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The only pier within the inner city wall could only accommodate row-boats, hence the war crafts of Santurst had to be anchored about fifteen yards away from the banks. Even from that distance, the details of scratches, splinters and broken masts were visible to the onlookers from the shores, who pointed at each and every one as they tried to imagine the manner of battle those ships had fought. From where she stood on the parapets, Keldina craned her neck, and on seeing her aunt and uncle walking towards the pier, left her post without asking for leave from Willem. She scrambled down a wooden ladder and ran down a flight of stone steps. The King and Queen of Netherweld stood at the pier to welcome their rescuers in the royal purple robe and dress reserved only for the most official occasions. The red flag of Santurst was raised next to Netherweld's blue, and instantly, red soldiers cascaded into row-boats that lined the side of the ships. They took off their helmets and tucked them under their right arms showing that though they had come for war, they now approached Netherweld as friends. In the first boat, stood three large warriors of proud bearing and steady legs. Keldina stared wide-eyed at the front most person and thought him strange. Then she gazed upon the gold crown on the warrior’s white head, which seemed like a thick rope twisted into a circlet. In the centre of it was a large red ruby that glimmered like a third eye. She recalled her lessons about Santurst and remembered that a king of that land wore no jewel in his crown, only the queen did. The row-boat bumped against the pier and Swayne stepped out unassisted. Her white hair shone, accentuating the gold of her crown, and all who fell under her piercing grey eyes could only wish to do one thing, please her. And she was a woman who deserved that worhip, for she had proven herself before friend and foe many times over. Two men took their place by her side - her son, Makil, to her right and General Kordin to her left. More row-boats moored next to the first. More soldiers wearing plain bronze breastplates decorated with battle marks stepped onto the pier, and among them the people saw that one man had a black palm print on his left breastplate. Posadom called out his greeting, “Welcome Queen Swayne.” Sporadic gasps rose from the crowd. “You have come at a time when we are unable to show you the honour customarily bestowed on a visiting monarch of your renowned. We hope that you will tolerate our rudeness.” The tan weathered face smiled back at him, “Begone with your formal manners Posadom. I swear that they will chase me off faster than the armies of Merlk.” A youngster giggled, Swayne turned her eyes towards her and the archer blushed. Tilmon spoke up, “Forgive my niece. She is young and not yet wise in the presence of guests.” Makil laughed and said aloud, “If a princess should serve as an archer, then Netherweld is not as soft-bellied as we believe.” Swayne turned to give her son a withering look - he shrugged. The suffering of her people had made Swayne harsh in fighting her enemies and all her waking moments were spent with strategist and counselors of war. Now she regretted that she had not put aside time to educate Makil on basic good manners. Swayne spoke, “This is my son Makil, maybe you still remember him, Posadom?” Then she turned to Tilmon and said, “You need not be embarrassed of your children’s behavior, else I will die from shame with mine.” Keldina peeked under her eye lashes at Makil, and decided that he looked more gallant and handsome from a great distance. She certainly did not smell him from the parapets. Makil was curious about her. He wiped one side of his ash covered bronze helmet to study her reflection. It was a trick he learned from Kordin, although the lesson was not meant for studying interesting women. The two monarchs exchanged greetings as Swayne had become queen before Santurst was ravaged by invaders and she still remembered her courtly manners from the days when court was still held in her country. Makil exhaled noisily when they started moving since the mud he had gathered from the river in the crevices of his armour made him itch in the most uncomfortable places, and his mother had warned him not to scratch them. His mother and the king walked ahead, followed by Tilmon and Kordin. As he passed Keldina, the young prince stared boldly at her, which apparently made the princess of Kalimy turn up her nose and walk away. Makil was surprised, for in Santurst young women gapped at him in open admiration. When they passed the pier's open yard that was now lined with the army garrison's temporary barracks, Charles knelt in front of the king's path to his right. Posadom spoke, “What is it Charles, is anything amiss?” “Your majesty, I request that you give me the honour of seeing to the welfare of the brave ones from Santurst who fought alongside us this morning.” Posadom agreed with his good judgment and he also felt that the young prince for one was a great soldier, but his current state might lessen some of the honour he should receive in the eyes of the people. Charles had just offered him a solution to right the wrong. “Very well then, I place them in your hands.” Then he turned to Swayne, “I hope, Swayne, you would allow your son to join them, for he must be tired and would prefer rest to ceremony.” Swayne smiled down at Charles. “The king is right and the officer wise.” The soldiers took leave of their queen and gratefully followed Charles. Gill recognized him and, though he was a senior officer, he went with them, for he also wanted to keep an eye on his prince. Keldina dashed back to the wall, much to the chagrin of her officer. Willem had almost wanted to joint the foot infantry when he heard who Casperlane had put under his charge. When he saw her ran down to the pier, he had hoped against hope that she would return to the palace with the royal entourage. Yet now she had returned, and like all the others on the parapet, gazed in wonder upon the warrior queen. A bulky carriage drew up in front of the monarchs, and as they boarded it loud cheers erupted from the crowd, and the cheers followed them throughout the ride. The moment the carriage pulled away, Keldina turned her attention to the red soldiers making their way into the barracks. From where she stood, she could see right into a courtyard that had two common bath houses for the army - one for the men and another for the women. Willem followed her gaze. “They are a fascinating crowd are they not? I never realized that I would one day see men and women from legends of old sprung to life here in Sillander.” Curiosity burned inside Keldina, but the memory of that dirty and bold soldier was still too fresh. “They are a little uncouth though and not well mannered in their speech.” He said, “We cannot begrudge them that your highness. Life is hard in Santurst, at least from what I hear. Charles should know. He and some from his garrison served under General Kordin once.” “General Kordin, was that not the man who walked next to my aunt?” “Oh yes, that is the man. A great strategist. He had trained many and he had trained them willingly. Still it is rumoured that he once said there is now a better strategist in Santurst, the young Prince Makil, although most of our own people thought his highness ideas carry too much youthful recklessness.” Keldina longed to ask more about the prince, but she suddenly felt shy for no apparent reason. Her officer left her alone and went back to look over the parapets. All was quiet but Willem ordered a few experienced archers to set the watch. The sight of clean warm water in the bath house surprised the visiting soldiers. In the centre of the spacious building was a single row of four large wooden troughs. Hand-held ladles and fist-sized smooth river stones for scrubbing lay by the side. And just inside the doorway were large baskets of aromatic leaves that they could use to rub dry with. No windows lined the walls and ventilation was provided via a one foot wide airway under the roof. Makil was quiet and thoughtful as he cleaned himself, and it was so unusual that a few of his soldiers checked him with their eyes to make sure he was not wounded. They found nothing amiss with him physically. Santurst’s fighters coming out from the bath houses left their cleaned armours to sun in a row by the side of the building. Even without their mails and breastplates, they appeared fearsome, for stripes of white scars stood out on tanned skins and burnt marks covered their torsos like scales. Young guards standing in the courtyard yelped when one man took off his right fist to sun next to his armour. Soldiers of Netherweld quailed when they beheld one of the women, whose frame was large, shoulder broad and limbs as hard as rocks, because there did not seem to be any part of her exposed skin that had not been scorched by fire. The sight of her and the thought of enemy soldiers within the city left their mouths dry, and terror as old as the world struck their hearts. Veteran Netherweld soldiers led the visiting crowd into the barrack's mess-hall, which was lined with rows of wooden tables heavy with food. Gill looked up from his conversation with Charles, appearing surprised at the subdued atmosphere. His eyes followed Makil to another table, and watched with a frown as he hunkered over his food, neither looking up nor talking. Gill turned to the others, hoping to find answers from them, but they only shrugged back a reply. In a hushed tone Charles asked Gill what was wrong. Gill whispered back, “The prince is not himself. Usually after a fight he would be most noisome and boisterous. Something is wrong. He does not seem hurt though.” Charles sat back and ran through the events of the morning in his head. The prince was noisome enough when they rowed him back to the ship. He seemed his usual self when they rowed him to the pier. A change must have come on him somewhere between the pier and the army barrack. Lets see now. Who was at the pier? There was the king and queen, Lord Casperlane who remained behind to oversee them, then there were other officers and his father. Then there was that archer that did not seem to need to ask for leave from anyone. Why of course that must be Princess Keldina, the spoilt over indulged little..., his wandering mind stopped. Providence help us, that’s not possible. They were both as different as night and day. Surely this wholesome prince was not attracted to her. He looked up and came eye-to-eye with Gill's squint. Gill asked, “You know what may be afoot?” Charles said, “I do not know whether my guess is correct or not. But there was an archer at the pier, was there not?” “Yes there was. We all almost fainted from embarrassment when Makil made his comment about her.” Gill recounted all that happened at the pier to Charles, and as he reached the part of Makil openly staring at her, realization dawn. “What did she do then?” Charles asked. “She turned her nose up at him. He did not smell like roses I guess.” Gill patted Charles on the back and laughed. But the younger officer continued, “Do not be happy for his sake yet. Princess Keldina is no normal woman. She is reckless and spoilt. Her misadventures in this city alone would make anyone cringe.” Charles recounted about how Keldina gallivanted in the city as a boy when she first came to Sillander. Then about how she tried to register with a battalion meant to go to the borders of Santurst a year back. And also her most recent adventure with Merlana, which almost got them killed. Gill thought it strange that Charles would consider her character flawed for being a spirited youngster. Well, if the suspicion proved true then he would have a word with his queen that night. Casperlane looked out the window of the army barrack’s council room. The simple space only had a wooden table and ten wooden chairs, upon one of which he had slung his blue army jacket. For the past few days that place had been filled to capacity with battalion commanders and officers, but right now he was alone. A map of the city lay open on the table, with a draft of the underground tunnels to one side. A knock intruded into his thoughts. He called out and Merlana entered. Casperlane asked, “Yes, child what is it?” Merlana smiled. She had news to give him and she knew he would not be pleased with her initiative. She walked over to the map. “I was out in the city last night. I followed Charles battalion from behind as they sneaked out through the tunnels.” Casperlane turned red, “Who gave you the order to go?” “No one gave the order because you have ordered them to keep me within the inner walls. I am no child my lord, and I will not allow myself to be locked in here when I know I can be of service to my king.” Casperlane raised his voice, “Do you think this a game? Will you never learn?” Merlana’s tone answered in kind, “I have lost much even before this war began, while it was still in the making. I will not sit idly by and loose more. Will you learn and listen to what I have to say or not.” A soldier came into the room on hearing the angry voices, but stopped at the door to stare in wonder at the two livid faces, so alike yet so different. Pain pierced through Casperlane’s chest and he took a deep breath. He signaled the guard to leave them alone with a flick of his wrist. “Very well then.” He said in a ragged voice, as he sat on the nearest chair. “I will listen to what you have to say. But next time, give me some forewarning.” Merlana's brow furrowed as she studied the ashen face. Then she pulled a chair in front of him, took her seat and said, “I remembered hearing that Prince Palmeon is housed in the Kwanbie Mansion. I thought of making my way there to see if there was anything interesting going on.” “How did you pass the main army?” “It was dark and I am used to moving without a sound. It is a hunting skill.” Casperlane nodded and she continued, “Their army seemed dispirited. I do not recognize the language they spoke, but there were fights and quarrels amongst themselves. They must also be hungry, some of the fights were over food.” “Yes, that should be expected. All the citizens were ordered to bring with them every bite of food in their homes. Nothing, not even a mouldy piece of bread was to be left behind. The countryside was burned and all livestock moved to the river banks within the inner city wall. The king suspected that their supply would be short, since they marched from either Bordeen or Bordell and there is only so much food a soldier can carry on his back. The march here could have taken ten days, but it might be longer considering that they had to move with stealth. Maybe they had hoped that their ships would bring fresh supply, but those were intercepted by Swayne and her fleet. They should be in desperate straits now.” Merlana paused as though weighing what she was about to say. “There may be another reason for their desperation, especially their officers’.” She continued, “I managed to sneak all the way into the mansion’s compound. There was a black carriage and it bore the royal crest of Merlk.” Casperlane almost jumped from his seat, “Are you sure of this?” “Aye, I recognize the crest. My home in Dew Valley carried books on other nations and their customs. How can one fail to recognize that which is so hateful to her? I crept into the mansion to make sure.” This time he stood up leaned with his fists against the table. “You did what, are you mad. Do you realize what they could have done to you?” Merlana said, “I am back safe and sound my lord. Are you not interested to hear what transpired?” Casperlane grudgingly sat down again. His heavy breathing filled the room and he averted his eye from the young woman’s anxious face. Merlana recalled walking down a dark corridor. Only a few rooms in the mansion were lit. She searched for the study, hoping to find papers showing the enemy’s plan. The vacant spacious room she discovered had windows covered in heavy burgundy drapes and a thick tan rug lay in the middle of the floor. She closed the door quietly. In front of one curtained window stood a large table backed by a velvet covered chair. Two smaller versions of the same chair faced the table. Shelves carrying leather bound books lined two sides of the wall. The door handle rattled, Merlana slipped behind a thick tapestry and pushed her thin frame all the way into a space between the mouldings of the wall. A guard searched the room for intruders. He lifted the tapestry a little and almost yet did not see Merlana. She released a shallow sigh of relief. The guard left and more footsteps came into the room before the door slammed shut. “Well Palmeon, what do you say of yourself now? You have failed our alliance.” “Your majesty, I did almost manage to change his mind.” “Really? I cannot comprehend why a king will surrender his crown for a used up fat woman. She had borne him two sons, what other use would he have for her.” “Posadom loves his wife. She is very precious to him.” “Love, love you say. It makes one weak. It is an emotion that weaklings used to explain their irrational and foolish behavior. Such as yourself, why did you not send an assassin to slay your brother? It would have saved us much trouble.” “An assassination would have created turmoil. I planned to get the crown from him peacefully.” “Turmoil? For who? Are you afraid, Palmeon? Fear, I should have expected that from the bastard son of a palace maid.” “That is a lie.” “A lie, is it? Well, when we get to the palace I will show you that letter and prove to you that you are no more than a commoner. You should be thankful to me for even considering someone of your lineage to marry my Juila. Although I must admit, my daughter will be disappointed. But we do not need to tell her of this, now do we?” By then Merlana had guessed that only two men were in the study - Prince Palmeon and King Raul of Merlk. Raul spoke again and the arrogance in his voice penetrated the tapestry. “I offer you now a great gift. The crown of Netherweld. All you need to do is grab it. And I assure you that this secret will remain between us. As for the old notary who your father trusted, well, I will let you be the one to cut his throat.” Then he laughed. A chair scrapped the floor and a pair of footsteps moved towards the door. The handle rattled and banged against the wall. A moment later Merlana heard a new voice. “Your highness, the council convenes in the secret hall.” “Brocod, how many of our people do we still have in the palace?” A thoughtful silence later, “How many do we have to kill a king?” “Enough to do the work, this one never fails me.” A chair thudded on the carpet and heavy soled boots walked out the room. After waiting for as long as she could bear in the issuing silence, Merlana slipped out from her hiding place. Palmeon was being pushed to assassinate the king, she must bring the message back as fast as she could. She crawled out the window behind the desk. None of the sentries noticed the tall shadow moving past their posts. Casperlane stared at her in disbelief. “All those years. If the notary was aware of this, then the old king must also have known about it. But why were we not told?” Merlana asked, “Why should the old king have told anyone? Prince Palmeon must had come into his care as a babe, has a child no right to be loved by him?” Casperlane shook his head, “No, no. That is not what I meant. I was a page attached to the royal family when I was young. King Posadom’s mother died in labour. Palmeon was the babe she bore. How is it possible? I saw the new-born babe with my own eyes and almost everyday after that. I would have noticed if somebody had changed the baby.” “Maybe the notary would know about it, though I wonder how you would find him, seeing that there are so many notaries in this city.” “You heard him mention an old notary. There is one old notary in the palace. He retired more than ten years ago. He was a close companion to the old king.” “He must be the one then.” Merlana said. Casperlane called out to the guards outside. One came in to get his instructions, “Bring me a carriage. Merlana and myself are going to the palace.” The guard bowed out to do his task. The security captain picked up his jacket and put it on then they walked out of the room and into a small carriage waiting for them in the courtyard. The coachman drove at a fast pace to the palace. On seeing the familiar vehicle loom into view, the royal guards opened the gates without stopping it. The carriage only slowed when it reached the front steps of the palace. A guard ran down the stairs but Casperlane opened the door himself and stepped out with Merlana. The guard bowed and ran ahead of them to the throne room. Posadom was in his high seat, and Swayne sat next to him. The king asked, “What is it Casperlane?” “I have need of your majesty’s permission to speak with the old notary.” “The old notary?” Posadom had expected many requests but not this one. Casperlane answered, “Yes, your majesty. It may help us understand some things.” Posadom noticed his hesitation. “Speak my friend. If it concerns this war, then surely everyone here has a right to hear of the matter.” “I would prefer to speak in private with your majesty for it concerns the State more than the war.” Swayne, wise in things other than war said, “Go with him Posadom. Maybe it will help you learn how Raul managed to use your brother as his pawn.” Casperlane bowed to Swayne, amazed at her insight. Posadom vacated his seat and the security captain turned to walk down the hall with his king. On exiting the palace, they crossed a simple stone courtyard and made straight for the high officers’ quarters. They climbed a narrow staircase then the king turned into a wide bare corridor and strode down it purposefully. His majesty stopped in front of a heavy door and knocked. A maid opened it and instantly dropped into a curtsy on seeing him. He pushed the door wider and stepped in, “Where is the old one?” “He is in the study my lord... I... I... mean, your majesty.” “Take me to him.” She scurried in front of him and flung her master’s door open. A very old man looked up in surprise from the low comfortable sofa he was sitting on, “I must have dozed off again Prina, I did not hear you knock.” Light coming in from wide windows revealed a very ancient man. One eyelid covered his right eye, but Merlana could see that he had a golden left eye. All sense of urgency left her, for time always stood still in the presence of the very old. Posadom towered over the old notary, who looked up and squinted, “Your majesty? But they told me you were dead. You look well.” The smile on the old man’s face was so welcoming, it touched Posadom’s heart. Yes, many had told him that he looked like his father. The king knelt on the blue carpet in front of the old man and took his withered hand. “I am not my father, Posadym. I am Posadom. You look well too Stewan.” Stewan smiled with the sincerity of a child, “What service would his majesty wish from this old body? I would give it as best as I could.” The king asked, “My father gave you a secret concerning my brother did he not?” The old man’s face turned serious and he pulled his hand back into his lap. “I may be old your majesty, but not so old that I forgot my pledge to your father. The secret is only to be revealed if you have no heir.” Casperlane spoke up, “What happens after you are gone? The secret may be lost forever.” “There is no fear of that.” The old man looked up at the new voice, his memory trying to recall who that fellow was. “The document will be passed on to the next royal notary after I am gone. And he will be sworn to make the same pledge.” Merlana spoke up, “But Prince Palmeon is now trying to grab the throne from his majesty. He has started a war in Sillander.” The retired notary, looked surprised, then understanding dawned on his face. “Why yes, that may explained all the noise I heard. I thought it strange when I heard canons last night, or was it this morning. Did I hear it? I may have misheard. It is such a bother to be old.” Casperlane cleared his throat impatiently. The old notary came out of his reverie, “Ah yes, your father’s instruction.” Stewan tried to get up from his seat, and the maid scampered to his side and put his arm around her shoulders. “Ah, thank you Prina. Now if you would be so kind as to lean me next to that book shelf.” Posadom took his other shoulder and helped the maid. Stewan tugged at a thin book and put it down on a lower shelf, then he pulled out another. He tried a third book but was having trouble with it. Posadom helped him, and five thick volumes swung out as one, while the sixth volume acted as a hinge. The retired notary reached his hand inside and pulled out a rolled parchment. Stewan said, “This is the last and final document to be passed down to my successor. Its existence would only be made known to him after I am dead, through a sealed envelope which I keep in the House of Law.” The king took the document from him as Prina led her master back to his comfortable favourite chair. Posadom opened the parchment and saw that is was filled with his father’s heavy script. Casperlane as usual stood behind his king to read over his shoulders. This is a document by Posadym on the twelfth year of his reign, the eight year of the birth of Palmeon, the second prince. Henceforth all notaries who come into possession of this document shall take an oath to obey the instructions recorded in here from the Twenty First King of Netherweld. The midwife, who had been at the queen’s side before her death and at the birth of our second child, had confessed at her own death-bed that this child was stillborn. In the palace at that time was a maid who was also in the throes of labour. The midwife admitted to exchanging the two babes, for she believed that if she could produce a living healthy baby boy for myself then the death of my queen would not be laid too heavily on her shoulders. This then is the duty for all who come into possession of my records. That if Posadom, the crown prince, should have no heir, the people are to elect a new king from a different noble bloodline. And if Palmeon or his seed should lay claim on the throne, then this matter will be explained to him in private. If he or his heir will not release the claim, then this document shall be made public. However, if no such claim is put forth, then Palmeon shall remain my son in the public eye, for his presence had assuaged my grief when it was at its worst and I love him as my own flesh and blood. The document was signed by King Posadym and witnessed by Stewan and Hubert, the Royal Law Implementer who had died of old age three years before. Posadom closed his eyes as a tide of emotion slammed into him - betrayal, anger, remorse, grief for his father and finally sadness for Palmeon. His father had never breathed a single word to him, and now finally Posadom understood why Palmeon had never been allowed to be part of formal royal ceremonies. The bitterness must have eaten into his being. The king lowered himself onto an empty chair. Casperlane spoke up, “So this is the bait that Raul has on Palmeon. How could something like this have happened under my very nose? A changeling in place of the stillborn royal babe.” Merlana said, “Well then my lord, the safety of the king is uppermost. Prince Palmeon called for Brocod. Is that not the man who sent the three carpenters to see Dipa?” The king’s voice was hard as he said, “Set extra guards on my family. He will not be given another chance.” The security captain nodded to Merlana; he would see to matters. The king said his farewell to Stewan and promised to return for another visit. That night, the old man slept and never woke up again.
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