Writing...yeah, that's a verb, an active one

So...I started writing this in a Beaner's coffee shop (I'm sorry, I still can't get over the name change, I like the old name better, and not because I'm racist, it's just a cool name), but I left because of technical problems and now I'm in the library doing what I'd set out to do: write!

So here I am, every so often I fiddle with my battery cord on my laptop as I try to use the failing part just as much as I can before it dies. Basically I've set up my office here in a public place acting as if I don't have my own home to go to, what helps with that is the fact that I also have my cell charging. Well, it's a good thing my image isn't the most important thing to me (it should be obvious since I'm also unshaven). The point is, I'm writing!!

In the mail yesterday I received the newest issue of Writer's Digest, which sometimes I wonder if someone I know will be on the cover or I just wonder if I'll read this one. The struggle of my reading the actual magazine is really the attitude of the articles. I'm not complaining here but basically taking everything I read in that magazine and putting into a general and simple phrase: "here are the tools, now go do it!!"

Okay, I've ended two paragraphs with exclamation points, I should stop being so dramatic (maybe it has to do with the music I'm listening to on my iPod? Okay new song.). To tell the truth (which I try to do all the time), I really enjoy just holding the newest issue of that magazine as much as I like holding a new book on writing. If all I get from this publication is just one new idea, my whole life as a writer could be changed in which whole new opportunities and wells of imagination will be open. The possibility is enough to make me excited (which sometimes takes some doing). But that really isn't enough to actually make me read it. Out of the twelve issues I own from this year, I've probably not read 50% of them, but it's probably more and I just haven't made sure. I've wondered why I don't read it...and I can only come to one conclusion.

I already know that the only way to write is to actually write...yeah, it's an active thing.

Simply put, in our already overcrowded schedules we just need to make room for writing. Do we enjoy writing as artists? Or is it really such a hard thing to do? For some reason over the past months since I've tried to re-enter my life here in Michigan my life as a writer has fallen short. (Okay this is getting out of hand...I just plugged in my ipod to the wall...I've got too many cords running into me hahahaha) I say for some reason because I seriously can't say that it's especially hard for me to write as much as I just don't make time for it. Consequently I become almost afraid that as soon as I begin to write it'll be like a monster that takes over my life. Not a bad prospect honestly, but I did have a few other things I wanted to do, now I've basically given up and said "alright, I'm a writer."

That's not how it should be for every single person though, and to a certain extent I think that's the idea we all wrestle agianst as artists. We look into history (which is a very good thing to do) and we see the Michelangelo's, the Virgil's, the Milton's, y'know, all the big famous people and we see complete and total dedication. It's just quite possible that these people at one time in their lives may have actually done something normal before they became famous. Like John Wayne before showbusiness, he was a set man before he was a cowboy superstar. Me...well, I'm not going to do that. I'm just me. Anyway, we're people and we don't have to be so monsterously into our art that it overtakes our life. My choice is to be kind of like that because I feel like that is entirely my calling. As for the rest of the people in this art, its take a little bit of honesty to realize the different levels of our passion. But in all seriousness, writing is an active word.

I began writing when I was five. Literally after I knew how to write it didn't take me long to realize there's no rules to writing!!! I was such a happy kid because I could make up my own stuff on paper! Of course I always wanted to show mom so to a certain extent I still had to "behave" but when I actually set the pen (or at the time, the pencil), I found a freeing feeling resulted, which even as a little kid was consuming. It picked up to a serious addiction at age 11 and now it's gone through a stage of being something I fight against, and now...I've succumbed to writings incredible power.

So...yes there is a point to this post. Writing is an active word as much as acting is an active word when you talk about drama. When I read my Writer's Digest, I see a great amount of convincing going on, as if writer's of this age are plentiful yet they are all apathetic. So...do we buy a copy of Writer's Digest simply to act like we are writers? Or do we actually realize the basic principles of being a writer?

Putting words to paper is not a passive thing, and it takes a great deal of imagination to put them in the right order to where an average person will take time out of day to pay attention to your worldview (which most of the time is in conflict with their own). Here I sit in the middle of a library, surrounded by literature, names of people who've written and here is the product of their work. We as writers can't even get into this place if we don't realize the actual word "writing" in itself details an active stance of consistently putting words to paper. It doesn't have to be a constant stream, but it should be a daily occurrence.

We'll talk about the fight once we get into this plethora of information later, right now it is enough to convince you all that writing should be active. No, it is imperative that it is active.

Writing as a word is active.

You don't need to read Writer's Digest to understand that in a hundred page publication, just write will ya? Read that magazine to improve your writing as an active writer. The only way to motivate yourself to write is to finally come to the point where you stare at yourself in the mirror and get serious, answer this question: Am I a writer or not? What you should do next should be obvious.

WRITE!!

Chapter IV-Council of Acrea

Chapter IV

  Council of Acrea

 

The dawn was red in the east, promising later trouble. But all was still dark. One man sat on the edge of the Castle roof cross-legged looking out. Unmoving. Another man stood a couple stairs from the top of the roof, patient, also unmoving for the present. Secretive was his presence as no sign came from the man sitting on the edge of the roof. Torches long blown out ringed the lip of the wall, guard-spots unmanned stood empty and bereft. The roof was cold even though the Spring day could easily be called warm.

Jaquen sighed as he sat at the edge of the roof, shifting his weight very slightly, then he spoke, “I know you are here.”

The other man looked slowly to Jaquen and spoke with a quiet coolness, “You sent for me. Yet my coming was unannounced.”

“You announced yourself rather well to my knowledge,” Jaquen still did not move. “But perhaps you only believed I was not as well trained by Dunar as you’d hoped? Is that why you think me unable to hear when a door opens and I’ve asked for no man to bother me save for the man I sent for?”

The other man stepped up the rest of the way with a sigh, visibly worried at himself, “It has been a long time since I’ve been able to truly use my abilities…I fear some may have become useless as others have become unnecessarily sharper. But I wish to take council with my Dunar before indeed we task ourselves with your coronation.”

Jaquen’s shoulder’s drooped as if a great weight had been set on them…indeed he felt not any different. But then he turned and looked directly into the man’s eyes, “Sorry news I do bring then. I am glad that you well know him, but he is dead.”

It was not pain that Jaquen saw in the man’s eyes but rather deep shock, “How did this happen,” the man said well controlled.

Jaquen stood away from the lip of the wall, “Three years ago a battle group came up from the south to besiege and take the city of Crys. Or what is named here Dwellodown. The group slew all but a handful of the outpost guards and then made for the city as fast as they could, on the very heels of the fleeing guards. A confrontation was met at the south bridge where our people were set in line against the darkness of the other shore. I was back in the library watching out into the fog.

“The fog was dissipated as if a great hand had drawn it aside and I was the only one to be seen by the darkest of the dark horde. It seems I am more important than I had imagined, but his call was clear and I came to challenge him.”

The man’s face grew dark, and he muttered to himself.

“I met him face to face on the bridge, but soon Dunar came and stood before me in my stead. I was unable to face this darkness but Dunar did and slew it.”

The man shook his head and turned, “Well then,” he said quietly, “perhaps in my time I will see it.”

At this Jaquen caught his tale and focused on the man, “Dunar described you to me many times, I know you as I would’ve to know my father. You are Lonarden.”

The man turned, his grey hair caught in the new sun, his eyes shone, “I am indeed. But the speaks no less of what evil you’ve brought here to me.”

“Speak plainer! Ever did Dunar keep from me what I bear, my responsibility as well as this stone!”

Lonarden held up his hand and hissed, “Speak not of it!” His voice was full of urgency that it was as if a plague had been spoken of that would soon induce panic. “Speak no more of it again, with leave or without it…words of it are best not to be used. You know naught of what power it holds, nor of its responsibility to its master, and who it is that is its master. You’ve no authority by blood or otherwise to speak any of such that you bear.”

“But yet I bear it, and what evil pursues it I know not, but this fell darkness did, and I would think as it would still were it alive.”

Lonarden shook his head again, “It is not dead…but nor can I fully tell you that it is alive, save that its time to die is not yet come.”

Jaquen’s position on the roof remained still. He seemed to hear what Lonarden had said but at the same time had not fully accepted what he heard. Still his position on the very edge of the roof showed no change as if the news surprised him.

“I cannot say that this surprises me,” Jaquen replied. “I hadn’t room to hope that this fell being was indeed dead. Though as we scorched the south I had not the room to believe otherwise. Perhaps it was only a whisper in my mind that told me he was alive and well.”

Lonarden grinned, “He is not well, not at all. Nor will he be well for the better part of this age. The folly of this beast was that it was so focused on you that it did not stop to wonder at what power Dunar held within him. It does not understand the power of commitment for good, but instead hates it and chooses against knowing it. Although you would speak of it as ‘he’ I would not do so. It is not ‘He’ but rather a servant. Who leads these servants no man can say as ‘He’ lives in another realm. He is not whom we have to fear today, nor in this age, dark as it is. You must tell me though how it is that Dunar’s death has come about. Though I know the man through adventures I do not know that he would die so easily as you’ve told thus far.”

Jaquen turned slowly, “Through adventure you know him?”

Lonarden took a breath and stood a bit taller, “Through adventure I met him, and through adventure we became like brothers, but rather fast-friends we were by nature. Neither going on the others ventures wantonly but not staying away from the other in war or peace.”

“Of adventure I know nothing of Dunar. I know that he has mystery about him, and that he is well learned to the point of wonder. Adventure though is a word that befits him strangely except in that which is newly come.”

Lonarden smiled faintly, and only a trained eye would be able to see it, “He has done well as a student of life…but then he has also done quite well in training you I see.” Lonarden then turned his back to Jaquen and motioned for him, “Come with me, the time for mourning is over, it is time to be a King. And in so commanding I must have you know that though the council members are still divided over it, the Northern provinces are conspiring to break away from Acrea as a whole. You must go to these men at once and proclaim your arrival. Out of all the lords in this valley I would trust these northern men most.”

Jaquen swung his legs down and walked swiftly to the stairs as Lonarden disappeared downwards. Stopping at the top he looked down to the old man who was now halfway down the steps. Lonarden stopped and looked back up at him, and Jaquen fully beheld the man.

“How do you know of such happenings?”

Lonarden let a full smile spread across his face, “I may not be much use in this valley anymore, but even as a cataloger of such useless things as royalty may deem I should keep track of, even there some news can be found. Through couriers certainly, through loyal men even more, but there are also secrets even wine shipments can carry if one can learn how to read.”

Jaquen nodded in return, “Despair is not easily bridled onto you.”

“It’s the man that takes despair upon himself, no one else can fit it on so well as the man who chooses things himself.”

Jaquen continued down the stairs, fully now his mind switched to what diplomatic things as Dunar had taught him, and what teaching he’d had in Acrea all his life. “What delegation do we have?”

Lonarden opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, “For one we have you, and the most important of any you must know. From you will be the uniting words of Acrea, or it can very well be the condemning words of the kingdom. For two, the companion of your choice, I believe I’ve heard his name is Drak. I know not of him, nor have I seen him, but the name brings doubt into me strange as it may sound. But then I would only council you on any further choices and not make them for you.”

Jaquen stopped as they walked and turned to Lonarden who was indeed surprised at the change, “You are not my counselor as of yet. Though you well know what it is that Dunar spoke of to me all this time and that I should seek you out. Do not prey upon that side of me but rather let me have my own way about this country.”

-Lonarden stood up straight to Jaquen and laid his hand upon his shoulder, so much like a grandfather did he seem that Jaquen indeed felt trust in him as he knew Dunar did as well. But Lonarden spoke straight to him even before they passed through the passage to the rest of the castle, “This kingdom is yours Jaquen, by right of birth. No man can refute it…but there are many who will try to take it from you nonetheless. If you are to become the King you were born to be it must be by conquest of minds and hearts. Long gone are the days where a man could be honored by his blood. Now it takes blood again to become honored by words.”

 

Drak paced back and forth in the room they’d been given. It’d disturbed him that Jaquen had sent for Lonarden without him. Though it was a duty they were given by Dunar, it was still something to Drak to be overlooked next to this old one.

He shrugged. Lonarden was a legendary sort to him. Dunar had always spoken of him in fond tones, but never had he really gone into any explanation as to who he was and why they’d needed to talk with him so soon after arriving. All was a strange mixture of things to him. Necessary moves to cover things, but what who could tell? It was as if Dunar had suspected many things but had shared too few of them before his death. Drak had been appointed Jaquen’s companion sure enough because they had grown together but also because Drak was genuinely fond of Jaquen and had wanted to go into battle with him. To have doubts now was untimely indeed.

There was a tap at the door. Drak turned, “Come.”

The door slowly opened and the guard poked his head in, Pearl’s ears went forward with expectation, “There is a Lord Zatten to see his majesty.”

Drak nodded, “Tell him his majesty isn’t to be disturbed.”

The guard turned his head back and then was shoved aside with a sword at his heart. The young lord who stepped in kept his eye on the guard and then spoke behind to Drak without looking, “I didn’t think I would find his majesty here, but I do mean to speak with him, even indirectly. There are things going about that he should have the knowledge of though as to what profit my news will be I know not.”

Drak motioned for the guard to go. Zatten released tension on the blade and closed the door behind the guard. Drak spoke as Zatten closed the door, “You risk too much to bring a tidbit of news.”

Zatten turned to Drak, “There are many powers in this valley that are willing to lose more for the possibility of not being ruled by a King again.”

Drak eyed the young lord. His appearance did not strike him as very fit as if he’d been very active, but he was thin enough that a good time in the saddle would bring him about. His actions were by far unlordly, the display shown was interesting enough to note. His appearance was that of a wild youth, but behind such adventure seeking there did seem to be a spirit of council that would dole out wisdom easily. Still, Drak remained on his guard.

“Do not sit down Zatten, you will be leaving shortly I would think.”

Zatten nodded, “There are indeed other lords I must attend to.”

“Then make your warning brief so that neither of us need be troubled the more for it. I do not wish to be long away from the morning meal, and my master should readily be in need of it.”

“You have a wit about you sir. It is good that this Prince should choose you, for even though you can openly lie to me about your doings you do not entirely make it an untruth.”

“Perhaps you could enlighten me on how to do it better as perhaps you are more practiced in this art.”

Zatten grinned, “A good tactic sir, but perhaps a failed one to one who can see clearly. Bantering words to make a slip is an easy game. I only understand lies because since before I came to be in the same court as my father to learn the duties of a lord I was exposed to many different kinds of lies. Some not so meaning as others, but many were plain open about being lies. Simple concept really, and all made in emotion.

“But as I am come now to be a lord myself I’ve found that the usage of lies are all the more prevalent among those in power and I understood why my father was so practiced. Yet his tactics in negotiation did not befit me. Especially when I understood why my father died, and how.”

“And how did your father die?”

“He was poisoned. By himself, my mother, another lord, or a hating servant, I don’t know and am not sure if anyone does. I am only glad that it has not come to blaming me as I would not like facing the hangman’s noose for something I had not done. To explain something to one who believes against it is a very hard thing to do, and I believe I would be emotional in a state such described.”

Drak kept back a grin, “A lot of men are. But enough of this bantering…I would have your message and be done. Lie or no, I have other things that call me.”

Zatten nodded in agreement, “Take my words or no, but I have warning for him not to appear in council today.”

“And why should he not? Is he not King?”

“Without ceremony yes, but even though by blood he is King and it would only take a small ceremony to bring him fully to Kinghood, still there are men among the lords that would do many a rash thing before seeing this Prince ascend above them. You must understand it has been a good amount of time since we’ve had a good King, and to take one so soon is quite hard for those used to going their own way. The biggest piece of government we’ve had was ownership of the gates. Which I don’t mind saying I’ve newly come to win.”

“Until I have time to understand exactly what you mean I can only offer my congratulations.”

Zatten’s face grew dark, “It took much to take the gates. Simply to change standards is a very costly thing, and with a King returning my own interest in it is at stake since all such things in Acrea would belong to him simply by right of birth. Understand that by supporting your King I stand to lose a lot. But I understand goodness in this valley and wish to uphold it with this King, though I know him not. Others though wish only to continue in the old way, and do not stand for what is coming to change. Warn him of this, and also warn him more specifically about appearing before the council today.

“Men must have a chance to accept new things, and what has happened yesterday with your appearance has created great disturbance among many of us. I do not find so much fault in it, but I know others do indeed have troubles. And last night sleep for certain, there were not many men who were not talking with the others seeing as what should be done to cover up many acts of selfish governing. So I wish to warn him, and to take council for a few days while the council of Acrea meets for the last time.”

Drak stood in silence for a moment and then nodded slowly, “I will only warn my master. I will not command him in anything. He is well enough to drop I anyway. Warning or no he has come to take his place as King, and I doubt as a few lords can stand in his way. I doubt it very much.”

Zatten bowed a little and then turned to the door, “I wish the warning to be a token of friendship, I wish for it not to seem hostile.”

“It will not be, though your entrance seemed a little less so.”

Zatten turned back at the door as it was half-opened to speak once more, “Forgive me then, but my own risks seem less so if we are to have a King again. I wish for us to have a good King, not a dead one. Some lords may wish the latter before the former though.”

With those last words Zatten was gone. Drak was alone again and Pearl was on the floor in a relaxed position, as if the discussion the two had was quite boring. Drak looked down at him, “Do you think he was any good?”

Pearl whined and looked up at Drak.

Drak shook his head and looked back at the door, “I wish a good lot of this political stuff would simply be gone. If there were a good man as wanted Jaquen to die he’d just up and draw his sword, Jaquen’d take his head clean off and then there’d be no more to fight about.”

Pearl relaxed and lay back down again.

Drak turned back to the window place and brought his hands behind his back. There weren’t two minutes that passed before another knock came at the door, this time the knock was softer and could not have been the guards. This interested Drak exceedingly and his hand strayed to the hilt of his knife.

“Come,” He spoke just loud enough to be heard by the guard, if he were out there.

There was a hesitation and then the latch clicked open. Drak’s hand tightened around the blade hilt but then went slack. The keeper’s daughter stepped through the doorway into the room along with her handmaiden. She was clothed all in white and a veil was covering her face. Her dress had only a belt adorning it at the waist, which was clasped well below her waist, and the excess hung down almost to the hem of her gown. Her eyes met his and then were downcast. The maiden beside her was similarly clothed but was far more plain in dress. She met his eyes as well, but hesitated a moment before too casting her eyes down.

Drak looked at the maiden a little closer for a moment and then ventured to speak, “This is a fine display to be sure, but of what merit? What am I that you would act so humble to?”

Mrace looked up slowly, “We came for one whom we spoke to yestereve, but for you the same humility should be shown, as we have been in disgrace on the part of both of you. We’ve known since last night who you really are…”

Drak placed his hands behind his back and sighed, “I wonder how far into this kingdom that news has wandered.”

The maiden at Mrace’s side spoke up quickly, “To each who has heard has been given this knowledge has also been given the strictest warning not to speak of it to anyone.”

“And you’ve heard only because you stand beside your mistress in all things private or no.”

The maid fell silent.

Mrace continued for her, “She did indeed hear when her ears were unwanted, but in this she has been the best of companions as no one save myself has heard our discussions of it. We have come here only to seek an end to a disgrace brought upon us.”

Drak smiled, “Disgrace is a heavy word. But for my part I would’ve given none to you even if we were what we looked to be. My companion, the Prince is strange in that he wished to remain silent about who he was from the beginning. For my part I would’ve come with trumpets and banners to shake the very boots of those who’ve mismanaged this kingdom. But he seeks alliance instead of open retribution. Strange, but I think he’s forgiven you more readily even than I have.”

“You speak for him?” said Mrace.

“I do not speak for him, he is King here, but I do speak as his friend and companion of many years and adventures. I think upon how I know him his forgiveness is more readily come than his anger. Unlike many men I’m sure, but still it is to be in some such as he.”

“You are a good companion to him.”

Drak felt a pang at that, unwanted, but he still felt it in the words, as if some unspeakable evil had again awoken to feed him with doubt. There was some darkness in him, and such good things as this did not seek to assuage what he felt, “Thank you my Lady, I hope that this disgrace as you call it will not trouble either of you again, and I will have the King send a message to your chambers to make it official.”

“Thank you,” Mrace said and then stopped at a thought, “I do not know your name.”

Drak bowed, “My name is Drak, and this fair pup beside me, he being of the same age as me, is Pearl. Wolf though he be, he is tame as any domestic dog, but far more dangerous if an evil were to be done to him or his master.”

Mrace returned the gesture and replied, “It is a pleasure and honor to meet you both in official. But the name is indeed strange for this part and others. I wonder at it. Whence did it come from, and what sire gave it to you?”

Darkness smote Drak as a hammer blow and he turned away from them without thought. Behind him the two women were alarmed at the sudden change. They exchanged quick glances out of the corner of their eyes and then made to leave. The door clicked and then Drak replied.

“I do not know who my sire is. Though I am told the name was in the basket I was brought up from. My only companion on that young journey was this dog that you see now. He has been my same age in body and years since I was at that time. The name and this dog stands now as the only clues to my beginning, aside from such spite as I get from men who suspect a dark past.”

“I would not suspect anything dark in your past Drak. The name only is different, but the nature underneath any name can destroy any surface suspicion.”

Before Drak could reply further Mrace and her companion left the room. For awhile it was silent in the room. Drak turned only halfway to look behind him, but then turned back to the open balcony. The door was opened.

Drak turned and saw an old man rushing forward into the room and grabbing of Jaquen’s things and a couple books.

“Hi!” Drak cried out and brought out his knife. Surprise was evident upon his face and this yet third interruption of his solitude. Pearl stood up and wagged his tail with tongue out, untroubled by the events. Drak was otherwise, “I will stop you in your tracks old one if you do not give me reason to do otherwise.”

The man didn’t turn but spoke harshly behind him, “Do not trouble me,” He continued to take things and order them in his arms. “Jaquen is in need of haste. For yourself you should know already who I am as Dunar should have spoken of me many times in friendship. He did to your companion and I doubt that such things escaped your hearing.”

Drak let his arm fall to his side, “Lonarden.”

Lonarden turned and looked at Drak fully, pausing only slightly to look at him. There was a great deal of hardness in the look, but also something of pain. Drak could note little more since he was already much surprised at how much had happened so quickly. As if each new person had waited in turn outside his door.

“Much do I grieve upon seeing you Master Drak. Though it is not of your doing and nor would I have you grieve of yourself, but for my part, learned as I am, so do I grieve. But instead take heart and go to your Master in this hour, for he is about to do a great thing.”

“What is he doing?”

Lonarden turned back to gathering books, “He is taking on the valley Kingdom of Acrea in its entirety. Asking for the record of things as they are now and setting them next to what should be. Even though I have recorded many useless things in my time as recorder, still I can tell you that there will be many an exposed lord this day. Not many of which will pardon the act. Doubtless you’ve already heard at least one lord speak against an appearance today.”

“I have. But only one.”

“Then it is only because one is the leader of many others. But I am curios to know, although I might as well already know who it is,” Lonarden turned towards Drak laden with a few materials of Jaquen’s as well as parchment and maps.

“Lord Zatten.”

Lonarden sighed and let his gaze drop, “I feared so, but still he is a lad with a good mind. Perhaps nothing will come of it,” He turned towards the door, and then as if forgetting something he turned back to look at Drak. “You are needed. Do not waste time here, you are companion to the King. Such as you are he will be in need of you in this hour and I fear he will need you far more in the next and those coming after that.”

Drak stood straight and squared his shoulders, “I will come.”

 

The council chamber was full of the lords. Each speaking, either to himself or another lord in groups of at least three or more. The torches about the wall made the place dim with an air of dark intentions, though not a man there felt much strength even from darkness. Instead each man felt an uncertainty. It was now well known even to many lord’s displeasure, that Zatten had gone and spoken with Jaquen’s companion, but had not told Jaquen directly not to join the council that day. Many felt instead that such a move would bring the Prince to the meeting even more assuredly that day.

There was only one lord that sat alone in thought, the man Argold. He would not speak with any man, even though one or two lords had come to him with haughty looks and arrogant speech. His head did not move nor did he speak, but instead he looked out the window to the mountains, lost in thought of his own. The day he knew would cloud over quickly and begin to rain that afternoon. Then he shuddered thinking back to that day. Darkness settled on his thoughts and he turned his gaze toward the door.

Jaquen would come. He will come here as a King, just as his father would. His blood is noble, and he will prove these dogs wrong quick. There will be an accounting today the like as would not be seen unless our King Joema would come himself.

Only at the end of his thought did a change sweep over the lords. The doors came open and a shadow fell across the table where the lords would meet in less than the next sounding. In the doorway stood the Prince, though none could see his face, all men knew it was he. Dread filled them all at his coming, and when he spoke it was as if all knew that they would be exposed.

“Let the council convene. Today its last day, and then we will decide what is to be done that is best for this valley kingdom!”

Forward he came, long and slow. Each lord fell away before him and allowed him passage straight to the head of the table. The Keeper was already seated there, but at his coming he wearily stood. But Jaquen came to him and put his hands on his shoulders, beckoning him to sit back down still.

“This is yet your seat. I am not King yet, but have thus still come in justice as to decide what is to be done this day. I am in power, but as yet it is still your throne. And whether by age or simple virtue of your time as Keeper, I would have you sit here yet.”

The lords relaxed at this gesture, but were at the same intrigued by it. Zatten came to his seat first and sat with a good look upon his face. Amiable was his look, Jaquen knew of his visit and had approved of it, though no message had he sent back in return. After Zatten, Argold came to his place and sat. The look upon his face was far more serious, but it was far more lordly than any other in the room and it seemed that here was a man of the elder days of lords.

The rest of the lords sat in their order. They were quite uncomforted by the sooner convening and were intrigued by the fact that Jaquen had come at all and in this manner. The doors did not close and soon three more shadows fell upon the table before many of the other lords could sit. Lonarden, Drak, and Pearl came in all at once. Jaquen looked up at their coming and relief spread through his face. It was a strange convening of the council, great pain was brought from the lords in their faces, and in their actions there was great agitation.

Lonarden came to the top of the table and drew for himself a chair beside Jaquen. Drak stood at a wine table well behind Jaquen and poured for himself a goblet, while Pearl lay at his feet. Jaquen stood to the right of the throne of the Keeper and surveyed the lords as they came to their spots. When all were seated he began.

“Lords of Acrea, you all, full counted are six and thirty, but are this day only accounted as six and twenty. Those missing from the count are lords Dreka, Filburt, Rollins, Colin the Great, Orgo the Bold, Belmont the Red Knight, Frelma, Jatra, Pelgo, and Helmahad. Messengers have been sent out to these lords announcing the change in rule and the last meeting of the council. It is unfortunate that this council meeting could not wait for a few more days for the messengers are not known to return from the North for at least two days. The soonest we can see these men return is on the morrow. Until then the business at hand must begin and these lords of the North will have to put in their words later than you southern lords.  For that be numbered fortunate.

“I will spare you all the names of the lords that are already here, as you should all know these names well and no longer need the reminding. But for myself I am pleased to see that no man among you has left though the prospect of today is grim. For that I will think the higher of you all. For Acreans you are, and to act it even in the face of such as I is still Acrean to the core. I take it well.

“But to the more important tasks of today rather than speak of names I will speak of past years and times perhaps you will forget. In this I will lean more on the knowledge of all of you and the knowledge of my military advisor Lonarden who has for the past 18 years spent his time on worthless recordings. I hope that his knowledge isn’t needed as much as I think it will be.”

The lords looked at Lonarden and then at each other uneasily. Lonarden gave a grim look in return to their uneasy stares. Then he took out from among his scrolls a map scroll and laid it upon the table, facing towards the Keeper. The Keeper looked at it and all those near knew to their dismay that the sections of each lord’s territory had been kept up with. Their trade routes had been measured in great detail, their imports were numbered and seemed to point back to a book. Lonarden held in his hands several books, and all of journal make. The lords could only guess rightly that their own records were in these books.

It was also noted upon the map where their troops were in greatest amount, although in some ways it was inaccurate, it was as a whole quite telling of each man. Only a few northern territories were shown on this map, but each lord now there had their plot laid out for each and every man to see in detail the like of which had not been seen to them before. Lonarden laid out his first book and opened it to the first page. Stepping back he allowed Jaquen to lean forward over both.

For a long moment no man spoke, but Drak could see easily from his position behind a cup of wine that each man had not touched a drink or had ordered anything to set before him. Each man shared an equal heat, and all of the lords found the room to be quite hot, even though the heat of the summer was still a great way off. Jaquen stood up again and looked at the lords.

“Let us begin then with lord Abainlay. You are lord of the Castle Forja, and for one thing I can say you certainly have much wine imports to your castle. I would say enough to wager you have great vineyards around your castle. Is this true?”

The lord wiped his forehead and looked around at all the other lords before answering, “I have no vineyards sire, but indeed I can import wine as I may!”

“Indeed, but then why would you tax your people at 20 Dijar’s per 100? Your largest import, aside from your taxes, is this wine. I might also add that you’ve brought in a considerable amount of game from different parts of the country. While your expenditures for the improvement of your castle and the surrounding city and plot land has been almost nothing. I am aware though that you allotted 700 Dijar’s to the digging out of a river bed that had become quite stagnant, thus allowing much needed water to many farmlands. But I do not see much more than that. A good many men have brought plans to the castle gates, but I’m told that your guardsmen were commanded to turn away such plea’s and cast such plans into the fire’s as fodder.”

The man did not reply readily, but fidgeted.

“Tell me Abainlay, when did you think to provide for your people that my father had given you charge of?”

Abainlay stood in outrage, “What proof do we have of you! A ring may go from a finger to a finger, perhaps even well enough under a smith’s hammer. What proof otherwise do you have of being who you say you are?”

Jaquen quieted and turned his attention to Lonarden, he shook his head in return. Jaquen turned back to the man, “You know well enough Abainlay that the ring of my father was gifted in that it would not fit itself to the hand of a man who was not rightfully King of Acrea. No hammer could change it, for it was made from a star heated by a greater fire than we posses here. It is of a different metal than can be found from mountains, and I would have you test such a ring if you have further disbelief. Though if you denounce such a testing I will kill you, or so goes the way of such a ring.”

Abainlay sat back down, grumbling to himself, “I am lord of my own citadel.”

“Indeed,” Jaquen said in reply. “But you were also lord of my father’s people. Let us say no more of Abainlay, for to say only of him will leave out the rest of you, and he is not the only who is deserving of retribution.”

Lonarden opened the book to part way through the first half and stood back, thus Jaquen continued, “Great effort has been made to acquire the gates of Acrea within the past 15 years. I found that quite interesting when I’d first come here. Newly transferred to Zatten’s flag I’d heard and I found it well that the guards were taking good care of the new money they’d come into. Indeed I found a better city at the gates than I’ve seen here at the Main. They have now great stone homes and taverns there built from and into the mountain. They’ve had good life there and not once been called to action in arms.

“Zatten, I will turn to you then and ask why it is you sought to purchase the rights to the gateway for the sum of 15,000 Dijars?”

Zatten stood up, “It was given to me as a gift for my coming into lordship sire.”

Jaquen took this into account and then turned back to the page, “Your lordship age was yet three years ago. But you’ve newly come to it only three days ago.”

Zatten nodded, “My father was not overeager to give up his throne, but then again I was not overeager to take the throne from him. But ultimately he found his doom through the mistreating of his people. He was killed by one of his own subjects four days ago just after he was persuaded to buy the rights to the gate. Had he not been killed in such a way I think he still would be ruling now with the gates under his name. I did not kill him sire, but I do not think ill of the deed as my plans are now being put through to bring a better livelihood to my land.”

Jaquen turned to Lonarden who nodded in agreement. Jaquen turned back to Zatten surprised, though still being ready to find some wrong in him, “I would ask what these plans are? Seeing you are newly come they might be only ideas but still I would see them in full if it is possible.”

“Indeed sire,” and snapping his fingers from behind him a servant produced a scroll, which he then laid out on the table for the men to see. “As you know sire I am the lord of Corrin. But that name to me is of vile nature seeing as how my father treated the people, so I’ve decided upon this plan that would put much of the taxes my father asked for back into the hands of the people.”

The plans were passed up the table to Jaquen who examined it. The plans showed the roof of Corrin being covered with a great black metal that stuck out to keep much rain off of the castle itself. It was also noted that all the walls of the keep as well as the outer walls of the city would also be thus made as the keep itself. The plan was quite elaborate and would indeed require a great amount of manpower to accomplish. But indeed it would bring quite a bit of money back to the people. The cost of the first years work alone was greater than the cost of the gate.

Jaquen turned his gaze back to Zatten, “Out of all I’ve seen thus far coming into this kingdom I’ve not seen the like of this. I hope then that your word is enough and that this will come to pass,” then he turned back to the rest of the lords, “yet my wrath is still kindled against you all.”

He closed the book.

“I’ve seen enough in this book over the past sounding or more that would give me enough grounds to exile most of you, if not place you all in execution. It seems that you all have shared a common fascination with wine, hunting, and smoking-weed. Great expense has gone into making your castles quite a fair place to live. Many of you have purchased for great sums swords and weapons that do no more than hang above your fires. Entertainments of exotic natures have come before your halls at expense of the people, and all that has come from it is your own amusement. Some have been greater than others in remembering their people. But on the whole I find a great lack of acknowledgement.”

He turned his gaze to Argold.

“Although there are indeed some lords among you that have done a great deal to offset the rest of you in greed. Lord Argold I would name among you to be great among the rest of you, he has given much back to his people and little to himself. I do not know the fullest understanding of it, but I still commend it. It has come to me that he has spent much time understanding his people and their needs, at times even helping some of the less fortunate among them to rebuild their farms and homes. But not taking them to the castle in poverty only to become servants. This action is better than what we’ve found from the rest of you.”

Pearl stood up now, and Drak brought the cup away from where it had been staying near his face. He had not had anything to drink but had rather had it sitting to give him something to hold in silence. But something had begun to change with Jaquen, but perhaps Drak had only thought he noticed it. It wasn’t like the person himself was changing, but there was a different light about him, something white was growing about him. Indeed he could tell that anger was increasing inside Jaquen but it seemed that the light was something apart from that.

The lords beside him began to get up out of their chairs. Pearl barked. Drak set his drink down and gripped his sword. Lonarden gripped Jaquen, but Jaquen stood firm and let his anger die down. The light stopped pulsing and disappeared. The lords though did not relax their guard and were quite shaken.

Zatten stood, “Sire…is there a magic about you?”

Jaquen sighed and replied with a fatigue, “There is no magic about me. I have no dealings in those arts and seek to have no such dealing. The light that you saw is something that comes every so often. It is something I’ve had since I was a child, but have never had it fully explained to me. It is nothing to fear.”

Zatten looked at him uneasily, “I do not find it hard to believe you sire, I would sooner fear you than light. But I do beg leave to ask of a time to talk among ourselves against the charges brought against us. I know for myself I have nothing much to fear but others here I know will have words. I wish to council such men as I my father have done and as I’ve yet only become good in. But not only for my own sake do I ask of this leave, but for yourself, perhaps to gather your thoughts and wishes for judgment.”

Jaquen thought over this for a moment and then nodded, “This leave I grant you. Let it be short.”

Immediately the lords got up from their seats and in haste left the room ahead of Zatten, in a fashion to rival a storm. However, both Zatten and Argold remained behind. Argold remained in his chair while Zatten was in the room, but Zatten came around and bowed slightly before the King.

“My lord, these men have been lords since their young age, at a time when their fathers had not shown them how to be lords and their youth was still strong in their veins. I have paid better attention while I was young, but I fear the ability to make these lords better is past. I fear great anger among them that they will do something quite rash, though I do not fear that you have the greater strength among us. But can a man bear up the weight of a kingdom while all the people would turn against him? I wonder, but for my part, I will only do what is best to make peace in this valley, though I mean nothing against my loyalty to you.”

“I will not question your loyalty,” Jaquen said. “Indeed I have trust in you before I would have trust in any of the other lords, aside from Argold. I know that you did come to my chamber earlier to ask me to not attend this meeting. I have no place in council so near to grief you may say, but grief or no, had I even lost a brother, I would still have a kingdom looking to a leader for direction. At this time I have lords that have lived long in injustice and I would right the wrongs done against these my people. But your loyalty and your meaning are both taken right. For that you will indeed survive what is to come for my part, and that I will repay you when time comes for such repayment.”

Zatten bowed again, “I thank you sire.” Then he drew closer. “But for the part of Argold, I would not wholly trust him. I do not rightly know all things about him, but in what I’ve seen of him there is a great burden he bears, and I think it ties into his last ride with your father thing King. Aside from those facts I know not much more. Only that he will not confirm any suspicions the other way.”

Jaquen looked at Argold who still sat staring at them. His face was grim, but grimmer still was Jaquen’s, and so the two met with their eyes at last. Zatten turned, bowed again and then left the room. Already in the hallway the voices of the lords were being raised and anger seethed into the room from the open doors. After Zatten had passed through the archway though, Argold stood and walked up to Jaquen without bowing.

“I thank you for your kind words,” he said with a great sigh passing through his words. “But I do not need support from you. I know you as the King’s son and would ride with you as I did him. But because of that statement I will only warn you and then go with your judgments. These lords are still quite young in mind and heed not wisdom when it is presented. The best thing these lords can do at this point is to accept that the King has returned and that they have done wrong against his people, seek forgiveness and retain their lordship. But because I have sat long in silence while these lords did as they would I know what they are now planning to do. They will defy you.”

Lonarden stood forward, “Argold—“

Jaquen stopped him with an uplifted hand, “The warning I shall take. I’ve seen this defiance in their eyes, and readily do I even hear it coming in from yonder hall. But as my father was King in this very hall so will I also be King. When my father came to this hall he came in a mood to feast and to claim victory over the day, relax and enjoy the coolness of evening. But since his passing it has become a den of decisions made not in victory of doing a days good, but in seeking of each day being a coolness of evening. There has been no earning of a good day, but instead these men have ever sought their own good while the people suffer under them. I will not forever let this place become like to that den of old.

“If I were to let them be as they are now, and then even if I were to let only a little bit go, give them leave to do as they would, then forever would I be a King with a line where I would no longer be the leader of a kingdom but rather a man to be persuaded. I will not wear the ring of Kings, or even the helm of my father without resolving to fit them both before I take them.”

Argold nodded and bowed ever so slightly, “You are a hard man, but perhaps it is better that in this day there be hard men to govern those who have strayed from justice. My place behind you is stronger than that of Zatten’s. Though he speaks like a man on your side he is indeed a man who falls only on the side that he would consider his own. If the lords defy you, he will be with them, if the lords are for you and then so would Zatten. In battle though he would certainly stay in his own castle and speak to the enemy of peace before he would openly engage his men or himself in a conflict. Be wary of him, although I do not know him enough to say you should distrust him. I see danger behind him, but perhaps his heart is not wholly bad.”

With that he turned and left the room. With his footsteps echoing behind him and cape swirling, in his wake came a stillness over Jaquen, as well as Lonarden and Drak. Pearl whined and was quite weary of the day’s events already. Jaquen and Drak were indeed in a place they had not supposed to be in, and the coming was seeming the easier than the being. Though this day was now only the first since their coming and not wholly even halfway done. Lonarden stirred behind Jaquen and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Argold should not have spoken.”

Jaquen turned to him, “I would rather have open allegiance than a guarded tongue Lonarden. The same should go to Zatten. Out of the two I am more inclined to trust Zatten who seems to have been more involved with the men than has Argold. His conduct is more lordly and his knowledge of things I think more sure. Argold though I would trust in battle the more, he is loyal it seems, but not sure of heart.”

“For this judgment that you now give I would have advised that Argold had waited. For indeed though you would name him ill, I name him the higher over our youngest lord.”

Drak walked up, “Regardless, I would like to know what that light was. You say it is something you had since birth, but you defied me once on my question but here I will not suffer it again. Only once have I seen this and now it becomes the second. The light seemed to destroy the darkness which so easily overthrew our mentor there in the south, but now it seemed only to be light for the purpose of exposing you. What thing do you hide?”

Lonarden looked sharply at Drak and waved his hand at Jaquen before he could speak, “Do not ask such questions in this place. He hides what has been given to him, and you hide your own secrets, the like of which may destroy you when you’ve had the sense enough to find out about them. Jaquen has a burden, which few men have ever had the misfortune to carry, though it comes with great advantage. But let his burden be and turn your attention instead to yours and yours only. In better places we will speak of these things, but this day is quite wrong to speak of it.”

Drak looked at Jaquen, “I trust then not to speak of it. But we must ride the valley later this day to speak of it, there are things we each of us must know.”

Lonarden agreed, “Then perhaps later, but for now there is a dark business to be had done.”

A great swell of voices came from the outer room. And with this all three turned to look out. Drak then spoke up again, “What do you mean to do Jaquen? What is the end of today?”

Jaquen sighed, “I would exile a great deal of them and pick in time new lords. But as the people cannot survive on their own without a leader above them so I must suffer them to be lords. But Lonarden, I must pass this question on to you, what is wisdom to end this day?”

Lonarden shook his head, “There is not much wisdom to give in a wisdomless place. Here we find lords that are seeking themselves, who see a threat to them and will indeed probably find a way to take you out of power, or perhaps for a time lessen your power. I did not see that at anytime since your coming here that you had much power at all anyway. And indeed my coming from my exile will see a response ere the end. Still, what wisdom I would give I can only say you should find a way to replace the worst of these men, and keep a very few. Giving them plots of land for themselves and working as any commoner. I doubt in such a light they would find great alliances. But I fear still what the promise of better times would do to others. For there are a great many men who benefit from this rule, but I think soon we may not have to make a decision one way or the other. Another will stand up against you I think and either an immediate or drawn out duel will occur to decide who will stand as King and who the lord.”

“I do not fear being a lord under a King, for even then I may be able to be a good rule to my own people. But I will not suffer it as surely as I have lived all this time with this ring of mine and this burden. Both of which bind me to a certain fate different from other men, no matter which way others would have me be.”

“I do not doubt your destiny, and I don’t think Argold nor Zatten does either. I know of other men, good men, that will also rally behind a good King be he only King by my word. But on the whole if a kingdom doesn’t follow you, then a great many lives will have to be lost to prove a point that is spoken in the light that you have. I will not suffer it, are words that can condemn a good many men. But perhaps your own life might be better sacrificed in life before you condemn a great many men to death.”

Drak stood up to Lonarden, “This is a King Lonarden! Dunar spoke to us of a good advisor, one that would stand up for what is good and true for a kingdom! But what I hear from you is compromise. Jaquen has already tasted steel and doled out his own share against enemies of a dark kindred.”

“Has he seen die his own brothers? By his own hand?”

Drak went to speak, but the answer that Lonarden had given struck him dumb and he turned away.

Lonarden continued, “Surely I say, if you were to make a war simply because you would not suffer to be less of a man you will not only have men die beside you but also men that you would have governed will die by your own sword. Thus only to weaken ourselves would be the outcome. And this valley kingdom would be given an injury that would take a great time to heal.”

A shout was heard from the lords in the hall, and the three of them looked to the crowd. The lords parted and a man cloaked came through bearing a standard wrapped in a black cloth.  Behind him another man came with hood thrown back and his shoulders were set firm. It was Bowe.

Jaquen would’ve clasped arms with this man, but his face was grim as he came up to Jaquen. The cloaked man stood beside Bowe, stooped a little, but it seemed that there lay a hidden strength beneath the cloak, as if a motion would set a flame bursting out from beneath the dark cloth. Bowe stood straight up to Jaquen and spoke out.

“I am come from the gates of Acrea. I’ve been summoned and thus have I come. Do not be alarmed though, it is not in war that I have come, Lonarden has sent for me to come support your claim as lord, and thus have I come straightaway. The rider that sent for me is here beside me, but of him I will not speak more than that he was who has ridden for me. We both are in the service of Lonarden, as Riders of Acrea.”

“Riders?” Jaquen said with great surprise. “Is such a measure needed?”

Lonarden replied to it, “In such a time where all wisdom had gone from leadership I had said yes. Though it is not Bowe who normally deals with the lords who come to purchase his service, still he is the leader of the ragged band from the gates. Mercenaries them all I would say, they are very hardy when sober, though the need for it as of late has lessened overmuch.”

Bowe nodded, “All for the sake of appearance though. I only let so many men get drunk though some wish to out of turn. For myself I don’t like the appearance and neither do many of my men. So it is that I let those get drunk that wish to and keep them near to the gateway when caution is not so needed.”

“You’ve come then at the call of Lonarden…what then would you do for me?”

“I would cast my life at the feet of the King, we’ve waited overlong for you to come. You have then, and now we are those that have waited for you ready to follow into any kind of battle. But as surely as these lords would purchase my loyalty, so would I now throw it all in their faces and say that the gateway now rightfully belongs to the King, who is now come. But let us see that play out when the lords return.”

Lonarden looked to the doorway, “I think that time draws on.”

The hall grew still and silent for a moment and then slowly all the lords turned back towards the table. Slowly each of the lords walked back towards the table, proud it seemed now, each with their own haughty look. At the tail of the group stood Argold shaking his head, and there also stood Zatten speaking to him, almost pleading with him it seemed. But at length Argold turned and walked away from Zatten. Taking his seat again, it was now to Zatten Jaquen turned his attention, and it seemed that a good portion of the lords did so also.

Zatten drew himself up and looked straight at Jaquen, and then, he turned and walked away. The lords of the hall lept up and shouted after him. Lonarden looked after him in wonder, asking then to himself what it was that had made such a response. Bowe looked at the receding lord with scorn, but wondered secretly if indeed it was his presence or some other thing that had set him to move away. It was in the minds of the lords though a highly strange thing and almost harmful thing.

Jaquen shouted above them, “Lords of Acrea! Are we to make such a display of ourselves? Or can one man make his exit without the others detaining him with such a mockery?”

The lords turned back to him with looks of contempt but finally they all sat down again. One though remained standing, though his name was unknown to Jaquen, he spoke without being acknowledged, his voice rang out and seemed to empower the other lords about the table, “We lords of this kingdom Acrea have decided that your claim to be King is preposterous. We furthermore have decided that we will have nothing to do with you and that if it were to be proven that you were King, we would have nothing to do with your kingdom!”

Several of the lords threw in their own voices with approval.

Jaquen’s shoulders sunk as if under a weight, but his face he did not turn away from the lords at the table, “Is this the feeling of every man here?”

Argold stood, and along with him two other lords. One of the other lords was shorter, and a good stout man, his beard was orange and thick as a dwarves would be, but his eyes shone with a jolly light. The other man was tall and well worn, but behind his face seemed a kind nature with a steel resolve. Jaquen was not disheartened when these men stood. Argold spoke for all three it seemed when he answered Jaquen’s challenge.

“I will stand with the King of Acrea. He is proven in my mind to be of royal descent and I will not suffer to see those of lesser conduct take control of the throne.” The added their voices in ascent.

Six other lords stood at once to their feet and began shouting red-faced at these three. Two drew their swords, and at once many other lords began to draw their own steel. Jaquen jumped upon the table and shouted about them. But none would listen save to choose him to fight now.

Then Jaquen drew himself up and cast two men aside that had jumped also upon the table. With his sword he threw it down the table and broke asunder the council table. It at once collapsed in half and threw all the lords back away from it. After the clamor Jaquen strode down the middle of the broken table and retrieved his sword. Standing in challenge against all the lords.

“Let any man draw their blade against me. Do not try in cowardice or your name and house will be cast down in disgrace and shame.”

Drak had drawn out his blade and now stood up beside Jaquen. Pearl was snarling at the lords at Jaquen and Drak’s feet. Lonarden, Bowe and the hooded messenger, all three did not stir. The Keeper at the head of the broken table looked over the hall in sadness, wondering indeed what he could have done to make this different.

The sight of the three warriors though took all the intentions out of the lords. The looked instead upon the three in wonder and fear. Argold stood with his blade over the neck of another, and the other two that had stood up with him were at the ready to make blows. But Jaquen looked over them all and only spoke simply.

“If you wish for a different King then have him. I will not shed blood wantonly in this way in open rebellion. Nor will I call sons of Acrea to war on my behalf when they only march against their brothers. I will stand for my claim in other ways, but for now I will let my own remain silent. But now name your own chosen prince who will now lead.”

Abainlay stood up and spoke with renewed vigor, though his voice seemed very small compared to Jaquen, almost as a mouse would speak up to the cat who stoops over him now, “We have decided that the Keeper should become King, and no longer lead us passively, but that the prince should be Zatten, whom we’ve all come to follow as leader among us. Even before he was lord, we saw wisdom in him.”

Jaquen nodded solemnly and turning to the Keeper he spoke to him, “What say you to this sir?”

The Keeper sat with a shocked expression, but nodded at the turn of events, “I am old of years. And the ideas of the young weary me, but I do see what these lords wish and think. I see that I may as yet do some good thing before my time is over, perhaps even to help train Zatten in the right way. Though it grieves me to no end that the rightful heir to the throne be cast away by the idiocy of these lords.”

The other lords had now come to their feet, even the man with Argold’s blade on his neck. The gesture was not forgotten, and the lords now stood about the broken table with wonder in their eyes. But all blades were now either sheathed or hanging about their sides without tension. Jaquen did not heed these men but set his piercing gaze straight to the Keeper.

“Then your decision is to accept the terms as they are?”

The Keeper sighed, “Am I King even? Under such terms as made by these lords, am I still not a Keeper of the throne until Zatten become King in my stead? What good is there in this move? I name none.”

“But decision still must come from this. You have been named to make said decision, whether you wish to or no.”

The Keeper stood up, leaning upon his staff, “Send for Zatten.”

Two guards went out of the hall at great speed. The lords began to talk quietly among themselves and Lonarden walked up to Jaquen’s side, “Do not fear lord, you will still be leader of a few. Have I not told you of good news coming from the north? Also do you not see that the gates of Acrea are also here to be placed at your feet? I will now council you to become a lord of this Keeper, who is a good man. I do not trust Zatten, but in time we may find a good way around him as well. Perhaps even a quiet rebellion, but for now let it simply be known that you will let this matter lie. I doubt that any will challenge what you ask for as lord since this last display.”

“I would that no display were necessary,” Jaquen replied.

Drak replied, “These men are worthless lords.”

Lonarden replied to him sharply, “But lords they are. Even to themselves I fancy they seem worthless, but in truth it does not matter what they are to anyone. They are lords, and it matters more what they do than what they think of being or doing.”

Drak sheathed his sword, “The politics of open battle I fancy more than the dull speech and anger of this room.”

Jaquen gave a slight smile and turned to Drak, “A truer friend there could not be. I am of the same mind. But unfortunately the honor that I was taught would not let me bring such a battle here.”

Drak grinned and walked back to his wine table, “Pity.”

Lonarden took Jaquen by the shoulder and walked back towards where Bowe and the hooded one stood, “This is what I will now suggest to you Jaquen. As King you should’ve been but you will not be, as best as you can be is now lord of a province perhaps not to your liking. So I suggest that you ask for the province of Flacrea. This is a place of historical worth, but in the minds of these lords a place of little worth. If you begin your reign there though I feel in mind that great hope is there.”

Bowe picked up the map that lay on the floor and studied it for a moment. He pointed then to the southeastern corner of the map, “Here is that province. Strategically I don’t like it. I find it would make a hard ride out of there if ever an Arrackmen party were to assail it.”

Lonarden raised his finger in silence, “Let us not speak of such things. That people has not shown its face here for almost two decades, and I hope that it will never again. But as for now, I see the more dangerous position as an advantage. The one who governs it now is a drunk sheriff who deposed the last lord. The whole affair was a quiet thing, and the lord that was deposed was hung before ever a thing could be done about it. These lords here saw that lord as the least of them all and cared very little for him. I think all things considered about the place it would be suitable for Jaquen to become lord and to show the other lords a thing unseen in this valley for a long time.”

“And what is that?” Jaquen said.

Lonarden looked up from the map and smiled as if he had just enjoyed a gentle breeze, “Life returning to a city. That we could see the least of cities become the greatest in little time. I would wager that as soon as you become lord of that citadel and start in on your ways of governing I think that we will find many a man moving to your governship. The lords now present will resent you quite much for it, and perhaps even make it so that the people will not be able to move hither as much. But come they still will, and great improvements will have to be made to the city.”

Jaquen looked at the map now, turning his attention away from the lords now milling about and casting sidelong glances their way. He saw now that the city was almost entirely enclosed in forest. Only a pathway led away through a short forest to the main road that led to the rest of the valley. Where the road led eastward was to a mining camp that used to be, but no long was a home to any man as all considered it a dark road. He was aware of Lonarden studying him. Jaquen had indeed tensed, he did not know, but he did not have to ask, something inside told him that that was the road that all the lords of Joema, his father, had taken to come for him.

Jaquen turned to Lonarden, “Why do you choose this for my home!” His emotion came out thick with his speech, but still he remained quiet so that the other lords would not notice them.

Lonarden’s face became grim, “To be close to your father. Although the grief is upon you, to be closest to it is enough for you to remember him and act upon that knowledge. You must not forget him, you must not shut out his memory. You must honor him in that he sought to honor you. He gave his life for you, and now let his last journey be always upon you vision so that you remember what you’ve come back for.”

The sound of metal came in from the hallway, the guards hard returned. Jaquen looked up from the map and sought to see Zatten. In the middle of the two guards he stood proud and erect, his face set against all men, wishing to hear nothing from any. When the guards had brought him within the room they parted and went again to the two sides of the doorway. The Keeper motioned that Zatten would come forward.

Zatten stared at the table in wonder, “I’ve missed a great deal in my absence.”

The Keeper nodded, “Indeed you have.”

Zatten spoke then without waiting for the Keeper to continue, “I know what it is that the lords would have of me. I have come only to bring closure to this, not to act in further infamy. I understand there is grief from these lords against what has been said by our new prince Jaquen, but indeed I would have acted differently then they are now acting. Their words are wrong in speech, but I have said still that I would go with the greater portion of men so as to keep this kingdom together. I do now wish I had not said so, for in this they have given me the title of leader, and I would not have it so.”

As Zatten paused, then the Keeper replied, “Then you do know what it is that these lords have brought before me?”

“Yes. But I wish I had not given them the strength to do so.”

“Then what is your decision? Make it steady now and stand by it.”

Zatten looked upon all the lords, and last his eyes were cast on Jaquen. Jaquen rightly read in them pain at this decision, but also he saw a premeditation, almost a fear that such events would have come about, and Jaquen considered him wise. At length Zatten drew himself up once again and replied to the Keeper in confidence of tone, “I accept what is drawn before me.”

The lords all about him raised their hands in a cheer. All of them showed much relief and ordered quickly wine to hail the coming of this their new King and Prince, and the mood was very jolly in that the lords were acquitted in their minds of all wrong. But Zatten stood up upon a chair and shouted until all the men had once again become quiet.

“I have no ill will against Jaquen, and had I spoken differently at our talk not one sounding early I would now have placed my flag with his, but all that is his I would still make his and have him choose a province for his taking. Let the lord of that house make ready and depart at the time of his naming, if my lord the King would so approve my request.”

The Keeper frowned at this but responded still in like to the request, “Your words sound good coming in a time of quiet and no decisions. I wonder very much indeed if time could be reversed would you wish it so. By all the rules of a King and Prince so I must now treat you as my son, but for these rules in Acrean law you are not my son but as still I should listen to your decrees. What then can I do? When who is it that will follow me in this? I name it a good decree and do wholly accept it, but for what I fear underneath it I would think twice before placing my blessing on it.”

“Why do you name my decree ill my Lord King?” Zatten said. “Do I not wish the best for my brother who has come back to his people? Do I not openly wish him well and happy life, wishing no thing to stand between us though these lords choose me over him? Do I not lay the valley before his feet for him to choose his province? What indeed have I left out save what is now mine?”

The Keeper grumbled to himself, but then answered, “Your words are good. Save I do not know your full meaning. What is now yours by right is different than perhaps you would have. My daughter for one, is still mine by right, and should be married under the same rules as if I were Keeper. For another…you would save the province of the Main for yourself, this I know. I wonder now what would happen to you if you knew that Jaquen would choose your home Corrin to be his place of abode. Some things I think you assume will be borne by others, when in fact you have laid bare all things including your own. ‘Let him take what is his,’ I wonder how far a certain man could take such a thing?”

“I disagree on the part of your daughter, but perhaps in time we shall speak in like mind of one another. But for now let me make plain to Jaquen what is his. Let all who swear loyalty to him continue in their vow, but let me be Prince and you Keeper be King. In time of war let there be wholeness to the valley, but in times of peace let loyalties between castles be like friendships between farmers.

“We have not yet to know what the lords in the north will say if they are to swear loyalty to one or the other. Yet I have a feeling that Jaquen may be the victor over this competition, in such a way that we do not know the loyalties of the north I would say that you should not name provinces as your own up in that region. For my own Castle, I have not held it back. Though the Castle Corrin means good to me, I would fulfill my words by letting it go to him even if he should name it.

“Any man that wishes to follow this Prince of men may. I will not hold a grudge against him for it, but any province that would pay fealty to him, this I cannot allow, for in such a way war can be brought. I wish only for a whole Acrean valley to come from this conflict and not a broken one. So in this way I cannot allow a nation to be born out of this arrangement, but rather I can allow friendships to be brought. Individual men though will go to this man and I will say nothing of it, unless it be in blessing.”

“I would wonder very much what you would say to this now my own decree,” Bowe stepped up to Zatten from the outskirts of the crowd. “I have not come all this way from the gates only to be denied fealty to the real King of Acrea!”

With him saying so the hooded figure unfurled his black standard and a wind caught up out of the window. The flag itself bore no mark, but only a shadow was imprinted on it of a sunrise, a hope. No other mark could be seen or discerned. Bowe caught up the standard and planted it firmly on the ground with his hands setting it in view of all the lords.

“As proclaimed leader of the Guards of the Gateway, I do now swear fealty to Lord Jaquen, King of these lands!”

A silence fell on all the lords, and to all it seemed as if Zatten showed signs of weight. Many now wondered at the reaction to such a proclamation as by all rights the gates of Acrea still belonged to Zatten, and many believed that, even now it should belong to him even more. But Zatten only dismounted from the chair. The man in the cloak was now revealed and his eyes burned. Jaquen turned to him and saw in surprise that it was the man on the back of the cart.

“Barmane!”

The man grinned a bit at the meeting, “Aye lord, it is I! My coming perhaps is not as welcome or wanted? I expected not, but a man in the mud may be a lord underneath if he so chooses.”

Zatten stood stiff up to the man Bowe, “Befriend him you may. Broken your business will be, and no more shall you find abundance in the valley of the gates. No fealty sworn though, only a friendship and wholeness in time of war.”

Bowe scorned the thought of Zatten and looked down on him with the heat of his scorn plain for all to see, “Though you have been blinded to us for some time, we shall have our voice heard now for all to see. Jaquen leads us, and no other. For we follow the true King of Acrea and no choice of a foul council. Long have I had to abide silently as you traded away the things of worth in this valley. I saw the beauty of its city’s come and go and all things good thrown down for the pleasure of a moment. Zatten, you are no prince, and word or no if you were worth anything more than your own father you would denounce yourself before all here and fall in behind Jaquen as well.”

“For what Captain?” Zatten said, his tone unchanged as if no challenge was in the tone of Bowe. “Would you risk the open rebellion and the fight against brothers? I certainly will not whatever may be right. We shall see in time, which is the right here in Acrea, by right of power or virtue. If Jaquen be the true King, which I believe he is, then he shall see his part of the valley flourish as no other has seen. But indeed, the end to that is yet to be seen, but here is an end to be had right at our doors. Shall I fall behind Jaquen’s flag as I wish to and let brother go against brother? Or shall I stand up as a good lord, accept the turn of events and do what good I may in his stead, keeping him as my close friend?”

Bowe did not change his scorn, “I only agree with one part of your speech, and it is in that time shall be the better judge of things. For what a man can say now can be challenged later, by any circumstance. Perhaps soon we shall see these things tested. But I still remain in the service of my lord, whatever will befall. Though all the lords of this valley come down to us and wish us all dead as they set up their siege works against us. All the men upon my walls have cast down their drink and their mockery and now stand as true men of Acrea. As good as any lords they are, every man among them. And they all each to a man stand for the King of Acrea. The true King.”

Zatten sighed, “So be it, let it be known then that the province of the Gates are the property of whatever province Jaquen from this day chooses for his own. That in war or peace it shall bear his flag and answer to him as a Captain to his lord,” then he turned and spoke directly to Bowe. “You have tried the patience of myself and this council, do not do so again. War is not beneath us as a whole, although we speak against it, it is not beneath us.”

Lonarden’s eyebrows went up and he grinned a little underneath his gray beard.

Jaquen stepped up and laid a hand on Bowe’s shoulder, “Then you will make war with us both. For as a Captain stands up for his lord, so shall I stand up for my Captain.”

Zatten looked up at Jaquen with an air of surprise, then turned away, “So it shall be. And I wish nothing against you both. Save that this Captain does not become a further irritant to this council.”

Zatten ascended the two steps that separated the Keeper’s throne from the rest of the table. Standing to his left side he half turned and spoke, “The council ends on this note. Let Jaquen name his province and let the lords now disperse to their own castles to prepare for a time of celebration and newness. For a King has been chosen and will be crowned at a day that we set. Jaquen, we all await your answer now.”

Jaquen turned to Drak, who shrugged and waved his hand. Then to Lonarden who nodded solemnly with wisdom. Bowe and Barman stood as men ready to defend him to the death. And he knew. This would be the beginning of his reign, in rejection he would begin, but in rejection I shall not end!

“I shall govern the province of Flacrea.”