The support on the first chapter has been great! Thank you all so much for your interest in my AU :D

Thank you, aer-of-ice, for beta'ing this chapter!

Chapter 1 - Fiyr

We guard the castle through the night.

I'm glad that we don't have to stand out on the pavilion or we'd freeze to death; the castle is drafty enough as it is with the repairs from Shodawa's raid still underway.

Despite the holes in the castle's wall, it seems the kingdoms are recovering from the tyranny of Braukkiniaum. After the battle in Shodawa's castle, Braukkiniaum and his inner circle fled into the forests and as far as we know, they haven't returned. Thank the Starlaxi.

I wonder how Shodawa is doing. Who have they chosen as their new monarch? I didn't really get a chance to meet any of the Shodawes knights, unless it was while I was trying to skewer them on Rusty—actually, it's Fireheart now, isn't it? Strange. It feels like nothing has changed, but I suppose quite a lot has…

I touch my fingertip to the ruby in my life-force ring, feeling the lightest pulse of my life-force, soothing me.

But I can't press back the other anxieties about the kingdoms' state of affairs. Specifically, Thundria; I don't know what I should do about the Sir Cawle-Ravne situation. I trust Ravne, but at the same time, there's an insistence inside me that he couldn't possibly…

And then of course, there's Wynnd. Now that Braukkiniaum's reign has been ended, the kingdom of wind can return to the land, but there's been no sign of them. It's a strangely uncomfortable feeling to know about the kingdom's history and traditions and feel as though they've always been around, and still never have known them.

The sun is rising; the faintest glow has begun to bring colour to the slate of the pavilion.

I still haven't made up my mind about Sir Cawle.

I sigh, glancing at where Graie looks like he's half asleep on his feet and then look away again. It'll be over soon. Maybe ten more minutes.

And Sir Cawle? Can I really just sit back and let the matter resolve itself some other way? Will Samn handle everything? I wish he could, but I know that's not fair. He and Ravne have told me what they believe to be the truth. Then again, how could Ravne have misheard or misunderstood what he saw? He was clear as day. Sir Cawle murdered Sir Redde Tayle, former captain of the guard of Thundria and Samn's own father…

My own mentor.

It's unthinkable.

He's gruff, sure, maybe even a little hostile sometimes, but does he have it in him to take a life? To tear down another man to get what he wants, which, if Samn and Ravne are to be believed, is more power?

I sigh again.

Graie is still in place, seemingly unconcerned by everything that plagues my mind.

The sounds of footsteps approaching on stone make me turn toward the door from the hall that leads to the knights' wing. It's Sir Wynnd, looking like he woke up approximately thirty seconds ago, hair ruffled and yawning.

I give him a little wave. The silent vigil isn't over yet, even as the court begins to stir from the long night's sleep. And it was long, believe me. Even accompanied by Graie and all the miming we could manage, it still feels like the battle against King Braukkiniaum's guard was months ago when the sun finally starts to come up.

As the court begins to go about their daily tasks, I swallow dread as Duss emerges from the squire's wing, his bristly brown hair looking like someone tried and failed to tame it with a comb, and stalks toward us.

"Think you're so great now that you're knights, do you?"

Subtlety is not one of his strong points.

I keep my lips firmly shut. He knows I won't break the vigil, regardless of whatever abuse he feels the urge to throw my way this time.

"Ah, give it a rest."

I try to not to react too extremely, but my stomach jumps at the sound of Samn's voice; hardly more than a croak and sounding like he was hit by a god's soul, but there all the same. A smile makes its way past my defenses. Damned Starlaxi. At least I have the self-control not to jump for joy.

After all, I nearly killed him. Hearing and seeing him, and not within the ranks of the Starlaxi, is a blessing after this vigil-of-a-new-anxiety-every-ten-minutes. All the thoughts I've bundled up inside for the past eight hours are bubbling up out of my mouth and if the queen doesn't get out here soon, I might actually lose my mind.

But glancing back at Duss, it's clear the urge to jump for joy at the sight of the other squire isn't particularly strong for him. Or there.

"What's with you?" he snaps bluntly.

Samn crosses his arms. Twisting to get a good look at him, it's all I can do not to visibly cringe. He's leaning heavily on a cane and his arm is twisted up in so many bandages I can't even tell what the damage is. I really did a number on him.

"Congratulations," Samn tells me, ignoring Duss's scowl. "Don't let it go to your head."

I don't reply but crack a half-smile anyway and nod.

Boy, not talking sure has its perks. I've never been good at not blurting out every single thing that pops into my head; reining it in is new. It's kind of nice. Everyone else can just talk for awhile and I can sort out what's going on inside my own head. Is this what it's like to have a filter?

"Fiyr Harte and Graie Sterrip." The queen's warm voice nearly makes me sag with relief. At last! I didn't think I'd be able to hold myself up for another five minutes. "Well done. If you're up for it, you can make your new beds in the knights' wing; we have rooms open. Side-by-side."

Graie grins despite the dark circles under his eyes. Regardless of my own problems, I can't discount the fact that he's had a month from the Blacklands. His mentor, his mother's friend, his best friend… The body count is high.

Well, Ravne's not dead, I remind myself. The queen doesn't look like she got much sleep last night, and I have to wonder if that's why. The kingdom has had its fair share of hardships, but Ravne was young and thinking him dead somewhere on Shodawa's territory can't be easy for her.

Sir Strommer comes up beside her, surprisingly unharmed, all things considered, and gives us a grin. "Ah, I remember this. If you're too tired to set up the new rooms, just head back to the squires' wing. You can take care of it later."

We nod.

"And you may speak," the queen adds.

"Oh thank the Starlaxi," Graie exclaims, gasping like a dying fish. His voice is almost gone; despite his theatrics, the long silence isn't easy on the throat. "Thought I was going to explode if I had to stay all hushed up for another minute."

Duss sneers, but Samn just rolls his eyes with a smile.

"Let's go back to the squires' wing before I collapse," I suggest, clearing my throat and feeling the rawness. "Actually, water first."

To my utter shock, Samn shrugs. "I can get you some. You two should go sleep."

Even Sir Strommer seems floored by his offer. Samn is a lot of things, but generous wasn't on the list, I didn't think. Can you be generous and arrogant? I wonder, peering at him pensively. Argh, I'm too tired for this shit.

"Thanks," I rasp and offer my arm to Graie. He takes it, leaning heavily on me dramatically, though I don't doubt that he needs some of the support anyway.

"Samn probably shouldn't be running from the kitchen and back," the queen interjects. Before Samn can protest, she adds, "Duss, why don't you fetch our newest knights something to drink?"

I don't get to enjoy the other boy's face as Graie and I limp toward the squires' wing.

"I wouldn't drink it," my friend mumbles. "He keeps nightshade in his room for this very purpose. If it smells funny, throw it out. And even if it doesn't. Still throw it out, I think he has a knack with herbs."

I laugh—which sounds more like a small animal thrashing around in bracken—and help him back to the squires' wing. Looking at the familiar nook, it's hard to believe that soon we won't be living here anymore. The beds are nicer in the knights' wing at least. And maybe I can get Duss to do my laundry. That would be glorious.

Laughing to myself, I tuck myself into my bed for the last time and fall asleep the moment my head makes contact with my pillow.

…

A bitter taste pervades my mouth.

There's a strange tinkling noise, like a glass being dropped onto stone and shattering.

It takes me a moment to place it, but when I blink open my gummy eyes, it becomes immediately obvious that I've found myself near a soulpath in completely unfamiliar territory.

Twisting soulpaths arc and spiral overhead. In front of me, the entrance to a dank cave yawns. Peering inside, I can't make out much except for gloom, but it's no matter because the voices that I can hear now are coming from the barren wasteland that surrounds us.

"Dowen, may your spirit find the Starlaxi quickly and painlessly and may you live out your eternal afterlife in their holy ranks." An old man's voice, rumbly and cracking. "Farewell, child."

A woman crying.

Turning away from the entrance to the cave, I see the crowd. They're standing around a fire. I can just make out the sight of a small boy's body laid out in front of them. He might be sleeping, but from the old man's words, I know it's not just that.

Colour is leached from the world around me. The ground falls to a dull gray, the figures in the distance going still and the voices, even the woman's sobs, going silent.

"Sir Harte."

I blink. It's an unfamiliar voice; a man's, low and a bit raspy. It sounds a bit like Samn, but more like an older man. I turn.

It's a man I've seen before, though I can't place it—he's a little taller than me, in his late thirties or maybe forties, if I had to guess. I recognize his sharp, walnut-brown features as an echo of Samn's, but his hair is darker, brown and auburn streaking together to form a long braid that lies on his shoulder and comes down to rest near the Thundrian emblem on his uniform. His russet-red uniform. He's a captain of the guard?

It clicks.

"Sir… Redde Tayle?" I blink.

He laughs a bit, then rubs the back of his neck in a self-conscious motion. I've seen Samn do the same. "The same. I guess my reputation precedes me."

"It's… an honour to meet you, sir," I answer honestly. It's the polite thing to say, but I'm shocked to see this man alive in front of me. Well, not alive. I've put two and two together by now—this is some kind of dream from the Starlaxi. Why, I can't imagine, but I'm amazed to see him all the same.

"You flatter me. I'm glad to see you among Thundria's ranks, Fiyr," he tells me. I blink. "You'll make a good knight, from what I've seen."

"Th—thank you," I stammer. "Um, where are we?"

He turns, an almost rueful expression taking over his handsome features. "This is a vision of another part of our world. These people…"

I look at the gathered people, the woman bent in despair over the boy's body, the tall, old man…

"This the court of Wynnd. Their grandeur and honour were stripped when they were forced to flee their castle by the Shodawes," Sir Tayle tells me. "It is your destiny to restore them to their glory. Seek out and follow the wind, Fiyr, for only four can live in true harmony and balance."

I blink, confused. "I—I don't understand. Why are you here?" It could have been anyone from the Starlaxi, I guess, but I don't know why this man that I don't know would be the one coming to talk to me.

His solemn expression takes on the faintest shade of amusement. "You need guidance, Fiyr, and I think I may soon be in the right position to give it to you."

Despite the dire situation playing out behind us, I still find the time to be embarrassed by what he's suggesting. "What?"

"Nevermind. You need to return to the world of the waking, now. Remember, though, there must be four."

Suddenly, he splits, like I'm going cross-eyed, and there are two of the same man in front of me, then they double again and four Redde Tayles.

"Only four."

Because there are four of him? That's about as subtle as Duss, I think.

As though thinking of him summons him, I can suddenly hear Duss's voice. He's shouting at me. It's only then that I remember the other connection to the man in front of me. Did Sir Cawle...

"Wait, Sir Tayle, before you go, I need to ask—"

Then Duss's voice snaps me out of the dream.

…

"Sir Cawle wants you on evening patrol," Duss shouts, far louder than necessary, as he barges into my nook.

I flinch, twisting further into the sheets. The Starlaxi damn me, I didn't ask him. Shit.

"Unless you'd like to explain to him that now that you're a knight, you don't answer to anyone," he jeers.

Jealous much?

I turn over and groan. "Alright, alright, I'll come in a moment."

"Sir Cawle isn't a patient man."

As Duss leaves, I wonder if he's even faintly aware of the sinister double entendre. He's right, Sir Cawle isn't a patient man. So if Samn and Ravne are right, and Sir Cawle is willing to kill for power—which is becoming less and less of such a far leap of logic every time I think about it—then how long before he strikes to take what he wants? How long can I afford to dither?

How many die before I try to stop him?

I think of Sir Hartef and wince. Could that, too, have been prevented? But that fight was with Shodawa. Then again, would Sir Cawle go so far as to collude with a tyrant? It seems crazy, but I would have said anyone who questioned Sir Cawle's loyalty to the kingdom a year ago was crazy too. It seems less insane these days.

My mind hurts.

I get out of bed wearily and dress, a little embarrassed that I don't have the new dark green knight uniform yet, but I'll make do. Just so long as Duss, Sir Teyl, or Sir Styrp aren't on the patrol.

"Nice uniform."

Damned Starlaxi.

I face Liang's smirking face and do my best not to turn bright red, striding toward the patrol. At least Graie's on it.

"Couldn't find any that would fit someone so scrawny?"

Unfortunately, so is Sir Styrp.

This patrol can't be over fast enough.

…

When we're finally back on the Thundrian pavilion, I hurry into the castle to search for the queen. The whole time, despite all of Liang and Darriek's mockery, I couldn't get my mind off of Sir Cawle. I need to at least warn her. Even if she doesn't believe me… I have to know that I've tried.

I catch sight of the queen, then I curse under my breath as she disappears into her private chamber with Sir Cawle. Guess now's not the right time. But how many 'wrong times' can I afford?

Graie claps me on the shoulder, making me jump and nearly hit the ceiling.

"Skittish, aren't you?" he exclaims. "Yeah. I saw the queen too."

"What am I going to do? He follows her… like, everywhere. And if she's not with him, she's with Sir Styrp, and if she's not with Sir Styrp, she's with Sir Teyl, and if she's not with Sir Teyl, she's like "Ooh, don't bother me Fiyr, Thundria needs me right now"." I groan.
Graie snorts at my poor imitation of the queen and gives me a little pat. "You'll find the time."

Finally voicing my fears, I reply, "And what about if that's too late? I just want to tell her about Ravne, at least."

"Didn't Samn say he'd tell everyone Ravne was dead?" Graie cocks his head. "You gonna go behind your one true love's back like that?"

"Oh, lay off, would you?" I groan, slapping my forehead. "We're talking about potential conspiracy against the kingdom here!"

"Yeah, I'd rather talk about your love life," Graie sighs. "I've been depressed enough lately."

"Uh… yeah," I reply, not knowing what else I can say. How he manages to put a smile on his face through all this is kilometres beyond me. Different kinds of strength, I suppose.

Our conversation is cut short when Queen Bluelianna calls a court meeting.

As the court assembles, I study her. She looks decades older than she did when I joined the court and I can fathom why. It worries me to see her with this kind of weakness though. I don't doubt that there's still strength in her bones, but the frailness, especially in front of the court, is concerning. Nonetheless, her voice is strong when it rings out across the assembled court.

"Sewif has reached the age of twelve years," the queen announces. The ceremony is no surprise to anyone; the kid has been getting under everyone's feet despite his small stature and I think the whole court is glad he'll have a mentor to keep him in line.

"I call upon the Starlaxi to recognize this boy. He wishes to learn the way of the knight and one day join your noble rank. You will train under Sir Liang Teyl until you reach your full potential and take on the name of a full knight." I wince in pity for the poor kid. Even though Sewif's kind of a nuisance, training under that jerk isn't exactly going to be a sunlit walk.

"Sir Teyl, you were trained well by Sir Styrp and you will pass on all you've learned to this young squire. I call upon the Lunar Crystal to give this boy his life-force ring!"

I recognize the words and the action of the sceptre being hit on the ground from my own ceremony. Sewif looks on with contained excitement on his rat-like features as the white, pearly mist speeds toward him and snakes around his hand.

"Sewif! Sewif!"

I throw in a couple cheers of my own and glance through the crowd.

Cindra, the little girl that got saved from Shodawa, is staring at me intensely. I give her a little smile and wave.

…

In the months that pass, Graie and I settle into being knights. Our rooms, side by side, are as I suspected, far more comfortable than the nooks we had as squires, and our routine has changed from the seemingly endless lessons of squirehood to patrolling and supply runs, along with the occasional bit of repair.

So far, the only bit of excitement I've had was leading a patrol of knights against a band of mercenaries that were pillaging nearby villages. We had half as many knights, but I'm quickly learning that without life-force or training with steel, humans are easy to take down.

I've been relying more on the latter.

Ever since the disastrous events of the battle for Shodawa, I'm trying to keep my power in check. I can feel the flames in my veins, thrumming with potential and waiting for opportunity, but I never give the order to release. How can I, knowing that with the members of the court all around me, someone else could be hurt the same way Samn was? Or… worse?

But I can put thoughts of battle out of my mind, thankfully. It's the solstice, and every kingdom knows to respect the truce. Even if there were doubts that King Braukkiniaum would before, now that they presumably have a new monarch, Shodawa will fall in line. I hope.
"Thundria, to me!" the queen calls.

I spot Sir Cawle falling behind with Liang and Sewif, so I hurry to the queen's side, hoping it might be my chance. If I can just let her know quickly, then she can decide what she'll do with the information, I reassure myself.

"Queen Bluelianna! Your majesty, I—I should tell you something," I say hurriedly, not knowing how long I'll have before Sir Cawle returns to her side.

"Then speak freely," she invites, hope and determination glittering in her blue eyes. What for, I can only guess.

"Ravne—Ravne did not die," I blurt.

Her step falters and she exhales deeply, like she's letting go of the breath she's held since she heard the news. "I am glad," she murmurs. "He would have been too young. But where is he now? And what reason did you have to lie about it?"

Well, I'm glad you asked.

"He's—safe," I say falteringly. I trust her, but I have limited time and I'm not going to waste time explaining about Barrleigh. "But I have—good reason to believe that Sir Cawle is a traitor to the kingdom."

The queen's brows flicker up the smallest bit. The lack of shutting me down emboldens me.

"He killed Redde Tayle," I add nervously. "He's after leadership and he won't stop—"

"Fiyr, what are you talking about? Oeak—the Rivien captain killed Sir Tayle," she insists. I don't think I'm imagining the nervous gleam in her eyes. She doesn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe it, and here we are.

"No. Sir Tayle killed the Rivier captain and then Sir Cawle killed Si—" I counter but she's already cutting in.

"Fiyr, why would Sir Tayle kill another man?" the queen asks sharply. "It is against the knight's code, and Redde was the most honourable man I have known. I hope you realize what a serious accusation this is."

I swallow hard and soldier on.

"I—I can't explain what Sir Tayle did, all I know is that Ravne is certain that Sir Cawle was the one to kill him. And—and I believe him."

The queen looks up at the moon and sighs heavily.

"Fiyr, you're a bright young man, and I don't fault you for having faith in your friends," she begins, and I brace myself for what's coming, "but it was Ravne's first battle. He was very young and badly injured and… don't you think it's possible that he may have simply misunderstood what he saw? That is, how much of the battle against Shodawa do you remember?"

I falter. "I—I—"

We gathered the elders and attacked the castle and then… um, fought Shodawes knights. There was the thing with Dawhnnea and then Yllowei and Braukkiniaum, and Clehw… But it was hard to pick out the details.

Seeming to see the confliction on his face, Bluelianna continues, "Couldn't he have made an error?"

I shake my head. "How could he have misunderstood that?"

The queen's mouth is set in a line. "I would have to speak to him to understand that."

"Will you seek him out?" I ask, trying to stop a scowl from crossing my face.

She must see my expression because she takes my arm, almost to steady the coming storm of frustration. "No. I believe I may know where he is, but I do not think that if he has chosen this path we should disturb him now. If he is willing to leave the kingdom for what he believes, then I don't doubt his conviction."

Frustration rises in my throat to the point where I can't speak for a moment. "Then why—"

"The court waits by the border, Your Majesty," Tigre Cawle tells her as he and Edge come over to us.

"Thank you, Sir Cawle," the queen says firmly, though it seems like it's more aimed at me.

I swallow a sigh and watch as the two of them hurry toward the border of Rivier where the rest of the Thundrian court is standing.

We make the rest of the trip to the pavilion in silence. I stew in my own anger. I want her to—to—to do something! I put the information in her hands so she could choose what to do! But "nothing" isn't an acceptable answer! She makes it sound like she isn't even going to consider it!

"Didn't go so well?" Graie mumbles to me, riding up beside me as we reach the stretch of weathered stones by the Thundrian pillar. "Not the right time, again?"

"Worse than that," I admit. "She won't even listen."

His brow furrows. "Uh, did she clap her hands over her ears and start singing 'lalalala can't hear you' or what?"

I make a noise halfway between a grunt and a snort. Even when I'm mad he's trying to make me laugh. "Nah, she just made flimsy arguments and then when I explained, she just… she just left."

Graie sighs. "Yikes."

"Yikes is an understatement! It could be the fate of the court at stake here!" I hiss, rounding on him.

"Relax. You just need to explain that to her," Graie tells me, holding up his hands in surrender. "C'mon, what defense does she have against Ravne's accusations?"

I bury my face in my hands as the court ahead of us dismounts.

"Well, if Sir Cawle didn't kill Sir Hahrte of Rivier in revenge for what he did to Sir Tayle, then Sir Tayle was the one to kill Sir Hahrte," I explain. "Meaning Sir Tayle broke the knight's code."

"Ah."

Graie nods and chews on his lip pensively. I sigh and scrub my face with my hands. He won't come up with a brilliant plan. I just need to figure out a way to-

"Get Samn to do it!" Graie snaps his fingers as he exclaims it.

"Why would that help?" I grumble, glancing up at him through my fingers.

"Sir Tayle's own son backing up the accusation against his father would be pretty hard to refute. If anyone has motive to make excuses for why the Sir Cawle thing didn't actually happen, it would be Samn. But he's not doing that; he's totally convinced. So maybe if we get Sir Tayle's number one fan to tell Sir Tayle's number two fan that he might have actually broke the knight's code—of course, more importantly, that Sir Cawle is plotting to kill to get his way—then maybe she'll be more inclined to believe him!" Graie declares.

I blink. "You… think that getting Samn to tell her will help? Because Samn loves his father? That's… weird logic. But it makes sense, I suppose…"

"Also…" Graie leans over conspiratorially. "Samn is a major suck-up. Of all the squires, he's probably on the best terms with the queen."

I nod, beginning to see the sense in his plan. "But… how exactly are we going to convince him? I mean, if he was willing to smuggle Ravne out of the kingdom, why wouldn't he also tell the queen? Especially since he's… er, a suck-up."

Graie frowns. "I guess that would depend on why he's not telling her. You're right. Something doesn't add up. Well, why don't you just ask him?"
I flinch.

"Alright, what's your damage?" Graie asks, sighing. "You've been jumpy around him since our ceremonies."
"Since the battle," I correct.

"Ah."

The coin's dropped, I guess. It can't be too hard for him to figure out that I might not be the most comfortable around a guy I blew up. What a mystery! Gosh Fiyr, the stuff you do just makes no darn sense! I mock in my head.

"Do you plan to avoid him for the rest of time, then?" Graie prods. "It's been months."

I frown. It's probably closer to a pout. "Well, no. But… just until everything goes back to normal."
He raises his eyebrows at me. "What's normal? Samn's healed, you haven't exploded since, there haven't been any more battles… I don't know what you want."

I'm saved from having to answer, or figuring out what I would say, by it becoming our turn to dismount and tie our mounts to the trees. I do so silently, pretending to focus on the clasps and not looking at Graie, who is audibly sighing at regular intervals.

We head into the solstice pavilion where Rivier and Shodawa have already arrived. The two courts are only tentatively mingling, which I can't exactly fault them for, all things considered.

"Shodawa's looking better already," Graie comments brightly, apparently having decided to drop our previous conversation entirely.

"Their new king," I remark, pointing up at the platform where Sir Nait stands awkwardly, looking almost comically frail next to the queen's squared shoulders and King Crukkedaro's… enormity.

"More importantly," Graie breathes to me, discreetly pointing a finger toward where the captains have congregated at the bottom of the platform. Sir Cawle is chatting up the Rivien captain, Leaparra, a fairly young woman compared to King Crukkedaro, whose broad shoulders and muscular arms assure everyone in a ten metre radius that they don't want to mess with her.

We fall silent as Queen Bluelianna clears her throat and steps forward.

"Thundria is pleased to report that we have helped Shodawa expel their tyrannous king from their land and we wish them good hunting and a swift return to power in the coming seasons," the queen announces courteously. "We also have a new squire, Sewif, trained by Sir Liang Teyl. Thundria's court also boasts two new knights. Sirs Graie Sterrip and Fiyr Harte!"

I swell with pride as the three kingdoms begin to call out our names. Graie grins and elbows me but I can tell he's pleased too.

"And finally, we have a new court healer after the tragic death of Spottalia Lief," Queen Bluelianna declares. "Yllowei Fennen has joined our ranks."

I hear some surprised mumbling from Shodawa, but the glares of the ladies of the court of Thundria are enough to silence them. I guess it still hasn't occurred to them that maybe the tyrant-king was lying! What a shocker. Were people really just believing him because they didn't want to worry about how they'd deal with him if he was the enemy? Then the irony of what I'm saying occurs to me and I shut down the line of thought.

The queen finished and steps back. King Crukkedaro motions graciously with a gloved hand for King Nait to deliver his news next.

He clears his throat awkwardly, but he manages an even, projected tone. "Ah, yes, as Queen Bluelianna mentioned, King Braukkiniaum has been driven from our territory and stripped of his title. I am the new Shodawes king. Though I have yet to make my journey to the Lunar Temple, I hope that you can all accept my rule."

He pauses. People exchange glances, wondering if that was the end or if it's for effect.

"We also… uh, request that Rivier continue to allow us to send out fishing boats on the outskirts of our territory," the new king declares, then withdraws to let King Crukkedaro speak.

The mountainous man steps forward. Though Rivier has yet to make vocal protest of King Nait's declaration, I have no doubt that the king isn't going to roll over on this one.

"Request denied," the king states mildly with a fleeting smile. "Of course, the small issue of Wynnd no longer using their lands can easily be resolved if we share it. It will also eliminate Shodawa's need to expand into other kingdoms' territory. Is this satisfactory?"
"Indeed," King Nait replies, an easy smile replacing the deepening frown that had appeared at the Rivien king shooting down his request. "Would the southern moors suit you?"

Before King Crukkedaro has a chance to reply, Queen Bluelianna steps forward, the moonlight illuminate the deathly glare she's shooting the monarchs.

"It would not suit me," she interjects. "Pray tell, King Nait, what do you see?"

"The… courts? It's a Gathering," he replies, puzzled. "The solstice pavilion?"

"The four pillars," she answers for him. "But only three courts. There is an imbalance in the kingdoms, and it will not be resolved by you two picking over the leavings of the kingdom of Wynnd like vultures. We must right the wrong that the tyrant of Shodawa inflicted on the kingdoms. You would not want to leave this trace of King Braukkiniaum's rule behind, would you? Or tacitly support it?"

I suppress a smirk. King Nait shrinks back, a frown on his face.

"I—I suppose not... But Shodawa requires hunting rights," he insists. "Our land is not enough. Our stores run low!"

"Then I suggest you scour your own forests a little more carefully," Queen Bluelianna replies coolly, heading to the edge of the platform to get down. "If that's all…?"
"The Gathering may end, yes," King Nait grunts. "I suppose we must help Wynnd return."

King Crukkedaro frowns and folds his arms, but nods nonetheless.

I raise my eyebrows at Graie. His shit-eating grin is wide enough to split his face.

"So why can't she just kick Tigre Cawle's ass the same way and then we can all head off into the sunset?" I grumble. If only it were that easy.

Thank you for reading chapter 1! Please follow and favourite this story and leave me a review with what you think!

~Akila