring them back with us. So, I don't want Father or the Ramilies to know what I'm doing Since they brought some of their soldiers with them. If the treaty doesn't work out and they want to attack us, it will be a lot harder to defend our caravan with unarmed refugees against their men."
"I knew we should have disregarded the request of only bringing out family and only a limited number of men. I mean, they brought a small army with them." Quincy grumbles again.
"It can't be helped now we are all here. Let's just focus on what we are facing." Damian shakes his head.
Charles nods in agreement. "Understood, do you need one of us to accompany you for tomorrow?"
Damian shakes his head again. "No, it's just a farmer and his daughter." He cracks a smile. "It would be worrisome if the King of Runeswift, a water mage, can't defend himself from a farmer and his daughter."
"A daughter?" Quincy repeats, getting to his feet and turning to the others. He and Charles share a look and a smile. "How old is the daughter?"
"A year or two younger than Ishtar," Damian answers, unaware of the smile they are sharing.
"What else did the farmer tell you about her?" Quincy inquires.
"No doubt, the farmer figured our lord is a nobleman and tried to have Damian interested in his daughter, so he would have her as his wife or become his mistress." Charles let out a deep chuckle before taking a sip from his mug.
The young king rolls his sliver-blue eyes in annoyance by his proxy's comment. "No, he did not mention his daughter to me because I have not met the farmer yet."
The laughter slowly died down, and as they look at their king once more with concern. "What do you mean you have not met the farmer yet?" Charles asks.
"If you haven't met him yet, then how did you know what his role is in the farming colony? Can you trust the information this person gave you?" Quincy asks.
"I would because the person that told me this was the daughter." The king tells them calmly.
Charles relaxes, and his smile comes back on his face. "How did you come across the farmer's daughter? Did you two bumped into each other, or did one of you approach the other?"
"She bumped into me on the street; she lost her map, and I help her find it. In return, she answered some of my questions I had. That's how I found out about what her father does and where the refugees go once they arrive here."
"Are you planning on meeting her again before we leave? We can delay our departure if you would like." Charles offers.
Damian takes the pitcher back from Royce and refills his mug. "There is no need; I am sure I will see her tomorrow when I go to talk to her father, but I don't think she will answer any more of my questions, so our conversation may be brief."
All three men let out a loud, frustrated groan and shake their heads in disbelief.
"My lord, please don't take this the wrong way, but Runeswift does need an heir. Are you even looking for a wife or even a mistress that can produce one?" Quincy asks, a bit concern.
Damian looks at his men and takes a drink before answering. "I don't have time to be looking for a wife or a mistress. Even if I marry the daughter, do you think the nobles will be alright if I choose a farm girl outside of our kingdom to be their queen or even a mistress that will give me heirs? The answer is no; besides, I am in no hurry to be married or produce any heirs. When I reach around your age, then I will worry. "He places his mug down. "I mean, I haven't been home long enough to meet any of the ladies in court. You think I will be there long enough to be wed?"
"Not to be home long enough? That's a load of bull, my lord. You have been home for a whole month before we left to come here. What you really mean is that you are too busy hiding from your royal adviser, who's been trying to arrange meetings and events for you to meet the court ladies." Charles argues with his king.
The king shot his proxy an annoyed look. "Charles, you are very aware I do not 'hide' from Cain. I am busy fulfilling my duties as king, unlike you men that can come home and relax and recover. I have quite a few duties to handle; before I could relax, I have endless meetings with nobles and merchants on their concerns and issues. I must visit the city and the markets to ensure the guards keep the peace and the crime has not been raised. Visit my sister and spend time with her just to make sure her education is coming along. Finally, I visit Melee to get an update on how he and his staff are on curing the" Damian stops when he realizes that he completely forgot to tell them what he saws at the monastery. "Oh, for the love of Cesk! I completely forgot to tell all of you. Prince Felix brought someone infected with the Rabid Banshee to the monastery today."
"What?" All three men yell in shock and look at each other.
In a hurry, Royce places his mug down and grabs Damian's arms. "Are you alright? Did it bit you?" He asks in a panic pushing up the king's sleeves to make sure there are no bite marks.
The dark hair king takes his arms back and pushes down his sleeves. "Royce enough, I am fine; I didn't handle the infected, Prince Felix and the monks did. I just came across the scene and eves drop on their conversation. Father Lanney doesn't want Felix to tell anyone there is infected in the city, which I found odd since one bite can cause so much damage."
"Wait, wait, are you telling me, Father Lanney? The leader of the council, the man who controls and runs Drover. A city that fell after the last plagues wipe out all but half its citizens. He doesn't want to alert anyone that there is an infection in his city? He can't be serious." Quincy scoffs, crossing his arms, and looks at Charles in disbelief. "We need to leave before there is an outbreak."
Royce quickly nods in agreement.
"We are not leaving," Damian says sternly towards the two panic men and turns to his proxy. "Charles, if Father Lanney gives any trouble, use that information as leverage. If it seems like he doesn't care, then we should leave. We can't make deals with men that do not care for their people."
Charles gives him a curt nod towards his king before finishing his drink. He still sees his comrades with a look of panic. "Royce, Quincy, there is no reason to panic; it will be fine."
"Fine? No reason to panic? There is someone infected with the Rabid Banshee in the city!" Royce exclaims.
"So? We have infected back home. Are you suggesting we should abandon our kingdom as well? The only difference between here and home is that we know how many are infected in our city." The water mage king continues. "Not to mention Father Lanney had been here when the plague appeared; he survives the fall and the infected that roam the city before. He must know how to handle them more than we do."
"Could this powerful mage have been curing them?" Quincy asks.
Damian shakes his head. "I doubt it; there is no mage powerful enough that can heal this type of plague. But I did overhear the Father tell the prince the infected man is in the early stages of the plague, and he's not contagious."
"Is that true?" Quincy asks, surprise and a bit hopeful.
"I don't know, it could be possible, but we never encounter anyone in the early stages. But the man they had was coherent and talking as he was yelling at them, saying he's not sick." Explains Damian.
"Should we send a message to Melee and ask? Would he know?" Charles offers.
"No, by the time the message would arrive, we will already be leaving the city and heading home. It would be a waste of time." says the king.
Royce looks around, still in disbelief. "Am I the only one still concerned about what might happen here? Am I the only one that still remembers what happened eighteen years ago?"
"Alright." Damian raises his voice as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "If it helps, why don't you make sure that we can leave at a moment's notice, so any sense of trouble we can leave. The route that we chose for our escape should still work." He tells Royce, stepping away from the desk. "Now, are my things been taken to my room?"
Royce nods slowly. "Yes, by your request, we brought it and left it at the foot of the bed."
"Well then, if you all would not mind, I will be the first to retire for the night." Damian heads out of the study, stopping to place a hand on Royce's shoulder. "Don't worry too much, Royce. It's not good for your health." He gives him an assuring squeeze before letting go. He stops at the door and turns to his men. "Oh, and I know you told the servants to take the night off but try not to give them too much to clean in the morning."
Charles smiles and raises his mug towards his king. "Of course, my lord. Have a good night."
Damian waves goodbye as he leaves the study and begins to head to his room, glad to hear the laughter starting up again before he enters his bedroom.
The bedroom is dark when he enters, and it took him a moment for his eyes to adjust. He makes his way to the desk where the servants place two fat white candles and matches. Lighting one, he uses the candlelight to walks over towards his trunk and searches for his nightclothes and a small wooden box with a scene of a fisherman trying to control his small boat in the storm carved into the box. After changing, he heads back to the desk and opens the box to retrieve a few folded sheets of paper and a pencil and begin to sketch what he has seen today. The market, a few buildings in various degrees of ruin, the manor they are staying, his men laughing in the study, and the red hair farmer's daughter.
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Katie_Novak
Katie_Novak Hey Moonlighters! Thank you so much for the wait; here is Chapter 8! If you like it and haven't add it to your library what are you waiting for? Have some ideas about my story? Comment it and let me know! Don't forget to vote as well see you all next month!
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