Yet another story-Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Home
The city of Shri'al laid at the shore of the Hawkcliff Sea and shone for John like only a man's home can.  He could see the great spires of the Diamond Fortress with its banners snapping in the wind.  The Tower of Flame rose high above, lighting the way for all ships upon the sea.   Great ships moved through the sea, looking to Shri'al for port and trade.  

The city gates opened as the army approached.  Within had gathered much of the citizenry to welcome them home.  The army marched forth with polished leather and gleaming swords.  At its head was the Prince and John riding just behind.  The people cheered for them as they waved. Flower petals were laid before the soldiers and rained upon them as a blessing.  The crowd was thick, but opened for them and quickly closed behind them.  The young women swooned, picking out favorites among the soldiers.  The old men saluted them solemly.  The children stared in joy at their gleaming heroes.  

The crowd kept with them to the heart of the city, the Diamond Fortress.  This was the seat of all power in Shri'al and the home of King Beay of the White Hand.  It loomed above the buildings with white towers and great banners with the royal symbol upon it.   At the gate stood King Beay and several of the nobles of the city.

King Beay was much as his son in size and shape.  He had long been away from the battlefield, but had kept his fighting trim.  His hair flowed as his son's, but was white.  His once bold blue eyes had faded in their years, but seemed sharp and wise.  His skin was rough from many years of the sea and sun.  He wore a trailing white robe with grey fur lining.  His tunic was the color of the winter ocean and his trousers were the grey of a thundercloud.  Upon his head he wore a golden crown which at it's base was like Arcen's diadem, but a golden sun rose up from it and sapphires adorned each ray.  His only other adornment was a sword which bore the White Hand for which his line was named.  

At the sight of this, all of the calvary dismounted, including Arcen and John.  Arcen stepped forward as John called out the command to kneel before the king.  The army moved as one as it honored their king and all heads bowed to him.  The crowd responded with the same in reverence to their leader.  Prince Arcen moved forward and then kneeled before his father.

"King Beay of the White Hand and of the Diamond.  King of Shri'al and Captain of All.  Protector of Shri'al.  Protector of Eri'al, Gaurdian of the Veil Mountains, Priest of the White Star, Defender of the Star, I return to you in the good tidings of victory and the glory of battle won," spoke Prince Arcen, "I speak to you in the name of the honored soldiers to whom we owe much and in the name of the blessed fallen to whom we owe more."

King Beay laid a hand upon Arcen's bowed head.  He replied, "Prince Arcen, Heir of Shri'al.  I welcome you home with gladness of your victory and thankfulness to those who have defended our lands.  Truly, the debt we owe to those who have fought for our lands is a debt we could never repay.  To this, I grant them each leave to return to the homes they have long missed and grant them the reward of all soldiers as decreed by the kings whom are my forefathers.  Arise my soldiers and be at peace."

The soldiers rose to their feet at the king's command.  The crowd rose soon after.  A cheer swept through them all.  Talk of feasts circled and the mood of a festival was within all.

A man wearing simple white robes stepped forward beside the king.  He raised a staff headed by a white four-pointed star nd the crowd fell silent once more.  The man was as slightly taller than the king with a build that would suit a soldier more than the priest he was.  HIs head was clean shaven, but with black eyebrows and the sea-blue eyes it was simple to see his relation to the King and Crown-prince.  He was the king's eldest son, Bram of the White Star, pledged to service of their God.  He served now as the High Priest of the White Star throughout the kingdom of Shri'al.   He turned his face upward and began speaking in the same dialect that they drew the name of their city from, a language that stories spoke of as being the first language of all races.  It was now used to lay a blessing upon the soldiers, the people, and all of Shri'al.

When the ceremony was finished the soldiers moved off to celebrate.  The king and his entourage returned into the castle with Prince Arcen and John following them in.  There would, of course, be a royal celebration with the nobility of Shri'al all invited.  John was ready to relax, but he knew it would be expected of him to attend.  He was one of the guests of honor after all.  He watched his lieutenants move off for days of drink and food.  He envied them a bit perhaps.

He spied Lady Morganna of the Emerald walking beside High Priest Bram as the entourage moved in.  She was making a point of not looking at him.  Morganna's auburn locks cascaded freely down her back.  They swirled about her delicate cheeks and threatened to hide her slender neck.  Her full, rubied lips would pout slightly when she was not speaking, an obvious sign of her displeased mood.  Her soft nose wrinkled at something Bram was talking about.  Her sea-blue eyes darted at John angrily every once and then.   Her dress was flowing and pleasing to her lissome frame.  It was a deep blue that shimmered and sparkled when the light hit it.  

"She is displeased with you yet again, John?" asked Arcen quietly.

"It does seem so, my Prince," returned the captain glumly, "I suppose I should enjoy the party while it lasts."

Arcen smiled and patted John on the back.  "Do so, my friend, she will calm and be glad in your return soon enough.  You know your wife as well as any.  She only holds a grudge for a few weeks."

John looked incredulously at Prince Arcen.  The prince merely laughed and moved ahead to walk beside his father.  John tugged at the collar of his forest hued tunic.  It was agitating that he could not take Morganna aside and speak to her.  He would have to remain with the group until the feast had begun, anything less would insult the king and most of the nobility.

The Hall of the White Hand was the center of the Diamond Fortress.  The floor and most of the columns in the room were marble.  Tapestries from across the world were hanged upon the walls.  The center of the room was filled by a long oak table that stretched long enough for fourteen on one side, then two more tables were set at each end to make a half rectangle and enough room for fourteen more each.  The king's chair sat in the middle with Arcen's seat at the right and John's seat, as guest of honor,  at the right of Arcen.  The rest of the seats were filled with the nobility according to their favor with King Beay.  The ceiling of the Hall was painted and carved with a map of the known world with each nation and their borders set as they were when the fortress had been constructed.  TThere was a common joke at the time concerning far off lands as being in the King's Privvy.

At the start of the feast, the king raised his goblet in honor of the slain and then in honor of the victorious.  This was followed with a dozen nobles making their own toasts.  Some even made small speeches.  The time passed as slowly as it could.  Morganna sat beside him, but said nothing to him as the nobles spoke.  He gave his mead sullen drink each time a noble started speaking.  At last, the meal was served and they were able to dine.  John took some meat and a few of the vegetables, but ate very little.  When he was able, he called for his and Morganna's horses to be brought around, bid the king and nobles a farewell, and set off with his wife.  

John rode along side Morganna as the sun swept towards the sea.  The two still had not spoken.  It was becoming more frustrating by the momment.  With little thought, John grabbed the reigns of Morganna's horse and led it down a side street.  The two came to the shore where John dismounted.  The area was empty save for the two of them.

"You have something you want to say," started John.  He looked up at his wife.  He still held the bridle so she could not simply leave.

"I have said it before," she grated, "Why should I expect you to listen this time?"

"You want me to stop doing my duty," responded John.

"I want you to stop taking the risks you take, John!" she blasted, "You took the most dangerous position you could find! And I was told you jumped into the thick of it! Did you even think of what would happen if you had been killed?  What would happen to our children?"

"Of course I thought about it!" he shouted "But I also thought what would happen if the Cia'al got through.  They'd have ripped through the heart of Shri'al.  They'd have killed the nobility first...and who knows what else.  They'd have killed you and our children, or done worse."

The reflection of John's fear passed through his eyes.  He laid his head onto her leg.  Morganna had softened a little at his words and let him.

"When our marraige was arranged, I vowed to honor and defend you with every breath.  You have been a good wife to me, though I am low-born and hard headed.  You have born to me two sons and a daughter.  No man could ask for more," spoke John gently, "I know that we have had our troubles, but neither of us could not claim to dislike the other.  I do as I must to keep my promises to you.  I face the greatest dangers to keep them from our doorstep.  I would trust no man to keep you and our children safe more than I trust myself to it."

Morganna laid her hand upon his head.  "You know why I worry, John.  My father was Captain of the Shield before you and he reveled in the glory of it.  It drove my mother to the end of her nerves.  She became a slave to drink and foul herbs.  You saw it before it claimed her.  And my father saw it, but never let it slow his pursuit of glory.  Now I have tombs instead of parents and our children will only know their grandfather as a statue."

John reached up and took Morganna's hand.  He said nothing but a promise came between them.  While her father had died for his own glory, John would live for her and their children.  She squeezed his hand.  

"Let's go home, John."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Their villa was near the seaside.  It was one of few homes with such a view, the rest belonging to the members of the royal family.  A wall surrounded the compound with tree branches hanging over the top.  The gate bore the symbol of the Shield.  The courtyard was a forest with a white path running up the center.  The house was two stories and made of white stone and oak.  Atop the wall sat Erwin, munching an apple.

"Good eve, m'lord.  Good eve, m'lady.  Welcome home," he greeted.  The gate split down the center and opened for them.  They rode up to the steps of the house and dismounted.  A servent led the horses off to the stables.  Another servant opened the oak door into the house for them.

Waiting inside was Revek'a, John's sister.  Like all elves, the first thing noticable about here was her ears.  They were about twice as long as human ears and came to a point, then arced back with a second point about halfway down the ear.  They reminded many people of dragon wings or perhaps strange fins.  Her skin was pale with a bluish tinge most noticable along her bared shoulders and at her scalp.  Her dark blonde hair was in a single braid that stretched to mid thigh.  John always called it her tail.  She wore a grey wrap around her chest that matched her eyes and a pair of loose black trousers.  Her features were sharp in a way that made her seem haughy, yet she moved and smiled freely.

"Welcome home, little brother," she greeted, "Enjoy the party?"

"As much as possible," he replied, "shame you didn't attend."

"Well, you know how I dislike those stiff feasts," Revek'a spoke.  She wrinkled her nose at the thought.  "William's parties are always better.  Plus, I was given a chance to spend time with your little ones."

John chuckled and Morganna gave a smile.  She was feeling a little better than before, but had not yet regained all of her humor.  Revek'a noticed and gave John a look.  

"Well, I suppose you two would like to rest," the elf state, "Artan is in bed.  Jason and Rhosewen are in the library."

"You don't have to run off, sister," said John, "You can stay a while if you'd like."

"Well, you two need your rest....and William is coming to port tonight," Revek'a added.  Her eyes gleamed a little at the prospect of her husband coming home.  "Anyway, even if you don't need the rest, I'm sure the both of you have some things to catch up on."

John reddened a bit at the innuendo in Revek'a's voice.  Morganna replied with a look that suggested it was something she had not thought of.  Perhaps her humor had returned after all, Revek'a had that effect on people.  The elf-woman laughed as she swirled a light cloak onto her shoulders.  She embraced them both and flitted out the door.

"She's always so much more excitable when William's due home," John mused.

Morganna nodded in agreement as she began to remove her jewelry.  

John watched her quietly.  He noticed her hair had grown longer.  She would be twenty-seven in a month.  John realized he was pushing thirty.  Maybe he would retire from active duty then. Cai'al was their only true enemy in his time and there was rumor of an alliance with the nations south of Cai'al in order to deter any more aggression from them.  

"Father, you're home," came a girl's voice.  John turned to see his son and daguther.  A smile crossed his face.  He moved and hugged them both happily.  They returned his affection joyfully.  It had been almost a month since he had been home.

The elder child was Rhosewen.  She seemed to take after her father with her raven hair and cherubic face.  Her blue eyes and button nose were all from her mother though.  She was thirteen and beginning to pass into young womanhood, but still wore a tunic and trousers with bare feet like her brothers.  She could be a little lady, of course, but found it more fun to play with her brothers.  John encouraged it somewhat and had taught her swordplay right alongside Jason.  

Her brother Jason was a year younger, but already a head taller than she.  He matched his mother in hair color and features but for his growing frame and strong eyes.  Those were truly his father's.  Jason had been named for Morganna's father and may have inheritted his taste for danger.  They had many times found him in the highest boughs of the trees and once even on the roof of the villa.

John loved them dearly.  They were his delight in life.  He gave Morganna a smile as the two began telling him all they had been doing since he left.  John listened happily though he was tired.  It was good to be home.

**********

A rapping at his door drew John from his slumber.  He sat up and scratched his chin sleepily.   The knocking sound came again.  John looked across his darkened bedroom to the door.  He could tell it was not one of his children and wondere who would be waking him at this hour.  A third time the person in the hall insisted.  

John slid out of bed carefully as to not wake Morganna.  He picked up his trousers from where they had been tossed not more than a few hours ago.  The person at the door tried again even more impatiently.  John pulled on the pants groggily, then pulled the blanket up to cover Morganna from any prying eyes.

"Tell whomever it is that I'm going to bite off their fingers," murmed Morganna.  She did not open her eyes, but frowned in his general direction.

John smiled, kissing her cheek.  He then went to the door.  Erwin stood in the hallway.  It looked as if e had been pacing as he waited, knocking whenever his circuit returned him to the door.  When the squire saw John emerge, he sprinted to him.  His words were quick, almost a jumble, "Sire, the king has summoned you.  He has called a meeting of all his Captains."

John nodded, "Run and announce my coming."

Erwin bowed quickly, nearly taking out a plant as he turned to dash away. The squire eventually made it to the stairs and vanished down them.

John closed the door.  Morganna was now sitting up, holding the blanket to herself.  John gave her a frown as he began to dress fully.  

"Why would Beay call a meeting at this hour?" Morganna questioned.  She lit a lamp.  Sleep clung to her eyes as she squinted in the light.

"I don't know, but it can't be good," replied John, "It can't be another incursion by Cia'al, they've not had the time to regroup from their last invasion.  And none of our other neighbors have shown any recent hostile intentions."

John sat on the bed to pull on his boots.  Morganna shifted to lean on his back.  Her arm snaked around his waist.

"What I would give to not sleep alone for a whole night," she whispered.

"Same here," agreed John. He set his hand onto hers.  "Hopefully, I'll be able to come back after the meeting.  It is very late after all and it won't be till morning before I can regather the troop."

"Hopefully," Morganna replied.  She withdrew and lay her head back down onto her pillow.

John left the bed regretfully and pulled on his sword belt.  He lifted his sword from its display, sliding it into the scabbard.  He gave a longing look to Morganna before moving from their bedroom.   At the foot of the stairs, a servant waited with his cloak.  Another held the reigns of his horse outside.  Erwin had managed to call them up before he left.  John swung onto his steed and raced off to the fortress.  

He arrived nearly the same time as two of the other Shri'al Captains, Prince Cael of North Shri'al and Count Gray of Eri'al.  Others had already arrived as evidenced by several servants and squires in the courtyard.  John greeted them and the three walked into the fortress together.

The rest of Shri'al's Captains were already there except for the Captain of the Ravens, Prince Ewan, and the Captain of the Navy, Prince Arcen.  John also noticed that his sister was present, as well as several other members of the Ravens.  This made him nervous.  The Ravens were Shri'al's intelligence network and one of the best in the world.  The Captains took their marked seats around the war room.

"Presenting his Highness, King Arcen of Shri'al," called the herald.

All the Captains fell silent and looked to the doorway.  Arcen entered the room looking tired and sorrowful.  High Priest Bram followed him and took position at Arcen's right hand.  Prince Ewan, Captain of the Ravens, came and sat at Arcen's left.

"My brothers, my captains....King Beay has passed in his sleep," spoke Arcen.  His voice was barely above a whisper.  He did not sit, but leaned upon the table like a man under great weight.  Not a person in the room could find words to speak.  It had not been but a few hours since they had been in his hall and feasting with him.

"The doctor who declared him dead says that his heart gave out in the night," continued Arcen, "He had been reading through reports and his last act was to call this meeting.  I have been confirmed King by High Priest Bram, but my coronation will not come before my father's funeral.  But even in this time of sadness, we are threatened by those from beyond our borders.

The Cia'al incursion was the first wave of a greater threat.  The Tor'al Empire has been moving northward now that they've conquered Da'al.  Cia'al seeks to retain their autonomy, but knows they will not be able to retain their holdings if Tor'al were to focus upon them.  This, of course, we've known for months.

A new event has occured, though, Emperor Aelius has extended terms of peace to Cia'al.  He offers King Alberich to retrain control of his lands in exchange for military aid and tribute.  Alberich is no fool and I believe he will accept this generous offer.  And with the backing of Tor'al, an invasion of our lands will be the next step.  We cannot stand against the might of Tor'al and Cia'al combined.  

In response, I will be seeking the aid of South Tor'al.  I have deliberated with Prince Ewan as to the best choice for my representative and have selected Captain John of the Shield.

I know this is much to ask of you, my friend, but I believe you are best suited for this.  You may take any with you that you wish.  This will be your mission, it's only goal being an alliance with South Tor'al."

John looked at Arcen without saying a word.  He really knew not what to say.  He had been away from his home and family for months already and now he was asked to be away for much longer.  Yet, his nation was in danger.  The forces of Tor'al alone could crush Shri'al.  

"Sire," spoke Count Gray, "Why do we chose South Tor'al as our allies?  Are they not as Tor'al?  Would they simply let us be?"

Prince Ewan answered, "South Tor'al and Tor'al have a pact that prevents them from going to war with each other.  This extends to prevent the client kingdoms of each from making war."

"But what about us? We'll be slaves to South Tor'al," grumbled the count.  

"We're much farther from South Tor'al than Cia'al and they're much less likely to show any significant force," continued Ewan, "And need I remind you, that our alternative is to be slaves to Cia'al."

That was enough to give every nobleman pause.  They had heard the tales that extended from Cia'al's conquest of Dul'al.  Every male taller than one of their greatswords had been slain.  The peasantry had just been thrown into a mass grave.  The nobility had been spitted and then roasted alive.  The hearts had then been cut out and eaten by the nobility of Cia'al.   Everything of value and every remaining citizen of Dul'al was then carried off to Cia'al.  The capital was given to Sir Ritter the Maw, the Captain of their Serpent Gaurd.  Ritter was the Champion of the Serpent, the vile god King Alberich claimed descendancy from.  

"Why has the Emperor of the Tor'al...leader of one of the largest armies in the land...presenting Cia'al with such an offer?" asked Prince Cael.  Cael was the third eldest of the Princes of Shri'al and charged with protecting the entirity of Northern Shri'al.  Most considered him second only to Arcen in terms of command.  

"We do not know, brother," answered Ewan, "my men are working on that as we speak."

The debate carried on for some time, but in the end all agreed that this was the only course they would be able to take.  Their hope would be that South Tor'al would accept the offer and thus Tor'al and Cia'al would be kept at bay.  No one seemed to be happy with the solution.  At the end of the meeting, each left silently.  They moved like men condemed to the gallows rather than the highborn they were.

John wondered how he was going to tell Morganna.