Chapter One
Galdore and Fortaer
The sun shone brightly over Malarn, the capital city of Fortaer. The city had been rebuilt after the fal of Jalavak, and all of Militer had been renewed. Galdore, the son of Kirduil, sat upon the throne of Fortaer.
But early in the afternoon, grey clouds passed over the sun, and a few drops of rain fell. King Galdore had been wandering in the palace gardens after the noonday meal, and now he lay on his back in the soft grass, feeling the rain on his face.
A break from all the formalities of court, he thought, closing his eyes. I believe I could lie here forever, if I weren't disturbed.
Galdore was just dropping off when a low scream sounded nearly in his ear. He was only just quick enough to grab a woman's hand and prevent her from tripping over him.
Glancing at her face, he flushed and dropped her hand quickly. It was Eloderaý.
If he was embarrassed, so was she. "My lord, I'm so sorry," she apologized, backing off.
"No, no, it's my fault entirely. I should not have been l ying in the path."
She gave a nervous giggle, the flush fading from her face. "I think I should probably go inside. Royaleisia may want me."
When Galdore nodded, she turned and ran back to the doors, disappearing inside.
Galdore sighed. He could only imagine what Eloderaý thought of him, and it especially urt when he reflected on his esteem for her.
The rain was coming down harder, and reluctantly the King arose, straightened his tunic, and went inside. Although being the King of Fortaer gave him some privileges, they did not include getting soaked in downpours.
It was now just two months after Militer's victory over Jalavak. Galdore had been King only a very short time, but already he was much respected (especially because of the part he plyaed in the Dark Lord's defeat). All his friends were at court with him, including his brother, Tristal. Tristal served as a welcome distraction from the formalities of royal life.
Raising his eyes, he saw a maid scurrying towards him. She had all the appearance of one with an urgent message.
"Yes, what is it?" he enquired.
She dropped a curtsy as she slowed down. "My lord, we've been looking for you - you're needed in the throne room on an urgent matter."
Galdore sped up his pace. It would not do for urgent matters to be kept waiting, he knew that from experience.
When he reached the throne room, he had only just time to collapse on his throne and smooth his tnic and hair, before the door opened to admit a young man, perhaps slightly older than himself, bearing the colours of King Kanethon of Staran. He bowed low before the King, and, without hesitating, began to speak.
"My lord Kanethon of Staran conveys greetings to Galdore, King of Fortaer, and cordially invites him to a gathering at the palace of Drista. The gathering will be on the third of the coming month."
Galdore smiled. This was the urgent matter for which he had been called?
"Tell King Kanethon that I accept his gracious invitation with pleasure," he responded, leaning back, "and that I will be present at Drista on the third of the next month."
The herald bowed. "I will bear your answer to the King."
Galdore dismissed him, and, as he went from the room, leaped up and ran towards Royaleisia's bedchamber. Eloderaý would most likely be there, and besides, he had something he wanted to ask her.
