Authors: Laszlo,Jeremy
The solemn procession of the king’s mounted advisors and councilors, along with the many heads of various orders and the remaining Knights of Valdadore rode swiftly back to the castle city of Valdadore. Normally such a procession would be slow moving, slowed by carts burdened with the remains of the honored deceased. But having no such remains the procession raced on, ever nearing the city. Only armor, weapons and personal effects remained of the fallen king and his many honored knights who had fallen in the final blast of the battle. Much of the funeral had yet to be planned. The procession had only stopped once along the trek back home, in Raven's Hold. The men had spent but a single night within the black walls of that castle city and no decisions whatsoever had been made. The king's absence left a great void. With no one being chosen to lead in his stead, there was a vacuum at the heart of the kingdom which too many power hungry mongrels were looking to fill. Thus no funeral arrangements had been made, and many of those in the procession were in a hurry to return home, not to lay to rest the memory of their king, but to lay a foundation of followers so that they could themselves claim the throne.
Garret rode in silence upon his great white imperial steed. It was a magnificent beast whose bloodlines had been documented for centuries. These animals were bred to perfection with a precise balance of intelligence, strength and stamina. Garret and the rest of the procession were fortunate for this fact, for it was several days ride back to the city of Valdadore. After their brief stay at Raven's Hold the horses had been pushed hard, none wanting to stop for rest until within the walls of their own city. Even now Garret could see the tops of the towers in the city beginning to appear on the horizon. A few more hours at best and they would reach their destination.
Garret did not know what to expect when he reached Valdadore. His own conscience was burdened beyond belief at the loss of his king whom he was sworn to protect and his mentor Sirus, and the possible death of his brother Garret felt somehow responsible for each of the losses and as such the deaths weighed heavily upon his soul. He had already decided against sending word to his father in Vineleaf, for he still held hope that his brother lived. Garret wanted nothing more than to strike out on his own, as did Borrik the great wolf man that Seth had created to be his second-in-command. But Garret had too much responsibility to simply drop everything to go searching for his brother who may or may not still be alive. Garret clung to hope that he would be reunited with Seth some day in the near future, but knew the effort that reunited them would not be his own.
Garret had also taken upon himself the responsibility of delivering the sorrowful news to Sasha, the now widow to his fallen mentor Sirus, the proprietor of the King’s Herald inn. It was perhaps not his duty to deliver the news, but the woman had shown Garret and his companions such kindness in the past that he could not help but see to the task himself. It was a dire duty that he assigned himself to, but none the less he would perform it honorably, just as any other Knight of Valdadore would.
So much was as yet undecided, Garret feared the kingdom might fall apart. Several men were obviously setting themselves up to try and fill the position of king, but Garret somehow doubted any of them vying for the position would be able to fill the previous king's shoes. King Valdadore had been an honorable man. Blessed by the god Gorandor he had lived an unnaturally long life, and though he appeared only a man of his mid-forties or early fifties, in fact he had been reigning as king for over two centuries. Very few lived who remembered a time when he was not the king. He had been a man of true honor, who did not lead for personal gain, but instead for the better of his own people. He made laws not to enslave those under his protection, but to give them freedom and safety. Most of those with an eye on the throne now were not such men, and their reasons for wanting to rule were not near as honorable as their predecessor’s. Garret did not know if his position as a knight would hold any weight, but with Sirus and the king both fallen, as well as several other Knights of Valdadore, Garret had found himself filling a position within the king’s council. Even though at present there was no king to preside over such a council, it would be up to them, as a whole, to decide who would take up the role to lead the kingdom. Garret, much by fate, had been given a voice though he wondered, given his lack of experience, if any would hear him.
Never in his life had Garret learned anything about politics, though he reasoned he was as sound as anyone else to have a say in the kingdom’s future. Political struggle was not what the kingdom needed at present anyhow. What the kingdom needed was time to heal and a leader who would not abuse the people. Garret had a couple candidates in mind, but even so, he did not know any of them well enough to lend voice to their cause. He knew that if he was to help the kingdom, he would have to get to know every man and woman on the council, learn what ambitions drove them and discover what qualities each possessed that led the previous king to trust them. Garret had to study each of them and only then would he decide who to swear his loyalty to. Thus for the remainder of the ride to the castle gates Garret worked over every detail he could recall from every encounter he had ever had with each of the other members of the council.
Arriving at the massive southern gate to the city, a halt was called as all the council members and war advisors gathered into ranks of four to enter the city proper. Though this was to be a funeral procession through the city, there was no ornate casket drawn by gilded steeds. Instead, with a solemn mind and somber faces, the congregation rode slowly through the huge city, their heads bowed in reverence. The procession passed through streets crowded with the common people of the city who had come to witness the return of their fallen king. Word had been sent ahead of the main procession, though the messenger had barely arrived an hour before. But in a city such as this, where all the people loved their king, the news spread like wildfire. Now it seemed the entire city had come out to see the procession return. They wanted to see their fallen king one last time, but without any such remains they had gathered only to be disappointed.
Through his visor Garret could see the looks of sorrow and concern among all who had come to bear witness. Garret too felt an unease unlike anything he had ever felt before. None knew who might next sit upon the throne, yet all knew that whoever it was, they would not be as capable as King Valdadore. The entire city was unnaturally silent, all work having ceased, all shops having closed. There was a palpable tension in the air, so much so that Garret was certain he could taste it upon his lips, and he wondered if ever the city would recover from such a blow. Block after city block the slow procession was met by the silent stares of uncertainty from thousands of the city’s inhabitants, some of whom wept openly. Garret, though uncomfortable with all the faces looking upon him, found the silence warranted. Like their king, most of the people of Valdadore were silent as death, some lending their whispered prayers to the king on his journey to the afterlife. Long hours after entering the city gates, as the procession yet neared the castle proper, Garret too found himself asking Gorandor to speed the honored king on his way to the afterlife where he might yet rule again.
Inside the castle proper was like a different world compared to the city outside. Here the people paused as the procession passed, but then hurriedly returned to their duties. People rushed to and fro with their own chores and preparations. Many a messenger came to greet the lord or lady they served, welcoming them back to the city. Stable boys also gathered here outside the palace, awaiting the arrival of the many steeds ridden by the king's retinue. Here there was life, here there was movement. Garret reveled in the sounds and the chaos. Here within the castle there was purpose. Those that resided within the castle walls understood that though the king was gone, there was much to be done, more so than usual in his absence. Thus the hustle and bustle would continue, probably throughout the night too, nonstop for many days to come. Without a leader the kingdom was vulnerable and there were those who might attempt to use that vulnerability to their advantage. The council members would have to convene nearly immediately and get to work not only for the kings burial, but also in naming his successor.
Handing over his reins to a stable boy, Garret slipped down from the giant white beast he rode and watched as all the others in the retinue also dismounted. Some headed directly to the palace gate to prepare for a meeting of all the councilors. Others rushed off in different directions, apparently having more pressing concerns than that of the kingdom. Garret took note of both groups. At this rate Garret thought he should be able to cull his list of possible candidates rather quickly, having just eliminated over half of them. Garret too felt he had other things that required his attention, but felt that an entire kingdom's well-being was far more important.
Garret turned his attention back to the palace and approached the gates. Here the palace guard stood in their ceremonial armor, polished to pristine perfection. Each of the guardsmen at the gate snapped to attention at Garret’s approach and saluted by banging their armored fists to their breastplates. Garret returned their salute half-heartedly and continued through the various narrowing courtyards to the palace itself. Upon entry an elderly woman pointed him in the direction his peers had gone, and thanking the woman graciously, Garret removed his helm and proceeded to what was once called the war room. Garret had never before heard mention of such a room, though its namesake was apparent. Following the corridor straight ahead as instructed, Garret could already hear the many voices before him rising in both conversation and argument. Knowing the next few days, if not weeks, would likely be unpleasant, Garret shoved the heavy wooden door ahead of him and strode into the room.
The war room was a sparsely decorated stone room with only a few tapestries clinging to the wall in fashions from before Garret’s time. The only furniture accompanying the tapestries was a great wooden table at the center of the room that could easily seat fifty people. Around the table at regular intervals were many identical chairs of the same dark wood that the table itself had been crafted from. Appraising all those in the room, Garret found that fewer had entered than he had previously imagined. Here in the room were collected only fifteen members of the king's council, himself included. Garret stood just inside the door for a moment, watching those conversations and arguments play out that had already begun in his absence. All the talking seemed to be about King Valdadore’s funeral arrangements, at least that is what Garret believed at first.
"We cannot delay for even a day Shimad!" Karishtala, the leader of the white-robed healers, was saying to a shorter balding man whom Garret did not recognize.
"First the King should be interred in the ground, and then we should discuss who shall rule!" the man Garret now knew as Shimad replied.
"I agree the king’s funeral should be held at once, but such preparations would not take long as there is nothing to prepare but his armor," Karishtala said with a hint of pain in her voice. "What good do we do King Valdadore if we delay choosing his successor and are attacked and lose his kingdom? We have to decide upon the future of our kingdom just as we must bury the past."
Seeing the conversation going nowhere quickly, Garret strode across the room coming to stand beside the smaller, balding Shimad.
"Pardon my interruption, but I could not help but overhear your conversation," Garret said.
"It is of no consequence, Lord Garret," Karishtala replied. "To what do we owe this honor?"
"It is my honor to stand at your side m'lady, just as it is my honor to speak to you as well Shimad," Garret replied in his most regal tone. Now that he could see Shimad better, he still could not place the man. Shimad was short and plump with a red nose and cheeks marking him as a man who enjoyed his wine. He was finely dressed in an elaborate robe and sash indicating he was a man of wealth, but his clothing went beyond what was tasteful to a point of gaudiness. The man liked to flaunt his wealth as well. Garret marked Shimad off his list.
"I am afraid we have not been properly introduced, Shimad. I am Garret, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance." Garret extended his hand to the man. Shimad took his hand lightly, and with a dainty, womanly shake he smiled awkwardly and bowed his head to Garret in supplication, allowing Garret to discover that his own position was of higher rank than this Shimad character’s.
"Would either of you mind if I lent my thoughts to your previous conversation?" Garret asked.
"Not at all, Lord Garret. Any counsel from a knight as high ranking as yourself is certainly welcome," Shimad replied.
Now Garret saw the drunkard’s ploy. He gave compliments and praise to befriend those of higher station. He used words and wealth to reach that which he was unable to obtain. This man expected to gain from the loss of key members on the council. Garret already disliked the man, but decided to speak anyhow.
"I fear that I must agree and disagree with both of you," Garret stated honestly. Garret paused a second to let his words sink in, not realizing that several conversations in the room had ceased and many eyes had turned upon him and the conversation he was having.
"I believe your words to be true, Shimad. We need to lay the king to rest and honor his memory as soon as we are able. But I also agree with Karishtala that we dare not wait to rebuild the council and place at its head an honorable ruler to lead us. The black army was defeated, but we share borders with many other kingdoms who might think to take advantage of our precarious state," Garret said.