The Eagle’s Flight - Chapter 244: A Council of Kings

A diminished army marched into Middanhal. Some troops had been left to man the Langstan, others in Vidrevi, Herbergja, or Ealond; only about ten thousand returned. Regardless, their entry proved a triumph. The entire city lined up along the Arnsweg to watch the victorious soldiers return from ending another war. The citizens from high to low cried out in jubilation, holding nothing back. Civil war, foreign invasion, siege – all threats had been defeated.

At the head of the column rode the king, who seemed relieved as well; his countenance was no longer dour, and he found occasion to smile. By his side rode the princess of Alcázar, whose union with the king would ensure lasting peace with the South Cities. The details had been lost to rumours, but all knew that she had saved Herbergja through sacrifice, even if none could agree how. Regardless, the drakonians bid her welcome as a mirror of the affection they witnessed their king show her.

Even as the troops passed by on their march to the Citadel, the excitement did not end. The return of the army would only be the beginning of festivities. No less than a threefold celebration lay ahead. Soon, the city would mark the end of war, the coronation of the high king, and a royal wedding. With this knowledge, the citizens of Middanhal flooded the streets, giving in to unbridled exuberance.

~~~~

Every tavern in Lowtown was crowded on this eve, but none so more than where the king’s companions gathered. The rooms were so packed, trouble seemed brewing constantly; thankfully, the aforementioned and well-armed companions knew how to keep the peace. Many came simply to gawk at the warriors, who came from across the Seven Realms. Highlanders and heathmen mingled with drakonians and others.

“Haki!” shouted Geberic, waving an islander towards their table. Pushing through the packed room, the housecarl made his way to him. “Did you come alone?”

Haki stepped aside to reveal the stocky Glaukos behind him, who had followed in his footsteps. “This is your mead hall?” The islander cast a doubtful glance around the room.

“One of the lads is married to the owner’s daughter,” Geberic explained, “so we drink at half price, hah!” He emptied his tankard. “You didn’t bring Alaric?”

Glaukos fell into a chair. “Busy at the castle.”

“His loss.” Geberic turned towards Haki, who had also taken a seat. “What’s your queen think of our city? Quite a sight compared to Dvaros, isn’t it?”

“Too many mountains, not enough sea,” the islander replied flatly. “We’ll be glad once the coronation is done and we can go home.”

Ellen appeared, deftly placing full mugs of ale on the table before disappearing. “You’re a treasure and too good for Nicholas!” Geberic shouted after her.

Leaning back, Glaukos grabbed his drink. “Two, three years ago, I worked as a guard in a tavern like this. Now I am the king’s champion.”

“What’s your point?” asked Geberic.

“No matter how my fortunes change, I am stuck with the same company.”

Haki raised his tankard. “I’ll drink to that!”

~~~~

Over the next days, the remaining kings and queens of Adalmearc arrived at Middanhal for the coronation. A banquet was held to bid them welcome; the Citadel had not hosted so many guests of prominence since the ascension of the last high king many decades prior. All the banners of the Seven Realms hung on the walls, with a table for each ruler and their attendants. The servants could barely move through the hall given the number of kingthanes, Queen’s Blades, housecarls, gallóglaigh, and other guards present.

At the high table, the king sat where expected. To his right hand, he had Lady Jana of Alcázar; his dragonlord, the jarl of Theodstan, took the left seat. In a good mood, the king spoke easily with his companions, even exchanging jests; some of the deep lines in his brow were gone. Behind the table, Geberic filled his master’s cup while Glaukos stood guard along with Sandar. Further down the table, the king’s sister had been placed.

Once the meal had been served and cups filled, the king’s favourite minstrel was given full attention. With sweeping bows in every direction, Troy began performing his most recent work.

“From beyond the wall they came

Death and conquest as their aim

Thralls they’d make of men once free

From the heath to western sea

Called by malice or by fate

Host of spears before the gate

Garments made with crimson thread

And they dyed the Valmark red.”

~~~~

The next day, the king received his lord marshal in his chamber. “The latest troop movements have been confirmed, my king,” William said. “All the southerners are gone, replaced by your soldiers. From Hareik to the Langstan, the Order safeguards the realms. Yet, if I may…”

“Speak.”

“Trouble already brewed in the Reach when we left. Sooner or later, the Dwarves will turn to Adalmearc for help. Or the outlanders will demand we prevent more settlers from arriving,” William considered. “What shall we do?”

“For now, we send what remains of our soldiers to the Langstan. Whatever happens, we will not be taken unaware. Perhaps I can send an envoy to negotiate a settlement between the feuding parties. I do have one in mind,” Brand spoke with a sardonic smile as he leaned back in his seat. “At present, what matters are the troops in Hareik and Fontaine.”

“Both marshals have written to me, declaring all is well,” William replied.

“Good. Have you considered your choice for knight marshal?”

“Sir Athelstan seems the most apt selection with your leave, my king.”

Brand nodded. “I have no objections. He did well against the outlanders.”

“Very well.”

The king rose. “I have other matters to attend. We will speak later.”

“Yes, my king.”

~~~~

A kingthane led Folkmar of Vidrevi and his guards through the Citadel, finally stopping to open the door into a chamber. The warrior gestured for the king to enter alone, which he did, encountering Brand already present.

“I was told this would be a meeting between all the crowns,” Folkmar said, casting a wary look towards Brand.

“It will be. I desired to speak with you alone first.” The drakonian king stood by the window, gazing out at the city beyond the castle. “Come, look at the city with me.”

The forester king approached. “Is this where you push me to my death?”

A sly smile crossed Brand’s face. “I would never be so crude. I simply wanted you to take in the size of the city. I imagine more people live here than all of Vidrevi.”

Folkmar gave Middanhal a dismissive look. “Doubtful. More people live in the wide forests than you may think, among the trees. Which is our strength.”

“Let me list your weaknesses. You need iron from Adalrik, tin from Heohlond, and salt from Hæthiod, not to mention the ships of Thusund to sail your timber and furs to market,” Brand said.

“Trinkets. Nothing of value compared to our freedom. That is what you fear,” Folkmar claimed. “My people can live in the forests year after year, never requiring anything from you. You cannot strangle us as you might the other realms.”

“With Order soldiers controlling Hareik and Trehaf, one might question if any part of Vidrevi that matters could resist,” Brand countered. “But I have no interest in pursuing the issue with brute force. Tomorrow at my coronation, I expect Vidrevi to bow willingly.”

“You shy away from war because your strength is spent,” Folkmar retorted. “And the other realms know it. Once they see Vidrevi does not fear you, they will know your iron glove is hollow.”

“Let us examine that. Follow,” Brand commanded. “The others should be ready.” He turned and left the room with the forester king in tow.

They went down the corridor to reach the council chamber of the Citadel. Five people, the other crowned heads of Adalmearc, had already gathered. Once Brand entered and took his seat at the end of the table, they followed suit.

“My lord kings, my lady queens. Folkmar of Vidrevi has cast doubt on the strength of the Alliance of Adalmearc. He questions Adalrik’s leadership,” Brand related. “Let us find out if others agree. What does Hæthiod think?”

All eyes looked at Queen Theodora, whose realm had been freed from the outlanders by the Order army, led by none other than the drakonian king. “Hæthiod is loyal to the Alliance,” she declared with a strong voice.

“Let us hear our other queen. Svana Konungr, tell us of Thusund.”

The queen, whose largest city had been liberated by the Order only months before, smiled. “Thusund believes strongly in the Alliance under Adalrik.”

“What of Heohlond and the rí ruirech?”

The aged King Brión, whose realm conducted all its trade through Adalrik, nodded slowly. “Heohlond values its place in the Alliance under its wise leader.”

“Ealond?”

King Rainier, who depended on the Order to keep his disloyal vassals from dethroning him, licked his lips. “Ealond is loyal.”

“Korndale?”

King Adelard, who seemed mostly bewildered by the conversation, glanced around. “Korndale is obviously part of Adalmearc.”

Brand looked at Folkmar. “Tell us of Vidrevi. Do you no longer trust in the Alliance?”

The forester king looked around the room, but he found no sympathetic eyes. “Vidrevi is loyal,” he mumbled with reluctance.

Brand rose with a smile on his lips. “Excellent. I look forward to seeing this affirmed tomorrow.” As swiftly as that, the council was at an end.