Restoration

by Demonic Weasel

As the backdrop of war in Rune has ended, kingdoms must be rebuilt against a new lack of consensus. The heroes of Cypress and Guardiana must work around new fissures in their relationships with each other and the world.

1. Chapter 1

Restoration:

Chapter 1

Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of me.
If I was still the same
If I ever became what you wanted me to be
Did I miss the mark or
Over-step the line
That only you could see?
Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of me.

From "Shooting Star" (2nd verse) by Bob Dylan

Copyright ©1989 Special Rider Music

The king was hard at justice this morning, not that there was anything very remarkable in that. The king was hard at justice nearly every morning. Mayfair stood, silently waiting for him to acknowledge her presence for approximately six seconds after entering the room whilst he continued scanning what looked like a letter.

Then King Nicholas II rose, polite as always. "Ah. I don't believe that I summoned you, but it occurs to me that there are several points to be brought up nonetheless. Please, be seated."

Mayfair nodded, allowing him to dictate the meeting. As she settled into one of his luxuriantly polished chairs, the king returned to his own, steepling his fingers. Mayfair wasn't quite certain, but she thought she saw a spark of interest in his eyes this morning.

"What is it, specifically, that brings you here, general?"

Mayfair winced at the formality; upon his coronation, one of the first things Nick had done was to pressure her into accepting that rather prestigious appointment. He had made some rather interesting arguments that had eventually swayed her; some of them amusing, and others merely intriguing because she had not previously considered herself from the perspective that Nick evidently had. Despite all of his cold logic, however, she couldn't help suspecting that this was Nick's own, rather obscure, way of paying further court to her. It was difficult to read that in him, however.

"For one," she offered, "I've received another letter from Lady Aela."

Nick's face was perfectly composed, but she caught a hint of anger lacing his tone. "That woman is persistent. Very well, I take it that she now threatens to visit the capital?"

"Yes." Mayfair shared her king's distaste for Lady Aela, but she wasn't certain that Nick was fully aware of the dangers that surrounded the late Lord Vensic's sister. "Truth be told, Your Grace," she warned him, "the insult was deeply felt in the east when you named Lady Sarah your Warden of the East and Mistress of the Citadel."

"Lady Aela is as much a snake as Vensic ever was. I will not let her control the richest and most populous region of Cypress."

"Assuming that tradition holds," Mayfair pointed out. "Now that Iom is considered part of Cypress, depending on how Lord Deanna manages to restore those lands, the eastern isles may no longer be the most powerful region in Cypress."

"Granted," Nicholas replied. "That changes nothing insofar as Aela is concerned, however. I would not have any part of my domain ruled by a treacherous snake, and that is what the Lady Aela is. And I believe that you overrate the 'insult' in Lady Sarah's appointment. Yes, there may be some initial bad feeling, but the Lady Sarah has an ability to inspire loyalty beyond obedience…" He broke off, another slight note of anger lacing his tone.

Mayfair was almost absurdly relieved at the sound of it. Anger wasn't precisely an admirable sentiment, but it was, at the least, a sign that Nick was still human. Ever since reclaiming Cypress, Nick had coldly devoted himself to his duties with a precision and logicality that was less human than anything Mayfair had ever seen before. And yet, she had known Nick before he had taken on the crown, and she had seen that though he was always logical, he was not as emotionless as he oft seemed to try to be.

Nick in the meantime was musing aloud, "Nonetheless, though she is not trustworthy, should she visit Castle Cypress there is advantage to be had in this. The nobles have not been laggardly swearing me their support, but if the Lady Aela and I meet and set aside our differences… the symbolism will be monumental to say the least."

"You know that there's only one reason she would come here at all, only one thing that will satisfy her to make peace with you."

"Yes, I know that she wants to be the queen of Cypress. That's not what I have to give her to obtain her support, however. Aela isn't stupid enough to defy me."

Feeling the color rising in her cheeks at that subtle rebuke, Mayfair said coldly, "Lady Aela would make an excellent queen. Should you wed her, you would also wed most of the rest of the realm to yourself; they would be able to see that they did not have an unreasonable king. And should Aela choose to rise against you, now would be the best time she could possibly choose."

"An incorrect assumption," Nick fired back. "For the first time in nearly two years, I have writ an unquestionable end to the hostilities that the Usurper instigated. My lords are tired of war and wary of angering the man who has brought peace. Furthermore they have proof that I am not unreasonable; I have pardoned every man who has laid down his sword and sworn fealty to me. I have welcomed all back into the king's peace."

Mayfair could feel her own anger rising in response to Nick's calm and soulless assertions. "And yet you executed that man, Bulldor, for crimes that each of those lords committed in serving either your uncle or Uglu."

"Bulldor was one of the most trusted lieutenants of a proven regicide. Justice demanded his execution. It did also serve as a message to the nobles, yes, but it was justice that compelled me to take his head off." Nick leant forward then, his tone subtly intensifying. "It all flows from justice, Mayfair. Remember that."

Anger and sympathy warred within her for a few moments, but sympathy quickly won out. Against the harsh demands of the single most responsible position in the world, the knowledge that he'd been betrayed countless times, the fact that he'd had to fight his own uncle, and the death of Ruce, was it any wonder if he was a little brittle? But that, in and of itself brought up another concern. Though Nick was mostly unreadable, there was no masking the weariness in his eyes, nor the dark circles that had appeared beneath them. He looked so natural sitting behind his hardwood, polished, desk, working busily on restoring Cypress, but he was fast taking it to dangerous levels.

"Your Grace," she began carefully, knowing that the significance of the formal address would not be lost on him, "You're pushing yourself too hard, doing too much and too quickly. You need to slow down before you kill yourself."

"No. As it is, I'm not doing enough. My duties must come first."

"Nick, you're killing yourself with overwork."

"You vastly overestimate the factors involved. My dear, Cypress is recovering from a collapsed economy, nearly two years worth of constant war, a rash of unlawfulness, a scarcity of the common necessities… These early days will invariably be the hardest, the most demanding and it is imperative that we respond to these problems vigorously. Not with alacrity, you understand, but with shrewd foreign policy, enforcing of strong domestic law… with speed that is augmented by ration."

Mayfair sat there, silent for some moments. Nick was right of course, he always was. Though valuable, it was not always his most lovable of attributes. But then, Nick did not possess lovable attributes. That in itself was a tragedy. "Of course," she responded, "but you're still doing too much, more than you yourself can handle. What good will it do Cypress if you do collapse of exhaustion?"

He chuckled lightly. "Your point is taken, my lady. As is your… concern. Very well, we'll continue this discussion later. Dine with me this evening and we'll consider everything else then."

The abrupt offer surprised her only slightly. If King Nicholas II wished to have a discussion of policy with his officials in such an atmosphere as to diffuse their tension, well that was one thing. But she knew Nick well enough to know that he would have wanted to dine with her regardless. The intensity of the desire that he couldn't quite conceal was sometimes quite frightening. But Mayfair didn't think he'd actually hurt her, and anyway, as Nick himself had said, a king had his duties. So too, did Mayfair. She quietly took her leave of him, hoping that he would take her words to heart.

---

"Stop. No, not you, stay. Here, boy." So saying, Lord Commander Randolph casually flipped a coin at the smaller of the two young men whom he had been studying. "For your trouble," he added, dismissing the boy from his thoughts.

The centaur slowly padded forward, his eye critically scanning the boy he had prompted to remain. Somewhat heavy looking, with curly hair, the lad awkwardly dropped to his knees. "M'lord," he began, but Randolph cut straight through that.

"Silence," he snapped, still looking the boy up and down. Finally he said, "You've a good arm lad. The truth now. Where did you fight before?"

The boy looked startled. "Nowhere, really. M'lord," he muttered.

"No," Randolph mused aloud, "too young to have fought with the Freedom Fighters." He clapped the boy on the shoulder. "We'll take you, lad. Run along to the barracks, just tell them that I sent you." The boy gaped at him, joy written across his features.

"For true, m'lord?"

Randolph seized the lad's arm, using his free hand to gesture at the streaking scar running down the right side of his face. "See that, boy? See it? That's what war is. Hard, cruel, mean. Hope that you never see it." He released the boy, hard. "Now go."

The boy scampered off fast enough, throwing only one nervous glance back over his shoulder. Randolph stood there feeling slightly chagrined. My bloody temper, he thought disgustedly. Shouldn't have scared the boy, he'd learn the truth soon enough anyway.

He stamped at the ground angrily. He'd even forgotten to ask the lad his name. That was a shame, but not too important. Randolph prided himself on the fact that he never forgot a face… or a name.

He moodily kicked at a clump of dirt. Who was he trying to fool anyway? Loyalty was a basic part of his nature; it was the lads that King Nicholas had ordered him to recruit that angered him. Randolph had entered the ranks of the royal guards at a young age and he had ended up proving himself a tough, relentless, dutiful warrior. He had done it all for Cypress and for pride. And now, hiring these callow youths just to watch them losing their innocence day by day… that was swallowing pride.

He turned away with an angry toss of the head. What was done was done, and anyway his king had commanded it of him. The Cypress army was mostly dead, new recruits were necessary. Randolph only hoped that he could find pride in the men he recruited, though he supposed that General Mayfair would actually see to them.

Still, even if Randolph had his regrets, they were ones that he could live with. He had not done anything dishonorable, nor had he betrayed his duty to his king. Nodding his head very slightly, the centaur peered absently at the sun. It was red and fast vanishing from sight. Nearly night, in fact. Strange that he hadn't noticed, but then he had been rather preoccupied.

Randolph strode off boldly, eager to make his report to the king and then to retire for the evening. A feather-bed would be most welcome after all of his wearying toil. His senses were still trained enough, however, that he caught the slightest flicker of shadow before he heard the heavy, typically flamboyant steps of the approaching figure.

"Ah, my good and dear friend. The Lord Commander himself!"

Randolph turned to face the rapidly approaching Captain Alexandros. The man jingled with each step, the glittering rings on his fingers being the most eye-drawing of his accessories. Fat and free with his friendly ways and easy smiles, Alexandros was still no friend of Randolph. "What is it, Captain?"

Alexandros clapped a heavy, sweating hand onto Randolph's shoulder. "Yes, yes, my good and dear Lord Commander Randolph! You must come and enjoy my grapes; this is your good fortune for being the friend of Alexandros!"

He shook off the clasping hand, his voice flat. "Unfortunately I must make my way to the king. Your grapes shall have to wait, Captain."

Alexandros's smile sharpened like a wolf. "Ah, indeed, our good and noble King Nicholas II, may there never be another!" He tossed back his head and laughed uproariously.

Randolph said coldly, "I suggest that you keep such gibes to yourself, Captain." The Lord Commander would tolerate no insult to his king. The centaur had known three lawful kings in his lifetime and never had he known such an awe-inspiring man as Nicholas II.

Alexandros looked abashed; it was a gift of his. The pirate's face could change at whim. "Oh, my, no, no, we mustn't make mock of the good king. It is laughter he dislikes, King Nicholas likes serious faces and sharp commands, Alexandros shall remember." He clapped his hand back onto Randolph's shoulder. "But seeing that you are speaking to King Nicholas, perhaps you may be reminding himself that faithful Alexandros still has none of the gold promised him."

"King Nicholas will see you paid, Captain. The king always keeps his oaths."

"Promises, yes," the pirate complained. "Alexandros has no end of promises from the good king. Alexandros would like more gold and fewer papers."

"Of course." Randolph forced a smile. "I'll be sure to mention it, Captain. Now you really must excuse me." He strode off at that, not caring if it was rude or not. Alexandros was hardly the first man Randolph had despised and still been forced to cooperate with, but it galled him to have to submit to the brigand's familiarity now.

During the war, Captain Alexandros, little better than a pirate mercenary, had chosen to smuggle supplies to the Freedom Fighters, loyally and consistently. King Nicholas owed him a great debt, Randolph doubted that the Freedom Fighters would have prevailed without the pirate's aid. Nonetheless, the man was a criminal. And that aside, Randolph had no taste for these intrigues, these duels with words. He disliked flatterers even more, and the captain oozed of flattery.

Randolph shook his head; it did no good to focus on his distaste for Alexandros. He owed the former pirate a great debt, as did King Nicholas. It would be better to remember the good points.

He strode in through the doors, answering the shouts of the guards good-naturedly, tired though he was. A military man, Randolph prided himself on being a commander who was on good terms with all his soldiers. And it was then that Lord Commander Randolph was accosted for the second time that day.

"Lord Commander."

The voice was light, friendly, youthful. Yet it was another that Randolph recognized and held scant love for. He turned his voice heavy with courtesy. "Lady Yeesha."

The mage studied him boldly, her blue eyes lively. "The king sent me to escort you to a small personal dinner."

That did surprise Randolph, not so much because of the dinner itself as… "You are to dine with us as well, my lady?"

"I do believe that His Grace mentioned something about that." Her tone was the same as before, but the words were heavy with mockery. That was another reason Randolph had little love for this particular mage; frivolity angered him. But it was not his place to comment on such, so he dutifully offered her his arm. The king had need of them both.

---

Despite his royal upbringing, Nick had never liked heavy meals. It was his habit to take some fruit and bread to break his fast, a light lunch, and then a somewhat heavier dinner, though, from what he had seen of other noble tables, it was still light in relative terms. Still, he did honor by those lords and ladies he must needs win and those councilors he must needs keep. Nonetheless, in these troubled times, Nick found it best to keep his table frugal, regardless, and so he had.

The king sat in his chair, leaning forward very slightly as he steepled his long fingers. It was an effect designed to inspire confidence in those he had asked to sup with him this eve. It was not quite the point in the meal where matters of policy would be discussed by his estimation, but it wasn't far off now either.

Abruptly, he decided to mix up the evening a bit. "Lady Yeesha," he murmured as his eye scanned the court mage critically, "you have taken the time to dress, I see."

The slightest bit of a laugh escaped from Yeesha's mouth as she replied, "You are too kind to say so, Your Grace."

He could see the laughter in her face. Nick managed to refrain from frowning, but it troubled him. He never trusted what a man or woman told him when they were laughing. Laughter was a poison. He turned his gaze to his Lord Commander. "Tell me, Randolph, how goes the recruiting?"

The centaur's lips twisted very slightly as he took a sip of wine. "Well, Your Grace. Truth to tell, I was surprised at how many we've found thus far and how quickly. A stroke of providence."

Nick arched a brow, curious at the dissatisfaction he was reading in Randolph. "Too well, you think?"

The centaur was not slow in responding. "Aye. Aye, Your Grace." He scratched at his scar momentarily and, Nick was fairly certain, deliberately. "The need for rebuilding our forces has never been more pronounced than now, but I fear for the state of our army nonetheless. We have too many green recruits."

"No matter. They shall be blooded, eventually, and by that point it won't matter any further."

"The blooding is a dangerous process, Your Grace. It is not unusual to lose men in it. It is too much for some… some grow to like the taste of blood too well, as well. I don't wish to overstate the dangers, but better that than to understate them, Your Grace. I am concerned."

Nick paused for a moment, considering the point as he cracked a piece of bread in his hands. "A reasonable point, Lord Commander, but Cypress has no standing army now, only some few veterans of the Freedom Fighters. The Royal Guard must be reestablished. I trust that you will be able to minimize the risks involved whilst General Mayfair works on training the troops."

Mayfair pushed her plate away, amused skepticism on her face. "I will? You haven't exactly been pressing the duties of a general on me, Nick."

"Ah. So that's what's been troubling you."

"Considering my appointment, you haven't seemed very interested in having me work on your armies for you."

Nick took the last bite of fish, chewed, swallowed, and then said, "Consider this for a moment, General. In battle, do I serve my forces best by my own prowess with a blade, or with tactical decisions?"

"The answer to that is fairly obvious."

"Exactly." Nick leant back contentedly in his chair. "Both you and the Lord Commander are heroes to these recruits, but just as there are different talents on a battlefield; there are different kinds of legends. Lord Commander Randolph is undoubtedly a warrior of amazing prowess. He has the ability to inspire confidence and loyalty, but most importantly, he can work with them on a military level beyond training. You, on the other hand, have the gift to inspire a different kind of loyalty and you have a flair for organization, a way to inspire inner confidence, the ability to give these young warriors something to aspire to. Your natural talents equip you to train them, and you are… an emblem for them." He could feel his jaw clenching slightly as he finished.

And twice now you have refused to be the same for me.

"I see," said Mayfair, her voice not quite cool. But then, she had probably felt the same tension enter the room as well.

"Regardless," Nick sighed, "there is little to discuss about military affairs until we have a military to speak of. Perhaps we should focus our attention on more solvable problems." He steepled his fingers again, studying these three advisors one by one, waiting to see what they would offer him.

Unsurprisingly, Lord Commander Randolph spoke first. "I encountered Captain Alexandros this afternoon, Your Grace. He requests that you remember your obligation to him." The centaur's tone revealed a certain degree of reservation about that proposition, reservation that Nick understood all too well.

He frowned. "Captain Alexandros does present something of a problem."

"I fail to see how that is." Mayfair's demeanor was very direct. "He is a factor that was directly responsible for winning the throne on which you sit. Duty compels you to do him honor."

The slightest hint of a smile brushed Nick's lips at that. It had been very deftly done. He doubted that he would have taken it for the rebuke that it was had Mayfair not been careful to use his own words. "The man has also been a pirate," he pointed out, "one of the foremost smugglers in all of Cypress. Justice demands that these crimes be punished." He frowned again. "Therein lies the difficulty. Merely fining Alexandros does nothing, he recoups his losses by means of the reward I am bound to bestow upon him. Jailing him for a time is essentially the same."

Mayfair stared. "That is an infantile use of the word 'justice,'" she said coldly. "Justice is not some absolute concept, Nick. It isn't immutable. Justice exists to serve the people, not to be locked into increasingly obscure points that serve no one."

"Justice is the basis on which the greater good rests," he retorted. "And anyway, I have no intention of ruling on the matter of Alexandros at this time. First it will be necessary to turn our attention to building… this." He handed her a piece of parchment, studying her closely. Mayfair exhaled sharply.

"This is… large-scale." She looked up, her face stunned, but not displeased. "Creating an institution of high court justice like this… forgive me if I am forward, Your Grace, but don't open petitions address this same concern?"

"It's not enough. East, south, west, north… all we do, we do for justice. We do it for Cypress. All matters of justice are equal, high or low, and all must be able to seek them. These courts will exist so that all may seek them." He leant forward, earnest now. "It all flows from justice," he told them.

Randolph's face paled, the scar at his eye tightening. It took Nick a moment to identify the cause. Of course, nearly twenty years as a guard would have bred certain prejudices into the centaur.

Pride. He needed to remember what he was dealing with here. The key was Randolph's pride. Still, that was something best dealt with privately. It would have to wait for now.

Mayfair, in the meantime, was objecting, "Much as I approve of the concept, Your Grace, the treasury cannot bear the expense."

"What treasury is that? Two years of constant warfare has bled off all of our gold. Economic measures are being enforced where they can, but the only way to stimulate an economy at this point is to create an influx of labor." He paused, absently noticing the frown creasing Mayfair's forehead. "Additionally, on that note, I've had a letter from the south. Lord Warden Cray seems to have made a smooth transition into power; much of the corruption has already been cleansed. He has also adopted the economic polices that I suggested, but it is too soon to see whether or not he'll be able to meet the quotas."

"I see." Mayfair's voice was less than pleased. She had opposed Cray's appointment, of course. Nick was confident that the one-eyed monk would be a splendid choice, however. He was from the south originally and he had been extremely useful to Nick in the war. Therefore the king had felt bound to reward him in some fashion, and Cray had suggested the appointment. Additionally, given the fact that Nick did not have a history with Cray, it made the monk appear more of an outsider and negated any potential arguments of nepotism on Nick's part. And he seemed to be very effective thus far. In the meantime, Mayfair was changing the subject.

"And from the north?"

"Nothing, as yet." That was a sore point, certainly. After consideration and a lack of excellent options, Nick had given the north to Shade. The archer had gone up there and they hadn't heard anything, as yet. Then again, he believed that Oskrim came from a northern family. Doubtless the red-bearded schemer was muddying the waters.

Mayfair cleared her throat. "That leaves Gyan."

Nick arched a puzzled brow at the significance in her tone. "Implying what, exactly?"

Randolph interposed quietly, "I think we were all surprised by my appointment, Your Grace. I certainly expected that you would have put Gyan in my place."

Nick lifted his goblet, playing for time. It was true, in all the ways that mattered, Gyan was a perfect fit for the post of Lord Commander. And he had been made Warden of the west instead. In retrospect, even Nick wasn't quite certain why he had made that decision, but that was not something for a king to admit. "With Ruce's death, you were an obvious candidate, Randolph. Especially given that my other most gifted choice was accompanying Lord Deanna back to Iom."

Randolph nodded his head slightly. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Mayfair didn't look entirely convinced, so Nick decided that now would be the time to press on relentlessly. "For that matter, talk as we will of domestic policy, the key to domestic strength also lies in a strong foreign policy. The lord of Pao, one Xotho I believe, has written to me, urging us to exchange emissaries. Given that Pao now has the closest port to Cypress in all of Rune, I see the necessity of a strong trade agreement as a priority… before Guardiana has a chance to step in and mediate. I've taken the liberty of drawing up our essential goals. I'll trust you to look over this, General, and be sure that we have a proper offer. Lord Orr shall undertake this task on our behalf."

Mayfair sputtered for a bare second. "Certainly, Your Grace."

"Additionally" he began, pulling a paper from his voluminous cloak, "I'd like you to begin work on this treaty with Guardiana. If at all possible, have it completed before Queen Anri's party has reached Guardiana. I should like to have this in hand by the time Guardiana tries to normalize relations in Cypress."

Mayfair took the paper wordlessly, already scanning it. "You've been very thorough, Nick."

"Naturally," he responded. "That's a king's duty." All in all, Nick was pleased with the way events had panned out. Cypress was in truly desperate straits, but he was working as quickly and effectively to reverse that as possible. Securing this treaty with Guardiana would hopefully finally resolve the question of Lord Max, and, most importantly, for the first time since the war, Nick could feel nothing by the cold wheels of logic working their way through his decisions. He belonged in this life, where he could do good through the application of justice. He no longer felt those foolish, irrational doubts nagging at him… Or at least, not often, anymore.

It was his duties that he could properly apply himself to now, and Nick was finding that task to be very satisfying. One of the only concerns that vexed him in any way now was that of his marital status. He must needs wed and soon. It was Mayfair that made him feel this uncharacteristic consternation. She had refused him, but surely she would do her duty…

For the first time since the start of the conversation, Yeesha stirred. "There is one problem with Iom, Your Grace."

Nick leant forward, layering his voice in such a way to put them all at ease. "Indeed? I fail to see it."

"Lord Deanna has not yet technically surrendered the sovereignty of Iom to Cypress, Your Grace." Yeesha smiled slightly as she spoke. "I only bring this up because a courier also delivered a missive from Iom to me, for Your Grace's eyes only."

At that, Nick sat up straight, perturbed. "Perhaps I might see this letter?"

Yeesha leant forward, silently handing it to him. Nick was so engrossed in wanting to read the missive that he scarcely registered noticing the rather low cut of Yeesha's gown. He read through the letter once, quickly, and then he took his time, studying each word with care. The letter was quite cool in tone, even for Lord Deanna.

"Gods be good," he swore as he finished for the second time. "Apparently Lord Deanna does have a few demands for his loyalty. He also requests leave to wed Natasha… indeed he says that he was encouraged to believe that there is no question as to that matter." Nick fought the mounting disbelief, his mind quickly responding to this new situation. It was imperative that Iom be set straight above all else at the moment. Without Iom firmly in Nick's hands, Warderer, presuming he had survived the assault on Skull Castle, might press a claim for the kingdom. Additionally, his security as sovereign of Cypress was built on the fact that his lords feared to face him in combat. Iom must needs be firmly in Nick's hands.

He stood. "Forgive the abrupt ending to this affair, but I fear that we must move with all due haste. General Mayfair, I shall require your presence I think. Also Sir Claude, if you will ask him to accompany us." He nodded several times before turning to Randolph. "In my absence you shall rule Castle Cypress, Lord Commander. Continue pursuing all of my policies vigorously and put off Captain Alexandros howsoever you must."

Randolph nodded silently, but Mayfair risked the obvious question. "Are we to take this to mean that you're…?"

"Of course. Where else would I be going, but Iom?" Nick asked with a dour smile.