Travis Starnes
patreon
The Barons' War (Shattered Lands #3) - Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2025-02-28 16:00:20 +0000 UTCDrayford, Dunwic’s Reach, Kingsheart
It took several minutes for the banging at the door, firm as it was, to push through into William’s consciousness. The days following the Battle of Twyver where William, Aldric, and Garris, along with the eastern Kingsheart barons, had secured the town and freed Rivermark of Edmund’s forces had been a whirlwind of audiences and councils as the rebels figured out their next moves.
William hated to think of himself like that, as a rebel, but it was the correct term for it. Edmund, after all, was technically the next in line for the throne, although in a sane world, his right would have been annulled by the fact that he murdered his predecessor and nephew to gain it.
Still, he held the throne in Sidor, so the men opposing him were, in fact, rebels. And rebellions were tricky affairs. Without the finely worked lines of fealty and loyalty that held a kingdom like Sidor together, every negotiation became a battle unto itself as the various personalities vied for their seat at the table. Talk of campaign strategy quickly turned into what each wanted when the battles were done and the dust settled. Everyone seemed more eager for the war to be done than actually doing the work to finish it.
It was exhausting. William preferred the clarity of battle any day. Thankfully, Aldric was much more adept at this and kept things moving as best he could without upsetting the careful alliance they had put together. William tried to pay attention and take mental notes as best he could, but mostly he was ready for this to all be done so they could move the progress of the war forward.
Another round of knocks finally pulled William all the way awake, putting his thoughts about the last several days to the back of his mind as he wondered who could possibly be bothering him. The sun was just barely above the horizon of the window.
Who in the world could be at his door this early? He might not have guards on his door as he did on campaign, but Baron Kenmore had put him, his uncle, and Sinclair on the same floor of the keep as his family, which should come with some level of security.
“What?”
In answer, the knock came again. William grumbled and pushed himself off the goose-down mattress he’d been so comfortably sleeping on. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stormed to the door and threw it open.
“What in…” he started to angrily say, only to stop cold when he realized it was his uncle standing at the door.
“Sorry to wake you,” Aldric said, smiling at William’s sudden turn around. “I know it’s early.”
“Uhh, no… no, it’s fine,” William said, still mentally adjusting. “Is everything okay?”
The last time Aldric had come to see him so abruptly, it was to tell him he was leaving Lynese to come home and try to fix the problems between Edmund and the barons. Which had not ended particularly well.
“Everything’s fine,” he said, walking in past William and pulling a chair out, gesturing for his nephew to sit back on the bed. “I know it’s been a long few days, but I wanted a moment to discuss our next moves.”
“Hopefully, that means Baron Sinclair and the others are done discussing strategy and will be ready to move soon. We can’t afford to linger here after our victory. Every moment we delay gives Edmund time to gather reinforcements from deeper in the duchy and the Icelands.”
“Yes, that is one of the things Garris and I discussed late last night, after the council broke up. You’ll be happy to hear we should be prepared to march within the next two days, although there have been some… disagreements on priorities.”
William had paid attention in the meetings and knew very well where those disagreements lay.
“I understand his desire to retake Iron Keep, and generally, I also agree that we need to avoid fighting on two fronts, but I still say splitting our forces in half is madness. We should keep the bulk of our strength pushing into Kingsheart where we’ll be encountering entrenched positions and a population less eager to see us. A third of the army should be enough to take back Iron Keep now that we’ve choked off reinforcements through the bay.”
“I’m not sure you can say we’ve choked it off. There has been some success in limiting the ships they’ve gotten through, but your father still controls half the shoreline along Alther, and word is he’s getting more boats in the water soon. It’s also probably not a coincidence that raiding from Alchmara is up.”
“I get that but…”
“I’m not disagreeing with you, William. I’m simply saying things aren’t as cut and dry as you might like them to be.”
“I know, but the same applies the other direction. We have four months until winter, and my father will not care how much of Shadowhold is ravaged by Maw season. In fact, I’d wager he’s counting on it to weaken our forces, either by the creatures pushing further north than ever before or by our having to divert a large part of our army to deal with it. The smartest move for us is to whittle down loyalist resources and take what we can. More importantly, we need to push far enough forward to secure the harvest coming in over the next few months. I promise you my father will strip the land near us bare, denying us the means to feed our men. He has no qualms about letting his own people starve if it hurts his enemies.”
William was surprised when a look of pride crossed Aldric’s face. “You’ve given this considerable thought.”
William shrugged and said, “I have. More importantly, time is short for us to do anything. Our scouts report new forces already gathering west of Glasswater Lake. If we don’t act soon, we’ll lose whatever advantage we’ve gained.”
“You’ve truly grown, William. Your ability to see the entire field of battle… it’s remarkable. I think you’ll be happy to know that Garris has more or less agreed with all of that.”
“He did?”
“Indeed,” Aldric confirmed. “The current debate is merely about determining our available resources and the best way to counter Edmund’s moves.”
“Well, that’s… that’s good to hear. Then, when we move, I would like to take my forces and go with you. Iron Keep men would be better suited for retaking the east, and some of my men are from the western baronies and will have both knowledge of the land and connections to perhaps bring more nobles to our side.”
“While I would like nothing more than to have you with me when we march west, that’s not the assignment we have for you.”
“What? Uncle, you can’t leave me here to … whatever, protect the south while you and Garris move out. If you don’t take me west, at least …”
“You have me wrong,” Aldric said, holding up a hand to stop William’s complaints. “I’m not planning on leaving you behind or sending you with Garris. We need you to return to Rendallia so you can bring the rest of your army here. I know you could only fit a fraction of what you had available on the ships you brought, since you took a dangerous route. It’s time for you to go back and get the rest.”
Again, William was shocked. Being held back in reserve was bad enough, but to be shipped back to Lynese in the midst of the war? How could his uncle do this? Sending him away just when they started to gain momentum.
“What?” William finally managed to sputter. “Uncle, you can’t be serious. I should be here, leading our men, not... not running errands across the sea!”
“I know this is difficult for you, William. Believe me, I do. But this isn’t an errand. It’s crucial to our success.”
“But why do I even need to go? Pembroke is there now. Why can’t he bring the men across himself? He’s the only one who’s been with the army the entire time, since Uncle Gavric sailed across two years ago. He’s more than capable of taking care of this.”
“It’s not that simple, William. A lot of these men are from duchies still under Edmund’s banner. We are going to ask them to fight against their nobles, potentially against their own kin. That is a lot to ask of any man. The men respect Rowan, but he agrees they are loyal to you. He believes, and I agree with him, we need you if we’re going to make that happen.”
William wasn’t sure he agreed, but he also knew Pembroke wasn’t the type to just say something to curry favor. If he said that, then he thought it was true, and William wasn’t ready to discount someone like Baron Pembroke’s opinion on that matter.
“If he says it, then I guess I have little choice. So you want me to sail back to Rendallia, rally the troops, and then bring them here?”
“That’s the long and short of it, yes,” Aldric confirmed. “I know this is a lot to put on you, but we wouldn’t ask this of you if we didn’t think you were capable of it.”
“No, I understand. Of course I’ll do it.”
“Good, and now the additional wrinkle. I’ve already requested that Pembroke come with his house guards. We need men sooner rather than later if we’re to gain as much ground as possible before winter sets in, and the men personally sworn to him will follow him here.”
“Who does that leave in charge in Rendallia until I get there?” William asked, his mind already racing with the logistics of the situation.
“Sir Cedrick will be in nominal command,” Aldric replied. “Pembroke says the men respect him, and the fact that his brother is a baron whose barony is under siege helps. It gives them a personal stake in the fight. Although according to Pembroke, your new wife has started to become quite popular among the men, and can help Cedrick keep things in check there until you arrive. Most likely, you can leave Cedrick and your wife behind with a skeleton force of men loyal to his house and men you think less solid in the fight here to keep the peace in Rendallia, and bring the rest.”
“Okay. I will, of course, be leaving nearly all of the men I brought over with me under your command. I would recommend Sir Alistair to lead them in the field. He’s been with them for a long time as well, and the men know him. I should be fine with Sir Drummond and a few others with me for the return voyage.”
Aldric nodded, but then added, “Eskild will go with you as well.”
“I’d prefer if Eskild stayed here, defending you. He’s your man and has proven his loyalty time and again.”
“And that’s precisely why I want him with you,” Aldric countered. “I have an entire army watching my back. I know you’ll take a reasonable number of guards with you, but I’d prefer if you had someone loyal all the same.”
“Very well,” he conceded, wishing his uncle would let him win at least one argument.
“We already have a ship in the harbor waiting for you and whoever you decide to bring. Pembroke is taking the southern route around Thay, but you’ll probably have to take the northern route.”
“Wouldn’t that be more dangerous? The Icelands control that area, and Alchmara’s not exactly friendly either.”
“Normally, yes. But the pirates out of Thay have been getting more aggressive lately. Pembroke will have a small fleet to bring his men over, so they should be safe from pirates, but it would stand out too much and draw attention from the Icelanders. You have the opposite problem. You’re much too vulnerable in a single ship to risk the pirates, but you should go unnoticed by the Icelanders. One ship is easier to overlook than a fleet.”
William nodded, but something else was bothering him, and he couldn’t hold his peace on it any longer.
“I am a little concerned about Baron Sinclair. I know he’s a good man and dedicated to the fight, but I’ve watched him in our councils these past few days. The man has an ambitious streak that could prove... problematic.”
Aldric frowned and said, “Garris is a little ambitious, I agree, but he’s also a skilled commander, and we need him. The barons of Iron Keep are loyal to him, and his ability to lead men into battle is second only to my late brother’s. I’m confident, once we manage to get the kingdom out of Edmund’s hands and stabilized, I can keep his ambitions from getting ahead of him.”
William didn’t doubt it. Aldric may not have been the schemer that his father was, but he was an adept politician and had been playing the game for a long time. If anyone could make sure this all ended the right way, it was him.
“Okay. I just wanted to mention it,” William said, standing up. “Well, if I’m to leave today, I have a lot of work to do.”
“Wait, there was something else I wanted to do before we parted,” Aldric said, standing and unbuckling his sword belt.
The scabbard was well-worn black leather wrapped in silver bands, housing a blade that had seen centuries of Whitton service.
“What are you doing?”
“This is Marrow’s Bane,” Aldric said, holding the weapon out on his palm, half extending it toward William. “The sword of House Whitton since Charles took it from King Redgarn’s dead hands at Gray Pass during the war of unification. For more than four hundred years, it has passed down our family line from father to son.”
William stared at the ancient weapon, its weathered grip and simple crossguard belying its legendary status. Every child in Sidor knew the tales, how Charles Whitton had led the army that brought the Icelands to heel and taken the dead king’s famed sword as his own as a symbol of that victory.
“I was given this sword when I was your age by my father. For whatever reason, the ancients saw fit that I never had sons of my own, which leaves me no one to pass the blade down to. You’ve proven yourself far more worthy of it than I was then. I am giving you this blade the same as my father gave it to me, and as he received it from his father before that.”
“Uncle, you’ll need this. I can’t take your sword.”
“You may not have been born a Whitton, William, but you have the spirit of Charles in you. Of Gavric too. Of all of the Whittons still living, you are by far the most worthy to wield it. I see it in how you lead men, how you think beyond the battlefield to what comes after. In your character. It is done. The sword belongs with you now.”
He extended Marrow’s Bane again. This time William reached out, his hand trembling slightly as it closed around the scabbard. The leather was warm from his uncle’s grip, the weight both lighter and heavier than he expected.
“Thank you,” William said, his throat tight. “I will make you proud.”
“You already have,” Aldric said, smiling as he clasped William on his shoulder. “Now, let’s get you started on your journey. It’s a long way to Lynese.”
***
Starhaven, Sidor
Edmund stood at the window of the king’s private study, his private study, drifting across the harbor. He liked this time of the day, as the sun went down and the way the yellow and orange hues of the sun bounced off the waters of the bay beyond the city walls.
He was distracted from his moment of peace by the door opening behind him. Not that it startled him. The guards at his door would allow only a few into his study unannounced.
Turning slowly, he saw one of the people on that list entering.
Orlan Rhys, his scribe and aide, came shuffling into the room, holding a series of parchments clutched in his hands. The way the man wouldn’t meet his eyes as he stopped at the desk, bowing, told Edmund that whatever was on those papers was not welcome news.
“What is it?”
“News from the east, your majesty. It is ...”
“Speak,” Edmund commanded when the man’s words trailed on too long, clearly not wanting to be the bearer of bad news.
“There has been a defeat. All territory east of Glasswater Lake has fallen. The rebels have taken Twyver, and Baron Sinclair’s forces have managed to join with your brother’s army.”
The traitors. He’d known this was a possibility and hoped his forces spread across the region would be enough to dissuade them from treachery.
“Which barons have turned their cloaks? Names, Orlan. Every last one.”
“Nearly all the eastern lords. After word of Prince William’s return…”
“Do not call him that,” Edmund snapped. “He forfeited any claim to that title when he raised his sword against his king.”
Word had arrived after the traitorous boy had arrived in River Mark and rescued his brother from almost certain defeat that William had turned sides and taken up arms against his own father.
Edmund had his name stricken from the public accounts of the Royal family and disavowed him as his son. Something he should have done the day the boy’s bitch mother died.
“Forgive me, my lord. After word of William’s return reached the eastern baronies, their lords began declaring for Duke Aldric and Baron Sinclair. Baron Halbrok first, followed by Barons Donnington, Farrow, and then the rest. Of the Baronies east of the Glasswater and south of Twin Lake, only Baron Daunton remains loyal. They have also deposed the man you put on the seat of Lindenwood, giving the title to one of Thurston’s sons instead.”
“What happened to our army there? The one that was supposed to keep the cowards from betraying their oaths?”
“The survivors of the battle report they were defeated with heavy losses. Many surrendered rather than fight to the death.”
“Surrendered?” Edmund’s voice dropped dangerously. “They surrendered to traitors rather than die for their king?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Edmund slammed his fist against the table.
“Cowards and traitors, the lot of them. And the prisoners? What has my brother done with those who surrendered?”
“Duke Aldric has treated them with leniency. He’s allowed knights to ransom themselves and common soldiers to swear new oaths or return home.”
“My brother always was too soft-hearted for his own good. Tell the lords if they want to ransom their men, they will do so on their own coin, and it will not decrease their duties to the crown. Send out men to round up any of the soldiers released on oath and have them put back under arms and sent to whatever forces we still have in the region.”
Orlan looked a little torn by that, as nearly all sons of the Ancients took their oaths, which were usually guaranteed by the Acolytes, seriously.
He knew enough, however, to not argue with his liege.
“Send wyverns to all loyal barons. They are to mobilize immediately. No more holding back, every knight, every man-at-arms, every peasant who can hold a spear and bring their men to Silverhall. Tell them I expect immediate action. No excuses, no delays. Any baron who fails to answer this call will be considered a traitor to the Crown. And traitors forfeit not only their lands and titles but their lives and the lives of their families.”
“At once, my lord.”
“While you’re doing that, also send a message to Duke Cadogan. He has made promises that he has not lived up to. He was supposed to take over Iron Keep and pin Sinclair down, so they could not do precisely what they’ve done. I will not stand by and accept this. He is either to commit fully to this campaign or our arrangement ends. I expect him to restart his offensive in Iron Keep at once and supply additional troops to the army in Silverhall.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“Good. Now get out of my sight.”
Orlan bowed and took a step back but did not turn and leave, which surprised Edmund.
Instead, he bowed a second time and said, “Begging your pardon, your Majesty, but there was one other item. Regarding the other task you assigned me.”
“Have you found one?”
“I believe so, my lord. In Werna. I also found a person that might help,” he said, setting down the sheets of parchment that he’d been holding. “A senior Disciple with the Order of Archivists, who recently returned from Werna, stopping here to see the elder at the Great Hall. Word is that he spent time in several major cities there, including the capital. I included it all in the report.”
“And he’s … convincible?”
“I believe so, my lord. Again, it is in my report.”
A slow smile spread across Edmund’s face. “Excellent. Bring him to me at once.”
“At once.” Orlan bowed deeply and hurried from the chamber.
Alone, Edmund picked up the report and began reading the report on what Orlan had found. It was well researched and very detailed, as with everything the man did.
And yet, his mind was not fully on the news. He’d had half of the Rivermark and Iron Keep under his heel and was on the verge of smashing the traitors forever, putting the kingdom completely under his command.
To suddenly find that the Rivermark was now fully in Aldric’s command and he’d lost a third of Kingsheart was... difficult. He hadn’t expected William’s defection to impact the eastern barons’ loyalty so dramatically. He’d heard that William was becoming popular among soldiers, but he hadn’t imagined something like this.
Edmund stopped before a portrait of King Gavric, his older brother, resplendent in royal regalia. The artist had captured Gavric perfectly, with that look of absolute self-righteousness the buffoon always had.
“I’m sure you would be gloating right now,” he said, sneering at his brother’s image. “But then, you were as much of a fool as your son, and see where you both ended up.”
Not that he held any ill will toward Gavric’s son. In some ways, the boy had potential. If he hadn’t gotten his father’s arrogant streak, he might have actually made something of himself.
As it was, his death had been regrettable but necessary. The boy had grown increasingly unstable, increasingly difficult to control. Edmund honestly hadn’t planned to take the throne himself, not initially at least. But circumstances had forced his hand.
It was what he wanted, ultimately, but the complications that arose from that had been unfortunate.
Edmund sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, picking up the decanter on the table next to it and pouring himself wine, drinking deeply, taking a moment to enjoy the rich red liquid as it burned it’s way down his throat.
Edmund drained his wine and set the cup down, returning his focus to the research that Orland had done. He had learned long ago that preparation and information were the key to achieving what he wanted, and he wasn’t going to let those lessons fail him now.
Especially since this, while a long shot, had the potential to turn things around for him even with the successes Aldric and Garris had had.
He had made it all the way through the notes and was doing a second, closer read when a knock interrupted him. Before he could respond, Orlan opened the door and entered, followed by a man in simple gray Acolyte robes. The newcomer, middle-aged with a receding hairline and scholarly stoop, had a nervous look about him, but that could just be because of the situation he suddenly found himself in.
“Your Majesty,” Orlan bowed, “may I present Disciple Tomas of the Order of Archivists.”
The Acolyte bowed deeply. “Your Majesty, I am honored by this summons, though puzzled by it.”
Edmund gestured toward a chair. “Please, sit. Wine? It’s from a vineyard in Hopton that has always been one of my favorites. A particularly good vintage.”
“Yes, thank you,” Tomas said, perching stiffly on the edge of the chair, hands folded in his lap.
Edmund waved at Orlan, who refilled his glass before pouring a cup for the Acolyte. That done, Edmund waved him out. He could tell that Tomas was not the type to have the kind of conversation Edmund was hoping to have in front of witnesses.
“I understand you’ve recently returned from Werna. Rotfels, was it not? And Nebeltal before that?”
The man’s eyes widened as Edmund listed off the cities.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“How did you find Rotfels? I’ve heard the Amber District markets are extraordinary.”
“Y … Yes, they are impressive. Their jewelry craftsmanship remains unmatched.”
“Did you visit the Temple of Remembrance? As one of the few standing structures left by the ancients, I understand it’s something to behold. Second only to our Great Hall, in fact.”
“I did. Their library had some fascinating tomes even the Hall of Mystics does not have.”
“So then you saw Mistress Wolkner’s collection? I haven’t seen it myself, but it is supposed to be the most comprehensive texts on pre-fall artifacts in Werna.”
“You are remarkably well-informed.”
“A king must know what happens beyond his borders. Just as I know you spent considerable time with Scholar Langmann and Master Archivist Mondschern in Nebeltal.”
The Acolyte set down his cup with a trembling hand. “Yes, I consulted with them on certain academic matters.”
“What about?”
“Documentation, primarily. Recording local histories, traditions, and folklore that might reference the time before the Fall.”
“Is that all?”
“It’s hard to say. Our conversations were wide-ranging, after all.”
“And yet, I think there were things you talked about that you do remember.”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Your Majesty.”
“I think you are. I believe you might have been asking about something more specific. Perhaps even artifacts that your order has officially decided do not exist and are not worth the trouble to search for.”
Tomas paled. “Your Majesty, I don’t know what you’ve heard…”
“You know, I’ve actually heard of something that legends said was in Werna,” Edmund interrupted. “I think they called it The Eclipse Key. The way I remember the story, Rotfels was the last place that was seen, in fact. Was it not?”
The Acolyte’s mouth opened and closed silently.
“You weren’t looking for the key, were you, Disciple Tomas?”
“Your Majesty, as you well know, Seekers look for artifacts, not Archivists,” he finally managed. “My calling has always been to simply document and catalog, not recover.”
“But what of your dream, Tomas. Was that also to simply document and catalog? Besides, I’ve read the histories and we both know that, while current policy is that finding artifacts is the sacred duty of the seekers, that has not always been true. Particularly when the Order refuses to acknowledge an artifact’s existence.”
Tomas just stared at him, mouth agape. Edmund hadn’t actually said anything wrong, or committed heresy, but he’d come very, very close. The histories that indicated some of the Acolyte’s early days, before much of its current bureaucracy was in place, had been buried and any discussion of them considered impolite at best.
Edmund smiled and picked up one of the pages Orlan had left him that he’d shuffled to the top of the stack.
“I found your request to your superiors particularly interesting. ‘The historical evidence, while fragmentary, strongly suggests the key is not simply a fairy tale, but that it actually existed. Moreover, the abilities proscribed to it could, if properly understood, open new fields of study into the Ancients and perhaps even the final days before the fall,’“ Edmund quoted.
“Where did you get that?” Tomas demanded.
“Perhaps the same place I got this. ‘The Council regrets to inform Disciple Tomas that his request for funding to investigate unsubstantiated claims regarding the so-called Eclipse Key has been denied. The Order of Archivists must focus its limited resources on documented artifacts rather than pursuing legends and folklore.’“
Setting them down, Edmund smiled and said, “Rather dismissive of years of research, wouldn’t you say?”
“How did you…”
“As I said, a king must know what happens beyond his borders. Which is the same reason that I know you continued your search using personal funds until your purse emptied. I hope that does not mean you’ve given up hope of finding it, have you?”
After a beat Tomas said, “No, Your Majesty.”
“Good. I am so very pleased to hear that.”
“Why?” he asked, suspicious.
“Because I think your work is critical and worth pursuing. Which is what I asked you here to discuss with you. In addition to what I’ve already shared, I have also had some additional information come to my attention. Specifically, a set of rare manuscripts from private collectors containing information about the Key that I believe could prove valuable to your search.”
“You have such texts here in Starhaven?”
“I do. And I would grant you access to them. More than that, I would fund your continued search.”
“Again, why? Why would you do this? What interest does the Crown of Sidor have in an artifact most consider legend?”
“As a faithful child of the Ancients, isn’t it my duty to ensure their artifacts are found and protected? But I’ll be honest. My interest isn’t entirely altruistic. I believe Werna possesses other valuable items from the Age of Magic that aren’t being properly sought or protected.”
“What items?”
“Items of power, Brother Tomas. Items that should be in the safekeeping of those who understand their significance.” Edmund paused. “While you search for your Key, I would only ask that you also investigate these other artifacts. Two wyverns with one stone, as it were.”
The Disciple hesitated and then said, “I could look for two items as easily as one.”
“Good. I hoped you would say that. If I fund this expedition, I’d very much like to put my hands on these objects and have a chance to see them for myself.”
Tomas stiffened. “Your Majesty, my sacred duty compels me to protect the Ancients’ gifts. I cannot sell or give them away. That would be heresy.”
“Of course not. I would never ask such a thing,” Edmund said, feigning offense. “I’d simply like any artifacts you recover brought to the Hall here in Starhaven for examination and cataloging, rather than immediately to the Gray Isles.”
“Your Majesty?”
“The Grand Hall in Starhaven ranks second only to the Hall of the Mystics in its archives. This isn’t without precedent. Other artifacts have been brought here, cataloged, and stored for study.” Edmund spread his hands. “Since the Elders didn’t even look for these items, bringing them here first seems appropriate.”
Tomas frowned. “That’s highly unorthodox.”
“It is. But consider this. The Gray Isles have been reducing funding for investigators and archivists for years. No significant artifact has been found in over a century, and the Council of Elders has made it fairly clear that they believe further searches to be wastes of resources.”
He leaned closer. “Rumors suggest they’re considering cutting the Order of Archivists. Some even suggest eliminating it entirely, along with all Disciples of Records.”
“I’ve heard nothing about this.”
“The Elders make such decisions quietly, without input from those affected, but they must still deal with the secular centers of power. I, however, hold no such concerns and, in fact, believe it against the will of the Ancients to change the system that has been put in place.”
The Disciple sat silently, thinking hard.
“So,” Edmund said after a moment. “Will you do it? Will you undertake this search with my support and bring any artifacts to Starhaven first?”
Tomas looked down at his hands, then up at Edmund. The internal struggle showed in his eyes, duty to his Order battling his desire to continue his life’s work and fear for his brotherhood’s future.
Finally, he nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. I will.”
Comments
Brett Grayson
Thank you so much for resuming this saga!
