The grand hall of the Red Crown buzzed with murmurs, a restless tide of discontent flowed beneath the vaulted ceilings. Golden light streamed through lattice windows, casting intricate patterns on the mosaic floor. And in places the light could not reach, torches were there to illuminate.
The prince stood near the dais, half-hidden in the shadows. He observed the scene with keen, dark eyes, a slight frown creasing his brow.
"But do you deny the Dorumish are getting much bolder?!" Minister Haim's voice, sharp and edged like a dagger, sliced through the chamber. His robes, heavy with gold embroidery, rustled as he gestured with one hand, his narrow face flushed with anger.
"They press against our borders with an army of diplomats and soldiers alike. They smile and bow, offering gifts like wolves in sheep's clothing, while their warships glide through our waters. Their envoys speak of friendship, yet they encroach on our borders!"
He paused to breathe. "Calling them, nothing more than mistakes!"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the assembly of princes and ministers, and the Raedas felt the tension coil tighter. His father, Kairus Flau Rath, the vizier, stood on the right-hand side of the obsidian throne.
He leaned in and whispered something to King Guluny, who sat atop the obsidian throne.
"We are bound by a pact," High Prince Sulliam countered, his tone measured, though his eyes flickered with doubt.
"One that has kept the peace for sixteen years. The Dorumish offer a buffer zone from the Ishas. To reject their envoys is to risk war, and we do not wish for them to ally themselves with the Ishas."
"War may come regardless," Haim snapped. To his right, High Prince Cain nodded in agreement, "Better to be prepared than caught unawares. Their gifts are laced with poison, their words with deceit."
The King shifted on his seat. To his left side of the throne, His Commander Praetorian, Primus Augustus Flau Rath, fingers brushed the hilt of the falchion at his side.
Minister Aasim, the eldest among them, stepped forward, his voice a gravelly rumble. "We cannot deny the threat of Greater Dorum, nor their underlying mockery. But to break the pact now would be to ignite a fire that could consume us all."
"Fire cannot Consume Fire Minister Aasim" Haim Chuckled, "And we are Sons of War and Flames"
"True, but give in to their provocations, and that bitch in the North, with her unsavory alliance, will have a cause to Declare war on us," Sulliam responded.
"You forget we also have an alliance with The Chyn in the east?" Haim countered.
"It is true that King Shen promised to come to our aid in times of need." Sulliam paused.
"But that is if he doesn't ignore our calls to war, since he's busy expanding his influence and Kingdom in the east."
"Are we afraid of a cold?!!! Is that why you do not sue for war?" Haim snapped, "Because of a cold bitch in the North, when has the fire needed to fear the cold! We'll burn her with the rest of the bastards!"
"When did the fire start fearing the cold? We were better than thi- "
Suddenly, the light grew a shade more intense, and the temperature in the hall rose.
Raedas didn't mind the temperature, though most of the audience felt like they were melting.
The King's gaze shifted, resting briefly on Minister Haim.
He's displeased, Raedas thought.
The King's silence drew the court's attention like a magnet, and the murmurs faded into an expectant hush.
All the ministers, princes, and High princes bowed their heads and kept silent.
"That should be all for today, his Radiance is weary and requires rest," Vizier spoke, and the audience was adjourned.
Guluny Flau Rath rose slowly from his obsidian throne. "I must consult my council. This court is done." His voice as loud as the crashing of waves
"All kneel for His Magnificence Guluny Flau Rath, First of his name, Son of the Mighty War serpent, The Flaming King, Ruler of the burnt lands" the herald shouted.
The royal Praetorians swung out amongst the pillars to form a line, then began a slow advance in lockstep, ushering the petitioners from the hall.
Raedas turned to leave with the old Knightus Leotidus and the newly knighted Moha, both had sworn their swords to him. And he had raised them as his Praetorians.
"Raedas!" a voice called out to him.
Raedas turned," Mykar! I didn't know you had arrived at the capital."
Prince Mykar Flau Rath was flamboyant even for a Royal.
His sash robe was all shades of wine fastened by five gold brooches in the shape of the sun; the doublet he wore as an inner was sewn with sliver medallions in the shape of stars, and ornamental gold work crawled up his high suede boots to his thighs. He sported a belt of gilded rings, and his fingernails were enameled red, and he wore at least one ring of gold or silver on each finger.
His face was long and seemingly carved in the image of the dead gods, his goatee and mustache were neatly combed, and has the same deep red color as his shoulder-length hair.
His eyes were two golden coins that stare at you as a cat stares at a mouse.
Hiss, the red snake around his arm hissed.
Raedas petted the snake's head, "I missed you too, Merys"
Mykar broke into a Jovial laugh and pulled Raedas close to him; "We have a lot of catching up to do Nephew,"
The sun had already set, and the scarlet sparring sands were illuminated by bright lanterns on posts.
The sounds of saber against longsword cut the dull silence.
Raedas parried Mykar's swipe and released a countercut in retaliation. Mykar's Sabre elegantly parried the attack and returned the favor.
For a while, this was the song of their swords. Until Raedas, sensing an opening, pushes forward. Mylar is forced to retreat and block the incoming blows before coming to a momentary rest and applying pressure.
The sudden change in demeanor throws Raedas off, and his retreat is clumsy. Mykar feints high with his Sabre, and Raedas bites.
Then the saber was gone, Mykar crouched low, and the Sabre cut a low arc and struck Raedas' shin.
"Another win for Mykar" the shout comes from an adolescent boy dressed elegantly in a wheelchair.
"What's the score again?" Mykar teases, taking off the protecting helmet. "Oh yes thirteen to four nephew"
"Burn you, Mykar; I'm still suffering from the wounds I got against that demon," Raedas replies with a frustrated sigh.
"You mean the demon that nearly killed you" The crippled boy laughed, "And who was it that had to save you?"
"A damned sullied!" Mykar and The boy said in unison, then broke into a fit of laughter.
Raedas plopped down on an empty seat on the table, and the boy-Prince Pheonidas Flau Rath sat across and ordered a maid to pour in some wine from the bronze jug.
Mykar joined them and held up his silver cup for the maid to do the same.
Soon all three were drinking and laughing.
"More wine?" Pheonidas asked Raedas.
"Why yes," Raedas replied, and with the wave of a hand, the maid poured more into his cup.
"This is fine wine. Dorumish?" Ramdas asked curiously, watching both Pheonidas and Mykar.
"Lucedonian" Mykar replied.
"This is quite a rare find. Lucedon isn't known for its wine" Raedas remarked, downing another cup. "How much did you pay to acquire such a rarity"
Mykar picked a grape and threw it in his mouth, but Pheonidas responded,
"Quite cheap, actually; it was given to our dear uncle over here for free when he visited Idsin."
"Free?" Raedas blurted.
"Yes, Free" Pheonidas echoed. "But you know what is not free? That slave you've been harboring in your slave quarters."
"The slave saved my life; I'm just repaying the debt by nursing him back to life," he forked a piece of meat, "What's wrong with that?"
"The slave," Mykar said coldly, "And we know about your….. Fondness for saving the weak and pitiful Raedas."
"We just thought it necessary to remind you that Naldeans can never be freedmen," Pheonidas added.
Raedas smiled, "I know that as much as anyone, no need to worry, I would do no such thing to harm the royal family's prestige. Or embarrass us"
There was a lengthy pause and an uneasy silence, and then Mykar and Pheonidas smiled.
"Well then, let's return to merrying"
The Serpent's den was dark and still when Raedas left the Red sparring sands.
The Red Crown shone from the windows, like a sun at night.
Massive and Magnificent, it was easy to forget men made the colossal palace that sat at the center of Amaran the Capital of Amarakia.
Ceryn– The head steward was waiting in Raedas quarters.
"What is it?" The prince slumped up in a lounge chair.
Ceryn answered, "We're in need of more slaves for the mines sir. Output has been low.."
He paused.
"Lady Cera called while you were away, she waited for an hour or two and left. Promising to make you pay for wasting her time"
Shoot, Raedas had forgotten about his date with Lady Cera. He had promised her a fortnight ago.
He sighed, "Well, please write to her, it was unfortunate that I couldn't make time for her today, and I missed our promised date. Tell her I'll visit her to make it up to her"
"Should I add flowers and some presents to go with the letter?" Ceryn asked politely,
"Yes. Flames, what would I do without you, Ceryn?" Raedas laughed, his voice hoarse.
The steward turned to leave, before pausing and turning back.
"Also the Naldean is awake. What should we do with him?"
Raedas answered without missing a heartbeat,
"See that he is tended to until he's able and fit. Then hire him, and he can start his servitude in my quarters."
The steward nodded and turned to leave–
"If it was any other tribe, we would free them to repay the debt. Wouldn't we?" Raedas asked.
"We would." The steward smiled, "but he is not."
Raedas frowned and stared at the steward for a while.
"I guess so." He sighed, "Do you think me foolish enough to try to free a Naldean?"
The steward smiled, but his eyes spoke not of laughter;
"The Prince is kind."
Raedas' anger flashed in his eyes, but he kept his composure.
A little jape never harmed anyone,
Also, Ceryn was appointed and hired by Father himself; he couldn't fire the man if he wished.
An idea entered his mind..
"You said we are lacking slaves? Well then send the Naldean to the mines, along with any other Naldean we have. You're dismissed"
Cerywn bowed "Yes my Lord."
The echoes of the steward's small steps receded, followed by the shutting of the door.