by B A Fleming
“Your father has passed, my Lord. The Emperor is dead,” said the man, lowering his gaze.
Trajunus looked at him, shocked. Not angry, just shocked as he looked at the men and then read the words. Thargus stepped back momentarily.
“Would you like to sit, Trajunus?” asked Thargus, as two squires pulled a chair forward. Trajunus sat as Thargus lightly signaled for them to bring a glass of water. He sipped at it, staring at the floor. The soldiers stood in line, silently.
“When?” he finally asked, looking up.
“Three days ago, my Lord. We have ridden almost non-stop, as directed by the Imperial advisors Nolar and Mero.”
“How?”
“It would seem in his sleep, my Lord. He and the Lady Sabate have survived several attempts on their lives recently. I personally stopped a Narthal assassin in your mothers’ chambers less than a month past. Your father cared for his people under the weight of his court. He was found alone, without injury, my Lord, but dead nonetheless. His color and stupor have been seen before. I fear that his killer was not a novice.”
Trajunus breathed in slowly as he considered the words.
“Did others seem upset by my fathers’ passing? I mean beyond his own squires and my mother?”
“Your mother weep whilst I was briefed with Nolar, and others walked about in shock. Many left the court, as if to ensure that they were not next. Mero expressed concern for you and the state of the court.”
Trajunus nodded at this. He looked at the four exhausted soldiers. “Rest, please, rest,” he offered to the men, as the garrison soldier was excused and the castle squires directed to prepare rooms for the Moreans. Within minutes they would all be asleep, only one briefly bathing before falling into his bed.
“What are your thoughts, Thargus? You served my parents well these past eight summers,” Trajunus sat with his colleague in a small anteroom not far from his quarters.
“I believe, sire, that Emperor Lethos was poisoned by merchants of Agrippa whose northern lands have been stripped by the Hardular invasion. I believe that the merchants you know to be in competition with your father were able to influence them into this infernal act.”
“I accept that you speak the truth, old friend,” Trajunus thought out loud. “I wish you to gather the Salararius. We will visit the sons of these merchants and execute them on our way to Corone.”
“I would be concerned at our haste in such actions, my Lord.”
“That is my concern, Thargus. I will take my revenge.”
*****
Koguryo walked into the room setup by his wife, Jinan. For many summers she spoke with him about the direction of his energies beyond those forms he had traditionally known.
Jinan had been an anomaly in her small village and her father had brought her to the city to apprentice under a healer, in hope that her rare gifts could be used by those of influence. One of the more well-known healers, seeing the potential in her as her father had, introduced her to polite society, especially focusing on resolving the issues of trouble that young men of affluence caused, helping them to curb their behaviors through greater control of their energies. As tradition had been eroded by time, her gifts seemed to become more relevant with the passing of time.
Eventually, Manchur appeared at her door, taken to her by the Emperors’ adviser, Chacha. Thus, began her rise into royal circles, and the young warriors’ bed. Once introduced to the Emperor himself, the young woman was enamored with his energy, as he was with her. They quickly courted and married, much to the disapproval of Manchur who had felt his father had stolen one off his concubines from him.
Not long after, Jinan had commenced Koguryos’ training in her techniques. He had developed many practices this way, including the shapeshifting that he had become famous for in his own inner circle.
She now sat quietly as he settled himself, eyes closed in a kneeling position. Jinan had taught him these skills across many cycles in contemplative moments of meditation. From the days of silence, to observing for hours on end the celebration of small, trivial things, like watching the cherry-blossoms bloom and fall, painting characters with a slow brush through seeking perfection in the stroke, and then transferring this skill into his magic, such as to pass a needle thin surge of energy into an opponent one hundred paces away.
The tea ceremony, alike the cherry-blossom viewing, all shared a heightened appreciation of the moment. In the tea ceremony, the person took time to notice the design of the cup before drinking, reflecting upon the decoration of the room, which echoed the foliage and blooms of the season. The ceremony rejoices and focusses the mind on moments in time and the people and varieties of those seconds. Koguryo had learnt to understand the uniqueness of everything and the fact that this moment with this person in this place will never happen again. It had brought him peace, tranquility, and a renewed sense of enjoyment of the seconds in a life of eternity.
He followed the process, the calm, purposeful deliberateness of movement, focusing on how he could manipulate his energies hidden within this simplicity. He had told Manchur not long into this training that a master of the hand arts moves not with speed and power, but resolute purpose and discipline. Since that day none had been able to defeat the old man in the hand arts, no matter how skilled a warrior they were.
Unlike his son, Ocolan had become a dedicated student and eventually incorporated the practices into the training of the Warang. Although not a Warang due to his royal blood, Shigeru had joined Ocolan in the training with the specialist warriors, and had even sat with his father on occasion to soften his skills.
The hand arts of the Warang improved beyond any leap in skill they had seen in hundreds of summers. Although with only mortal energies, through the purposeful attention to things they had previously not given a moment’s thought to now became the center of their movements, their training and their discipline.
After two hours of the meditation, Jinan stood up, bowed to her husband and left the room. He sat, half conscious, half lost in a trance of the moment.
His vision darkened, then eyes opened, looking across the valley of Hardular, across the Great Lake. He allowed a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the light. The sun seemed to shine brighter in this area compared to the almost constant grey of his home.
He gulped, slowly expanding the muscles of his neck until he eventually was able to softened the stone esophagus. He slowly looked around, feeling the translucent mountain air around him. Next, he focused on his breathing, feeling the weight of stone on his statuesque body, as the muscles slowly relaxed.
It had taken four summers of daily practice with Jinan to develop this skill, and another three to teach Dralan. Koguryo could have easily flown the distance in less than half a day, but this form gave him anonymity – something a dragon rarely finds.
After more than ten minutes of this days’ practice his whole body had become pliable and he was able to stand and stretch, observing his own form. A hawk faced gargoyle. The creature had previously sat in pride of place upon one of the more public Bhagshau castle squares.
From his perch, Koguryo had been able to observe the movements of the castle for more than two summers. From the height of his roost he had also a view of the main square, and the streets leading to it.
Recently relocated by Dralan, this form that Koguryo now used crouched back down again and monitored the other statues that sat in their outcrop nests along the wall of the valley.
Fortuitously he had been awake when Dralan cast the spell to release the other statues. It had been an exercise they had practiced for many months before his departure, as a backup if anything was to fail in his mission.
The boy had now evolved into an incorruptible form, no longer able to be effortlessly mentally manipulated by Koguryo, who would need to assert more effort into the psychology of their discussions. Koguryo had watched the statues wake and cause havoc, knowing that any intervention could cause more chaos than good if he were to salvage the situati
on.
Whilst in form he had managed to talk to Dralan and convince him to end the attacks. The young man had stopped, willingly in the end, believing that the battle would need to be resumed at a later time.
Koguryo’s form that day followed the other gargoyles as they fled, choosing his perch before they landed to ensure the best vantage point. He sat now, scanning the landscape, looking for threats, mostly in the form of the golden dragon.
Curiosity satisfied that nothing was about,
The Emperor gargoyle sprung out into the breeze. The heavy wings seemed slothful and weary as he gently flapped along the wall. He rose up above it, negotiating a path close to the lower peaks of the Mountains of Sart, seeking to blend into the rocky outcrops as best as possible.
Koguryo sailed through rough peaks of the north-eastern corner of the valley, carefully evading a patch of green amongst it that he knew to avoid to eventually rest on another favored perch. His wings curled in behind him and he sat and watched as the sun extended longer shadows across his secluded spot.
The Hardular Pass was busy with constant building although after almost two seasons, senior officers could be seen relaxing upon the upper balcony of an inn that took in the view directly down the valley as their minions called out to them for instructions from below.
The road leading to the swamp was still the less used of the two, with the Vasa road traffic almost twice as busy, and more trading posts and guard stations upon it reflected this bias.
The fortifications, although imposing, were not necessarily impenetrable. Comparing the garrisons at either end of the pass it would seem strange to a casual observer that the fortifications to escape the valley were far stronger than those to enter it, and the small village surrounding the gate above Waterfall reflected this, although a large township had started to emerge on the slopes below the Waterfall road garrison, especially as it had recently become quite a holiday attraction to the wealthy of northern Morea, and a lovely overnight trip from their comfortable retreats in the corners of the plains below.
Entry into Hardular was restricted, with high taxes placed on traders moving in either direction, imposed more at the bequest of Despotate Trajunus, than King Daikin. Koguryo surveyed the scene from various points for over an hour until satisfied.
He then quietly made his way back through the Sart peaks, crossing to the northern line until he came to rest at a vantage point that looked down a narrow valley towards high his home.
Dralan sat there as he came in to land.
“Checking upon our progress, father?”
The gargoyle smiled back to the black dragon.
“It seems that we will be ready for the invasion tomorrow,” observed Koguryo as the final sections of the Narthal army marched into the caves below.
“Yes father. We arrived mid-morning. I marched Manchur through the front part of the tunnel after blasting some sections. Although narrow in places, it will still enable them to march four horses abreast for the most part. Lanterns have been prepared upon the walls, sleeping quarters setup and supply rooms stocked within.
Manchur estimates one day to march through the tunnels, then the Warang will clear the area surrounding the opening for the next day, before we move onto the capital the following morning, as they take out major targets through the night.”
Koguryo nodded as best his statuesque figure could.
“What of Shigeru? You have not shared with me his role in this endeavor.”
“He will lead an attack on the Angry Teeth pass. I want him to distract our Morean friends as much as possible. The last thing we want is for them to send re-enforcements over the pass,” Koguryo’s words hung momentarily as he tried to gauge his sons’ reaction.
“I thought that there were many less soldiers in this army than those that stood outside of the walls. Does Manchur know of this father?” he finally answered.
“No, but I’m sure he would have worked it out. I know that you and he can take these Hardular alone.”
“Yes, father. We can.”
Koguryo examined the scenery around him.
“It seems that you boys have everything sorted, so I shall leave you to it,” observed Koguryo.
“Are you sure that you will not join us in this battle, father?”
The gargoyle smiled.
“There is a time and place for all things, Dralan. It is said that what is called the spirit of an age is something to which one cannot return. That spirit in myself gradually dissipates and is a mere ember of its former flame.
For this reason, although some days I would like to change today's world back to the one of a thousand summers or more ago, it cannot be done. My legacy now lies in making the best out of this generation, out of you and your brothers. For all their faults, and yours, you all hold the presence to be great warriors, and great leaders.”
*****
Lentulus rode through the swamp toward Bhagshau. He arrived at a casual canter. The soldiers at Hardular Pass had informed him of the four Imperial guards that had raced past their garrison only hours before. He had increased his pace, as he felt that this action must relate to his Despotate Trajunus.
He rode into the cobblestone streets of Bhagshau and shortly after the castle guards opened the gates as they saw him approach. Lentulus met with Crixus upon arrival, then with Trajunus and Thargus a few hours later.
The Salararius talked with each other in secrecy, something that they had tended not to do in the passing months. Vuvic noticed, but said nothing as he passed them. Servants ran errands through the corridors for them as Seymour looked on.
Chapter 11
Thais sat in a room alone as the morning sunlight drifted in. Eren spoke to her from distant lands.
“You are correct, Thais. These past months have strengthened you, although we both know there is more to come.”
“Can you see the future, Eren?”
The old dragon laughed at the notion.
“I can only predict it, alike you, alike any other.”
“Yet you seem to know of what will come, even if you don’t tell me.”
“My dear Thais. You might see your life as a few ordinary incidents, but I see much more than this.
I see steps, some more obvious than others, that have lead you to this moment, and will lead you on your journey through life. People have appeared and departed throughout your life, all in essence to provide you with the opportunity to grow in the complete understanding of yourself. From your mother, through to the boy who harassed you as a child – they all played they role in your life.”
“And now? I feel no place in my home.”
“That is a calling to you. You feel no place as many of the comforts for you as a child have now gone, many of the people who cared for you have either departed or changed. Change is good, change is okay.”
“So, then, what now?”
“continue your journey, my young apprentice. There are many more places for you to see, as your brother has, and you, alike him, will eventually find your place, your nest, a space that comforts you.”
“So, I should go with Casperi?”
“You should go for yourself.”
Casperi walked the gardens with Lapse. Queen Cassiopeia, although no longer bed ridden, still kept a low profile within Vasa and now sat with several of her handmaidens a short stroll away. She could only manage a half a day before needing to return to her bed.
“I fear that I have grown further apart from your sister, not closer, in these past few summers, my love,” observed Lapse. “I would so long to be her friend, but it seems that she wishes nothing of it.”
Casperi mused on this. Lapse had persisted with her pursuit of Casperi until he finally gave in during one of his many visits to the capital over the summer.
Once coupled, he was amazed even by his own enjoyment of his time with her and had thoroughly relished the affections of his fiancé during these past months, although she was right far more often than he was. His beloved
sister had kept to herself, preferring the company of her mercenaries and warrior friends than the royal Princess, who was six summers her senior.
Lapse had lived a more conservative life, preferring the vast Vasa library, flowers and stitchery than the arrows and action of Thais.
If two royal women could be more different, then they would be hard to find.
“Maybe if you spent time with her, even join us on the trip to Corone, you could form a stronger bond.”
Lapse shied a little from this. She looked at the flowers and back to him.
“You have a point, my love. I think this is a good idea,” she finally replied in a gentle voice.
Casperi smiled. He felt comfortable with her, and although he had fancied women in two other realms, he knew that she would be the one to calm him and bring him back to reality when he needed it. Lapse had led a protected life, so having the opportunity to explore the world would certainly help her to grow.
King Daikin walked the ramparts above the city. Canute had joined his father, having checked the report for the overnight patrols. The King had stood upon the walls for the past twenty minutes, observing the pigeon come in to land on the terrace of the Royal Birdkeeper. He had renewed this means of messaging during the summer to great success.
“We live in a rare moment in our history, my son. I think that our little valley has finally found some sense of tranquility,” observed the King.
“It has not been without its moments father, as our invaders have kept us on our toes.”
“Well, yes, that is true, but with our union of the kingdom and our friendship with the Tullav, we can at least see any potential harm well before it is sprung upon us.”
“What do you make of this journey to Corone, father?”
Daikin considered this.
“At least one of you should join him in this journey, if anything to see if we can find out where our Lady Isabella and the other Malborks have ventured.”
“Do you still feel that Richmond was behind the poisoning?”
