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-sor

"Riot?" Dryden turned away from his desk to face the grizzled face of the captain of one of his most prominent seagoing vessels. The man's ship had come into port in Palas that morning at full sail and the captain had insisted upon an immediate audience with Dryden Fassa and would settle for no less.

"Yes, sir." The man was obviously nervous as he continued to wring his hands and squirm quite unprofessionally. "We were just off the coast preparing to dock when the city went up in smoke. We could hear the shouts from the docks and from what we could tell, it looked like a revolt. The Basrami that come in from the interior were armed to the teeth and slaughtering the Asturian merchant fleets and soldiers. We turned back out to sea and made haste to Palas to inform His Majesty."

The merchant probably hadn't expected Dryden's first reaction to be a muttered string of curses. No wonder he had heard no response from Allen. He rose slowly, pacing towards his window to peer down at the courtyards below and beyond to the harbors, one fist clenched at his side. "Your haste is much appreciated, Gorman. Go back to the ship and see to your cargo."

Once his captain had fled, Dryden was left alone to determine the best course of action, of which there seemed to be none. A riot had to be put down and if the Basrami had taken the city, it was imperative that they retake it before the rebels could get too comfortable. But what of the garrisons there? The melef units? Allen Schezar and his crew? He'd had no word.

Not even a month of official power and already Asturia was falling prey to the ambitions of other nations. Either it was merely an unfortunate coincidence or other nations thought him a weak ruler. As much as he detested war, he hated even more the thought of other nations attempting to take advantage of his country and his laid back attitude. He was generous. He was intelligent. He could very easily solve the trade disputes between Asturia and her neighbors. What he couldn't do, though, was solve these problems while fighting a war.

This would not turn into a war if he had anything to do with it.

Sadly, it was looking more and more like he did not.

He hadn't had long to think when the study doors opened again to admit Millerna, looking slightly frantic. The doors remained opened wide behind her as she padded quickly to his side, taking hold of his arm in her distress. "Dryden, what happened at Zandira?"

News traveled fast, it had seemed, and for a moment Dryden could only focus on the blue of the water where it met the horizon. The sea was always dotted with ships, but today it seemed less so. Perhaps it was only his imagination, his reaction to the disaster at Zandira, his paranoia that so many innocent merchants had perished along with the rest. Men under his employ send to Zandira on his orders. Men like Allen, sent into clear danger on his orders. How many lives was he responsible for ending with just a few thoughtless words?

Seeming to sense his thoughts, Millerna laid a hand gently against his cheek, turning his weary face from the window to face her own worried eyes. For a moment, Dryden imagined the worry was for him, but it couldn't have been. She was fearful for Allen, nothing more. So he offered a reassuring smile, taking her hand from his cheek and placing a gentle kiss upon it. "Just a moment, my dear."

As much as it pained him, he stepped away from his wife, who in that instant of panic had clung to him like he'd always dreamed she might, turning to him in her distress. It was a pleasant dream, but not a reality. So giving her hand a final pat, he stepped away to push the door to and keep their conversation away from the prying ears of the palace. The news should not be allowed to spread faster than it already had.

As he made his way back to her side, he began in tentative tones. "There was an unexpected rebellion. The only word out of Zandira has come on one of my ships who managed to avoid the tangle and make it safely out to sea. I have no word yet from any Asturian stationed there. No word at all from Allen."

He easily saw the fear in her eyes, which were already brimming with tears. She feared for Allen and he could not begrudge her that. So instead of speaking to the point, Dryden simply enveloped his wife in his strong embrace, letting her press her teary eyes against his shoulder and at least seek some form of comfort in him. No one could go on in such a situation with no human contact. Even Dryden found himself clinging to her for a moment, his head pressing gently into strands of blonde silk.

She smelled lovely. Like fresh lavender mixed with clean, wild air. She smelled like the fields and the sea and everything else that was a part of Asturia. Dryden's green eyes closed for a moment, losing himself in her and all her comforts, not only of the physical sense, but in the sense that he could provide for her some form of comfort himself. It was purely selfish to enjoy such things, but all men were allowed their moments of weakness.

The couple stood for a time locking one another embrace, but it wasn't long before Millerna realized who she clung to and just how adoringly he returned her attentions, but rather than pull free, she voiced only a feeble protest, muffled against his shoulder. "Dryden ."

He understood. The embrace lasted one selfish moment longer before the king withdrew and turned back to his desk where he'd left mounds of work unfinished. Now, piled on top of his already busy schedule, he was faced with Zandira and what to do about a group of rebels who may or may not be connected to something larger than a dispute over a trading port. "I'll find out exactly what happened. Don't you worry about a thing. It would take more than a few hundred rioters to kill Allen Schezar."

xxxx

True to his word, Dryden called an emergency session with his advisors and ministers, discussing at great length all the ramifications of a revolt of this nature. It was not only a matter of trade, but one of Asturian sovereignty. If such an act were to go unavenged, other countries would rise up against Asturia's borders in an attempt to take back the coast. A war on one front was a difficult matter. A war on multiple fronts was unthinkable. Even with the aid of Fanelia and Freid on their western and southern borders, it still left a great expanse of Asturian land ripe for the taking.

As was his style, Dryden sat silently, listening to the pompous men of government, men appointed mostly out of familial alliances by the former king Aston, as they argued on and on over every last ill result that could come from taking or not taking military action.

"If we let Basram get away with this, the rest of the world will think us weakཀ We must answer this as quickly as possible."

"If the port is not retaken, Asturian trade routes will be severely diminished and we will lose our path to the interior of the continent."

"If Basram is allowed to win over our ports, they will come for our homes nextཀ"

"No, they will turn to their own borders and attack Freid. They are expansionists, nothing more. Let Freid deal with the problem themselves."

"And neglect our alliance? What fools would we be to throw away a blood ally to the throneཀ"

"Better Freid than us!"

"You fool, we have a treaty to uphold with Freidཀ We must act."

Dryden listened to the bickering for as long as was necessary to give the impression that he had honestly considered their ideas. That was all bureaucrats needed: the illusion of power. They would be satisfied with that. Slowly he stood, glancing over each face at the table. "Word will be sent to our allies informing them of our dilemma. If they offer aid, it will be their choice. I will not demand it for what may turn out to be nothing more than a minor disruption

"Notice will be sent and I will see to it myself." As far as he was concerned, the matter was closed right along with this little meeting he'd called just for show. To make decisions without the show was bad for the stability of one's rule, especially a rule that was as new and tentative as his own. Those bureaucrat bastards were just waiting for the first opportunity to declare him unfit.

Dryden dismissed them with a tense wave of his hand, a gesture that could be just as easily attributed to the stress of recent events as it could be to the annoyance caused by his advisors. He would leave them to wonder about its meaning as they filed slowly into the hallway. It was times like this he wished his father hadn't retired a few months before. He'd not always enjoyed the man's company, nor the pressure that came with his father's presence in the palace, but Meidan had always been at least one voice in his favor. He was lacking such at the moment.

When the door closed behind the last of them, Dryden sank back into his chair, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to battle the oncoming headache. He barely noticed the sound of one of the small rear doors opening, followed by the delicate footsteps of a woman. "You've been listening in, eh?" He couldn't help but grin as he cast a glance over his shoulder at his wife, who looked much like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

She recovered surprisingly quickly though and moved to the table, taking up one of the abandoned chairs at his side and sitting, hands folded prettily on the table in front of her. "You should at least act like you care what they say. They love Asturia just as much as you do."

Her words were met with a soft laugh from her husband, though it was simply amusement at the realization that she seemed to be on the same page as he. "I held this session, didn't I? If I had really wanted to ignore them, I wouldn't have bothered and saved myself a wasted hour."

"Yes, but the way you speak to them. You'd think a merchant would know a little more about diplomacy." Millerna sighed with a shake of her head, pushing her chair away from the table and stalking around behind Dryden . She took a firm hold of his shoulders and forced his back against the chair. "Try sitting up, for one thing. All this slouching makes you look weak."

"Slouching?" The king's voice was both amused and faintly insulted, though much of the insult was merely a put-on. It was part of his nature to tease and he expected her to at least know that. "I'll have you know, I never slouch." It was a shame that his pseudo-indignity was ruined by a bit of laughter.

Millerna responded with a light slap to his shoulder, though it was obvious in her eyes that she wanted to laugh along with him. "I'm being serious, Drydenཀ Now that father's dead, they won't be afraid to challenge you anymore. If you're not careful, they'll be plotting behind your back even more than usual."

Dryden rested his elbows on the table and bowed his head to rest his chin on clasped hands. Stray tendrils of dark hair fell down over his face, half hiding his rather pleased grin. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were beginning to see my worth."

His bowed posture allowed the queen to more easily hide the color that rose in her cheeks, though she just as easily gave herself away with the slight stammer in her reply. "I never said you weren't a good king, I just think... Well, I think you should act like it sometimes." Inspired now by having him somewhat trapped, she continued, taking a few steps away from the table to gaze out the window at the city below.

"For one, you hide away too much. You want to promote the illusion that we're happily married, yet you avoid me like the plague. You leave me to handle public ceremony. You lock yourself away in your study whenever you can with your books and ledgers and... well perhaps you could do that before, but you can't anymore. The people need to see you, especially now. They will be worried and afraid and you can't hide from them."

She turned towards him again, releasing a little huff of frustration. "Sunlight won't kill you, you know." By this time, Dryden had shifted half out of his chair, green eyes following her with more than a hint of amusement as she rounded on him again, closing the distance between them. "Neither will dressing properly! You should at least try to look like a king." Delicate fingers dipped down to pluck the spectacles from his nose. "You really do look nice when you make an effort."

Before she could withdraw her hand, Dryden caught it in his own, carefully pulling it back to him so he could place a tender kiss upon it. "You think I look nice? Ah, I knew you'd come around."

This time he did catch the color in her cheeks and his grin only broadened, causing her to pull her hand sharply away. "I'm being serious, Dryden!"

"So am I."

"You infuriating manཀ" She let his glasses fall to the table as she turned away in a huff, sighing dramatically. "Can't you take anything seriously?"

Finally, his expression shifted as he rose, taking up his glasses and replacing them on his nose as an afterthought. Slow steps brought him across the floor where he stopped close enough behind her that his chest nearly touched her shoulders. "I take these things very seriously, Millerna. Ruling Asturia is not a game to me and I intend to see our country flourish. You know me well enough by now to at least know what is in my heart."

He stepped forward, but rather than bringing himself against her, he stepped to the right, coming to a stop at her side, standing shoulder to shoulder with eyes cast forward. "I am not a man to bow to the wishes of others, be it something so insignificant as dress or something monumental as war." In a moderately swift motion, his hand moved to brush against hers, lacing his fingers between hers before lifting her hand to clasp it softly between both of his. "Or in matters of the heart."

She shifted slightly, as if wishing to draw her hand away. "Dryden."

"I would do anything for you, though. So if you want me to impress them, I'll do whatever you say. I haven't kept my word to you. I haven't become the man you deserve, have I? Tell me how."

She stared at him in surprise, blue eyes wide as saucers. No words came, but she shrunk back from him, and then subsequently drew near again. Her lips parted to speak, but no sound came. No sound from her. Only from the large double doors that led into the palace corridors as they were flung open with a resounding thud.

The young soldier at the door colored brightly, snapping to an over-formal attention when he found he'd interrupted the king and queen. Still, he'd come on urgent business.

"Your Majestiesཀ Our scouts report the Crusade has been sighted. They're coming in to landཀ"