Friend or Foe?

There was only one way in to this Court and that was the First Gate, an imposing structure of stone and mortar, bits of metal and shards of glass. No one could scale it for it would cut their flesh to the bone. To reach the Gate and enter therein one had to ride across a bridge which began in the town proper and rose to the height of the Court. The second hill was much higher than the first and it had gained the name Mount Leaute, to reach it from the Court one had to traverse yet another bridge and move over a precipitous divide between the two hills, but it was the structure which rose from that mount that held the fascination and the fear of the people below: Keep Mollari. Its architecture was that of the antiquated Allarian style reminiscent of the days of the HighKing Norman. The huge stone blocks that formed the grand structure had been fitted together with precision and care – they had stood the test of time as well as withstood the test of siege again and again.

The most impressive aspect of the Keep was not any military or political edifice, but rather a garden. The highest perch of most keeps held soldiers and look-outs, archers and crossbowmen. But not Keep Mollari. Though true these military necessities did roam the floor just below the topmost, that area which drank in the sun belonged to a garden, a garden whose vines grabbed onto stone and wood, reached over the tops of the turrets and overflowed into the air itself. The people of Obsallom would look up and see a sea of green cascading down from the top of the Keep and it was they who named it the Hanging Garden. To water this garden there was constructed a woodwork similar to those used in watermills, with wheels and spokes and buckets to lift water, pullies and chains and ropes of many degrees. This structure began in the depths, below the Keep, dug into the second hill, dug to the foundations where a running stream had been discovered. This structure rose to the heights, higher than the topmost floor of the Keep for it needed to over-extend that roof and deposit its precious cargo of water into a basin which then led the life- giving liquid through a maze of conduits and into barrels and tubs and pans of earth which held thirsty roots, as well as an array of crystal pools.

King Emry now walked through this garden. He passed the fountains which cast scented waters about in pleasing jets arranged with cunning art. The fountains overflowed into many little streams and not a few ponds. In these ponds white swans swam and the King listened to the sound of the rare birds and exotic insects gathered from the far south and now caged within this jungle of greenery. He had been in the Keep two days now, two long days. During this time he had learned that Duke Zular had not been executed by Lord Fredrigo - at least so swore Fred - but the whereabouts of the Duke were still unknown. He had learned that the army which Fred had led, the Black Hand, was nothing more than peasant rabble, but well-trained peasant rabble… trained by whom? He had learned that the Dragon was dead for Fred had shown him the beast’s eyes, which were even now pickling in a jar. But there was too much that the King did not know – most importantly, had Fred learned anything of the King’s dealings with the Dragon before he dealt the deathblow? And why had Duke Zular attempted to imprison Fred? What had Zular learned of Fred, what did Fred hold that was so important?

Events had not been going in the direction Emry had once hoped for, not for quite some time now actually. After Duke Zular had returned from his western travels – claiming no less than to have gone to the Dead Sea! – he had offered the then Prince Emry the means to the throne, if only through an unholy alliance with a power older than the hills. The plan was to rid the throne of Emry’s father and brother, simple enough. Poisons would be used to make the old King ill, to have him waste away; food would be used to drug Prince Cedrik and then he would become a sacrifice to appease the Dragon of the Southern Caves. King Emry thought back to those days, he cared not for the psuedo-philosophical ramblings of Duke Zular and his belief that he could talk to dragons; what Emry cared for was power and the elimination of any who stood between him and that power. Yet one thing he had learned during these two years on the throne was that power was both an object and a subject, it was a game to play and he played to win.

Besides the LeigeKing, there were five Great Houses with five Great Dukes. Zular had been the youngest such Duke until these last days. King Emry was not ignorant of the men and women who ruled these Houses, he knew full well how they plotted and intrigued for their own advantage. The King’s own spy system confirmed this, and kept him apprised. The only honorable family, in the King’s opinion, was that of House Trelayne; it was no coincidence that the King had sent Fred D'Honaire to battle the Dragon, he was of a Lesser House and one befriended by House Trelayne. Whether Fred lived or died, whether he succeeded or failed there would be no plotting from the Family Trelayne nor D'Honaire, they were too loyal for that.

The King grunted a laugh. Fred seemed so pure and noble then, but now - it was, after all, from Trescent that plans of appeasing the Dragon arose. What had Fred learned in those caves? What had Zular learned of Fred? Soon he and Fred would have an intimate talk, not obtrusive nor too subtle, over a fine meal... after all, Fred was ordered not to leave Obsallom until further notice. King Emry shook himself, he was not a paranoid man but he was close. There was a void in the royal system, a House had to be named or a powerplay would ensue; Emry did not want a fight right now, he couldn’t afford one. He needed to take control of the situation and the best way was to keep his enemies and adversaries close. The question was, in what category did Fred fall: friend or foe?

1. ...and the intrigue continues...

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