* * *
The city of Vladistov was busier than it had ever been. Aptly named 'The Heart of Dargon', the streets were filled with thousands of soldiers making ready for the war. Men ran around moving supplies back and forth through the three sections of the city, working tirelessly so that the army would be ready for the King's arrival. The smiths and armourers kept their forges burning without pause as the demand for their labour increased beyond their capacity. But no one would question King Zephra's demands.
The soldiers from Bultan, Arkhorn and the lesser cities where now joined into one army that had marshalled itself in Aldan Hermagoras's city. Only Vladistov's armies would not march to Feldom and though this displeased the King, Aldan believed that his choice would not be questioned by his cousin.
The city itself was split into sections that were separated by three walls. The first and outermost wall was made of timber and, though not heavily fortified, did provide sufficient protection to those who lived in the outer limits. The second wall, a thirty foot high stone barricade, separated the outer township from the city's business district. Only three entrances to the inner city lay in the second wall and each was so heavily guarded that an army would be needed to storm through those gates. The third and final wall, which formed a perfect square around the centre of Vladistov, was made from black stone and protected the noble families and duke's residences from the common citizens.
From the balcony of his four story estate, Villa Estire, Aldan could see the entire city, up to the far western gate in the timber wall. He laid his hands upon the white marble railing that was carved into a spectacular design. No expense had been spared when Villa Estire was built. The duke of Vladistov could claim one thing that could not be challenged in Dargon, and that was that his estate was by far the grandest in the land.
Master builders and craftsmen from all corners of Dargon had worked without rest for four years to complete the mansion that contained over two hundred rooms, eighty hand crafted balconies, fifteen different gardens and a plethora of exquisite features such as fountains and stain glassed windows.
A forced cough caused him to fall out of his trance and he turned around. "Ah Friedrich, I was wondering when you would turn up. Been off seducing some of the servant girls with Vrill again?"
"No Father," replied Friedrich in a boisterous voice. "Though I'm not so sure about Vrill."
Aldan smiled. His son was the only joy that he had left in this doomed world. His wife had lost her fight with the scarlet rash that had spread like wildfire over Dargon seven years back, leaving Aldan to raise Friedrich by himself. He studied his boy, now nineteen summers old, and felt pride.
Trimmed black hair fell over boyish features that made him look younger than he truly was. His body, though not bulky, displayed the strength that came from a life of training in the martial arts.
He looks so much like his grandfather, Aldan thought. Zephra had murdered that man and taken the throne for himself. Aldan had thought it right to name the boy after his late father, to not only honour his memory, but to remind Zephra of the challenge to his throne. The more he thought on it though, the less he wished for Friedrich to live such a life. His son deserved more than the danger and constant troubles that rulership of a Dargonian province brought.
"Father what did you call me here for?" asked Friedrich trying his best not to sound impatient.
"Yes what did you ask us here for?" asked another voice from behind Friedrich.
Aldan looked past his son to see a tall and well dressed boy with almost perfectly smooth dark hair and a stylish thin beard. "Vrill, I don't remember asking you to meet me here," said Aldan trying to talk with a superior tone, but failing due to the sheepish grin on his face.
"Ah Uncle, you know that nothing passes my ears unnoticed in this place," he replied in his quick, run together accent that was distinctive of the people of Yulistov to the north.
"Vrill, you'd best behave yourself, another uncle of yours is going to be here at any moment," continued Aldan.
Vrill's expression turned sour. "Zephra's coming?" he asked nervously. When Aldan nodded, Vrill suddenly disappeared into the shadows. Not one to usually avoid meetings, Vrill was dreadfully afraid of Zephra. He was the only man that Vrill had yet met that he could not charm. Vrill's uncanny ability to bring a smile to anyone's face was completely lost when Zephra was near and so he tried his best to avoid his intimidating uncle.
Friedrich turned back to his father and asked, "Did you summon me here, or did he?"
Aldan sighed. "He did."
"Why does he insist on me being here for every meeting that you two ever have?" asked Friedrich in frustration.
"Because he fears you, Son," replied Aldan. "He wants you here so that I do not spread lies to you about what he has been saying. He thinks that by having you here he can manipulate you against me."
"He could never shift my loyalties. I will not bow down to Zephra as my grandfather did. One day the throne will be mine."
Aldan smiled, though inside he felt regret at the position that his son was in. He had brought Friedrich up well and was sure that he would become a righteous king. And as Zephra was still without wife or son, Friedrich was next in the line of succession.
Aldan then shook his head. This would never be. Zephra would never allow that to happen. Even if he did not father an heir, Zephra would ensure that Aldan's line would be wiped off the face of the world, purely out of spite.
Footsteps from the nearby hallway brought Aldan back from his thoughts. He composed himself and stood up straight, then motioned for Friedrich to come and stand next to him. The footsteps drew nearer and then just short of the entryway to the balcony they stopped. Friedrich looked at his father in confusion and Aldan replied with the shrug of his shoulders.
Moments later Zephra appeared in the doorway wearing a dark grey robe, trimmed with silver inscriptions. It was draped over a black shirt that was made of a fabric that glistened in the sunlight. By his side was a walking staff made from dark oak that held a round sapphire at its top.
"Zephra, your eyes..." mumbled Aldan as he saw Zephra's face in the sunlight. The King's eyes had turned pitch black.
"A side affect of my most recent work," said Zephra with a wave of his hand to dismiss the issue. "Friedrich," he greeted with a smile that looked unwelcome on his face.
"Uncle, it's been too long since your last visit," replied Friedrich unconvincingly.
"I have been busy planning a war. I haven't enough time for pleasantries," replied Zephra with another forced smile.
"I hope that you appreciate the work my people have been doing to ensure your army is ready for war," said Aldan.
"It is satisfactory, and not as much as I had hoped for," replied Zephra coolly. His tone indicated that he placed little worth on Aldan's comments. He walked up to the balcony railing and peered down to the city below.
They waited in silence and Aldan found his concern growing. There was something different about his cousin, other than the ghastly change to his eyes. His bearing portrayed a new confidence that scared Aldan. In the past Zephra had been careful to make sure that they stayed on civil terms. Yet the way in which he was acting suggested that he no longer cared.
"Well what news do you bring?" asked Aldan
"The army will march tonight," Zephra announced almost absentmindedly, not taking his eyes from the city.
Aldan was completely taken by surprise. "Are you mad?. They're not ready yet. You need at least two more weeks."
"That is not necessary," replied Zephra. "Word must have reached you by now of the bridge."
"Yes, but even with the crossing we will lose thousands upon thousands scaling the wall," reasoned Aldan.
"We will not need to scale the wall. I will ensure that the gates will be open."
Friedrich raised his brow at this. "How?"
Zephra laughed. "Let us just say that the armies of Dargon will not fight alone."
Aldan
lowered his head. He did not know what was meant by that but was not willing to push the matter. "And who will lead the united armies of Dargon? General Dithus of Carnaic?"
"No," said Zephra. Then he looked towards the doorway and said, "Come in."
Aldan and Friedrich, as well as Vrill who was watching the meeting from a balcony two floors up, staggered when they saw the mammoth figure enter the doorway.
From the hallway came Azbaar Ingel, formerly of the Maloreichar, now a twisted monster of a man and commander of the united armies of Dargon.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DILEMMA
Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One) Page 60
