Chapter Twenty
Edwire Denovin

Lord Edwire, Second Seat of House Denovin, Bearer of the Broken Spear, was unbearably miserable. His heels dragged as he trudged lazily along the muddy track away from the encampment, wending his way slowly through a wooded copse towards the nearby lake. A grey drizzle was falling, as if to dampen further to the grim condition in which he had been placed, as a representative of a noble house on the military conquest of a despotic, regicidal, peasant 'king'.

Edwire longed to be back in Nanharo, surrounded by the comforts of his father's halls, where he was free to indulge in the better fruits of life: fine food, finer drink, and yet finer women. True, the late King Tadian's war against Hyrule had led to a scarcity of basic provision amongst the lower classes of society, but he had been blissfully unaffected by such strife in his rightfully privileged position. Until recently he had been anticipating a warm winter, one of mirth and merriment with friends and family, enjoying roasted meats and strong ale in front of roaring fires, bedding whomever he chose.

Everything had changed when he arrived, 'The Master', with his cohort of ragged renegades, apparently bent on nothing less than the total disruption of Edwire's happy life. The Master, this peasant man Ralis, was a dreadful man. He carried airs and graces unbefitting his station, and was at all times uncouth, rude, and frankly loutish. He had come to Nanharo many weeks ago and demanded the allegiance of Edwire's father, in a plot to seize the Kairin throne by force. Edwire's father, Count Edwire XI of Nanharo, had been dazzled by a display of cheap magical prowess, and surrendered the command of their city's army to that despicable man.

To his dismay, in his station as first commander of Nanharo's armies, he, Edwire the Junior, had been required to accompany this rebel on his regicidal quest, charged by his father to assist with the assault and capture of Morlakai, and the overthrow of King Tadian. Edwire cared little for whatever claim this Ralis had for the throne, and cared less for the fact of his triumph. Power and station were the pursuits of old and greying men who had long passed their usefulness, such as his father. The endeavour of war was worse still. As far as he was concerned war was to be avoided at all costs; not because of the inevitable loss of soldiery - though that was of course undesirable - but rather because war was, in Edwire's view, a frightfully dull and altogether tedious pursuit.

Nevertheless he had been hauled into this ghastly affair, with no choice but to remain loyal to this newly crowned King Ralis if he was ever to retire to his home in Nanharo. Albeit, the prospect of returning home seemed to be increasingly unlikely, as it became ever more apparent to him that this war between Hyrule and Kaira had broken down into a conflict which was nothing short of suicidal. To Edwire's utter horror it seemed this war persisted only as an extension of the King's personal vendetta against some equally insignificant Hylian Prince. All thought of territorial gain, which may have at least served some practical use, had been dashed by the ascendancy of the new sovereignty, yet the war continued regardless.

As he walked lost in thought, a deep puddle swallowed Edwire's boot, and he stumbled forwards into the sodden track. Startled, he broke his fall by throwing out his hands to meet the earth, narrowly avoiding a calamitous impact with his handsome face. This was little consolation. His beautiful riding gloves were now hopelessly dirty and one of his expensive 

boots ruined by the muddy water. He climbed to his feet painfully, and wiped the soil from his trousers in frustration.

Edwire brooded angrily as he picked up his pace towards the lake. His life had been ruined by this awful peasant king, and he would see to it that this terrible man received nothing less than he deserved for the awful things he was doing.

The man in question was there at the lakeside, along with a host of other nobles and military leaders. The new king, garbed in a highly unfashionable array of black clothing - tunic, leggings, robes and all - was standing atop a raised mound of earth, with his followers assembled around him in a ring. He was speaking loudly and gesturing boldly, and took no notice of Edwire when he arrived.

Standing beside the King was his General, a woman named Arella, a seasoned ship captain who had been the first to follow the treasonous wretch in his campaign. She had been by his side in Nanharo, and was no less close to him now. However, Edwire noted, as he joined the circle around the king, she did not look well of late. The General's skin seemed to have paled as though perhaps she were afflicted with an unpleasant ailment. Her eyes, once so full of fervour for her leader, seemed somehow disinterested, or even unaware of what was going on around her. Her once luxurious waves black hair was no longer visible. Perhaps it had been cropped very short, or else was tucked away beneath her feathered hat, but Edwire suspected worse. Edwire was not familiar with many afflictions, but he had heard of diseases which could ravage a person's body of its youth, even causing the most dreadful hair loss, in women as well as men. Over the days the King seemed not to have noticed this; that, or he simply did not care for her condition.

When Edwire joined the circle, slipping in quietly so as to go as unnoticed as possible, the King was in full flow. "...gather our strength together, and then Hyrule will fall!" he declared loudly. "I foresee a great battle... a vast battle upon the plains of Hyrule, in which our mighty forces will obliterate the weakened Hylians. They stand so proudly now, on their southern coast, looking out to the sea. They believe they have won the war. They claim victory for the land, as they run the last of Tadian's whelps into the ocean. They are naïve."

The maniac king glanced around, eyeing some of the nobles, passing his gaze over others. Edwire breathed a sigh of relief as the king looked past him. "The witch queen of Hyrule is a frail and haggard old crow, a pathetic creature, weary of the world, who has spent too many nights alone in a cold bed..." This last comment drew some rowdy laughs from some of the older men, who Edwire suspected were equally lonely in their bed chambers. "Their Marshal... is a worn out relic of the old order, a child 'hero' trapped in an old man's body. He can barely stand without a stick, let alone fight with a blade! Is this the man we are supposed to fear? Hah!"

After a few more laughs, hush settled upon the group, as the King surveyed the surroundings. He stared eastward across the lake, looking towards the rising sun. "Enough," he said, taking a solemn tone. "I have gathered you here for reports." He turned to face the man to Edwire's immediate right, and fixed him with a disturbing stare. "Georgin of House Claican, how many men have been gathered from Dushin and the surrounding lands?"

Georgin Claican was a young man, though he was a lean figure, with hair already thinning and greying. He was wearing the green and yellow colours of his House, of which he was 

Third Seat, with the red antlers of the western city of Dushin emblazoned upon his chest. A witty and energetic character usually, despite his outward appearance, whom Edwire had met numerous times in the past. His regular vigour was subdued now under the King's steely gaze. "Th- th- three thousand, Your Majesty," he said nervously, with a slight bow as he spoke.

The King said nothing, and simply moved his gaze to the next man along. "Methus of House Travidor, how many from Mindarb?"

The Second Seat of Travidor spoke with more confidence than Georgin Claican, though he had less to be confident about. "Over two thousand," he said, "with more arriving every day."

If the King thought any less of these numbers he did not show it, moving swiftly on to ask the same question of the next man in the circle. They answered each in turn, their peculiar lord addressing them one by one, taking as much time for every man.

When he came to young Bethron of House Sudain, there was a moment of dreadful silence. When the son of the Count of Rolkanim delivered his report, the tension in that small space was unbearable. "In- in- including my- my- self, Your Majesty," he said, "sixteen to report."

This time the King did have words of reply. "You have brought fifteen men," he repeated. "What is this? Your personal bodyguard and no more?"

"My father sends his deep regret," said Bethron Sudain, bowing his head down low. "Our southern city is struggling to defend itself from mountain raiders, as well as wolves and feral cats. We cannot spare our army."

A deathly silence hung in the air, as Edwire and doubtless others waited for the King to condemn Bethron for his failure. The King said nothing more, and moved on to Pincival of House Leylith. As he continued his questioning of the circle, General Arella quietly scribed for him, noting the soldiery counts that were being reported. They were mostly being quoted in groups of two and three thousand each, with some of the smaller borderland cities pledging in the high hundreds. No others so few as had come from Rolkanim with Bethron though.

Eventually, the King came full circle and his gaze fell upon Edwire. His eyes were truly terrifying to look into; they gave the impression that he could see Edwire's every thought. This was not entirely out of the question, he supposed grimly. "Edwire of House Denovin," he said coldly. "You are late."

Edwire was quite sure his heart would stop beating as a wave of cold terror washed from his head to his feet. He had no respect for the King whatsoever, but he was well aware of his famous anger, and knew the extent of his power. He would have to plead for forgiveness. "Your Majesty..." he said, bowing low, and remaining standing so, "I beg your most generous and merciful pardon. I have no excuse to offer you, though I ask you accept my most humble apologies."

The King was silent once more. Edwire wished he had not bowed so low, for now he could not discern how he man had taken his apology; albeit, it would be difficult even looking directly at him.

"Stand tall, man!" the King ordered suddenly. "Don't stand there like a dog scorned, with its head drooped and tail between its legs." Edwire straightened himself, his cheeks reddening in humiliation. "You won't act like a dog in my presence," the King continued, as his lips curved into a cruel smile, "even if you do enjoy rolling in the dirt on your own time!"

Raucous laughter erupted from the other men at this degrading comment. The nobles slapped their thighs and rattled their weapons, jeering at him until they were cut off with a simple wave of the King's hand. "I do not accept failure," said the iron voice. For a moment, he began raising his hand towards Edwire, but stopped short. "How many soldiers have gathered from Nanharo and its outer towns?" he asked, almost as an afterthought.

Edwire eyed the moving hand, his body shaking nervously. "Your Majesty," he said slowly, "if it pleases you, I have seven thousand men from Nanharo."

The King studied him carefully, not lowering his hand from its waiting position. "Seven thousand," he repeated, "very good. That is welcome news."

A commendation? Surely not. Edwire waited patiently for the real wrath to be poured out at any moment. "Please, Your Majesty..." he said, lowering his head again.

"Look at me!" the King ordered fiercely. His heart pounding, Edwire met those awful eyes again, longing to stab them out with a cold blade. "I see your lazy mind, and your loathing for me. I do not accept defiance of my authority. I will be obeyed."

The King stretched out his hand towards Edwire, fingers extended threateningly. Edwire flung himself onto his knees, looking up at him desperately. "Please, my lord!" he begged, abandoning all show of dignity. "I'm sorry, my lord! I will be your loyal slave! Please don't kill me..."

The King showed no signs of enjoyment or pleasure in Edwire's begging. He was not a sadistic man. He was a cold, calculating tyrant, who only acted to advance him to his goal. When he spoke, there was less anger in his voice now. "You are fortunate that your father has been so loyal to me, Denovin."

With a flourish of his long black robes he turned on his heel and cast out his arm out towards Bethron Sudain. The young man was thrown from his feet violently by an unseen force, spinning violently in circles towards the lake. He cried out in terror, wrestling hopelessly with the air. The nobles watched in horror, Edwire still on his knees, as Bethron was left hanging in midair, upside down, as though strung up by his ankles. For those who had yet to see a display of the King's magical empowerment, this was a very distressing sight, and they stood looking on panic stricken, shaking with fear.

"I will not tolerate disobedience or disloyalty," said the madman. He lowered his arms, and Bethron plummeted towards the lake, screaming as he fell, thrust downwards into the icy water until only his legs remained above the water, still grappled invisibly by sorcerous bonds. His feet struggled to break free, and the water frothed as his arms flapped furiously. After ten seconds the struggling ceased, and moments later the body hung limp in the water. The King released him, and the drowned corpse slipped silently into the shallows.

"Arella, send a messenger to the Count of Rolkanim," said the black robed nightmare in the centre of the circle. "He will get his son's body back... when he sends me his army." The General said nothing, keeping her head down and writing hastily on a roll of paper. The nobles in the circle were glancing around at each other, as though daring each other to speak about the horror they had just witnessed, but all kept quiet.

He returned his attention to Edwire, still cowering on the ground. "A loyal slave, indeed?" he mused. "Let it remain so."

Edwire climbed back to his feet slowly, keeping his gaze low. His hatred for the man was boiling over inside his stomach, such that he felt he was going to wretch his guts out. He had never known such a vile being as the one before him. He had murdered Bethron without any sign of remorse.

"By my count we have amassed over forty thousand men," he said. "I know that it will be an ever present challenge to feed this army. The countryside will be stripped bare by our mighty force. Yet we will not strive in vain." The King looked northwards across the rolling green plains of Kaira, clenching one fist in the other hand. "We march north to the ocean - and Hyrule."