Disclaimer: I. OWN. NOT. A. THING.

This took me so long to finish, but at least it's pretty long! Rereading Eldest, Nasuada came out as a bit of a brat at the beginning of her chapter, especially the thing with Orrin refusing to give her more money. Anyway, hope you like Melikir. He's a vastly different character from his sister in this story, and Nasuada from the original books.

Chapter 29: A Toast to Challenge

Melikir was always praised by his father for being patient. Well, he didn't exactly expect this very patience to be tested so soon into his leadership. He examined the two people before him, doing his best to apply everything that Brom taught him beforehand. He wished that the old Rider was with him, or even eccentric Angela if possible. But sadly, both had other duties to attend to and he was left alone to face his new responsibilities.

Before him stood two men – one of them was large and craggy, looking repulsive enough to probably terrify younger children. The other man was so pale, even under the unforgiving heat of Surda. The Varden has been there for some weeks now and from this kind of skin tone, Melikir deduced that the man was from the northern part of the Empire.

Melikir pointed to the pale man with all the authority that he could muster. "How many of your chickens did you say this man killed again?"

"Thirteen, M'Lord."

Melikir nodded contemplatively, trying to imitate the way his father did it. "That is an unlucky number, Master Gamble," he said with a bitter grin to the ugly man. "You are living proof of it, as you can see. You are clearly guilty both of theft and the destruction of someone else's property without providing compensation for it."

Gamble scowled. "I never denied it," he growled.

"Never you did." Melikir rubbed his forehead. This was trying his patience, which was already fraying from the stress of being the Varden's leader. "You never cease to amaze me, Master Gamble. How did you eat thirteen chickens in the span of four days? Are you ever full?"

"I don't mean to be disrespectful, M'Lord, but keeping my stomach full would have been easier if you actually fed us properly after all the hard work we've been doing – breaking rocks with a mattock ain't easy, M'Lord. When we see those farmers driving around fat livestock for three weeks, 'tis difficult to resist the temptation. I'm not a strong man when it comes to food. I like it hot and plenty. I might not be the only one willing to help himself."

Melikir quietly noted that it was the very core of the problem. The Varden was having problem when it comes to feeding its members, even with King Orrin of Surda's assistance. Orrin already opened his treasury to them, but of course he would not operate the way Galbatorix did. He will not take supplies from his countrymen without paying for them.

Admittedly, it was a noble sentiment, but it was making things difficult both for the Varden and Surda. It was what one of the numerous things that drew a fine line between good leaders and despots like Galbatorix, though. And it is easy to succumb to that temptation without noticing it.

"I understand why you did it, Master Gamble, but we, the Varden, have our own rules and law that we must abide to, even if we are not a country and do not answer to anyone's authority but our leaders'." Melikir paused, trying to appear thoughtful and neutral. "You must pay him a copper for each chicken you stole."

Gamble didn't even protest. "Well, as you wish, M'Lord."

The pale man blinked, and an outraged expression took over him. "That's it?" He began to wring his cap in agitation. "It is not a fair price, if you excuse me!"

"I know that you would get more if you sold those chickens instead," snapped Melikir. Being patient was a skill, and patience can be worn down. "But you and I both know that Master Gamble cannot afford the full price of these chickens. After all, I am the one who provides his salary – and yours, if I may add. Do not forget that if I decided to acquire your livestock for the Varden, I do not have to pay you even a small copper coin for all of them. Be lucky that I am compensating you for a copper coin for each chicken. Understood?"

"But…"

"Do you understand?"

The man seemed to shrink. "Yes. M'Lord."

Melikir smiled grimly. "Very well, you are now both dismissed." As the two men left, Melikir nodded to his guards, dismissing them too.

He slumped against his seat, feeling more exhausted than he knew he should be. Not even a woman's dainty fan could have helped him get rid of the sweat that flecked his forehead. The heat that bombarded him since the Varden moved to Surda was starting to eat away at his energy. Even the simplest tasks now cost him a lot, and it wasn't a good thing at all.

He would probably be exhausted even in winter. Aside from the persistent heat, his familiarity with the Varden's secrets still wasn't enough to ease the work that needed to be done in moving the entire group from Tronjheim to Surda – through the Beor Mountains, he must add. The move itself was difficult enough, adapting to their new area was another challenge when he was also spending a lot of time planning an attack on the Empire. He didn't have enough time each day to do it all.

A servant – Farica, he recalled her name – entered with a bow. Melikir nodded to her. "Are there any more out there?" he asked.

Farica shook her head, eyes turned down. "No, Sir."

Melikir nodded in acknowledgement. "Good." He hoped his relief wasn't too obvious. He held an open court with the Varden once a week to settle disputes. Everyone who felt wronged can seek an audience with him to ask for judgement and assistance. It was a difficult and thankless chore, and many people left irate.

Melikir cleared his head and faced Farica. "I want Gamble reassigned – somewhere he could use his talent with words. A quartermaster if possible, or at least a job that gives him full rations. I don't want to handle cases of him stealing again."

Farica nodded and went to the desk, proceeding to record his instructions on a scroll. That skill itself made her so invaluable. Not to mention that her dark, olive skin and deep-set green eyes made her so lovely. She peered at him timidly. "Where can I find him?"

"I believe he is in one of the work gangs in the quarry."

"Yes, Sir." Farica looked away with a flush. "By the way, Sir, King Orrin asked that you join him in his laboratory as soon as you are occupied no longer."

Melikir grinned and began washing his face and neck with lavender water before smoothing his hair down. He dusted his vest carefully. He wondered quietly if Orrin wasn't just about to rant about the fact that Himeria went rogue, as the young king had been setting his sights on her for quite some time already.

"I do hope he didn't blind himself," he found himself muttering as he left the chambers with Farica trailing behind him hesitantly.

It was a very bright morning, and there was no need for torches to be lit inside Borromeo Castle. Anyway, nobody would have appreciatd their warmth. Light trickled through the arrow slits all over the walls, making the inner wall of the corridor glow vividly. Melikir took time to peer out of the window to watch thirty members of Orrin's orange-clad cavalry setting out to one of the nonstop patrolls throughout the area surrounding Aberon.

That probably wouldn't be much help if Galbatorix or his Forsworn decided to attack.

Only the enemies' pride provided any sort of protection from them, and with that, their fear of the young Riders. It was something that all leaders feared – a young, potentially powerful rival. Usurpers and tyrants were doubly afraid of those threats.

Melikir closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself. The warm, lazy wind ruffled his dark hair, failing to clear his thoughts.

What was he thinking, trying to play a dangerous game with the most powerful madmen of Alagaesia?

One wrong move could cost the Varden their lives, destroying any hope of ending Galbatorix's dark reign. The warm air grew stronger, reminding Melikir of his childhood, where he and his sisters stayed in Surda often. He never saw much of Orrin then, though his father, King Larkin, still sat on Surda's throne. The Orrin was five years older than him, forever occupied with his princely duties – though he always spent time with Melikir's sisters.

It irked him.

Now it seemed like Melikir was the older one. Even Nasuada displayed a level of maturity that Orrin could not compete with. The young leader of the Varden shook his head in dismay as he reached the door to Orrin's laboratory. He stopped to wait for the king's bodyguards – who were always outside – to announce his presence.

"Lord Melikir!" Orrin's distracted voice boomed from within the laboratory. "So glad you could come! I have something to show you."

Mentally bracing himself for whatever oddity the king wished to show him that day, Melikir strode inside, still followed by Farica. He navigated through tables loaded with an assortment of strange equipment – most of them fragile. His nose wrinkled upon being hit with the odor caused by curious vapors and his eyes began to water.

Orrin stood by a marble-topped bench, stirring a crucible of quicksilver with the help of a glass tube that was closed at one end and open at the other. He didn't seem to notice their arrival.

Melikir blinked and cleared his throat. "Sire," he began. As one of equal rank to the king, he did not bow when Farica curtsied. "As I can see, you have already recovered from the explosion last week."

Orrin grimaced, though it was all good-natured. "Aye, but I have learned a few things from it. Never mix phosphorous and water in an enclosed space. The violent results could make you end up being hurt. Badly."

"So all of your hearing has returned?"

"Well, not exactly." Orrin grinned madly, like a child who received his first dagger. He lit a nearby taper with coals from a brazier – which was supposed to be unendurable in the cruelly hot weather. He used it to start a pipe filled with cardus weed.

"Oh. I didn't know that you smoked, Sire."

"Well… not really. I fought out that since my eardrum hasn't completely sealed up yet, I could do a handful of amusing things like this." Orrin drew on the pipe and puffed out his cheeks until a tendril of smoke coiled out of his let ear like a hesitant snake. In spite of himself, Melikir burst out laughing and the king joined him, releasing a plume of smoke from his mouth. "It is a peculiar sensation, tickling like crazy on the way out. But amusing, yes?"

Melikir took a deep breath and calmed himself. "Yes." Growing serious, he pressed on. "So, was there something else that you wished to discuss with me?"

After a long conversation on Orrin's experiments, philosophy, possible magic application, news of agents from the Empire and many other matters, Melikir managed to bring up the topic of the Varden's lack of funds.

"How do I feed my people in the meantime?" he asked, wading through the stream of conversation. "We need more land than what you alotted us…"

"And don't I know it."

"We'll only get it if we invade the Empire – unless you want the Varden to permanently stay in Surda. Of course, you will have to find homes for the thousands of people I brought with me. That might not please your existing citizens. Anyway, whatever your choice is, you must choose quickly. I believe that if we continue this procrastination, the Varden will become nothing more than an uncontrollable horde."

Orrin was evidently displeased. His upper lip curled. "Your father, he never let his men get out of hand. I trust that you won't either, if you wish to remain as the leader of the Varden. Speaking of preparations, I'll have you know that we have a limit in what we can do in such a short notice. You must wait until we are ready."

Melikir frowned. He felt his anger rise – something he rarely experienced. "In that case, then will you lend us more gold for food?"

"No, I cannot. I've given you all the money I can spare."

"Then how will we eat?"

"I suggest that you raise the funds yourself."

Melikir was furious, but he just grinned and bowed. "As you wish. Then I bid you farewell, Sire. I hope that the rest of your day is as favorable as this conversation."

Reaching his room, he stormed inside his room and sat behind his desk in a huff. Farica stood nearby, looking uncertain. "As I can see, it did not go as well as you wanted, Sir," she mused.

"Yes, it did not go so well." Melikir grimaced. "Very well, Farica, you are dismissed. For now. I am going to look for Brom and ask for his advice in this matter. It seems like the King and I will not find a suitable solution for the Varden's predicament."

Farica bowed. "As you wish, sir."

Melikir watched her depart with a small grin before he stood up and left his room once more. His hurried footsteps echoed through the empty corridors, but he wasn't seeking out another room – he was leaving for the castle courtyard, where he was sure Brom was. His sable cloak trailed behind him, billowing in the speed of his movement.

The persistent southern sun beat down on him as he crossed the courtyard, making everything turn glaringly bright and painful to the eyes. Melikir groaned. That would make looking for Brom difficult, especially as many members of the Varden were using the courtyard to train.

Luckily, the former Rider was easily visible, dressed in a pale blue cloak – a gift from the dwarves before their departure. The silver threads in his otherwise dark hair seemed to gleam in the brilliant sunlight. As usual, he turned before Melikir could even speak, fixing his red-brown eyes upon the young leader in an appraising way.

"Lad, is there anything in particular that you needed? I though you were still holding court inside the castle," he said.

Melikir sighed. "There's nobody else who wishes me to settle their disputes," he muttered, lowering his voice. "We have more pressing matters to think about and settle. Can we talk somewhere more private than this?"

"My study is free. Aesyr is the only one in there and she would definitely be preoccupied with her lessons."

"Oh, you have taken to teaching her?"

"She deserves being educated in magic and swordsmanship. She is already a formidable archer, but she has so much more potential than that and she deserves to tap into that." Brom's lip twitched. "Her mother specifically requested certain lessons from me, in addition to that."

"I… see." Melikir still did not know what to make of the twin Shadeslayers' younger sister, though he saw her grow up in the Varden. "Then I suppose your study would be the best place to talk in."

Brom nodded, looking weary as he shuffled into the castle, herding Melikir with him to make sure that nobody took much notice of them. The two men stalked through the castle halls, doing their best to stay away from the areas with the most traffic. It took them more time to reach Brom's study but at least no one was there to stop them in their tracks.

Upon reaching their destination, Brom locked the door behind him and motioned for little brown-haired Aesyr to continue reading her scrolls on a small desk in the corner. He nodded to Melikir. "Just a few advantages to helping Surda secede from the Empire – you get private rooms that only royalty could rival," he said with a wry grin. He sat behind his desk and motioned for Melikir to have a seat too. "This room is warded from eavesdroppers. So, what's bothering you?"

Melikir slowly backed into a chair. Rubbing his forehead, he began, "Orrin refused to provide us with extra funds. How am I supposed to feed everyone in the Varden and keep everyone from turning into a mindless savage?"

Brom threw back his head and laughed, startling Aesyr and making her drop her scrolls. His eyes twinkled as he spoke. "And I suppose he told you to raise the funds yourself?"

"How do you know?"

"The Varden was a small organization when we helped Surda start on its own feet almost a century ago. In exchange, I asked for money. I wasn't provided with enough, and that was the very thing that Lady Marelda told me when I demanded for more."

Melikir's eyes widened. "You let her say that to you? A former Rider?"

"I was a little older than Orrin is now, and much more inexperienced in matters of leadership. He cannot provide you with more, young leader, because he simply cannot afford to. Running the Varden is costly, as you may have realized. Can you begin to imagine how expensive it is to run a kingdom, even one as small as Surda?" Brom raised a hand to silence him, apparently realizing that he was about to protest. "We can raise the funds itself and provide your people with livelihood, as a matter of fact."

"Oh? And how is that so?"

"I own a patch of land a little south of Aroughs. Haven't really used it, and it must be overgrown now. But I have learned a thing or two from the elves about growing plants, and we can use it to grow food in spite of this annoying heat. It might take a little cleaning and some magic from those fools in Du Vrangr Gata, but it can be done."

"You think so?"

"I believe so."

Melikir straightened up. "You mentioned magic. Then is it wise to inform Trianna and her people of this move?"

Brom nodded. "It would be prudent if we do warn her beforehand. Aesyr!"

The girl in question stood up, scrolls rolling off the desk. Turning red, she stooped down to gather them in her arms and set them back in their right place. "Yes?" she said in her soft voice.

"I want you to fetch Trianna for me. Then you may continue your lessons."

As the girl dashed out of the room, Melikir eyed Brom. "I know that Selena is… ah, married to Morzan. If that woman indeed is the mother of Eragon, Murtagh and Aesyr, does that mean…?"

"Those children's father… it is a sensitive matter," murmured Brom. He crossed his arms. "They are better off not knowing – for different reasons."

"Don't tell me that they have different fathers."

"You could say that."

Knowing that the older man would not divulge more, Melikir decided to change the subject. "How long do you think will it take for the Riders to return?"

"Training takes a long time. It could be months or years. But I assure you that they will come before war breaks out in Alagaesia, whether they have finished training or not." Brom nodded, as if reassuring himself. "I will make sure of that."

"Thank you." Melikir leaned back on his seat, feeling weary from the day's events. "I understand why you gave up leadership of the Varden once the organization can stand on it's own feet."

Brom laughed. "It is not just because of stress or pressure, my young friend. I had a vision. The Varden is just one part of fulfilling this vision, this dream. To further my goals, I had to be free and capable of operating by myself." He paused. "You know, I would offer you tea but I would hate to light a fire in this heat."

"Glad to know I'm not the only one who hates it."

"I have been to this place numerous times – and to the Hadarac Desert too – but I must admit, I can never stand the heat of both places."

Aesyr knocked on the door before striding into the study, Trianna right behind her. The mage's deep gray dress was ruffled, and she was busy straightening it out as she approached him. She bowed in the dwarven fashion and said, "Did you ask for me, Sirs?"

"We did," Melikir confirmed. He slowly let his gaze lift up and down Trianna – not to appraise her body and appearance, but to intimidate her. He smiled upon seeing her discomfort. "I have heard – and learned – a great deal about magic from Brom and the Riders. It is limited only by your imagination and knowledge of the ancient language, am I correct?"

"Yes, that is the rule in general. But why do you ask, Sir? Lord Brom himself can answer it for you," Trianna replied, staring pointedly at the man in question. "They might not be commonly bandied about but these are basic principles of magic that any spellcaster can tell you."

"I am familiar with them and he has already informed me of these rules long ago," Melikir countered.

Brom stood up, his pale cloak swishing around him dramatically. "We merely wanted to see if this common rule of magic is understood similarly by the spellcasters of your organization," he said, making the disdain in his voice clearly heard. "With those limits then – and my tutelage, then therefore it would be a simple matter for us to work together in growing crops under certain conditions with the help of magic and knowledge I have gathered from the elves."

Trianna sneered. "Former Rider though you may be, Brom, you must not take the Du Vrangr Gata for fools. We have more important duties than helping the farmers of Surda. The art of magic is not so commonas to be employed for mere whims, and you must know that first and foremost. I believe the farmers of the Varden are more than sufficient for this task."

"Do not speak to either of them like that!" Aesyr snapped, prodding Trianna with her dagger hilt.

Brom stalked toward the mage with murder in his eyes. "Be quiet, woman." He glanced at Melikir. "Teach Du Vrangr Gata the same lesson you have taught the Council of Elders."

Melikir smiled and drew his curved sword from its scabbard. He ran a finger down its side with as much calmness and threat as he could muster. The shy, quiet boy of before was gone, that much he knew. "I am young, yes, but you must not patronize me like a child if you know what's good for you."

"Then why ask us to act like common farmers?" wailed Trianna.

"Surda may rely on farmlands for its main industry, but the weather conditions here and the climate itself is not exactly friendly. Well, with knowledge from Brom and with the use of the land that Surda gifted him long ago, we could grow rare and necessary crops with ease – and unnatural speed. We could sell them inexpensively throughout the Empire and support the Varden. The Empire itself will provide the funds that we need sorely to survive."

"It is simple and easy. In just a fortnight, we can start harvesting and they will be better than the usual fare that the Empire has to make do with," Brom added with a grin.

"Ridiculous!" scoffed Trianna, earning another prodding from Aesyr. "You can't pay for a war with just some crops!"

Melikir blinked. "And why not, pray tell? Merchans will be happy to buy twice as much as they usually can with the same amount of money. Men who could otherwise not afford to feed their families will be more than happy to leap at the chance to buy quality crops at low prices. Imagine, we are helping the people we are trying to save by giving them full bellies, while they will also provide us with the gold that we need in order for us to continue operating. We might even garner a fortune to rival the dwarves' if we play this right – and if you are skilled enough in magic to help Brom and I achieve our vision."

"Do you dare doubt my abilities?"

"Then tell me. Can it be done?"

Trianna hesitated before gesturing with her arms to Brom. "It should be possible, but Brom must help me conduct some tests before we can know certainly."

"Very well," said Brom. "Let us do so immediately."

Melikir smiled, pleased. "Then this is your most important assignment from now on, both of you. But Brom, do not neglect our young friend's tutelage." He nodded to Aesyr.

Brom nodded. "We will also consult with some experienced farmers from the Varden and some Surdans."

"Do that. I must go now. Report back to me tomorrow morning."

"As you wish," Trianna said.

Melikir grinned and departed, leaving the two spellcasters to their discussions. He was proud of what he learned and did that day, and hoped that it would accomplish something. He was sure that not even his father could have thought up something like that, and he was proud to say that it will be his contribution to the Varden. He wished beyond everything else that his father could have witnessed it.

A wave of sorrow engulfed him, magnified by Himeria's betrayal and Nasuada being so far away. Steeling himself, he began to walk as tall and as proud as he could. Nobody had to see him that way. He was the leader of the Varden, and he had to act the part.

And for those wondering, it was just a random anonymous reviewer who asked for two updates per week. Hopefully I could be back to that speed next month, once I get back to day shift.

And I think another random reviewer asked where I'm from. I'm from the, uh, the Philippines, where monsoon season is starting when it's supposed to be THE BEGINNING OF SUMMER. What.

Anyway, enough ranting! I love you guys for being so patient and supportive, and I hope to provide you with another long chapter soon. We'll be seeing more of Melikir next chapter, and hopefully also catch up to the Riders. Do you miss Carvahall already?

Oh, and you might learn a bit more about Roran next chapter if you squint close enough.

Read and review as always! Be right back!