A/N: Busy gal this month. Here's a snippet. Thank you reviewers, lurkers, and those who follow the story. I own nothing, all belongs to Kristen Britain.

Zachary shifted to his other foot restlessly, his eyes scanning the busy crowds of workers that had only begun to repair the damage to Corsa with the arrival of numerous stonemasons and carpenters. Teams of oxen lumbered past on the main road, some carrying lumber and others granite from local mines. There were a small number of troops stationed outside of the city, and several smaller groups patrolling within the city walls, but for the most part the army had been disbanded and distributed across the country. General Isleigh had stayed behind with a small number of his staff, presumably to assist with the training of the newly formed local militia, but the shy furtive looks he shot at the Lady Yolandhe spoke of another reason.

The king fought an amused grin as he glanced sideways at his general, who had taken greater pains with his appearance that morning. His facial hair had been neatly trimmed, and the blonde grey locks swept back into a neat queue. Taking a gamble, Zachary sniffed the air tentatively, allowed the grin to escape, and fully turned to regard the general, 'Mathias, what is that intoxicating scent you are wearing?'

General Isleigh's face turned a deep magenta as he sputtered, 'I'm no dandy, sire.'

Stevic's familiar timbre sounded behind Zachary, 'But it does smell very masculine, general. Is that sandalwood? A fine choice for your lady, sir.'

'I have no lady,' the general bristled with indignation.

The king innocently shrugged and turned to regard Stevic, 'Did you arrive alone?'

Stevic shook his head, 'No, the Lady Yolandhe was only a few minutes behind me. She should be arriving shortly with her retinue,' he turned to General Isleigh again, 'Are you going to wipe that mud off your face before she arrives?'

The general's eyes grew wide as he reached up to pat at his face frantically, before turning abruptly on his heel and striding away. Zachary turned to Stevic, his eyes twinkling as he commented, 'You are as bad as your daughter.'

The corners of Stevic's mouth curled up, 'Just a bit of fun, aye? But enough about that, I've brought you the estimates for the port repairs . . .'

The two men shuffled over to the king's tent, spreading numerous business quotes across the table that had once displayed maps of troop movements. Zachary listened carefully as Stevic explained the costs of repairing the damage done to the warehouses and what the merchants themselves were willing to contribute with the help of the crown. While not with Zachary's normal realm of understanding, he grasped the concepts of business readily enough and soon their talk turned to other matters.

Zachary had asked an aide to bring kauv as they both settled into chairs. Now, it was his turn to ask questions of the veteran merchant of Corsa. After seeing the aftermath of Woodhaven in D'Yer, the foremost concern in Zachary's mind was the wellbeing of the populace. Could they rebound from such a horrific event? Would this cripple them, or would they rally around the Battle of Corsa in memoriam?

Stevic took a deep swig of the hot kauv in his hand before answering. 'The general air of productivity is enough to restore a semblance of normalcy for folks. They like to keep busy and such. But the city will always have scars, no doubt about it. The bodies had been picked up off the streets . . . but I still see the same haunted look in every city dweller I pass.'

Zachary's brow furrowed as he stared down into his mug and heaved a sigh.

In truth, he hadn't expected much better.

Stevic saw the dejected look on the king's face and quickly moved to reassure him. 'I know these people, sire. They will come back into their own, the memories are a bit too fresh is all.'

Zachary raised his gaze and gave a half-hearted smile, 'No one can ask anything more of them and I have every faith that the leaders of the city will aid them in their time of need.'

Stevic grinned cheekily, 'Oh aye, that we will. Commerce is already booming, all this construction and rebuilding, courtesy of the crown's funding-,' he added with a toast of his mug, '-the merchants are in a fine position to revitalize the city.'

The same aide that had fetched their drinks, burst into the tent nearly out of breath as he sketched a hasty bow and held out a tiny scroll. 'Your Majesty, a message arrived for you by way of hawk.'

The blood drained from Zachary's face as he stood and stared at the tiny slip of paper in the aide's grasp. Slowly he reached out to take it from him and quietly dismissed the aide. Stevic watched with no small measure of anxiety as the king stared pale-faced at the message. Whatever could not be carried by Rider was indeed not good news, especially as Karigan was nowhere near her time.

Shakily, Zachary's fingers unrolled the scroll and his eyes scanned the brief lines scribbled across the parchment. With an audible curse, he crumpled the message and tossed it aside as he strode out of the tent. Alarmed, Stevic listened to the king's commands as they were issued with a measure of urgency tinged with desperation and hastily retrieved the discarded message to review the contents himself.

There were only three lines, "Queen held hostage in Sacor City. No word from captors. Hasten to capital with all speed. –Mapstone."

He blanched and struggled to draw a breath as he thought of his daughter in her current state and barreled out of the tent in the same manner as the king, immediately coming upon the assembled Weapons who held their mounts at the ready. Zachary was speaking to Fastion in a furtive whisper, his eyes almost wild as he gesticulated. Fastion, for his part, nodded gravely and subtly reached out to grasp the king's elbow to soothe his agitation and bring back his focus. The Weapon's eyes met Stevic's and he beckoned the merchant forward.

With his gaze scanning the bustling individuals around them, Fastion spoke lowly, 'It is imperative that this news does not become public knowledge, we cannot risk a panic.'

Zachary straightened, a measure of control coming back to his countenance, but the lines of worry etched in his face remained. He asked quietly, 'Stevic, can you stay behind and mitigate the potential for rumors?'

Stevic nodded slowly, still clutching the message as he stared at the ground. Lifting his head wearily, he asked, 'Where you go? What will you do?'

Zachary's jaw ticked a fraction before he answered solemnly, 'Get her back of course.'

Ending a story is harder than starting one. Trying to tie up loose ends without sounding too ridiculous.