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.”

Chapter III

--

A Return

 

Five years later, in the Spring season of the year, Jaquen and Drak were seen riding to the North gate of Crys upon the flowers of the celebration the night before. The blooms of the trees were still quite strong, and the dominant colors of the scene were radiance and life. Yet within the two, there was a definite sadness. A longing for something ungotten from their stay in Crys.

The council had given their blessing to the two last night, and the entire city of Crys had given their toast to see the two off, but these two things had merely weighed that much more heavily on the two as they journeyed to leave the city. Jaquen knew now the state of Acrea, and knew quite well that the council there (for they had no newly elected king, but only a keeper) would not be expecting his return. Joy would not be the description of either this departure, or Jaquen guessed, his return to Acrea.

People along the streets bowed or tipped their hats as the two went by. The blacksmiths were all out that morning sharpening their tools, for in the Spring there would be plenty to fix and mend for other people in the city, but the day after the celebration would be the breath before that rush. The wives along with their children were also about outside, sweeping up all the dust from the night before. Their husbands all preparing for their venture south of the city to tend fields and hunting and fishing.

There were the new bee-hives to be placed for the bee swarms to be split and then placed according to which fields needed them the most. There were the plows that needed sharpening, and the ropes and tassels on the horses that needed mending and strengthening with new leather. All were busy about their work for the coming seasons.

Harn had left the day before, not wishing much for celebrations of such folly, as he called it. But rather he wished for the peace of being alone in the south. He wished to go hunting alone, in the Deep South, where strange creatures could readily be found. Both Jaquen and Drak had said their goodbyes to him and seen him off at the Southern Bridge, which had now been built into a gate, and the shore along that river fortified with an earthen wall. Harn didn’t have much to say that was profound, but rather simply said goodbye and was off.

Jaquen checked his sword again, to make sure it was secure for the ride. As soon as they were outside the city, the two would ride hard North to make the edge of the woods by sundown. It could easily be a two days’ journey if one took their time, and to many the plan to reach the edge of the woods by sundown seemed well out of the question. They might be able to reach the Haerd Tree in the time, but not the edge of the forest, they’d say. But in Jaquen was a deep need to be in his real home, to which Crys had never seemed a real home to him in heart.

“Ahh…” Drak said beside Jaquen.

Jaquen looked up and there at the North Gate stood the council and a host of others, waiting to see them off. Jaquen grunted in reply, “I suppose they wouldn’t let us go in peace. I can tell you easily a good number of the council members who would rather us not be here.”

Drak gave a wide smile back at Jaquen, “And what have we been known to care about as far as the council goes?”

“Very little,” Jaquen said quietly, “but it was still in our best interest that they assented to our being here.”

Drak fell silent and shook his head.

Olf stood from his seat and waved for them to stop. There was a great crowd upon both sides of the gate, and they all were lined perfectly with children in between. All solemn and looking at them, not speaking or moving until the council had first their own say. Olf looked at both of them with pride and even the faint hints of a smile seemed to tug at his old face, but they fast disappeared as was his way.

Jaquen and Drak pulled up to Olf and stopped three feet away. He was seated a good twenty paces in front of the gate, in the middle of the road, and it felt good to Jaquen to have one more thing barring him from that great destiny beyond the gates. It was altogether maddening what he was heading into.

“Last night’s celebration did not do well to prepare us for this morning,” Olf spoke firmly. “So it ‘tis that I allowed those citizens that would to come and see you off at the start. It seemed that much more well that I did so when I considered the fact that some among us do not wish to say goodbye alone…”

Jaquen glanced at Drak with a bit of a grin. Drak kept his eyes on Olf.

“Then there are all of us who wish to express how deeply we will miss you…and…” Olf hesitated as if he were going to say something deeply close to him, but then he stopped and regained himself, “how much we hope that peace will once again firmly exist between men and Raenoe’s.”

Jaquen nodded formally.

Olf raised his hand and then sat down. The guards in front of the crowds stood aside and the people rushed forward around the two. Jaquen and Drak were showered with fond wishes, and many hearty rounds of good luck, upon which a morsel of something or two was stuffed into a sack that would then be tied to their saddles. Many people that Jaquen and Drak had come to know, friends and almost family to them were all there wishing a grand journey and a long reign. It was as if their entire life from when they’d first come here until now had come and wished them well. All were there except for Dunar.

Jaquen wished them all equally the same, and then he dismounted and walked forward to Olf who was now sitting to the side of the road. He came to him and bowed, “Sir.”

Olf nodded, “Your reluctance to go baffles me Jaquen. You’ve been raised for this day.”

“Even so,” Jaquen replied, “even though my heart is not here, I cannot get past the fact that my heart is for a land I’ve never known save in tale alone.”

Olf nodded again solemnly, “When you get there you will find your hear is there. The grand splendor of the land will wrap you up as soon as you set foot inside the gates. The land itself will be your heart.”

Jaquen smiled a bit, “I look forward to calling it my home.”

“I do not think that Crys will ever welcome you again as it has before. I know that for one, the council on the whole was never entirely satisfied with your being here. Five years ago after the Battle of the Fog Bank, the council met again with an even more heated discussion about sending you home right then and there. Not many among them were ready to ignore the fact that the Shadices rose up simply because one among them was after you. They readily realized that you posed a threat as this world was still seeking after you.”

“But I went south…”

“Even so, they wished you gone. I believe they even relaxed a bit when you went on that crusade southward. Although most of our army was gone with you, the council seemed very much at ease that you were in the south as opposed to here. There were some who even suggested that if an army was to come, they could simply give them directions to where you were and they’d leave our city alone. Foolish of them perhaps to think so, yet they did.”

Jaquen bowed again, “I thank you ever so much for you support of me. I do not know where I would be today if it weren’t for you, Drak, and…”

Olf nodded knowingly, “About Drak. I do not know if you quite understand this, but let me tell you. There is something about him that I do not quite know of him. There is a secret about him, or about his past. Be sure that if his past comes looking for him that you are well aware of it, and ready to believe whatever it is that comes of it.”

“Does he know how he came here?”

“Of course, same as you. But I think he is less worried about himself as he is simply ready to follow you wherever you go. I honestly couldn’t think of a better companion to send you off with.”

Jaquen looked back to Drak. As soon as he looked back he broke out in a great smile. In his arms, well off the ground was Selace. Drak had her by his own strength, as he stayed on the horse. In a moment he let her down and he himself jumped down with her. Jaquen turned back and bowed one last time to Olf, “It is time we were here no longer.”

Olf nodded and waved his hand, “Be off with you.”

Jaquen waded back through the people and mounted his horse. The saddle was now quite full of bags, sacks and things of all sorts tied to it. In front and behind him. It was a custom, but one ever so appreciated even though customary. Jaquen shook hands and waved goodbye to many people as he took his horse to the gate. Once at the gate he turned his horse sideways in the archway, looking back for Drak.

Drak looked at Jaquen from beside Selace’s head. He held her close to him and was saying something that could not be discerned. Jaquen gave him a careless wave and waited for him. The people began to climb atop the gateway to wave at them all the way to hill where the land dropped away from the city and the road would take them away north. Jaquen was unconcerned with the journey now, and waited for Drak. His mood was much improved at this meeting at the gates, and felt as if the challenge before him was not so great indeed.

Drak remounted his horse and bent down one last time, kissing Selace even though it was solidly forbidden by her father. Then he came upright and bade his horse take him forward. The maiden Selace stayed in that same spot back in the road and watched him leave. A white pillar was she, standing solemnly, as one who waits for her love to return from war. At the gate Drak turned once again toward her and gave his final farewell, which was readily answered.

“Women do complicate things don’t they?” Jaquen said rolling his eyes.

Drak looked at him with a grin, “Don’t they...I believe I’ll take the added problem.”

Jaquen kicked his horse and galloped off away from the city. Drak kept close behind, Pearl, as always, right beside the horse. They reached the hill and with a slight pause began down it. The city was then obscured by the hill and the people in it saw the last of one Jaquen and his companion Drak.

 

* * *

The journey lasted two days’ hard riding. The first day they passed through a great deal of oak country, which mixed lightly with beech and aspen trees. Very tall trees they were, and many of them thick with great years. Above the two riders great canopy’s spread about, coving great areas without letting in but a little sunlight. One could not guess where these two were riding, only one who knew this forest well could imagine a path through such a place.

The trees were wide apart from each other as if groomed in such a way, but they were also very confusing if one did not know about them, for they could all easily look the same. Yet Jaquen knew his way to the Acrean gates quite well. Unbeknownst to many he’d actually made the trek several times simply to sit in a high tree and look at the white gates. Olf knew about one of the trips, as he himself had taken Jaquen and Drak there. Yet the trip was one that Jaquen and Drak had taken many times, although never like this. On this trip they were to go beyond those gates that they had sat and watched for so long.

In his heart Jaquen knew there was a hesitation for passing the gates, but he also knew that he was born for going beyond that barrier into the adventure that lay beyond. Drak had had his own doubts about going beyond it, but after their campaign into the south he didn’t seem to have much doubt on anything anymore. Jaquen was thankful for such a companion. Yet he wondered what Olf had meant when he had spoken of Drak as he did.

When they stopped the first night they were beside a great hill that went down to meet the river. The view was absolutely spectacular to anyone who’d never grown up with it. To Jaquen and Drak it was a suitable place to set up a camp. The night was clear, and they had no need of hunting as their packs were quite full of provisions from the gates, so it was that when they stopped it was well past the sunset.

Neither did much talking on the road northward. Jaquen’s own mind was clouded over with what was before him, and Drak would constantly turn to look at the road over his shoulder. Pearl ran on beside his master regardless of either’s state of mind. It seemed that out of the three, Pearl was the least worried about the coming events. It was different between them though, and Drak worried about it. The silence between them was uncommon, even during their trying times before they had always talked between them.

The rested that night easily. The night proved uneventful and they banked their fire early the next morning. They ate a light breakfast as they left camp, and did not ride hard until the sun was halfway up between morning and mid-day. They rode on until they came into more hilly country, which marked they were bearing in on the northward lands below the Acrean Mountains. There they stopped for a meal while their horses grazed and sought water out of the nearby stream. Rainwater was coming out of the mountains constantly, and the little stream that was at their feet now was a product of one.

Drak sat leaning against a tree facing south, and Jaquen sat against a tree facing north. Jaquen pondered the Mountains in the distance. He bit off a part of an apple and thought about what he was to do that next day. Indeed it would be an interesting first meeting between himself and the council of Acrea.

“Do you think Selace would ever leave Crys to follow after me?” Drak asked all of a sudden.

Jaquen craned his neck to look back at him, “What?”

Drak answered slowly, “What if Selace left Crys and came to Acrea, even in spite of her father?”

Jaquen rolled his eyes, “Selace will wait in Crys just like you asked her to. You notice that she didn’t follow you to the gates of Crys…I’d take that as a sign that she will do as you say, even though you’re not officially her master.”

“I don’t think I could ever take the position of master over her.”

Jaquen smiled, “There’s really no other title for it, but you and I both know the real relationship between a man and a woman. Saying the man is the master is just like saying the man with the sword is the guy who’s going to do the killing. It’s a simple thing to think about. If there’s a decision to be made, the man makes it. But he doesn’t leave his woman out of it. She is his beautiful maiden for him to rescue day and night, and is not someone to leave for pride’s sake.”

Drak grunted in assent, “I just wish her father were a bit more believing in me. I don’t know what he sees in that pottish boy Dirk.”

Jaquen shrugged and took another bite of this apple, “You know that even if her father pressures her to do what he wants, she won’t give in. Did you leave her that thing you wanted to?”

Drak nodded slowly, “She has it.”

“Then I don’t think you’ll have to worry about her waiting for you. She’ll be here when you come back for her. By the way,” he said after another bite, “what did old Gerald want you to do to be a ‘worthy’ suitor?”

Drak hung his head, “He wants me to find out my lineage,” Then he paused and turned back to Jaquen. “That’s what bothers me Jaquen. It’s the way he said it. It was like he knew that that would be enough reason for me not to court Selace.”

Jaquen tossed the rest of his apple over his shoulder, “What could be so bad about you that he thinks you wouldn’t still court Selace. Even if your parents were the meanest in the land, that doesn’t mean you’re the same.”

“What if I am something horrible Jaquen? I’ve been wondering lately if I really am a man. I don’t get as cold during winter…”

“Doesn’t mean anything. Personally Drak…” Jaquen said putting a hand on his shoulder, “you could be the son of a Black Knight and I wouldn’t call you any less my brother.”

Drak looked at him questioningly, “I don’t think you realize the relationship of what you said.”

“I think I do, and I meant it. Besides, you’ll probably figure out you’re no worse than a son of some fat lord who’s been dead for 20 years anyway.”

Jaquen walked back to his horse and made sure all of his packs were tight. Bringing the reigns back to the saddle he mounted just as Drak was coming back to get his horse. Pearl was at his feet now and Drak bent down and scratched him behind the ears.

“Thank you brother,” Drak said as he mounted his horse. “What you say gives me the strength to face whatever it is I find. But will you swear by your words before that you will not think less of me even if my family is so horrid.”

Jaquen raised his right hand and placed his left hand, still holding the reigns, over his heart, “I do solemnly swear by all the power vested in me as a brat of the forest that you, my brother Drak, will remain my brother though all the bad family in the land come to visit you.”

Drak grinned.

Jaquen wheeled his horse about and kicked it to once again take up their journey.

 

***

The plains before the gate of Acrea were foggy that morning. And as best as Jaquen could tell that morning was the 42^nd of April, and coming quite close to when Spring was about done with it’s course. The sky was completely shrouded by the dense fog that had wandered out of the forest, but as best as either of them could tell, the sun had not risen enough to take care of that problem.

They’d spent the night there on the edge of the forest and plain, taking in the sight of the Acrean gates very late in the night. From what they could make out, from the torchlight and the gates that stood ajar. A party of sorts had been made, followed by the changing of the flag standard from a white one to a red and black one.

Jaquen still did not know all there was about how Acrea was being run in this day, but he knew that the council was doing a poor job in keeping the kingdom together. That was saying it in a nice way. They were as corrupt as could be, and Jaquen knew that friends in such a place would be very hard to come by.

He rested his hands on top of his saddle as he tried to make out the gates that morning, “I don’t know a better way to get past the gates. It seems that we’ll have to take the ill-manners of the gate guards in stride and pass on as best we can. I just don’t like the look of this though.”

“Who are we I wonder, coming out of the forest, or the open road even worse. You know very well that they still don’t welcome wanderers,” Drak replied.

Jaquen thought a bit, “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to get by somehow, although I just hope that they’re in a drunken enough mood as to not want to pester us with questions.”

“So you’re saying it’d probably be best if there weren’t any men of good character in that lot?”

“For now yes.”

Drak sat back in his saddle with a smile, “Well then…shall we?”

Jaquen looked back at the gate with a hard expression. It was time to take the role of a king, “Yes…I think it is quite time that we should go.”

 

***

A gate guard stumbled upon some loose spears on his way outside. He cursed loudly, even though the sound of it was incomprehensible with the amount of slurring. As he walked in a crazy fashion with mouth agape, he lifted a bottle to his lips and drank a great amount. Then he stopped walking as he came to the ghostly plains.

He looked about with a lost expression and then yelled out, “Ay! We’ve fallen off de map! Naught but a bit clouds is me doorstep naow. God in heaven I welcome ye to me home!” With quite an exaggerated bow he tripped and fell into a pile of mud.

Disgusted he got up and began staggering back to the gates.

“How does God like it here?”

The man turned and looked over his shoulder. Out of the fog came two wraithlike forms on horses. He cried out and ran as best he could towards the gates. But he tripped and fell several times and made little progress. Even so, his spectacle reached the ears of his comrades and soon a raggedy band was assembled before the gates. Hardly able to maintain hold of their weapons, yet they were there all the same.

One man among them though seemed much better maintained than all the rest. He stood straight and proud, clean shaven he was with his hair tied neatly down his back. His armor was polished, even though he was not fully dressed for a combat, and everything about him spoke of a leader. He stood in front of the shaky band now.

“What is your business?”

Jaquen spoke quickly and easily, “Our business is with a higher court than these. I bring word from a far country and it is quite important to those who run this kingdom. Perhaps enough to change them in a shocking way.”

“Perhaps we can inspire a presentation, as you won’t be getting to this higher court without first getting through us. Or do you plan on cutting your way through.”

Jaquen didn’t move, “I doubt it would prove such a hard task seeing the state of your men.”

The man glanced over his shoulder, “Who do you wish to see, and where will your heading be?”

“Our need drives us to the Main, where the council should be able to be found in time.”

“I’d say so, they’ll be meeting today in fact. By this afternoon I’d wager you’ll find an audience with them. But I guard these gates from dangerous foreigners. And it’s been a long time since I’ve had much news from this side of the gate so I’m curious, how goes the world outside my own?”

“The world I am in league with is much more interested in effecting yours, although I am given my own instructions as not to converse with all initially about our task.”

The man gave a tug of a smile, but besides this gave no emotion, “That could mean a great many things, least of which I’m sure is meant to harm anyone within these mountains.”

“I believe I’ve pointed out before, doing harm would not be hard in your case, for I see a great many unprepared guards.”

The Captain was showing his agitation now, “Tell me who you are quickly and then be on your way, for I tire of this conversation and neither I nor my men have to answer to you for the way we behave.”

Drak looked over at Jaquen. Jaquen couldn’t see it, but Drak was smiling broadly. Jaquen acknowledged the movement with only a slight twist of his head. He was thinking now of what would be a good answer in this way, as very little needed to be said to give the impression of who they truly were. He knew some of who they were had to be given away, but not too much as to elicit a full escort into the city they wished to go to, nor did they wish to have runners spread the news of his return in such a display. Although, he reasoned, there was an opportunity here to save trouble at the next gate.

“We are messengers from the south, the ruler of the city from which we come has a wish to establish a relationship of trust, by word rather than by physical means of trade or war.”

The Captain considered this for a moment, putting his hand to his chin and resting the other leisurely on the hilt of his sword. Finally he spoke, “As courier’s of this fine southern city, I’m sure you would not mind showing us some sign of such. I for one wish to keep my lords alive, as I’m sure the men in your city would as well.”

Jaquen sighed and then reached back into his pack from the gates. After feeling around for a bit he produced a small box intricately made and rather official looking despite it. He held out the object to the Captain, “I must warn you however, that regardless of what happens to me. If you open this box before he who it’s made for sees it, I must kill you.”

The Captain looked up at Jaquen out of the corner of his eye as he held the box. He studied the workings for a long time, clearly enraptured by its intricacy. Jaquen sat patiently as Drak shifted uneasily. Jaquen sincerely hoped that the Captain didn’t attempt to open it.

At last the Captain handed it back to Jaquen, “It’s pretty enough, but perhaps something a bit more official would convince us such as your personal orders?”

“You’ll remember Captain, that even by your own rules couriers have no written orders,” Jaquen said easily stowing the box back in his pack.

The Captain nodded, and then jerked as if something caught his eye. He was staring at Jaquen’s left hand and decided to walk a bit closer, apparently no longer suspicious of the two. Jaquen felt a difference in the man and wondered if there was in fact a real sense of justice in him. He came directly in between Drak and Jaquen and studied Jaquen’s ring for a moment and then looked directly up into his hood.

“A word of caution my lord,” He said quietly but with genuine care in his voice, “even though I will have a written pass for you for the other gates, I can do nothing to help you at the council. My allegiance here is based strictly on payment, and may be the only thing that keeps this valley from warring against each other. I still have the king’s justice within my veins, but I’ve been waiting a bit too long for your return,” He glanced back at his men.

“Know that if I gave you more than a pass here my own allegiance to payment would be laid bare and known to be compromised. The best I can do is make a show of corruption by having my men indulge, but sire…I have waited ever since I was a boy to serve you as my King.”

Jaquen nodded slowly, “I know your truth now, and I believe your words. I will not forget your holding to truth. When I need a man to trust in, I will remember your name first.”

“Bowe, and if it weren’t for this job as a gate watchman, you might say I was a merry fellow,” He said with a wink. Bowe waved for the gate to be opened as he walked back. He spoke to a man standing guard and the man went hurrying off.

Jaquen and Drak came up to the gate slowly and sat waiting. Their mounts were clearly unnerved by the display of arms and the waiting to get through the gates. Drak was not in a better mood. Jaquen on the other hand seemed to be lightening all the more. He was very encouraged by the fact that some still held to his coming.

Bowe sat on a nearby chair in front of a table and waited for a moment. The man that he had sent off came back suddenly with a piece of paper and an ink well. Bowe waved him off and began writing. After a few moments he made quite a flourish on the paper and then folded it three times. He walked up to Jaquen and handed it to him, a great smile on his face.

“I am honored to live in this time. Please be the savior to these people that they need. There has not been a time where this kingdom has needed one worse.”

Jaquen put the paper in his shirt and nodded to Bowe, “I will send for you soon.”

Bowe bowed slightly and stepped back so they could pass.

Jaquen had been looking at what was beyond the gates for several minutes now, but could see no more than buildings. As soon as they were in the gateway though he saw that there were no more than a handful of buildings. One, a tavern, the other a blacksmith, a stable, and a small group of houses. Once they were on the other side of the gates though Jaquen could now see down into the valley. He stopped his horse and simply looked at the hills.

The gates sat on a hill that went down to a bridge that went over a mountain stream that flowed from one mountain into the other. On the other side of the bridge the road went down and began its twisting way on into the wide valley to where it’s first and foremost destination was the castle Main. In the far distance Jaquen could see the walls, but it too was shrouded in mist. It would be well into the afternoon before they got there and evening by the time they could expect to be close to the councilmen.

“I knew that I’d see this sight ever since I can remember, Drak,” He said quietly. “You don’t know what it’s like to see it now.”

Drak turned and looked over his shoulder, “I’d rather see it a little closer than where I’m sitting right now.”

Jaquen grinned to himself and prodded his horse back into movement, unable to take his face from the hazy hills of his valley home. They passed the tavern while men looked at them from the windows, wide-eyed behind a tankard of beer. The blacksmith stopped his pounding as the figures rode through, and a handful of other people came out of where they were working to see these two that were passing through. They gathered behind them in the road as Jaquen and Drak got to the bridge and began to cross.

“I didn’t expect the welcome to be quite like this,” Drak said.

Jaquen shook his head slightly, “I am glad that Dunar made me read all those histories and books now. I know these people…”

 

***

Jaquen believed it to be unreasonable that there would be a long line of people at the next gate, and that there would most likely be no line at all as there was not much reason for there to be a great many people in the Main other than the normal population. He was frustrated to find out that this particular part of life in Acrea had slipped his reading and general knowledge, for there was indeed a great long line of people in front of the gates. Many of them had three or four wagons in their company, either empty or full of some kind of supply.

This was the only part that had irritated him about Acrea thus far. He had ridden all the way in easy silence as he took in all the details of the valley that he had only been able to imagine before from words in a book. Jaquen would consistently point out things to Drak as they rode along, but it was no more than a note and hardly passed for conversation. Pearl was almost beside himself as he chased rabbits and other field animals as they went along the road toward the castle.

They passed houses every so often. That they were coming up to a house was always marked by fields and on occasion there would be a small field surrounded by a fence for pasture animals such as cows. Aside from farm animals there were no other signs of prosperity. The crops themselves were often meager and showed sign of bad seed purchases, but the furrows were of true Acrean type. Hard and true. Even though bad may have been handed to these people, they were not content with anything save doing their best at trying to make what they had worthwhile in the end.

Houses became more numerous as they came closer to the city, but stopped altogether as they came to the river before the castle Main. There they encountered the line outside the city, which stretch from the gates to the southern side of the bridge.

When they’d arrived Jaquen had only looked at it in disbelief. It was already near on the fifth hour past noon and the sun was close to starting its descent into sunset. This new discovery was different than what he had expected to find, but instead he decided to wait like the rest and not worry about what would happen. Drak agreed that nothing would come of being irritated and that their errand perhaps did not merit cutting in line. If Jaquen were any less reluctant to engage the council he would have forgone the wait and moved ahead in line. But as he knew it did not matter when he confronted them they stayed. Perhaps indeed it would be best to see them at a meal when they are most unawares.

The people coming out of the city were all haggard looking. Many pulled their carts themselves, without horses the goods they were able to carry were actually very small in amount. All of their expressions was that of defeated existence. Jaquen watched them the most as they went by. Then a man among them slowly trudged through the mud pulling a particularly small amount of food goods. His nose was unnaturally large by way of gin, and his cheeks were under the same influence. Even though there was this way about him, he looked up at Jaquen with no smile apparent on his face and met his gaze. He slowed for a moment, standing up a bit straighter, and then bent down on his load again.

Jaquen watched the old man go on into the crowd of houses behind them across the bridge and then looked down at Pearl who was standing looking up at him panting.

“What?”

Pearl drew his tongue back in and cocked his head. He yawned and looked behind him at the others and then lay down at the horses feet, his head on his paws. Jaquen shook his head and looked forward again at the long line that barely moved as the day progressed.

Drak had lit his pipe and was now putting all sorts of designs into the air, much to the amusement of those in line behind them. It was indeed an interesting trick, but none that amusing to Jaquen as he knew the secrets behind such a display. He found great interest in the display of poverty around him. It seemed that things had grown worse since the last report on Acrea had reached him. Olf and he had predicted this turn of events throughout their discussions, but Jaquen indeed could not imagine that it would’ve come on so suddenly.

His roving eyes finally settled on a man on a cart directly in front of them. The old man sat with his back on the side of the cart, one leg arched up so his right elbow could rest on it and the other was lolling over the edge. Behind him was a mound of fleeces tied together in a bundle with a leather covering. He was just as haggard looking as all the rest of the people, but he was a bit stockier than the rest and denoted a bit of proper meal eating.

The Old man noticed his looking and spoke up unafraid, “Where you be from?” He said pointing at the two of them with the mouth part of his pipe.

Pearl brought his head up and looked at the man.

Jaquen sat a bit straighter and answered, “We’re from beyond the gates, to the south.”

The man nodded and put the pipe back in his mouth, after a good breathing in on it he pointed back quickly, “Y’know wanderers aren’t welcome in these parts.”

Jaquen nodded, “But then why aren’t they?”

The Old man shrugged, “King said it twas so, that is before he left on that search a his. Never did come back from it, though a great many of us wish he’d had.”

“I wish he had as well.”

“What family are ye’ from?”

Drak shot him a look. Jaquen knew he couldn’t rightly answer the question, “What am I that I should tell you of my family? I suppose I’m some impudent young boy that runs through the streets?  I may not be so ancient as you to have seen many wars, but I do understand enough to know that I should ask you of your family before you would ask me of mine.”

“Brrr-hmm,” the old man replied. “I can see your father was a man of noble rights as to teach his son to neglect the common man.  I may be taken in by my son’s family but when you are of age I suspect you’ll appreciate the kindness too.” The old man by now was sitting sideways with his left leg dangling off the edge as the cart slowly moved up.  He cracked a smile, “But lads with spirit such as yours change the face of the world.  Would I were your age again.  Back when I was I rode under the banner of Ardread, the Red knight.  Aye, what a time it was too.  Back when wanderers were kindly to the Acrean people, and us to them.  Those were the days.”

Jaquen suppressed a smile at the old man’s memories, but he encouraged him further, “You are young enough to swallow no insult, but your speaking of older days interests me.  I wonder if I might persuade a tale from such days?”

The old man whipped out his pipe and pointed it to Jaquen, “Now it is your turn to pry now aye?  But when an old man asks about family when he sees a man riding a fine horse he is told to be quiet. Hah.” The old man held the pipe in his mouth for a bit, then looked at the two out of the corner of his eyes with the makings of a fond grin.

Jaquen spoke quietly, “I’m on an errand that begs to be kept secret for now. If I were able to let those know of why we come I would very easily, as I know I do not come on any sad mission. In truth I’ve not been here since back when the Arrackmen clans of Sectil and Rit raided these lands.”

The old man let his head droop side-ways, pipe hanging in his hand, “Nasty time…many parents sent their children away if they knew a man that’d take ‘em.  I was lucky to live through such a time.  I’m sorry lad for tryin’ ye when ye yourself couldn’t answer the question.  I sincerely hope you find your house and claim what inheritance they’ve left ye.  But for now I’ll tell ye about my wild times.”

Drak sighed and went back to smoking. Jaquen also relaxed and even smiled at the old man behind his shadows of his cloak. It was good to see joy still in the people.

The old man let both of his legs dangle off the side now as he sat up, pipe down beside him.  He rubbed his hands together very quickly, licking his lips and then looking up at the sky as if he was studying some far off bird.  He began, “It was nigh on fifty-years ago when I rode out with Ardread.  Ye see, our claim had just been attacked and most of our cattle been driven off to the mountains.  Fire came sweeping across our fields with no way to stop ‘em, so after we’d dug the required trenches we took horses and rode out after them in one big body.  I’d have to say 20 score of us.  Not a fair amount of men by far, but ah, those were the wild days o’ mine and I didn’t care if only one score had come with us.

“Back then my own father was still around to shepherd me into wisdom.  We rode together, father and son.  Chargin’ out among the fields and hills beside four hundred some other men on the trail of those Arrackmen dogs.  All the while the Red knight was with us.  Personally I don’t know why he came, sure it was his claim to protect but, it wasn’t like the scum had done that much damage nor posed that much of a threat.  I more suspect he was tired of being at court.  But who am I to question what the lords do in their houses?

“Anyhow, there we were goin’ up the mountain paths when all of a sudden there be a whole army just waitin’ for us at the top of ol’ Wersher pass.  All I wanted to do was kill a few of ‘em and take their knives.  But that wouldn’t do for ‘em, nope. I suppose they were spoilin’ for sport too ‘cause they gave us an awful time takin’ back that pass, what with the lookout positions and all.  I tell you they didn’t want to give it up for anything in the world.

“But Ardread wouldn’t have to do with goin’ back for help, no sir, he just gave yelp and plunged in. Can’t blame ‘im though. I thought I was mad for the scum takin’ a few of my heifers, he was a bit upset over them bein’ where they were at all. Still, jolly good fight I have to say. When he went in my father and I dug into our horses and held on for dear life.  There was no turnin’ back down the mountain and no goin’ down without a fight. I’d say we came out well in the end.”

“You caused a major Arrackmen offensive to end before it began.  The Arrackmen that drove off your cattle were there to scout before the actual battle. It was an amazing feat that 400 men could’ve stormed the Wersher pass in so short a time,” Jaquen replied.

“Oh I see now,” the old man said. “You were there too aye?”

Jaquen grinned a little, “I’ve studied the histories of this valley and I know of your Red Knight. I am jealous that you were able to ride with him.”

This seemed to content the old man very much.  He leaned back into the cart full of provisions and puffed at his pipe, smiling. He stretched out his legs to the side and crossed them, merely looking back and smiling.

Before it was their turn to speak to the guard Jaquen asked, “What is your name in case I may see you again?”

“I fancy it would be a blessing to you that we not see each other again,” the old man replied. “But in the chance that we do, and I would indeed love to take up our previous conversation, my name is Barmane, of the stables in Flacrea.  Stop by anytime you wish, the place is always open.” The old man waved goodbye as the cart pulled into the city, quickly tucking his hand back under his pipe-hand soon thereafter, grinning.

The guards at the gate came up and Jaquen quickly brought out the paper Bowe had given him. The guards looked up at Jaquen and Drak and then at Pearl and then waved them on through. Apparently too busy to worry about the why’s or why not’s that a couple men looking like wanderer’s would be coming into the city in such a way.

As Jaquen passed the gate into the city he managed to spot a man who was eyeing them carefully. He was testing his blade with his hand and grinning back at them. Jaquen looked away from him promptly and focused back on the city. It was worse inside than outside.

There in the middle of the road stood the old fountain that Jaquen had seen in pictures and paintings. In tales and paintings it stood tall and proud without blemish, and completely white, but what stood before Jaquen now was covered in weeds, and slime was about the cracks in the stone. Dark lines came down from where rain-water had run through and carried only a fraction of the dirt out of the whole. Its surroundings were equally in disrepair, and ugliness of something far more beautiful.

Jaquen rode his horse up to it from the side and looked down into the fountain. He saw his reflection in the midst of the slime. Drak came up beside him instinctually, but after seeing what he was doing he simply sat back and looked around at the town. Jaquen sat and stared at the water, simply shaking his head and inside feeling a deep anger at what had happened to this home of his. Everywhere there were signs of poverty and desperation. He looked back down into the muck of the fountain and was alarmed to find a single fish still alive in it. It was white, and a stark contrast to its surroundings, but it stayed there looking back up at Jaquen, as if to say life is still here, we’re just waiting for the rest of the city to live again. He turned away and pointed his horse up the street towards the castle.

A horn blow stopped them in their tracks. People everywhere began scurrying out of the way recklessly. Hoof clattering sounded up the street coming towards them, and all the people clambered about each other looking for a way to the side. It was all quite careless and in the eyes of the people there did not seem to be a great contempt for such a happening, merely something that was a part of their day. Yet, by unspoken consent, both Jaquen and Drak stayed in the middle of the road and waited.

The people bowed quickly as the horsemen appeared out of the road. The lead man pulled on his horse at the sight of Jaquen and Drak, then drew out his sword and rode forward. The rest of the horsemen surged forward and surrounded Jaquen and Drak. The lead horseman came close to them and stopped, pointing his sword at them but making no move until the noise died down. The horsemen that surrounded Jaquen and Drak did so swiftly and quite without notice of the other people standing in the street.

The man coldly stared at the two with the sword upraised, “How dare you wanderer’s come here and stand up to the train of the Keeper’s daughter. Do you not know what is royalty here?”

“Our business is our own Captain. We come here under orders from someone higher than your Keeper and as for the accusation of us being wanderer’s, we are in fact just that in upbringing, but in destiny are quite different from it.”

“Dogs! You still challenge us—“

“Stop!”

Jaquen was surprised to hear a woman’s voice come from behind the man, and the Captain turned back to allow the woman forward. He almost threw off his hood at what he saw. The woman that stepped forward was beyond compare with beauty. Jaquen faltered in what to say. Drak cleared his throat beside him. Pearl wagged his tail.

“Why do you come here with such a note of arrogance? It seems that you are of difference here in Acrea as your accent is foreign, and yet still holds the strength of an Acrean.”

Jaquen brought himself back together and spoke confidently, “We come wholly indifferent to those who wish to keep us out of this valley and to where we are to go.”

The Captain turned to the woman, “My Lady, let me whip proper respect into these dogs.”

She looked at them with an eye of question, “I think I should decide against it Drea. They are of exotic look, and I would not wish to make a problem with different powers on behalf of my father who you well know already has problems enough.”

The Captain turned and looked at the two with a snarl, “I do not like them My Lady, they should be escorted out of the city.”

The woman turned back to Jaquen and continued her questioning, “You do have a reason for coming here, and you do realize how much power I do hold here in this city. That a word from me could end your lives, and the people around me would wish me no harm for it?”

“Madame,” Jaquen spoke, “if it were completely true that these people about us would wish you no harm, why is it you go about the city with soldiers? Wouldn’t the children go before you as your swordsmen? And your riders, would they not be the noblest of the young men of the street wishing only for your smile to alight upon them?

The woman took this into consideration with a small smile.

“As for our reasons for coming here, they are secret for now,” Jaquen said maintaining his hunched look and kept his face well hidden from their sight.

Pearl sat down.

“You’ve kindness in your voice, but I find it coming out in interesting ways through your speech. Regardless though, I find your answer insulting and it is made in a most distasteful manner. Especially when you have such as these men about you right now.”

Jaquen smiled and spoke in a mocking tone, “What allegiance do I owe you?”

The Captain drew his hand back to strike, but the woman held his hand back. She then put her hand back in her lap and looked at Jaquen again, this time closer. She prodded her mount to come closer, and Jaquen felt a strange prickling move through him as his stomach began to turn with an odd energy.

“None at all,” She then turned back to the men around her and waved them on. “Let us be off, and let these two to their destination. Do not disappoint my judgment by making this stay of yours ill.”

Then the horsemen were gone. They went to the gateway and filed through, all the while Jaquen watched the woman go. He didn’t know whether to breathe or not, but instead simply watched her go.

When he came about he found Drak watching him closely with the widest smile Jaquen had ever seen on his face.

“What?” Jaquen said suppressing a smile.

“Pretty isn’t she?”

Jaquen turned back in his saddle to look at the gateway again. He noticed now all of the people looking at them with disdain and distrust. Leaving them well in their own path to the point where no one else was near them at all. Jaquen turned back and kicked his horse to prod him into moving forward, “Yes she is.” He said with an air of bitterness.

 

Boisterous laughter filled the Hall of Measures. The lords were in high spirits and the servants were in high fear. Along both sides of the council table were the knights of Acrea spread out eating their fill of each dish that was near or perhaps not so near themselves. At the head of such a table sat an old man hunched down against his high backed chair, his shoulders drooped from an unseen weight, and he constantly rubbed his head amidst sighs. There were two others of this nature, but they were at the other end of the table, and well separated from each other. Perhaps a subtle displacement, but the powers behind such a move were well knowing as to what they were doing.

The dogs at the feet of such lords cast up fond faces at their masters as great scraps fell to the floor, and as the night continued on the dogs became less interested in these. At this point the servants would venture to snatch a bite or two, as they knew perhaps the minds of their lords were a bit more clouded at this point.

Suddenly, amidst such roaring and well-wishes for their own health and well beings, a servant hurried in and ran up to the Keeper. The lords looked at the interruption from behind their beards and long hair with distaste and ordered more drink to settle the matter. The servant whispered something in the Keeper’s ear and then stepped back to wait for his reaction. The Old man rose from his seat and took his staff that leant beside his throne. With great weariness apparent in his steps he stood and leant heavily upon it. Pushing aside the help offered by the servant he advanced slowly to the other end of the table and motioned then for the doors to be opened to the hall. The two guards at either side set their flagons down and grasped at the great rings of the doorway. The Old man seemed to have years heaped upon him at the very sound of the doors giving way.

Light burst into the dark council room. Most, if not all of the lords, had at this time been watching the Keeper now very carefully as his actions seemed quite odd for the man that he was. And the action of leaving his seat alone before council had even started was enough for great surprise. Yet there were others that simply watched him out of the corner of their eyes, for odd behavior or not, a good meal was not to be spoilt.

But when two shadows fell upon the table amid the light of the hallway all activity on the table stopped and every man looked out towards the hall. There were indeed three figures, two men and a dog. But each dog surrounding the table shrank away back towards the other end of the table in submissive gesture, and each man was filled with a sense of dread. As if some tool of justice had finally come to act upon what they’d done to the valley kingdom. Without even know who the men were, a good deal of the lords wished immediately that they were gone and that no such feeling would come over them again. But instead of going away the figure on the left advanced slowly, then it drew forth a sword and held it high above his head.

Then in a loud voice the man cried aloud, “Let horns resound and banners be unfurled, let not train of royalty weep any longer! For the prince of this home has returned to his sires and his calling will be brought forth in due time as the law of Acrea is written!”

With this a shudder ran through many of the men. Others began to laugh due to much drink, but the laughs died before they were conceived to sound. The others still left in this pool of unfortunate lords looked on this man still shrouded in light and undefined in shadow and knew that again Acrea was going to be lead. Wisdom was to be taken, and change was blown in and no longer to be looked for.

The Keeper stood up as best he could and bowed slightly, “Your claim is a mighty one in these halls. Though the claim may fall dead in many eyes who did not know the King Joema, I did, and well remember his voice that now comes back to these halls through you.”

Jaquen stood at twenty paces from the Keeper and replied, “Let the jesting to those of that trade, for your jest is like to break my ears rather than gladden my heart. I much desire to see my sires and embrace them as I would as a child.”

The Keeper sighed a deep sigh and responded regretfully, “Alas, but as a child you must not think of your sires anymore, but as memories you never had and will no longer know of. For the King himself died in looking for you, his quest as we know now was completely doomed since the day it was made. The Queen died in the chamber that she looked from, seeking sight of you.”

Jaquen let his sword arm drop, the steel clanged as it hit the floor, but neither spark nor harm was in the blow, “It is evil tides that speak to me. That both my mother and father would die in the pursuit of me and yet neither would see me. That when I come in search of them I succeed to find where they have been but must also die to see them. What evil is in this world that takes all such from me?”

With that he fell silent and put his left hand to his head, bending it to meet his hand and fighting to gain composure to speak again. Then he took a deep breath and looked back up to the men, grim and determined his expression was set, and leaving his grief to take out later he spoke.

“Still I am sent on an errand. The matter of grief must be attended to when there is time for it. Now I give to you the symbol of my return, bound to my neck by a chain that bound me to my fate. When other guides went astray this one turned me here and was a constant in a world where not many can be found.”

The Keeper held out his hand and took in it the ring that Jaquen had upon his finger. Holding it up to the light he found as was expected the mountains of Acrea upon the outside of the band, and upon the inside were the runes of Kings, written in gold by the firs King of Acrea and unchanged since then. The silver shone in the light unlike any lump of silver to be mined, and the lords then knew that their dread was come true. The King of Acrea had returned.

The Keeper bowed to him, “My lord King. Long we have waited for your return, and long have I not had the right to speak as leader of the valley. We’ve long rotted under the leadership of none. Please take the role of leader from this old head and let him wander among dreams of elder days as he winds his road to sleep.”

There was a stir among the lords.

“I cannot accept it now,” Jaquen said quickly and solemnly, “The grief of not coming to my sires is too great upon me.” And indeed Jaquen seemed much less a King in figure than he had coming into the chamber. It was as if some great giant had given him a blow and he was even now staggering up with the weight of it.

The lords relaxed at this admission.

Among the lords a man stood up, “With you leave my lord!”

Jaquen turned to this man and wearily nodded in affirmation that he could speak freely to him.

“I would deem it an honor if I would leave the room in which I was set and let it pass to you for these coming nights until a suitable place for a King is set. Great has been your journey I am sure, and great is the grief that you now feel. As the kingdom has been under our control for this time, and perhaps at points under unwise guidance, it still may tarry under us for some weeks and not miss the time. Your burden must be dealt with I think before we expect you to deal with all others.”

Jaquen nodded, “Your offer is made kindly, and readily do I accept it. Since I’ve come here there has been a great disturbance in my mind. Much do I now need to think of take private council on. But rest is a great healer, and much healing I do need now. Let what you say be done, and let your name be put upon it…”

“Zatten my lord,” the man said bowing, “and as King I offer my service to you not only on this on this day, but also in the great days to come.”

Jaquen nodded and the man Zatten sat down. The murmurs of the lords died at this and seemed then to be content. Drak from behind took note of this but contented himself to stay silent. The Keeper himself looked quite pained, but stood silent, saying nothing, knowing that his power had waned and new lords were come.

Jaquen turned away from the table and shook his head, a great weight had settled on him. Dunar had raised him to be a Prince, indeed he could take on being a King as it was now needed, but he sighed at the task. It was not one that he relished, the blade in hand felt better than the scepter on the seat. But that was not to be thought of. His father and mother he would never know, and that he had looked forward to since the parting of Dunar from this world.  Yet what should he feel? At this time when two worlds seemed to look at him for an answer of some kind he felt as if the only one to give would be to shout out in agony, forgetting everything he wanted to come for.

His acceptance as King seemed to go better than he’d hoped, but something played on the edge of his mind, he couldn’t understand it fully but it was still there all the same. Something was wrong with the lords at hand, and it would be exposed in time. It was all hardness coming from them, yet duty had instructed them to make no question of the matter. Zatten’s offer of his retiring this day had seemed to calm them all, yet why would that?

Drak grabbed his arm. Jaquen came back to himself and found that he had stumbled and was leaning down on the ground with his hand up to his head. A great flowing darkness had sprung up around him and something was crushing him with great force. He stood up as best he could and saw that he was in a great whirlwind of shadow. Dust was flowing everywhere as if a great sand had swept up from the west and descended on that room. His chest began to burn, and forms began to take shape in the mist. Laughing mocking shapes.

Then a great light blazed threw the mist and ripped the veil aside, letting the real world dominate upon his vision once again. What he saw did not lessen the grief he had, but another feeling entered him and began a war upon the first. In the doorway stood the Keeper’s daughter that they had met on the street. She was dressed in white now, done with her errand. And upon her right hand stood the Captain, whip in hand and eyes blazing at this second meeting. Jaquen stood straight and set himself as a King would.

The woman looked at him curiously, her surprise was evident at how he now looked. For standing there was no longer Jaquen, messenger from the south, but rather Jaquen the King of Acrea. If one man doubted it it was because he was hoping that fantasy would come upon him and sweep him away from justice, letting him free to his own devices. But there was no doubt upon each man in the room, the King had indeed returned, and even though stricken, he was reason to fear.

“Twice now are we met,” spoke Mrace. “The second I hope will be better than the first. I fear our last encounter was not a good mark of the courtesy of Acrea.”

The Keeper cried out at her saying, “Hi! Would that I knew you’d met this man! And that I could have counseled you before you spoke! I would have told you to remain silent in respect for this is no ordinary man of Acrea, nor of another realm, this man is the rightful heir to the throne that I am keeping!”

Wonder filled Mrace’s eyes, and she blushed. Bowing suddenly and without word she cast her eyes down and let her long brown hair fall about her face, so to cover her shame. Jaquen was deeply moved by this and did not know what to do. But resolved he was suddenly to give her hope, as any despair upon her face was something he felt he could not bear. Coming slowly to her he spoke.

“Rise Mrace and do not bow to me in such a manner. I have much to grieve in this hour, but let not your unhappiness be added to it.”

She looked up at him and light returned to her face as she rose, but as to a response she did not give any, and remained silent. Drak on the other side of the room rolled his eyes and Pearl wagged his tail. Drak understood the seriousness of what they had come to, but indeed he was rather inclined to be on with other business. He understood that many words at this time was not good for Jaquen as grief had made him quite confused in what he was doing. His reactions were well off the mark, and this began to worry him.

But then Jaquen felt the sorrow come upon him again and he turned back to the Keeper, “I would have the room readied for us now, and if I may retire to the roof of this castle for a time alone I would be much appreciate it.”