Kuviay had been watching alongside the palace guard that evening. He hadn't been a young Herald, even seven years ago, and the work made him and his Companion, Korath, feel useful. That night he watched a rider, one of a Hold Guard, approach rapidly, a worried look on his chiseled face. When the Guard reached the gates, Kuviay had been handed a sealed scroll. The seal was of Sancta.
"Message for His Highness King Shathir," the Guard had said. "You'd better take it to him, Herald." Kuviay frowned, but the Guard had already turned his horse. "I'd best find an inn for the night. I needs be off in the morning; these cities make me nervous." With that, he was off again, as quickly as he had come.
Wary, Kuviay cracked the seal and opened the scroll. He quickly read it through—it was a very short message—then read it again, slowly. Only the third time he read did he understand. His mouth went suddenly very dry. He rerolled the message and dashed into the palace, running straight to the throne room, where he knew Shathir would be for a good while more.
Thankfully, Shathir had no audiences at the moment. Kuviay strode towards Valdemar's King and King's Own, who looked rather surprised at his presence.
"Message from Sancta Fort-Hold," he announced breathlessly, voice cracking. Shathir nodded, waiting; the King's Own, Alari, looked dubious, but said nothing. Kuviay proceeded to real aloud the letter.
Addressed to His Majesty Herald-King Shathir:
Those of the Companion's Order are no longer welcome at Fort-Hold Sancta.
Trespassers will be treated as bandits.
The Seal of Sancta and of Lord Cayri
Kuviay finished grimly and waited for Shathir's reaction. But Alari spoke first.
"Can she do that?"
Shathir sighed, looking resigned, but both Kuviay and Alari knew he was furious. "No. Technically. That would be treason." Both caught the "but" hanging in the air.
"But?" Kuviay prompted.
"But Sancta is isolated enough, surrounded by forest and mountains and plagued by bitter cold, that there's no way we can arrest Cayri. It's a Fort-Hold. If she doesn't choose to come out, only the entire Valdemaran army under the will of the gods could get her out. I can't do that." They could tell that Shathir was no happier about it than they were. "And besides, Sancta is a border fort. The only Lord-heirs are nine and seven years old. We cannot remove such a strategically placed fort of their leader. They follow her, and they follow none other unless they are of the Lord bloodline."
"So we can do nothing." Kuviay's voice was flat.
"We can do nothing," Shathir confirmed sadly.
"Do something anyway," Alari snapped. "We can't just let her get away with this unchallenged. Fetch Herald Athyar, he's our best diplomat and no mean hand at the sword, either."
Shathir looked hesitant, but he eventually heeded the King's Own.
It was a few weeks later when they received their answer. There was no sign of the messenger—but outside the palace doors at dawn, the empty-eyed head of Herald Athyar, the seal of Sancta branded into his forehead, and a lock of silver-white horsehair braided into his hair.