Chapter II

King Gallad sat at the head of an ornate oval table, around which sat nearly a dozen nobles and advisors. As three of his more prominent advisors bickered with each other across the table, the King just sat and watched, his chin resting on his folded hands. He had only been king for three years, however those three years had felt like an eternity to him with the responsibility that had come with the crown. The stress had already made itself evident, drawing a few gray hairs into his chestnut brown hair and neatly-combed beard.

He had never truly wanted to be king, if he was honest with himself, and as the middle son of his father, he wasn’t expected to be so for much of his life. Of course, he had trained in swordsmanship and strategy as all princes were expected, both of which he had shown great promise in, and the former of which he personally enjoyed, but his true passion came from his studies of poetry, history, and religion. He had become an avid reader and collector of all manners of scrolls, books, and tomes, ranging from studies of the natural world, to history, to magic and religion.

However, his older brother’s untimely death on a hunt, where he slipped into a raging river and was swept away, quickly thrust the young Gallad into the position of heir apparent, and even before his father’s death he had become terrified of the prospect of ruling one of the largest of the southern kingdoms. In combination with the loss of his brother, who he had been very close to when growing up, this served to turn the adolescent Gallad from a bookish, but cheerful young man towards more stoicism and solemnity. Indeed, the only people he felt comfortable showing his truer, more vulnerable side to were his wife, younger sister, and old tutor, Arch-Sage Riand.

As he thought of the Arch-Sage, he sighed quietly. The older man had been one of his oldest friends, a respected advisor to his father and in effect the court wizard for both his father and himself, but lately he had sounded almost incoherently alarmist. He had sent missive after missive for the past two months begging him to send men to a long-lost city of legend at the far-flung corner of the world, at this point a fool’s dream and a children’s tale, because of some vague threat of great evil that threatened to consume the entirety of Menatir. While Gallad did not believe his old friend to be a liar or a lunatic, he simply could not spare any knights for such an endeavor, not when war seemed like a very real prospect on his borders. All of the sudden, he was drawn back into reality when he noticed Duke Aron Hewitt, his foremost general, was addressing him directly.

“Sire, are you with us?” the Duke asked, looking a bit puzzled.

Gallad dropped his hands to the table and straightened himself in his chair. “Yes, Duke Hewitt, forgive me, I was lost in contemplation,” he said.

“Of course, sire. Now, would you tell Lord Powell that his plan to abandon the eastern plains in favor of reinforcing the Gaulstone Pass is a foolish endeavor that would leave us completely open to attack from Maveria?” the Duke asked, and glared at his counterpart across the table.

“And I am telling you, Duke Hewitt, that Maveria is a long-standing ally and we need to worry more about possible incursions from Tahne, who have always coveted our mines in the Sundervale Mountains,” Powell shot back with acrid dismissal, and then turned to Gallad. “My King, I assure you that Maveria means us no harm, but we cannot allow Tahne any opportunity to sweep down from the north and capture our silver and iron mines. It would surely cripple us!”

Gallad motioned for both men to sit, and then sat a moment without answering. He looked back and forth between them, and then finally spoke. “My lords, you are both my friends and my most trusted generals. I understand that both of you wish to protect your fiefs and neither wish to weaken themselves to protect the other. I also trust your counsel more than anything, however is it not a bit premature to speak of war when we are not even the ones at threat? Yes, war is imminent all around us, however our defenses are strong, and our knights fierce and courageous. I fear it would be a mistake to reinforce either of our frontiers, as it could be seen as an act of aggression by either kingdom and draw us into a war we neither started, nor want,” Gallad said, but could see the look of irritation in both of their faces. He looked down at the solid oak table in front of him, and sighed. “Very well, you may both raise one hundred men-at-arms to your respective holdings, and I will finance their pay by half in return,” he said, and both men seemed at least moderately satisfied with such a compromise.

“Thank you, sire, a most wise compromise,” Hewitt said, and bowed his head to Gallad. Powell did not say anything, but also bowed his head to the king. Gallad then stood from his chair, prompting the other men to stand as well.

“Well, my lords, I believe that concludes our discussion for the day. I adjourn the Royal Council until next week, may Hafen be with you all,” he said, and bowed his head to the nobles, who returned the gesture, and made their way to the room’s door. Gallad remained in the room, and walked over to the window to look out over the castle garden, clasping his hands behind his back. He admired the beauty and intricacy that went into designing the various pathways, winding like rivers through the garden. The proud, expertly carved statues of kings and heroes of old, and the flower and shrub arrangements that gave the area such bright displays of color in the Spring. However, his favorite part of the entire garden was the large oak tree that dominated the center of the garden, providing shade to everything around. 

The garden had been his grandmother’s design, however the oak tree had been planted by his mother and father in celebration of their marriage nearly forty years ago. He remembered sitting under the tree, his mother reading books of history or chivalry, and when he and his father used to play fencing around the trunk, before he would charge his father and knock them both to the ground, laughing. He smiled to himself as he reminisced on his youth, when everything seemed so easy, and so much more simple.

His reverie was disturbed when heard the door open behind him, but didn’t look to see who was entering. In came a young boy, not even old enough to begin shaving.

“Message for you, sire” the boy said, waiting expectantly just inside the door. Gallad barely even acknowledged his presence, and waved the boy away.

“Just leave it on the table, Peter, I will read it later,” he said, but the boy still stood, shifting nervously on his feet.

“He said it’s urgent, sire, and he told me to personally hand it to you,” Peter said, his voice more timid than before. Gallad closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Finally, he turned to look at the young page, a tall but lanky boy with golden blond hair, and walked over to him and took the letter from his hands, looking at the signet on the wax.

“Arch-Sage Riand put you up to this, did he?” he asked, and all the boy could manage was a nod. “Well, thank you my boy for bringing this to me, you are dismissed,” he continued, and with barely hidden eagerness Peter bowed, a bit too deeply, and quickly hurried out of the room, and Gallad watched him go, shaking his head. 

“That boy is far too scared for his own good. If he ever hopes to be a knight someday he had better hope to grow more of a backbone, even when in front of men of considerable power,” he thought to himself, and then turned his attention back to the letter in his hand. Deciding that there was no point in delaying the inevitable, he opened the letter and read it. It was much like the same five he had received in the past few months, but this one seemed the most desperate. Also unlike the previous letters, this one mentioned a possible solution rather than just warning of the supposed impending danger.

“A secret library full of ancient knowledge, hmm? Why had he not mentioned this before,” he mused to himself. Either way, it did not matter. Despite what he had told the lords at the Royal Council, he also believed war was upon them, and that Ardel would not be able to stay out of it for long. He walked to the door and exited the council chambers, and looked to the guard standing to the right of the door’s entrance.

“Martyn, would you please summon Arch-Sage Riand to my private study?” he asked, and the guard simply nodded and went off to find him. Gallad looked upwards and spoke softly to himself.

“Mother, father, please give me the guidance and strength to navigate these next few trials,” he said, and then left to make his way to his study to await his old friend.