Chapter I

                Gently the large horse shifted under his weight, Harold could feel that this horse was still not used to a rider wearing plate armour. Carefully he placed the reins on the horse’s neck and used his now free hand to clap the horse’s neck, reassuring it that everything would be fine. Slightly shaken the horse shook its head in response, and shifted again this time into a much more comfortable position. Harold gave a slight smile inside his helmet before looking back up, and down to the other end of the area, where Lord Andre Borde was climbing onto his own much more experienced horse, helped by numerous  servants. Lord Borde’s armour was much cleaner than Harold’s, shinning in the low winter sun, reflecting the area and crowd around them. The crowd itself was full not only of all six of the other High Lords, but the commoners were also here, pressed up against the small fence that separated the arena from the stands. He looked up at the High Lords through the small holes that were patterned across the front of his helmet. He could see that Lady Northway and Lord Fasdane were as normal arguing about something, whilst Lord Saxon watched on will a hint of amusement. The rest of the Lords were all engaged in conversation, knowing his luck planning on how to get rid of him. Harold’s horse gave another shake of its head reminding Harold that he was still sitting on its back.

                “Easy boy, calm, it will be over shortly.” Harold said quietly stroking the horses neck once again, trying at the same time to listen to his own advice and calm down.

                His horse jerked again, as the drum wielders who had been standing at the edge of the stands began to drum. Everyone went quiet and turned to look at the stands where the High Lords where seated, Harold and Lord Borde also turned their attention that way. From around the back came a tall man, his shoulder length grey hair revealing his true age that his still bright green eyes tried to hide. The King was also wearing a full set of armour; it was well worn and having seen many battlefields, the gold trimming was beginning to fade and the Crest embedded in the chest had long since become unrecognisable. Harold had never actually seen the King without his armour; he was after all the great warrior king. Following directly behind him were his son’s Prince Edmund, who like his father wore a rigid expression on his face that enhanced its sharp features; his suit of armour was almost identical to that of his fathers, albeit a much less worn set its crest still very much visible. Behind Edmund followed the younger Prince David, who was the opposite and much more like the late Queen Amelia with his softer features and a taste in fine linen clothing.

                The two Princes took their seats on either side of the large throne that sat in the middle of the stands, splitting the Lords in half. The old High Lord Canmore almost immediately engaged Prince David in conversation, whilst Edmund sat in silence his eyes locked on their father. The King on the other hand stepped up to the edge of the stand and placed his hands on the wooden railing, his green eyes looking over the commoners and minor nobles in attendance before turning to the look at Harold and Lord Borde who were sitting in the arena waiting, and still looking directly back at him.

                “My subjects, Nobles and High Lords, we are here in attendance today to settle a grudge.” The Kings old and weathered voice still maintained a strong and commanding presence. “High Lord Andre Borde feels that he has been insulted by the request of High Lord Harold Midhearth to marry his eldest daughter. I decreed that they should settle this matter like the warriors that our people expect our High Lords to be, and as such, the rules are simple, the first man to land a hit on their Opponent wins. High Lords, please prepare.”

                After his speech, the king turned and took his seat, quickly engaging in a conversation with Lord Saxon. Harold looked back over at Lord Borde who was retrieving his lance and shield from his servants. Harold turned to his right just in time to see his Mason, his long time friend and mentor, enter the arena, carrying his Families shield on one arm, and a reasonable looking Lance on the other, the tip a small flat plate of metal designed to push the other rider off his horse, but not kill him.

                “Here you are lad. Now remember Borde is a respectable Lord and a bloody good warrior, if you want his daughters hand in marriage all you have to do is win, he will respect and keep his end of the pact.” Mason said quietly and in his usual mentoring tone, before he handed Harold the shield.

                “I will win; there is nothing that will keep me from Elise.” Harold answered a smirk over his face despite the fact that Mason could not see it because of his helmet. Harold fixed his shield onto his left arm, and then extending his other arm over and accepting the long blunt lance that Mason offered.

                Mason gave him a slight nod before making his way back out of the arena through the gate as he had entered. Harold turned his attention back to his opponent and, hopefully future Father-in-Law. Lord Borde had already raised his lance to tell the king that he was ready. Harold held in own up in a similar fashion, and once more looked at the King. The King in turn gave a small nod, and both Lords turned to look at each other. Without warning, Harold kicked the side of his horse, launching it into a full speed gallop towards Lord Borde, who had done the same. Time seemed to slow down as the two Lords moved ever faster and closer together, Harold could hear the shouts and cheers of the commoners surrounding arena. He could feel every single movement of the horse underneath him. Harold could see Lord Borde growing ever closer, both of the men lowering the lances preparing to strike at the other.

                There was a huge loud crash as both Lords lances made contact with the others shield followed by the sound of snapping wood as the lances snapped, throwing both men off their horses and on to the soft dirt. However, Lord Borde was a much more experienced soldier and recovered from the fall much quicker than Harold, quickly getting to his feet and drawing his sword. Harold’s instinct kicked in and he rolled out of the way of Borde’s sword as it fell onto the dirt he had lain only a second earlier. Harold forced himself onto his feet, the heavy armour hindering his movement, drawing his own blade and turning to face Lord Borde. The two men slowly stared each other down as circled around each other, each looking for a kink in the other defence, looking for the perfect moment to strike.

                Harold moved first, bringing his sword to bare down upon Borde, but a simple parry blocked his blade and the combat began. The two men’s sword clashed again, both sides backing out of the attack and hiding once again behind their shields. Once more, the two men locked swords, entering into another violence trade of blows. The crowed looked on in awe as the light flashed of the clashing blades, back and forth the two lords traded blows, Borde swung his sword low, trying to go under Harold shield and catch his leg, but Harold drove his sword down into the dirt blocking the blade.  However, Harold’s blade was now stuck. Borde stuck again, leaving no time for Harold to retrieve his sword and forcing him to raise his shield placing it between him and the Blade. Again, and again Borde’s sword crashed down on Harold’s shield, slowly driving him back towards the edge of the arena.  Out of desperation, Harold tried something that Mason had taught him, a commoner soldier trick. As Borde’s sword came down Harold, threw his shield outward, directly at the sword countering the blow. He staggered the more experienced soldier and with a bit of luck moved past him, grabbed his sword out of the ground and placed it at the back of Borde’s neck. Using his now empty shield arm, he lifted the faceplate of his helmet.

                “Do you yield Lord Borde?” He asked through the heavy breaths. The fight had not been long, but fighting on the ground in heavy armour was not easy.

                “I yield, you have won.” Both Lords looked up at the king, who with a small smirk on his face looked back down at them, gave a slight nod. “I may have misjudged you Lord Midhearth, I will keep my word, and you have my blessing to take my Elise’s hand in Marriage.”

                Lord Borde turned to face the younger Lord his hand outstretched; Harold placed his sword gently back into its leather scabbard before taking the other Lords hand. Firmly he gripped his fellow Lord as the crowd started to cheer. As they shook hands, Harold looked up at the other High Lords, none of them however seemed to be impressed or even as though they had even enjoyed the combat. Harold noticed that the king was quickly leavening though, and now that Harold got a good look at him he was looking older than ever, his face was more weathered he had ever seen it. Both of his sons seemed to be concerned about him, it was rare for those two to agree on anything never mind something that concerned their father. He turned back and looked at the Lord he had just bested in combat, only to be face to face with Mason, Lord Borde having gone to remove his armour.

                “Will done lad, not completely the way I taught you to do it but well done never the less.” Mason yelled as he slapped Harold’s back, the joy in his voice as obvious as the giant smile crossing his face from one side to the next.

                “Well sometimes the more unusual tactics can be the more successful ones.” Harold said as he removed his helmet, revealing his shoulder length dirty blonde hair and lean facial features. “I take that I will not be able to enjoy my victory as the King will want a meeting of the High Lords. After all it is a rare event for all eight of use to be in the same place at the same time.”

                “Aye my Lord, he has called a meeting.” Mason answered, as they walked out of the arena and into the bustling streets of Paladrin. “But there will be nine lords not eight.”

                “Nine? Who is the ninth Lord, Mason, my father only taught me about the other seven before he passed on.”

                “The ninth Lord is the kings brother, Cedric, and seeing as how he is not an official High Lord, it is very rare for him to attend one of these meetings so I would assume that it is rather important.” They reached a crossroads and stopped, Harold took his helmet back from Mason.

                “Mason, you are to return to Fairoth, I need someone there I can trust. I will attend this meeting and return as soon as I can.”

                Mason gave a nod, and without another word began to make his way through the busy streets towards the city gates. Harold on the other hand was heading in the opposite direction, further into the layered metropolis that was Paladrin. It was rare for him to walk the lower streets of the capital; he would usually travel by carriage or by horse. However, now that he was on foot the street seemed to be much narrower than he recalled, the worn stone buildings that flanked either side of the street seemed to lord over the crowds of people who walked along the sparsely paved street. On either side of him, he could see the peddlers trying nothing more than to sell their enticing and foreign wares, but with limited success. The smell of rotten food and sewage seemed to seep through the streets causing Harold to quicken his pace trying to get away from the smell as quickly as he could. He sometimes wondered how the people could live like this, but it was a pointless question and he already knew the answer. It was because they had no other choice, it was what they had and they did what they could with it, though the war made things harder.

                The street that he was walking on was steadily becoming more paved as he approached the entrance to the Noble Sector of the city. The white marble wall that enclosed the Noble sector was more for show than it was for defence, to show the wealth of the city to foreigner’s, be they envoys of far away kingdoms or just merchants passing through. Harold felt that it was an extravagance that the Kingdom could ill afford giving its current state, but as he was quickly learning in politics was that image could sometime come before practicality. As he approached the large, excessively decorated oak gate that guarded the entrance to the Noble quarter, he could hear the shouts of the guards signalling to open the gate and allow him entrance. It was one of the benefits to being a High Lord, everyone knew who you were and it meant that getting through guarded checkpoints was easy. He nodded politely to the guard who was standing at the entrance as he passed through the gate before turning his attention to the decor of the Noble quarter. Like the walls, most of the buildings in the area where made of white Castehills marble, kept clean and polished by the servants of the Nobles. Here the roads were completely paved unlike the ones that he had been walking on in the merchant quarter, it made walking much easier normally, but in his heavy plate armour Harold found himself wishing for the soft unpaved dirt under his pained feet once more. Slowly he made his way down the street towards the large stone castle that sat at the center of the city behind another large stone wall. As he found himself getting further and further into the Noble quarter he noticed that the houses began to increase in size, until he reached the eight largest manors, they were placed side by side, around the wall of the castle and some even looked like mini castles. These were the manors of the High Lords of Northrum, the smallest of which belonged to his family.

                He turned and walked up towards his manor, it was not that much different to the one he had back in his hometown of Fairoth. It was like the rest of the manors in the quarter made of Castehill marble, with a thick thatched roof. He had always liked coming to this manor as a child, even though it was similar to the one at home, it was smaller and felt more homely. The small garden at the front of the manor was, as ever, well maintained. The white roses that represented his house were in full bloom. Slowly he moved into the welcoming garden to be greeted by a familiar face.

                “Welcome back my Lord Midheath.” Maria said to him, the old women had been tending to the manor for as long as he could remember, her Long white hair was tied up out of the way and her clothes were well worn. “I trust your match against Lord Borde went well.”

                “Yes, I have his blessing.” Harold replied, placing his helmet into the old woman’s outstretched hand. “There is a meeting of the High Lords later tonight; I will arrange the details with him then.”

                “Yes that sounds like an idea, but I think it would be best if you got out of your armour and cleaned up first.” Maria’s small smile crept across her face. Harold however merely contained a laugh and nodded in response before making his way through the decorated wooden door that was the entrance to the manor.

*****

                Harold  was in the middle of fastening the final straps of his Ceremonial Armour, that had been polished to perfection and Bore his Coat of Arms embroidered in the center of the surcoat, when he heard the faint patter of a knock on the oak door. As far as he was aware Maria was the only other person that was currently with him in the manor, but she wouldn't  knock she would simple walk  in and announce her presence like she had done ever since he had been a babe in his mother's arms.

                "Enter," It felt strange for Harold to speak those words when here at the manor, as it was usually only Maria and himself.

                He heard the creak of the large heavy door as it opened and turned to see who it was, standing in the door in a flowing pale blue dress was Elise Borde, the eldest daughter of High Lord Borde. Her long blonde hair was currently constricted by the light hood that she currently wore, but her elegant facial features and emerald green eyes were still as clear as the summers day. Slowly and gracefully she entered the room and walked towards him closing the door behind her, though Harold was sure that he saw the glint of Marias eyes as the door gently closed. Elise stopped within an arms length of him and bowed her body into a curtsy, Harold in turn bowed his own head slightly.

                "Elise, what are you doing here?" Harold spoke first, overly curious to the reason for Elise's out of character spontaneous visit.

                "I wanted to congratulate you, on your victory against my father today in the arena." Slowly she lifted her head as she spoke, until it was level with his own, "It is not every day that I see my father bested, My Lord."

                "Elise, please don't call me that, at least not when we are alone." Harold smiled and lifted one of his un-gauntleted hands and gently pressed it into her cheek. Her skin was smooth and well cared for, which meant it was always a joy to touch. "You could have waited, I am sure that your father would have brought you along to the Kings feast, he does like to show you off."

                "You have not heard?" Elise said, lifting her hands and removing his from her face, instead opting to hold it, almost like a anchor point. "The feast has been postponed."

                "The King was not so ill that he could not host the High Lords when I saw him today, in fact he looked stronger than he has in months."

                "I think he was putting on a strong face, for the people they need to see him strong. He has been getting worse. It won't be long I fear." She let go of his hands and walked over to the window, her eyes focused on the blood red setting sun. "But you are right, that is not the reason that he has cancelled, his Brother has not yet arrived."

                "You are the second person to speak of the Kings Brother today, yet I did not even know he had a brother." Harold joined her by the window, looking down at the city below them, the red light of the sunset reflecting off the white marble that made the noble housing.

                "King Cedric is... different, it is very rare for him ever to return to Northum, King Richard must feel that it is time to name his successor."

                "Surely that is just a formality, Prince Edmund will ascend the throne as his father's death, the first born always does."

                "Yes," Elise let out a small laugh and turned to him, a beautiful smile filling her face, "But it is tradition for the King to gather the Lords and his family to announce it. It has been that way ever since the original Warlords of old, did your father teach you nothing."

                "I don't think he was expecting to be killed, he was always saying how he couldn't wait for us to carry on the Midheath tradition of passing on his knowledge to the next High Lord with shared power."

Elise placed her hand on his arm and offered a sympathetic squeeze, before landing an unexpected kiss lightly on his unshaven cheek. Quickly she let go and elegantly made her way back across the room to the door before turning to speak once more.

                "I had better take my leave, Father will miss me should I not return soon." She left through the door, however her head returned less than a second later, "At least the feast being tomorrow it will give you time to shave."

                With that last remark she was gone, Harold heard her exchange a small pleasantry with Maria as she left, but nothing more. Trying to remain as calm as he could, leisurely he lifted his hand and stroked his cheek where she had kissed him.

                "Trying to preserve something my Lord?" Maria had slipped back into the room whilst he had been lost in his daze, a smallsmile spread across the inquisitive expression she was wearing.

                "What? No I was just thinking about something Elise said." He said quickly removing his hand from its position at his cheek, and back to his armour straps, this time to unfasten them.

                "About King Richard postponing the feast?"

                "No about needing to shave," He said with a small smile on his own face, of course she had been listening, he would have expected no less.

                Maria laughed lightly, nodding in acknowledgement, before offering a small bow and leaving the room and Harold to his thoughts. Harold's thoughts were with his own father at the current moment, and all of the things he had to rely on the people around him for because of his father's untilmely death. Luckily both Maria and Mason had served his father and together knew most of the small details and tricks to dealing with the other High Lords. Unfortunately, they were not well versed in dealing with other Nobles or even minor Barons,  and Harold was having to learn that the hard way, but he would worry more about that on his return, maybe Elise would be able to help him. For now he would turn his attention to the King and tomorrows feast.