The Dragons Egg : V : The High Council : Ballour

V

The High Council

Ballour

With pensive grey eyes, the High King- Ballour of Meer stood in the centre of the round room, filled with large, circular mirrors and gazed into his reflection. Above him, the glass ceiling exposed the fine blue sky above and within, the morning rays of sunshine hit the mirrors, creating bold lines of light that penetrated Ballour’s form, shrouding him in an ethereal light. With ageing hands, dotted with moulted spots, Ballour traced his wizened face with an agonising pain within. As his fingers swept over his strong features, he was reminded of his three sons, who all shared in his likeness. Galean possessed his strong eyebrows and long nose, Loaki his grey eyes and high cheekbones and Beon who shared in his thin lips and heavy lashes. They were all apart of him and he apart of them, so how, he thought to himself, how had everything turned to ashes. Where had it all gone wrong? Had he failed as a parent? Had he spent too little time with his sons and focused too hard on building a prosperous kingdom? Had he favoured his eldest over Loaki and Beon, thus creating an endless void between them or had he failed in contracting a marriage between the House of Meer and the House of Gaul, both of which had been embroiled in a century long argument in that they both claimed to be the proper heirs of the Meer Kingdom. At first the contract had seemed lucrative and prosperous, both of the houses would get what they want and in return the argument and hatred that had long torn them apart, would finally turn to reconciliation and friendship, and by some stroke of luck, both his son Beon and the Lady Turtha had fallen in love with one another and so both houses had greatly gained from such an alliance.

Closing his heavy grey eyes with shame, Ballour let out a sigh, his hands tightly rounded into agitated fists. How idle and blind had he been to the true nature of the alliance and the true nature of the concocted and long devised plan harboured by the Lord Morc of House Gaul. Ballour prized himself a wise and intelligent King, he had single handily ended the savage civil war in Fiar between the wolf clans of Dragna and Dra, giving the royal clan of wolves the forest of Dulga as a gift if they choose to sign a treaty in which both clans would live upon separate territories and live out of sight of humans. They had accepted and the wolf clan of Dragna had moved south to the great and enchanted forest where they were under oath, sworn to safety and secrecy, the greater kingdom believing them to be slaughtered. He had ushered in a legal treaty in which all clans of the north, no matter their territorial alliances where given the right to opt out of fighting on behalf of their High King and Prince- this had proved favourable to all the kingdoms and from that treaty came peace and stability. He had also out lawed slavery and obligation to the aristocratic houses of Meer, giving in essence the subjects of Meer their independence and a freedom in which to farm their own land and keep the profits without having to pay their previous masters an unethical amount of tax each moon. Instead, twenty percent of all wages would go directly to the House of Meer and by law would therefore be intrusted into the care of a democratically nominated council of finance, which oversaw the finances of the greater Kingdom. Much, Ballour admitted with a fleeting smile had changed under his rule, a once deeply backward Kingdom had now stepped away from the traditions of the past and now was making positive progress that nearly equalled the legal, financial and cultural progress of the south or what was of the south before the murder of the High King and his wife.

Yet within twenty years, the hard earned work that had gone into modernising both the north and the south had stalled and instead the cycle had stopped and had over time fallen back into the oppressive regimes that had once ruled over the kingdoms for hundreds of moons. Now the Kingdom of Meer found itself upon the foothold of great change and Ballour feared the direction in which the wind would blow. All that he had fought for now hung, tethered and worn before his enemies. Soon if the winds of change did not favour Ballour, a great and terrible time was upon himself and his people. A dark shadow grew in the west and an unspoken fear began to spread throughout Dulthe and Fiar, sporadic outbursts of violent conflicts sprouting between once warring clans. Ballour knew that Galean’s state of being would openly declare Meer as vulnerable and weak, he knew that his enemies within and outside of his court would now be whispering to one another in the shadows and planning his downfall, especially his son Beon and his father in law, Lord Morc of House Gaul. It did not aid matters that the terrible black witch was serving Beon, her nefarious motives and plans now both unnerving those blessed with magic and awakening the once sleeping creatures of the dark. Times were changing and the future of Meer and Calnuthe now lay in the hands of a mere girl, who was destined to travel through time in order to return to her rightful place. Each night, Ballour stared up at the night sky and prayed that the great stars would hasten in their alignment and then when the tide of failure swept over him, he found himself upon bent knees praying to the old Gods and Heiden for the restoration of his son, Galean.

Opening his eyes, he glared once more into his reflection and from behind his tall form, he watched as the millions of dust particles began to alter and turn, the form of his dead wife, Methal taking shape behind him. It was not unusual for Ballour to suddenly find his deceased wife close to him when he stood before the four great mirrors, which stood to the north, east, south and west. But today, her presence was unwanted. Ballour’s sense of failure was enough of a punishment. Methal, her long blonde hair falling behind her frail body, wrapped her slight arms about her husband and pressed her face to his own. Ballour closed his eyes but for a moment, relishing in the memory of her touch.

“How heavy you feel husband,” her soft voice murmured, causing a light echo to circulate about the room.

“Does that surprise you?” Ballour whispered in answer, his eyes now open, his hands enfolded in her own.

“Our sons are broken and displaced,” Methal said with a pained expression. “Our young dreams of a happy and united family have all but dispersed and gone.”

“You blame me still?” Ballour asked with a pitiful expression, his hold upon his wife’s hand easing.

“Do you remember the fight we had upon the eve of moon day all those years ago?” Methal enquired; her bright green eyes, vivid and strong against her soft features and fair skin.

“Can I ever forget it? You left the island and stayed in Gul for two months, refusing to answer my letters or to come home,” Ballour sighed heavily; it had been one of the worst periods of his life and for good reason.

“You sold our sons as if they were cattle to be purchased at market- how could I not hate you when you had promised me upon our marriage day that you would let our sons marry for love and not for political alliances or ambitions,” Methal said with a harsh stare. “You promised me and you broke that promise.”

“I was cornered,” Ballour pleaded gently. “There was no other way in which to create peace among the houses.”

“So you gave in to the pressure of your subjects and sold our sons off to the highest bidder before they could speak in order to defend their own free will?” Methal argued, her eyes large with anger. “You swore to me that when you ascended the throne that you would change the Kingdom and change the oppressive regime that had ruled over Meer for so long, you not only promised me but your father, who spent his life trying to correct the wrongs of your ancestors.”

“Have I not changed the kingdom? Have I not brought peace and prosperity to my people?”

“Once there was peace, once there was stability when you gave your subjects freedom and equal rights, but then you toyed with the fates of your children and now look what has happened, all that you have worked for has fallen into an abyss of nothing,” Methal chided hotly. “If only you had fulfilled and honoured your promise to me, then our sons wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Beon loved Turtha,” Ballour whispered, finding himself already resigned his wife’s anger.

“Lady Turtha was a pawn in a much bigger game, a game our son could not have foreseen, and now look at him, mad and unpredictable, his mind riddled with insanity and an unnatural need to kill his own flesh and blood, for what?” Methal shouted loudly, the mirrors shaking slightly. “Do you so readily think that Lord Morc will happily watch on as Beon takes the throne of Meer, if there plans succeed? No! He will kill him and take the throne for himself,” Methal thundered, Ballour feeling the anger in her touch. “You once feared that the madness your uncle succumbed too would find its way to you, but never did you fear that it would touch your sons.”

“I thought that an alliance between both our houses would create security in Galgor,” Ballour pleaded desperately, his eyes glazed with salted tears. “Beon and Turtha would have married anyway with or without my consent.”

“Not if you hadn’t been blind sighted by greed.”

“I have only ever wanted the best for our sons.”

“And yet look at them Ballour? Our eldest lies dying because you gave him too much freedom and refused to have him take up the responsibilities for his Kingdom sooner. Our middle child has lost his mind and has fallen prey to the hounds of your enemies and our youngest…” Methal unclasped her arms from her husband and turned away from him in disgust. “The court thinks him soft and too sensitive to rule, he is in love with Galean’s intended and is lost. He was always a happy and optimistic child, forever finding comfort in the smaller comforts of life, much to your anger. He is no soldier and has never drawn blood and now he faces the possibility of having to become a King. He is not prepared because you have forgotten him in your haste to educate your two eldest sons, who in your eyes are more worthy of the role, because they are strong in the ways you think a man should be strong.”

“I love all of our children equally,” Ballour whispered with shame, his fists softening and stretching. “Loaki is no natural leader, he is too timid and too morally conscious to ever have the gall to make life changing decisions. He trembles at the sight of a sword and refuses to involve himself in the running of Meer. What am I to do?”

“Our son is strong. He has built bridges of reconciliation among the tribes and clans of Fiar, he has fought tooth and nail for the rights of the poor and finds peace in the beauty of the world about him. Where you see enemies, he sees possibilities.” Methal said with a crack in her voice. “Where you see the impossible, he sees the possible. He may not find strength in a sword, but he is worthy and equal to Galean in every way; it is just that your perception of strength and leadership is greatly defaulted and errored. You wish for a modern kingdom which is more diverse and equal, yet for all your ideas you are still attached the old world.”

“And yet it will be the sword that dictates the future of this kingdom,” Ballour said coldly. “It will be the alliances made through our sons marriages that will ensure the safety of my Kingdom, whether you agree with my actions or not. I may not have been the perfect parent and I admit to my failings, but the acts of my sons as men are not my responsibility.”

“But they are, they are your responsibility because it is you who has dictated their futures without their consent, cannot you see what your acts have caused?” Methal cried with clutched hands. “Our eldest lies dying, our middle child wishes to bring untold carnage upon you and our youngest is lost and alone. You know that when war and battle come, it will be our sons who will turn their swords upon one another.”

“I will not allow that to happen,” Ballour whispered darkly.

“It is beyond your control now Ballour,” Methal said with a disappointed look upon her ethereal face. “The blood of our sons will be spilt upon the battle field and the Kingdoms of Meer will separate and fall back into the ways of the past and there blood we be upon your hands.” As Methal stood gazing over at Ballour, Ballour looked at his reflection and to his horror he watched on as blood began to form within the palms of his hands. With anxiety he looked down at his hands and observed the thick liquid as it spread over his ageing skin and began to drip upon the grey floor below, creating a pool of blood about his feet. Shaking, his skin beaded in cold sweat, Ballour felt his body become numb and fell to his knees in submission to the fate of his sons and cried out. The warm blood almost seeped into his skin as he wept in horrid desperation. As Ballour sobbed pitifully a loud wrap upon the door awakened his senses and he looked up, suddenly seeing himself upon the floor, the blood gone and the ghost of his wife faded back into particles of dust once more.

“My lord! My lord are you okay?” a male voice cried out. Suddenly the heavy wooden door flew open and a guard entered, his young face aggrieved and surprised as he found the High King upon his knees, crying. Ballour looked up at Caer, his young guard and felt the invisible cloak of vulnerability fall from his body.

“My son,” Ballour said faintly as he allowed the guard to bring him to his feet. “Take me to my son.”

“But my lord, the high council is gathering,” Caer said quickly as he helped his King to move away from the centre of the room, hobbling over to the door.

“I need to see my son first!” Ballour cried out angrily.

“As you wish my lord,” Caer said under his breathe.

*

He looked so peaceful as he lay upon a large bed of furs, his golden locks, gently brushed away from his youthful face, which it seemed in death became him. Ballour stood pensively within the corner of his son’s, large and airy room and watched him, unmoving and his chest barely rising and falling beneath his golden robes. Candles illuminated the dark room and two guards stood beside the doorway, dressed in their armour, both with their fine swords unsheathed and ready for any intruders. As he observed Galean, a young girl entered with new stripes of cloth and warm water in a wooden bowl. Without a word, her feet so light she barely made a noise, the young maid set them down and curtseyed quickly to Ballour before leaving the room. When the room once again fell into silence, Ballour made his way over to his son and sat down upon the edge of his bed, taking the clean stripes of cloth from the table and setting them across his knee. When ready, he rolled a cloth into a soft ball and dipped it into the luke warm water before attending to his sons face. He was in his mother’s likeness, and each time Ballour gazed upon him, the words of his deceased wife hit him like a ball of fire. She had been right in thinking that Ballour had given his eldest son too much freedom. He should have returned from his missions with Gabriel a long time ago and took up his responsibilities sooner. But Ballour understood the grief a man felt when his wife and family had been cruelly taken from him and he understood the reasons as to why his son could not return to Meer. Off course he had never favoured Galean over Beon or Loaki, they just seemed to have more in common with one another. Galean understood his complicated mind set and so very few did that Ballour found comfort in his relationship with him.

He would be a great king and Ballour had known this from a young age. Galean understood the job at hand, and was willing to make sacrifices in order to ensure the peace of Meer continued, so much so that he had calmly accepted the marriage contract between himself and Lady Murtha of House Tavan. She was much younger than he and most of the court knew that she and Loaki were closer than friends, but uttered not one word, because they had known the importance of such an alliance. The House Tavan was one of the oldest in Fiar and its Lord- Galtha controlled a vast amount of coastal land and with it came a great army and fleet of ships. But aside from the logistical advantages to such an alliance, both Ballour and Lord Galtha had been firm friends and had grown up with one another as children. They trusted each other and so the alliance between their houses had been inevitable and useful. Lord Galtha commanded a great fleet of ships to the north and Ballour knew that if a naval battle were to erupt that Lord Galtha’s fleet of ships would be desperately needed. Lady Murtha was graceful, timid and beautiful to behold, and in Ballour’s opinion, would make Galean a great wife, being greatly loved by the court and the subjects of Meer. They would bare beautiful children, whose blood would be royal and pure; and together they would make a powerful couple when Galean succeeded his father in the near future. It was unfortunate that the Lady Murtha and Loaki had fallen in love with one another, both being the same age. They had grown up together in the court alongside Lady Sebeen of House Drae to the north. Lady Sebeen was contracted to marry Loaki upon her name day which was now drawing close. The intimate friendship of Lady Murtha and Loaki had not gone unnoticed, but it was time, Ballour asserted that his son marry Lady Sebeen and produce a family. He had to under legal obligation, honour his side of the contract, especially now that Lady Sebeen’s brother, the Lord Commander of Meer, Lord Ada had become the new Lord of House Drae. House Drae was the wealthiest in the kingdom, it being bountiful in both natural resources and merchant trading. Each year, alongside House Dulthe to the north east, the lands of Drae produced the highest levels of trading and taxes; money that Ballour greatly depended on.

He was not without sympathy for his sons, Ballour realised with a thud of his heart as he dried Galean’s forehead with a warm cloth. He knew that the marriage contracts had created an irrevocable drift between himself and his sons. Galean understood his father’s reasons and had had the freedom to marry and have a family outside of Meer, but his youngest, Loaki had been repulsed by his father and for that reason had stayed away from court life, spending his time among his own kingdom and people and carving out a prestigious life for himself. It was true that although Galean was in his mother’s physical likeness, he was his father’s son. But in the case of Beon and Loaki, they both were in their father’s physical likeness, but shared nothing of his character and traits, both alike their mother. Beon had always seemed light and airy as a child; he loved his brothers and was known amongst the court as the lively child, who made friends easily and charmed even his most adverse of opponents. But as he grew into adulthood, the symptoms of his uncle’s madness began to show, especially when he hit the age of nineteen moons. His behaviour, seldom without anger had changed greatly and Beon the once sunny child of Meer had altered into a man his father and mother could not identify with. He became erratic and obsessive, becoming obsessed by warfare and military history and for a man once loyal to the ladies of the court, became obsessed with the female flesh. It had over time become harder to control Beon and his moods, and it was not until he had met his betrothed that he had for some time softened and gentled. He had fallen in love with Lady Turtha and with that love his behaviour calmed and he made a family life with his new bride in the eastern city of Gaul. Even then, Ballour had not suspected the betrayal of Lord Morc, his nefarious daughter nor the manipulative witch, Ethla. But it had seemed that in all the time he had assumed his son was living a happier existence away from the court, he had been placed under a dark spell and his behaviour had once more become erratic and unpredictable. Ballour had a few moon years ago, invited his son and wife to attend the festivities of summer, having no idea that the Lady Turtha had been ordered by her father to lace the kings drink in order to poison him. She had been at the time, heavily pregnant with their first child and it was for that reason alone that Ballour spared her life when finding out his wine had been laced with poison. Both Lady Turtha and Beon had been banned from returning to court and so the cracks of division had been set in place, much to the delight of Lord Morc. It was not however until the terrible plague that had spread through all the Kingdoms of Meer that Beon had decided to throw down the gauntlet and declare war on his father and brothers. Lady Turtha had with great misfortune contracted the plague and died, but a few weeks before her due date, an unseen error in Lord Morc’s plan, but not an entirely disadvantageous one, for he had no real care for his daughter, unlike his intimate relationship with Ethla.

His ever nauseated stomach lurched as his son moved a little, his eyes moving under their heavy lids.

“Galean?” Ballour whispered quietly, leaning down close to his face and stroking his cold cheeks lightly with his shaking hands. Galean lay still once more under his father’s intense gaze. As he felt a pain in his neck from the severity of the angle he was leaning at, Ballour noticed a small light beam into life, under his son’s clothes. It was a light he had seen before when married to his wife and it had been a light that had been beaming ever so slightly in the last few weeks. Ballour knew not the woman with whom Galean had given the second necklace too, but he for a brief moment felt a slight problem arise. Whoever this woman was, she had no place in Galean’s life; he was betrothed to another and neither he nor Galean could compromise the situation any further. Ballour prayed that the woman would stay away from the court least he should have to rid her from the court himself. Did he feel bad for his treatment of Galean and his heart? Yes, but he knew that Galean would understand his reasons. With another long sigh, Ballour pushed himself away from his son and brought himself to his feet, the high council couldn’t wait any longer for his presence and God knows the hours he and his closest advisors would spend deliberating the future of Meer, without Galean.

Closing the door of Galean’s room behind him, Ballour made his way through the narrow corridors of the great palace of Meer, which was situated upon the island of Meerin, which lay dead centre in between all three Kingdoms of Meer, surrounded by a great and vast lake, which acted as a buffer zone, shielding the royal court and the royal house from imposters. A cold gust travelled through the corridors as he finally made his way to the great hall, which was filled with members of the royal court. A royal guard blew on his horn as the High King entered the large hall and suddenly the members of court turned to face him and bowed almost simultaneously in his direction. Unable to bring a smile to his lips, Ballor strode through the crowds and made for the door in which led to the great chamber hall. He could feel the eyes of the crowd upon him and felt an uncomfortable shiver run through his body. He knew that spies and those who would see his power derailed stood within the crowd and for the first time in his reign, felt the strain of such a threat. He stopped and turned, seeing the surprise in the faces of his courtiers and simply bowed his head before turning and entering the chamber.

A great round table made up most of the space in the centuries old chamber and surrounding the table sat the members of the high council, each sipping on goblets of laman and making conversations amongst one another. As he entered the hurried whispers stopped and the room became silent. The walls around the room where laden with the great royal flags of the north and a few heads of the rare and prized cull. Upon the floor was a great fur rug and to the east, three great round windows let in the last of the summers light. With his eyes lowered, Ballour made for his seat and sat down, a servant filling his goblet with warm laman. After a quick sip and a hastened observation of his council members, Ballour looked down at the dozen or so rolls of parchment which lay organised upon the wooden table, covered in a fine red cloth.

“I am glad that you are all present this day, this meeting commencing at such short notice,” Ballour began, lifting his grey eyes and settling his long hands upon the rolls of parchment. “We have much business in which to discuss and sort, so I hope that you have no other obligations that would see this meeting cut short?” After a moments quiet, Ballour smiled. “Good. Lord Ada maybe you could begin?”

“My Lord,” Lord Ada, the young Lord of House Drae bowed his dark head and opened a large roll of parchment in his young hands. He was a smart, astute and much respected Lord, and best friend of Galean. Ballour had always been fondly attached to the young Ada since infancy and was relieved and assured in his presence. “I think we should begin with the border raids across Fiar River and Dulthe. Many accounts speak of black soldiers from Gaul city, burning down villages and executing young soldiers of Meer in a way which is to locals known as black hanging.”

“Black hanging?” Lord Adan, the master of law and of the House Dulthe asked aloud. Ballour looked across at the elderly man, his hair as white as snow and his heavy eyebrows as white. His grey blue eyes directed their gaze at Ballour, confused and pensive.

“In the ancient days of our ancestors it was known as dir hanloth,” Cain, the High Kings spymaster answered Lord Adan, his face disgusted and dark. “It was an old torture technique whereby they hang the victim upside down and pour hot tar over their body.”

“That’s barbaric!” Lord Adan said with a pale face, the blood draining from his thin skin and ageing veins.

“It seems the days we find ourselves facing are indeed that,” Lord Ada interceded with a heavy sigh and slow shake of his head.

“How many victims have there been so far?” Lord Tiran, the Kings personal advisor of House River enquired, sitting back in his chair, his right hand kneading at his neck as though he were deep in thought.

“It’s hard to say, but we think around seventy to a hundred across the border of Fiar and around a dozen down in the low lands of Culthe,” Cain replied, his dark green eyes upon Lord Ada, an unspoken conversation lingering between them. “We will need to deploy heavier groups of soldiers along the river Fiar and border of Dulthe. We should not only be accounting for the raids but also should take into serious consideration the deployment of spies among these villages and towns. My own men suspect that at least a dozen or so of Beon’s spies have crossed the border and settled in Gul and Fiar city.”

“There are also rumours that Beon is building a fleet of ships in Balgor,” Lord Ada added as he scribbled down notes, black ink spoiling his fingers. “If this is correct then we may assume that he intends to either send them west to Summe upon Ethla’s orders or that he intends to sail them down the river Eerie to deploy them upon the western shoreline of Lake Meerethe; thus presenting to us a problem. If his fleet are heavy in numbers then they may attack us here on Meerin island by sailing east via the river Eerie.”

“I have already dispatched a dozen ships along the west coast of Gul city, down to Filgul town, to keep an eye on any naval action at Balgor and to act as a buffer, denying them access north,” came a calm voice. The council turned their gazes to the door, wherein a young, handsome man with fair hair, grey eyes and fair skin entered, robed in a fine green gown, his hair adorned with a small crown of copper leaves.

“Prince Loaki,” Lord Ada said as he came to his feet, to welcome his old friend, bowing first before walking over to him and engulfing him in a hug.

“My lord,” Loaki returned with a small smile as they separated from one another. “Forgive my lateness father, I was with Galean.”

“You have not missed much,” Ballour said aloud as he stood up from his seat. Loaki came to his father and bowed before him. Instead of embracing warmly as he had with Lord Ada, Loaki simply eyed his father before taking a seat beside him on his left.

“I am happy to hear that you have deployed a fleet south to oversee the protection of the North West coastline,” Ballour said to his son with an agreeable smile, seeing the distance in his sons eyes as they met. “My Lord Ada, I would see to it as well that the fleets now harbouring at Filgal harbour should be sent south of Meerethe Lake to protect the south west of the island. It would be advantageous if you could have four docked at Eerie harbour as well, denying any galgorian fleet entry.”

“I shall see to immediately my Lord,” Lord Ada returned, scribbling down the orders precariously with haste.

“Lord Tiran, I would have you send a message to Lord Ibar of Dulthe, to have a group of soldiers sent south to patrol the border of Galgor,” Ballour instructed with a firm voice. “Have him also create a defensive wall, in case my Lord Beon and his allies should strike from the south and make for the city of Dulthe. And maybe if possible he could have the men of the villages armed and ready for any attack.”

“My Lord Ibar is not currently residing in Dulthe at present my lord,” Lord Adan said with raised brows. “He is east in the city of Ballor, attending to the revolt.”

“Then have Lord Earc see to it,” Ballour said with a frown. “What news of Ballor, Lord Ada?”

“Lord Allan of Ballor has sent word that lord Lier and the black guards have taken control of the port and lower circle of the city my Lord,” Lord Ada said as he swept a heavy lock away from his eyes. “Seeing as though all trade flows through the harbour, it would seem that Lord Lier intends on starving the citizens of the city whilst deploying his guards about the outer walls, thus cutting them off from outside help.”

“Lord Lier cannot take the city of Ballor, it brings all trade to the kingdom of Dulthe and is depended upon for monetary needs!” Ballour said sourly. “My Lord Adan why have you not dispatched your soldiers to the city?”

“We cannot dispatch soldiers without the consent of our Prince, my Lord,” Lord Adan said with a wearisome look, his words rushed and laced with anxiety.

“My son is unable to govern Dulthe and so I am ordering you to deploy your best men to the city and have Lord Lier imprisoned and brought before the court of Dulthe and tried for treason,” Ballor said with a stern gaze. “And have any that have aided his revolt also tried for treason and punished accordingly. We cannot be seen to be wavering do you understand? Anyone seeking to take advantage of Galean’s absence must fear lifting a sword against his city and people.”

“I will dispatch a messenger at once my Lord,” Lord Ada said quickly as he wiped the beads of sweat from his brow.

“An example must be made, my people must feel safe and secure in these troubled times,” Ballour said, making a blatant point. “Law and Order must prevail.”

“They will my Lord,” Lord Adan answered roughly, taking a heavy sip from his goblet, the suspicious eyes of Loaki, Ada and Cain upon him.

“Are there any other matters of national security at hand?” Ballour asked his council.

“None that cannot be dealt with outside of the chamber my Lord,” Lord Tiran replied.

“Then we must discuss matters of personal interest,” Ballour replied, moving his body slightly in his seat, his legs and feet becoming numb. “We must discuss the line of succession and the future marriage of my youngest, Loaki to the Lady Sebeen.” At his words, the room fell silent once more and he could feel the gaze of his son upon him.

“Off course if my Lord Galean should indeed not make it through,” Lord Ada said with caution and sensitivity. “My lord Loaki will be next in line to the throne, but to make this happen you must my lord make a legal will that denies my lord Beon from any claim to the throne.”

“My Lord Adan, can this be done?”

Lord Adan, the master of law looked into his Kings face and frowned.

“My lord under the legal framework of your Kingdom there are only two ways in which to forfeit my Lord Beon from a claim. Firstly a direct heir to the throne can only be forfeited from their right if they have committed treason and have been sentenced by a court of law to death and secondly an heir to throne can only be forfeited from their claim if they willingly without coercion ask to be forfeited,” Lord Adan declared, noticing the darkness that swept over his masters face. Ballour felt his hands clench into fists in response to Lord Adan.

“If my son dies before I can bring Beon before a court, you are saying that he will have the right to succeed Galean, should I die also?”

“Indeed my lord,” Lord Adan said with a bow of his head. “But only if you or my Lord Galean are here no longer.”

“And neither of those scenarios will happen father,” Loaki assured his father with a smile.

“The likelihood of my death or Galean’s is equal to the likelihood of our survival, which is not the point.”

“If in the case you both die, then my Lord Loaki can appeal his brother’s claim,” Lord Adan intervened quickly with a wave of his hand.

“There is one other option my Lord,” Lord Ada interceded softly, his eyes upon Loaki. The council members looked at him with furrowed brows. “We create an illusion.”

“An illusion?” Loaki asked with raised brows.

“If my Lord Galean was to die, then we must ensure news of his death does not become public; we must ensure that those of Meer believe him to be alive and in recovery,” Lord Ada said. Ballour looked to Loaki with confusion and observed Loaki’s response, a simple shrug.

“I do not understand,” Ballour enquired as he filled his goblet with laman.

“We must not allow our enemies to believe that the throne is in peril, if they believe Galean to be dead then they will march on Fiar and Dulthe with haste before we can react,” Lord Ada said and he wrapped his fingers tightly about his quill. “I know it sounds a little mad, but it is the image of the throne that must be secured. With the enemy believing Lord Galean, the heir to Meer and the dragon lord to be living then the threat of immediate battle will be put on hold, until we can come up with a battle plan to equal their own. Beon will not attack whilst believing Galean to be alive, not when he commands a dozen dragons, who would upon his order bring Galgor to its knees without an army or battle. If Galean dies, the fear of the Dulgar dragons will too die and the kingdoms of Fiar and Dulthe will be vulnerable and laid open to attack.”

“We must form a plan of battle soon so that we are not unprepared for the unknown,” Loaki said as he ran his slim fingers through his hair. “We must ready our armies and finalise our plans so that if Galean does perish and the threat of his dragons with him, we will be ready upon the borders.”

“I suggest that we along with the councils of Dulthe and Fiar meet in six weeks with all possible plans of defence at our disposal,” Ballour instructed his fellow council members.

“Where shall we meet my Lord?” Lord Tiran asked.

“Here off course,” Ballour replied bluntly as he sipped on his laman.

“I would suggest we meet elsewhere father,” Loaki said as he fiddled with his hands impatiently.

“Impossible, Galean is here,” Ballour argued under his breathe.

“We must meet in a place unknown to our enemies within the court,” Loaki said with an emotionless voice. “Galean can be put under protection whilst we are gone from court.”

“Are you mad?” Ballour hissed, moving his body towards Loaki. He could see in his son’s eyes a note of authority and felt surprise.

“We must not be predictive,” Loaki said with a severe gaze. “We must play our enemies at their game and if we are to succeed then we need to be cunning and unpredictable so as to catch them off guard.”

“But how?” Lord Ada enquired curiously, a slight smile upon his lips. It seemed to Ballour that the Lord commanded was impressed by his sons initiative, in fact if he were to admit to himself, he would find that he too was impressed if not surprised by Loaki’ good thinking.

“I suggest that we make for Tavan, and give the illusion that Galean is travelling to Tavan in order to marry the Lady Murtha as quickly as possible,” Loaki said, a slight squint of his eyes betraying to Ballour the pain this thought had caused him. “If the court believes him to be well and married, then the spies within the court will send word to Beon and thus the illusion is set. Obviously we will be attending to state matters at Tavan but with the cloak of illusion to cover our tracks.”

“And what happens to Galean?” Lord Tiran asked as he ponder the prince’s plan.

“We move him to Dulgar forest and the caves under the mountains, to be looked after by the Dulgar tribe, his most faithful servants,” Loaki answered brightly. “The seerer there will watch over him whilst we are in Tavan. You must admit father that there is no better cover than Dulgar Forest? With Nuyay to watch over his master.” Again the room fell quiet as the men pondered over the plans with unexpected optimism. Ballour watched the men as they sipped quietly on their laman and whispered amongst themselves. Finally after several minutes, they fell silent and Lord Ada rose from his chair.

“It is a risky plan, but I believe with the correct organisation and secrecy on our part it can be done. That said we must hurry in our plans and see that the question of succession is carefully dealt with. If for instance my Lord, King Ballour dies before my Lord Galean, we must put into effect an illusion that Galean has been crowned High King of the north, until we can as such arrest Lord Beon and try him before a court of law.”

“But an heir must be crowned before the royal court as is custom,” Lord Adan interjected quickly.

“In times of war there is no real surprise in an heir being crowned King in privacy,” Lord Ada returned, his hands clutched together behind his back as he addressed the council. “It will be tricky, that I do not doubt. But we can pull it off, if we first of all pledge oaths today, that all we have spoken off will not leave this room. If rumours of our plans have been breached then we can only assume that the person responsible is sitting amongst us.”

“There is still the hope that Galean will awaken soon,” Loaki added with a nod in Ada’s direction. “Our job is to ensure that the court and wider public believe him to be alive and well.” Still taken aback by his sons authoritive lead in the discussions, Ballour listened carefully to the council of his closest advisors and found hope in their plans.

“Are there any other issues anyone would like to address?” Lord Tiran asked after a few minutes debate. The members of the council shook their heads.

“There is the subject of my son’s marriage to your sister, Lord Ada,” Ballour announced, feeling the coolness of Loaki’s stare as he uttered the words. Lord Ada stared across at the silently seething Loaki before re addressing his King.

“My sister is not at court yet my Lord,” he replied in earnest.

“Then you must have her come as soon as possible, I believe it is her name day soon?” Ballour enquired, his fists uncurling as he took control of the conversation.

“It is my lord, in two weeks,” Lord Ada returned with a grateful smile.

“Then the time for the marriage of Loaki and Lady Sebeen has surely come?”

“So soon father?” Loaki whispered under his breathe, the guilt and mixed anger showing in his hardened gaze. Ballour refused to meet Loaki’s gaze of loathing.

“You have known that you shall marry Lady Sebeen upon her name day as has been planned since your birth,” Ballour replied coldly. “The next generation of heirs must be provided least this generation be killed.”

“But father, now is not the most appropriate of times,” Loaki argued hotly.

“There is never an appropriate time for you Loaki. It is time to face up to your duties if you are to rule in place of your brother,” Ballour said stiffly. The members of council shuffled about in their seats awkwardly as Ballour and Loaki feuded between themselves. Refusing to be out ruled on the matter, Ballour stood up from his seat. “You shall have Lady Sebeen come to court and you…” he turned his gaze from Lord Ada to Loaki. “Shall honour her by taking her hand in marriage and ensuring the longevity of the throne. My Lords, I believe this meeting is over. Lord Tiran have any forthcoming plans sent to me as soon as possible.” With a bow of his head, Ballour turned from the council and made his exit, the burning glare of his son, penetrating his clothes and body and sourcing out his soul. He knew he had caused irreconcilable damage to his relationship with Loaki, but there was in his eyes no other choice. Again he found himself before the bustling court and with a groan, strode through the large hall making for the great throne which sat to the far end. It was as custom, time for him to answer the queries of his court before he retired to his rooms for the afternoon. With a great sweep of his robes, he made for the great wooden throne and sat upon it, the hall now reshaping itself, so that a long queue of Lords lay before Ballour. Placing his hands upon the arms of the throne, Ballour caught the form of his son and watched him as he rushed through the court, with Lord Ada by his side, an arm of friendship about his shoulders. As though feeling his father’s gaze, Loaki stopped and turned to him and held his gaze a moment, his face immersed in anxious sadness. With a swift shake of his head, he turned, encouraged by Lord Ada and left the great hall.



© Iseult O'Shea and OneCrown&TwoThrones, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Iseult O'Shea and OneCrown&TwoThrones with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.