GOZ was sprawled on a garland in the great hall. Two Knights stood perpendicular in the hall, one overlooking the gatehouse of the castle, and the other, the moat. In the far side of the hall, the King's brother, Dorblan paraded the room, a goblet in one hand and the other sitting snuggly behind him. Each time he returned, he let his eyes fall on Goz.
Goz watched him. Because he had no words. Yes, truly, no words at all. No words since he had shut the gates of the castle and ordered the guards to let no one in for four months now.
Dorblan spoke three words at interval, and Goz did not know if it was because he had had too much to drink or because he had lost his patience. Goz had infact resolved to silence over the month, then proceeded to put his wife, Esheth away in the chamber of her executive boudoir only calling for her once every two weeks.
He deserved it. The judgement of his subject, the Knight at the far east of the hall might be judging him right now, how could he tell? He deserved silence, and mourning- even right now, he deserved Dorblan's drunken parade. He watched his brother, Dorblan, Chief deputy from the corner of his eye.
Carefully, so Dorblan would not notice, he turned to his side on the garland, but Dorblan spoke.
"Say something," his brother said.
"Something?" Goz repeated.
"What are you doing? You cannot continue to mourn," Dorblan said.
Goz turned, made to speak but stopped himself, then dismissed the Knights with his fingers. The two men moved on cue but stopped themselves, as if being held by a force. Dorblan pointed his goblet.
"What? The order wasn't clear? You need a parchment reading?"
Goz heard one man grunt. The two then marched outside the hall.
"I deserve to mourn," Goz finally said.
"And that you have done enough. The district cannot function without a King, or one that is mourning."
Goz stared. "You're drunk," he said.
Dorblan scoffed. "Yes," he said and sipped from the goblet. "And you're loosing your mind."
Goz sat quietly, staring at the running fountain in the middle of the hall. A bitterness clutched his tongue.
"Yateph is dying," he said and pain sunk into him as the fourth rain into Earth.
Dorblan shook his head.
"Grief is death. It kills even the leader of a million troop-" Dorblan sipped and pointed to Goz.
"You're a leader of many troops, King of Yateph."
"It is.. different," Goz said and looked up at Dorblan as if he only just saw him.
Dorblan waited, knowing his brother's intentions, he asked, "How?"
Goz hesitated, sat up with both hands between his open thighs and shook his head.
"Father..."
Dorblan's lips thinned, he backed Goz and walked to the fountain.
"Don't speak of Father," he said dismissively.
Goz looked up and tightened his twine.
"It is different," he repeated. "He led his troop into many battles and conquered, he was the greatest Commander of Yateph."
Dorblan scoffed then turned to face his brother. "Yet he died at battle front? All for what? You speak like you don't know who he was. He failed us, he failed mother, he failed Yateph."
Goz sat silent. He remembers, painfully well, how mother used to sleep in the buttery of the castle, on the cold floors with bruises and bloodied eyes. Dorblan would go in to sit by her side but Goz would be afraid, too afraid to watch how fragile she was, too afraid he'd be hurt, and whenever he'd finally go, father would send a guard to withdraw him. Father called Goz his favourite son; his first son.
Goz buried his head beneath his shoulders.
"I cannot do this," he whispered.
The room was quiet. Dorblan retired to seat in one of the garlands, watching, maybe pissed, drinking, stroking his tunic. Goz did not look at him. Not until he stood, abruptly.
A noise came from below the Hall and Dorblan went to the slit, staring down at the gatehouse. There was a dispute. Someone had tresspassed and was now standing within the courtyard, the man hadn't seen Dorblan yet. The guards tried to pull him away with five of his men that stood at the gate but they held their ground.
Dorblan watched one guard hurry for the inner court on his way to the Hall. He moved from the window to face Goz who was now staring at him.
Goz waited for Dorblan to speak, but he did not. The guard came and stood at the entrance of the court till Goz gestured for him to come.He bowed.
"Speak," Goz said.
The man trembling, cleared his throat, careful not to vex the King, he spoke.
"The commander is at the gate, My Lord."
"At the gate or in the court?" Dorblan said, looking in Goz's eyes which were now lit alive.
"You heard him," Dorblan said, "your old friend is here-"
Goz sunk in the garland. Facing the guard, he said,
"Bring him."
Goz knew Dorblan had no liking for his deputy, Garath, who had been their father, Merek's bosom friend. When Merek of Yateph was alive, Garath hadn't only been his deputy commander-in-chief, but his adviser. Their father had introduced the young Goz to Garath and over time, the boy had grown peculiar interest for the man. When Garath had returned from that battle, alive, Dorblan had been pissed. Mother died that very day, in pain. Then Dorblan had wept and tore his tunic, not for father, but for mother.
Garath appeared at the entrance of the Hall, worn and haggard. He did not look any better than Goz, and Goz wondered what the man had subjected himself to in the last five months. He hadn't gotten any message from him or his division, and Goz did not wonder why. Instead, he stood, watching Garath, and letting him come. Garath bowed slightly.
"Here comes the deputy.." Dorblan announced. He marched to the enormous table and refilled his goblet.
"How is it you have come to us after all? I figured you must be mourning your brother." Dorblan said.
"I was," Garath said with eyes on Goz.
"Garath-" Goz declared.
"My Lord."
Garath shifted, then spoke, "We have had several deaths; five hundred in Chazin and one thousand, five hundred from the other divisions. There are many sick..."
Goz winced. "It's been five months, did you come now to increase my sorrow?"
Garath bowed slightly.
"And your brother?" Dorblan said.
Garath looked at him, for the first time. "And my brother," he said.
"Why don't you sit deputy, let us make merry," Dorblan said with a wry smile.
Goz raised a finger to Dorblan. "That'll do for now."
"I'll leave."
Dorblan held his gaze on Garath for a moment before heading out of the Hall.
The Hall was silent again with Garath at the far side of the center, his hands held behind him. Goz reclined back into the garland, staring at the fountain.
"I shut the castle gates for five months," Goz started, as if asking Garath to judge him.
"The Baron said so..."
"Baron?"
"Azur"
"You..you went to Chazin?"
"He sent me a messenger, apparently he had been trying to reach you," Garath said without judgement.
"Garath..." Goz started but Garath caught his hesitation.
"My Lord," Garath said, moving away, head bent as if he were deep in thought. "I've found a way, a way for Yateph."
"A way?" Goz said sitting up.
"The seige." Garath stopped himself. "It is only the beginning, the other Northern Sects will overpower us if we don't act quick."
Garath paused, examining the pained look on the King's face. He had thought of it and carefully structured the sequence of his words.
"Alath is holding up," he continued. "Mishar's troop are already preparing for the season- but I must say, My Lord," Garath said.
He looked away, sympathizing, then continued.
"This is no system enough to hold Yateph's forts. With our other divisions still recovering from the seige, our soldiers are sick, the work men demand a raise and now, war season is near, we- we must take a better route."
Goz was silent and anxious, drawn like a horse by the halter. He listened, weighing Garath's words with reason. Goz was very much like his father as Garath observed; precise, patient, maybe too patient, but he knew what he wanted. He commanded his troops and never hid from battle, except well, in the last five months.
When Goz couldn't bear his own patience anymore, he spoke.
"Tell me, tell me your way Garath."
"Tell me," he repeated solemnly.
Garath let a moment pass, a moment of sacred silence.
"An alliance," he finally said
Goz fixed him a quizzical gaze as if he hadn't heard right. As if Garath had lost his mind.
"How..." Goz started, his heart heavy with disappointment. "Yateph is..."
"Alone?" Garath said, allowing Goz listen, and wait. "But we are not," he added.
Did Garath really not know the state of the Region? Every King to himself, every District, every Sect had only the power of it's troop. Goz stayed silent, wearied with speculations.
Garath moved again.
"Yateph's troop is not in good shape. If we wait for another attack, we'd be in ruins. We must advance before another District invade, we need an alliance."
"We do not have an alliance!"
Garath was quiet for a moment. "Why," he then said. "We do. If only the King would go to.. Chez..."
"Chez," Goz echoed in disbelief.
"Chez," Garath emphasised
.
"There has to be another way," Goz said amidst thoughts. It couldn't be Chez.
"My Lord. I have weighed our current deployment. We have no chance with another attack. Chez's troop is dominated by well trained Knights scoring up to twenty four thousand. The Baron is your uncle, Dimir. I would go to him but the terms between us is sore considering the.." Garath hesitated. "The relationship he and your father maintained," he added in a breath.
Goz stared into oblivion. Was this the way? He must think of something else, something better. Garath was right. Yateph must make a precedent advance before another invasion else they'd be at a loss, but Chez couldn't be their last defense.
After Garath departed at dusk, Goz laid on his bed for several hours, thinking. He hadn't spoken a word of it to Dorblan, and he wouldn't until he was sure this was the way. Later that night, amidst rough speculations, Goz ordered his chamberlain to make preparations for his departure to Chez; an entourage of four soldiers and their ordinary horses with an ordinary carriage for him and Esheth.
***
When Goz returned to his chamber, he decided, if he was wrong, it was only another bad decision, Chez held no threat to Yateph, or did it? Then he sent for Esheth.
Standing at his window and staring in the blackness of the night and the scanty stars that lined the sky, it was moments before Esheth arrived, she came and stood behind him. When he was content with the silence, he went to her, kissed her and held her by the back.
"Esheth," he said, staring down at her with longing. She bowed.
"My Lord..."
"Two days. In two days we depart to Chez, to my Uncle Dimir."
Esheth waited quietly, then she followed her gaze by a slight blankness.
"Chez.." she whispered, looking in Goz's eyes, asking for words.
He ran his fingers down the curve of her back. Holding her more closely to him, he sent his breath against her neck and listened for her still response. She whimpered.
"Tell me Esheth, tell me this is the path. Say that I am right."
"But... I can not," she said. She let his hand come to her waist, and hers to his chest. "I can not tell you Goz because I don't know. I cannot speak for Yateph."
"Then, speak for Esheth..."
"Stay. Stay with me now, don't let go."
Goz let her stay that night in his chamber, revering her body with his warmth. Her low, hollow cries were music in his ears, and her lips, health for his body, he gave her pleasure and devotion till the night was spent. By morning he was gone from her side.
Men had began to arrive the castle on hearing that the gates were open. Generals, Officers, and Barons. Azur of Chazin first, then a gross number of them till noon. Goz didn't leave the great Hall once, he listened, ordered and commanded.
In her boudoir, Esheth had risen and ordered Shefar, the constable to prepare a horse for her. She had been waiting for two hours till the court was filled, Goz would be distracted. Before noon, she set out the court, collected the horse and ordered the gates be opened. With a dark veil on her head covering most of her face, and her searching eyes, she rode, out the gates and then into the city. Galloping, running, briddling, she rode. Past the brothel, past Alath, and past the second division till she got to the bridge home, an enormous house that was set at the far East of Yateph between the Pashan hills and the first camp.
Dusk had began to draw near, she must be quick. She knocked at the gate and one of the guards answered, Teyin. When he recognized her, he opened the gate and helped her alight, collecting the horse.
"Where is he?" She said crassly.
Teyin nodded towards the building.
"In the court," he said.
She gathered her gown and made swift motion inside, not stopping till she entered the wide court. There, by the fireplace, Dorblan sat with a cup in hand, drinking. She immediately went to him. Upon seeing her, he stood.
"Dorblan," she said, "I cannot stay.."
He walked to her and took her hand, then kissed her head.
"Esheth, my Love. Why..."
He stopped to gaze on her, then brought her to the middle of his court. She began to walk in a parade before him.
"Goz and I will leave for Chez first thing tomorrow and I fear," she said, stopped to watch Dorblan's expression then continued her parade.
"What do you fear? The World is all ours"
"Not for long," Esheth said, painfully. "I don't trust Dimir. I don't trust Chez.."
"Goz is going to Dimir? Why?"
Dorblan dropped his wine, now pensive.
"I don't know, but we must act fast"
Dorblan came to her and held her assuredly.
"I'd find a way," he said and planted a kiss on her lips. "It'd soon all be ours."
Esheth gave a slight nod and let him go.
"I must leave now," she said and walked a little away
.
"Stay."
"Oh, Dorblan. I burn to."
Dorblan drew her again and placed a palm to her belly.
"Twelve months," he whispered.