Cor had seen it on every diagram, plan and drawing of the city, and its use as the new Dahken abode was plain. He dug through the palace archives until he found floor plans for the complex, though he found it difficult to read the old and faded schematics. He pulled Keth aside, and together, they took a leisurely stroll into the city to locate the Crescent. They found portions of the place damaged, but the series of connected buildings were usable overall. The more he looked upon it, Cor approved of the heavy oak doors and the relatively short guard towers connected by crenellated walls. Though repaired some hundred years ago, it was battered both by age and Nadav’s attack on the city. The Crescent oddly reminded Cor of Sanctum, and the antiquated look and feel just felt right to him.
Rederick had approved it without a second thought, and Cor and an engineer spent the next two weeks going over every square inch of the complex. Nearly a third of it was deemed unsafe, and a total of half was unusable. While the engineers and architects worked on the problem of reclaiming these parts of the Crescent, Cor began to assign and mark off the rest. He circled the suite of rooms he had selected for him, Thyss and Cor’El with a rough round piece of chalk. He had already selected smaller suites for Keth and any other senior Dahken that arose, as well as the main barracks.
Cor looked at the faces around him, suddenly aware that both Thyss and his son were absent. Doubtless, she had taken Cor’El to explore, a thought that made him suddenly uncomfortable. His feet and legs felt suddenly anxious, as if they wanted to move of their own accord. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Thyss to protect Cor’El; he knew she’d die before she let something happen to him. What if something happened to her first? A loose timber or a cracked block of masonry could suddenly fall, just like it had fallen on Mora…
Cor realized that the room was silent around him, and he looked up into the expectant faces of those around him. He focused for a moment on Brenden Joelson, the older soldier who had been with him since the march to retake Byrverus. The man had always shown himself to be a stolid, reliable lieutenant, full of pragmatic common sense the likes of which Cor had found valuable more than once. Men like Brenden kept so much of the minutiae at bay, and he would always do his duty.
“Brenden, I need you close as well,” he said. “Find a set of comfortable quarters.”
“As you will Lord Dahken, but I need little comfort. I will serve you as needed, but might I ask why you would want me living with your people in the Crescent?”
“Gentlemen, to your tasks. I wish to speak to Keth and Brenden alone,” Cor said to the engineers and architects, and he heard the door close behind him after a few moments. “Brenden, you have served under me loyally since we marched from Lord Paton’s lands, and I know your value is beyond measure. Keth, you are my right hand. In addition to serving Rederick’s Council, you are the one and only I have to teach the Dahken about being Dahken. But sometimes I expect too much of you.”
“No, Lord Dahken,” Keth disagreed, shaking his head almost frantically, “I am and always will be yours.”
“I’ll not ask that of you. One day you will leave, and I’ll let you. For now, I need you close to teach the Dahken and to support our needs on the Council.”
“Of course, Lord Dahken,” Keth agreed. He began to say more, but Cor cut off his words with an upraised hand.
“Brenden Joelson, I would know why you have stayed with me,” Cor said, turning to the gray haired Westerner.
“I… I don’t understand, Lord Dahken.”
“You owe me nothing, and most Westerners still don’t trust me. You know what I have done, and yet you marched under me to Byrverus. You even vowed to die in protection of my son. You stayed with me, requested, even demanded to do so while we marched on Fort Haldon and then back. I didn’t ask you to investigate the Crescent with me, and yet you were alongside me as if I ordered it. So again I ask, why?”
The older man took a long moment to consider his answer. He looked at Cor’s colorless face, and then stared down at the wood tabletop and finally up at the room’s ceiling. Cor watched him closely, for the first time truly taking in the man’s appearance. His hair was cut short to a mere inch all around, solid silver gray with one streak of black down the front just right of center. He had eyes the color and strength of granite and a consistently smooth shaven face. Cor thought his beard would likely grow in silver with hints of black should the man allow it to achieve any length at all, but no, Brenden Joelson was a lifelong soldier and too regimented for such disarray.
“I care not for a man’s past, Lord Dahken. It is what you do today that tells the world who you are. You’re a father and a leader of men. People listen to you. You say what you are going to do, and you have never failed no matter how difficult or outlandish the task. Saving Byrverus from the Loszians was an impossible thing, and yet you did it. You are no politician, no smiling liar. You’re no merchant, nor a priest who looks down from on high. You are real. You are a hero, and I’ll follow you as long as you are.”
Cor searched the man’s face for any hint of duplicity. He found none, nor did he expect to. He looked to Keth, who merely raised the corners of his mouth in a slight smile and nodded.
“I just said you once vowed to die protecting my son if need be. Would you continue that vow for as long as you should live?” Cor asked.
“Of course, Lord Dahken,” Brenden answered without hesitation. He kneeled and drew his longsword, balancing the flat of the blade across his palms.
“Stand. There’s no need for that,” Cor said, waiving the act away. “I have more to ask of you.”
“I am at your command,” the middle aged soldier replied as he stood.
“You are used to managing large numbers of soldiers. I need that experience now. I need someone to manage the Dahken here at the Crescent, make sure that everything stays in order. Also, you are perfect for setting a training regimen. If they stay here, they must all learn to fight.”
“My Lord,” Brenden said slowly with a glance at Keth, the corners of his mouth turned downward, “is that not Dahken Keth’s place? Teaching your people the art of fighting?”
As Cor answered, he was aware that Keth stood very erect, very silent, “Yes and no. Keth and I will help them learn to be Dahken, but I need someone experienced in training soldiers. I need someone who can easily recognize how different weapons or fighting styles can benefit different people.”
“I am not sure that is I, Lord Dahken.”
“But, you have those under your command or whom you have served with who can,” Cor concluded.
“Yes, Lord Dahken.”
“Then bring them in at your command. If you trust them, so do I. The king has allotted me gold for renovation and an annual budget for expenses,” Cor explained. “I have a significant overage so far.”
“Very well, I saw a small room that should be sufficient for me,” Brenden said. “Lord Dahken, with your leave, I shall start at once. I have much to do.”
“Please,” Cor said, turning his face to Keth. Before the man left, Cor added, “And Brenden? Thank you.”
After the man pulled the door shut behind him, Keth turned away to face one of the walls. “Have I angered you, Lord Dahken?” he asked.
“Of course not. Why?”
“I know I have failed at times recently,” Keth answered, turning to face his Lord Dahken. “If that failure has led you to this, I understand. Brenden is a fine choice.”
“What?” Cor asked confusedly, but then understanding flooded his eyes. “No, Keth, this is no reflection on you. I did this for you, to free you from so much that I asked. You don’t deserve to be at my every beckon call on every matter all the time.”
“I have never complained. You saved me, my life. I owe you everything. I am your Dahken,” Keth explained, and his voice sounded slightly caught in his throat.
“You are, and I couldn’t ask for a better friend at my side. One day, you’ll leave me and the Dahken, I know it. You’ll be your own man, a Lord Da
hken no doubt. This is just one step towards that freedom.”
“So what now?” Keth asked just as a polite series of knocks came at the pine door behind Cor.
“Now,” Cor said with a smile and a hand on Keth’s shoulder, “I answer the door.”
Two hours later, Cor found himself at Council with Keth at his side. King Rederick sat at the opposite end with Mora to his right. The other Counselors seemed to share his general feelings of concern or confusion at the call. The messengers had been dispatched to bring them back with all haste, no matter what they were doing at the time. None would dare argue with the imposing king’s wishes, though some were faster than others. Cor and Keth arrived first to find Rederick and Mora waiting, the king’s brow troubled heavily.
“I have received troubling news twice this morning,” Rederick began once all had arrived. “When the first came to my attention, I was prepared to call Council after I had thought on the matter for some time, but only minutes later, I received the second. I felt I could wait no longer, that we will have open discussion on what we face.”
“What do we face?” asked Red from his customary seat at the middle of the table to Cor’s left. He then added almost as an afterthought, “Majesty.”
“I think it would be better if you heard it directly from the messengers,” Rederick replied. He nodded to a mailed guard off to one side, standing next to one of the room’s doors. “Allow them entry.”
Light from the arched windows high overhead reflected blue and gray off the guard’s plate as he drew back the bar and pushed the door open. He stood using his body to hold it open while the entirety of the Council looked on with interest. When the figures came into view, only King Rederick and Mora showed no reaction at all. There were a few sharp inhalations, some stood suddenly, and Cor himself leaned suddenly forward onto his hands as if he too may spring to his feet. Keth merely raised one eyebrow and watched.
Two oddly tall figures strolled through the open door – a man and a woman, the latter of which held a mewling infant. The man was over six and half feet tall and walked with a limp, and there was the thunk of wood on stone with every other step. He had no hair anywhere to be seen and had the elongated limbs and features common to full blooded Loszians. The woman’s features were identical, which made her even more alien in appearance, and Cor could see her breasts were swollen even through the loose fitting black silks she wore. Cor recognized her as the pregnant Loszian who held Fort Haldon, and he had no trouble recognizing the red robed Menak.
“How dare they be here?!” shouted Walthur. He was the other priest that the Convocation had chosen to serve on the Council, Mora of course being the first. Cor had had little to no interaction with the bald, middle aged priest, and he never felt the need to. Walthur had made it very clear on multiple occasions where Cor and the Dahken stood with him. If it weren’t for the respect, open from the king and begrudging from the other Counselors, shown Cor, Walthur would have more aggressively opposed the Dahken.
“They crossed the Spine to Fort Haldon requesting formal parlay,” Rederick replied. “Sit, Walthur. They are formal dignitaries.”
“Bah! We have no formal relations with the Loszians, beeyond their being an affront in the eyes of Garod! We are at war with them,” the middle aged priest replied, though he did sit. “Have we forgotten already what they did to our people, our cities?”
“Of course not,” the king answered, “but even warring nations may reach out to one another. I have already heard what they have to say. Will you hear it? Or would you prefer to continue your spouting?”
Walthur opened his mouth to reply and then shut it again when he saw the look in Rederick’s eyes. He slumped heavily against the back of his chair with a thud and locked his eyes on the tabletop in front of him, as if the smooth wood were the cause of his ire, but he did not speak.
“Lord Menak and Lady Veltrina, you have our attention,” King Rederick said.
“First, King Rederick,” started Menak, “allow me to say that I have no love for you, your people or Garod. Whatever feelings you hold toward us Loszians, trust in me that we reciprocate. That being said, our two empires have lived in relative peace since your so called Cleansing. This war upon your people was not the empire’s war, but the war of a single, glory seeking madman.”
“Emperor Nadav,” Cor concluded.
“Of course,” replied Veltrina, and one side of her face sneered at the clarification of something so obvious.
“But you people supported him,” said Lord Red. “You gave him the forces necessary to invade so far.”
“To our chagrin, yes,” replied Veltrina. “I care only for myself, my power, my position within the empire. I care about as much for you people as I do the dog shit on my sandal. The simple fact is, Nadav infused himself directly with the power of our gods –“
“Blasphemy,” whispered Walthur, but Mora laid a hand over his to silence him.
“- and,” continued Veltrina, “he was the most powerful of us before he did so. We dared not stand against him.”
“Then why are you here now?” asked Cor.
“We…” Menak began slowly, as if he did not know how to say what he thought, “we’re here to ask asylum from Losz.”
This caused an eruption from the assembled Counselors. Walthur again shot from his seat like a crossbow bolt, hurling insults and statements about evil and blasphemy. Lord Red, an emotional fighting man, did much the same as he threatened to help the two Loszians to find their asylum in the edge of his blade. Lord Trey whispered in Red’s ear, while Joth and Paulk spoke hurriedly at one another. King Rederick stood and bellowed for silence. Cor really couldn’t make out any of what was said in the cacophony, and he searched the two Loszians for any sign of a lie. Finding none, he caught Mora’s quiet gaze, and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Last, he turned to Keth who sat with his fingers interlaced in front of him, both eyebrows raised in surprise.
Tired of it all, King Rederick took his son’s tunic in two fists and forced him down into his chair. He then backhanded, though not forcefully, the loud priest. “Shut up! All of you!” Rederick took his own great chair and closed his eyes. He breathed in deeply and then released it with a sigh. “My apologies. Lord and Lady, please continue. Why would you come to us for asylum?”
“Western politics at work I see,” Menak commented.
“We request asylum,” Veltrina interjected loudly, “from the insane emperor who threatens to destroy both of our civilizations. He will ruin the Loszian Empire in his mad quest to conquer the Shining West and kill the two of you,” she said with a pointed look at Cor then Rederick.
“What Lady Veltrina means is, Emperor Nadav is turning the very magick he used to destroy two of your cities on his own people,” Menak clarified. “You know he has the ability to turn your kind into ours. He created twelve new such lords in Ghal, and he then killed the city’s four other lords. He then destroyed Ghal just as he destroyed this city. He marches across Losz as we speak with almost a quarter million undead servants at his command. He sent advance word to all of us that the same fate awaits us and our lands.
“Once he obliterates all of Losz, his new army of Loszians and servants will cross the Spine and do the same to all of the Shining West. He will make no mistakes this time. He will be at the center of his army at all times, completely unreachable by bow or magick.”
“Then why come to us if we will share your fate?” Keth asked, and the entire Council looked at him. Keth rarely spoke.
“Our only chance is to come together in common purpose,” Veltrina answered, the babe in her arms beginning to squirm. “We must band together to defeat Nadav, then our two empires can return to peace. Majesty, might I be excused? I must feed my son.”
Rederick stood and nodded politely. “Lady Veltrina, Lord Menak, you may both be excused with my thanks. The Council will consider your words. For now, you are Aquis’ honored guests.”
Walthur grumbled, but no other sounds were m
ade as the two Loszians were escorted from the chamber. When the door closed, the king and his eight Counselors simply stared at one another, the table or at nothing at all. No one wanted to break the silence. In Cor’s case, it was because his head began to hurt, and he didn’t want to endure more yelling. It was Rederick who actually spoke first.
“Say nothing, for that is only the first of our troubles,” said the king, and he looked to another guarded door. “Bring in the emissary from Akor.”
The guard opened the door to retrieve a short, round man. He was a Westerner of course, with dark, bowl cut brown hair and a matching goatee and mustache. He reminded Cor of Aidan in that his girth seemed to be nearly as wide as his height just over five feet. He looked like any other successful merchant, not uncommon when considering from where he came.
“Majesty,” the man beamed with a deep bow and what was sure to be a false smile, “it is a pleasure to see you again so soon. I doubt not that this is the Great Council of which I have heard so much! It’s an honor to stand before such a distinguished group of Lords. And Ladies,” he added with a wink to Mora.
Cor already wanted to kill this man.
“Speak plainly,” Rederick commanded. “You bring poor tidings and threats. Do not dress it up with complements.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” the man acquiesced, all joviality gone from his face, and Cor saw a soulless negotiator. This man would slit a child’s throat and sell the flesh twice. “King Parol of Akor sends his regards and expects that you, and the rest of the Shining West, shall present yourselves at his palatial estate. He claims the title First Emperor of the West. Under Him, the Shining West will grow strong again, whereas under Aquis it has become so very weak.”
Red and Joth nearly upended the table in their anger and swearing. Their ire still raised from the appearance of two Loszians in their midst, this man’s statements pushed them both too far. Joth had the man’s corpulent neck clutched in a mailed hand while Red had pulled his great two handed sword.
The Cor Chronicles: Volume 04 - Gods and Steel Page 7
