A/N To understand what happened ten years ago, read the prologue which is posted separately, though you don’t necessarily have to read it to understand what is going on.

Pelaren rested his arm on the window and looked out across the water at the rapidly darkening sky. Ten years had passed since he had seen Aline, and many things had changed in that time. He was king now, king of a wide and fractured kingdom, for Terinor had taken advantage of Leopold’s death and the resulting chaos that had entailed to conquer Fellath. Not completely though; Tyellher was still alive: the hearts of the people and the north of Fellath belonged to him. Pelaren doubted if his war with Fellath would ever end. It was beginning to tire him. He reflected it was lucky that he hadn’t been overthrown in a bloody revolution, but he had soundly crushed the last revolt eight months ago, and the people did not have the means to raise another riot this soon. It was drawing near to winter; Pelaren knew it would be a lean, bitter one. An early frost had ruined the autumn crops, and Pelaren did not know if their stores could support both his people and the soldiers fighting the drawn-out war on their borders.

Behind him, Pelaren heard the rustle of a silken skirt, and turned around to see his wife, Lianna, enter the room. He noticed with a pang how tired and drawn her lovely face was. The past months had been hard on her too.

Drawing near to him, she rested her hands affectionately on Pelaren’s shoulders. “Brooding again?” she asked, concerned.

Pelaren tried to smile. “I wish I could have spared you this,” he said, more to himself than her. “Cherbor is going to have to look to its allies if we want to survive this winter.”

Lianna dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Your father’s relations with surrounding countries were strained at best. He had too many spies for anyone to trust him,” she said. “My father…”

“What should I do?” Pelaren said quietly. “Lianna, through the years you have ruled this kingdom by my side, and often have I trusted in your wisdom. You know what we face. I can’t withdraw our soldiers from Fellath or they will overthrow us knowing that we are weak. Tyellher is a strong leader. There is only one time I have ever seen him undone, and that was many years ago by a woman. He has far more power over Fellath than we do. Your father is a good man and a loyal ally, but I cannot ask him to declare open war on Fellath. He has done enough for us already, ensuring our shores are free of pirates.”

“Usually free,” she replied quietly. “Sometimes they outrun his ships, and my father believes that, Sea King though he is, your shores will be at risk this winter. He advises you to remain on your guard.” Lianna saw Pelaren’s hand clench in alarm, but he said nothing. She continued. “Cherbor has many things which surrounding kingdoms desire. Perhaps if we trade…” Lianna paused, watching Pelaren’s expression closely. She knew he would not take to her suggestion kindly.

“Trade Cherbor’s best-kept secret? It’s the one thing that has given our soldiers an advantage over surrounding nations, and without it we would never have had any chance against Fellath to begin with. Besides, Terinor would have killed me at the thought.”

“Your father was assassinated a number of years ago, and it is a miracle you have not suffered the same fate,” Lianna said sharply, stepping back from him.

Pelaren looked at her closely for the first time, noting appreciatively how the green gown complemented her slender figure. Lianna’s dark hair had escaped from its plait, and now fell down her back in careless girlish waves. Her dark eyes shone with emotion as she looked at him with a mixture of concern and exasperation, and her cheeks flushed pink against her pale skin. She was older and her face more careworn, but to Pelaren she was still the same woman he had married eight years ago.

“They will use it against Cherbor and our entire kingdom will collapse.”

“Pelaren, we have no choice. We have nothing else to offer our allies. While your rule has done something to strengthen this land, you have not been king long enough to undo all that Terinor and his predecessors did. We still rely too much on your father’s spies because we have no strong allies.” Lianna hesitated, unsure if she should say what was on her mind. “Do you regret marrying me?” she asked suddenly. “I can’t help but think that if you had married the daughter of Zolan, or Gerthwid, and made powerful allies, then things would have been different.”

Pelaren stood up and faced her. “Lianna, Cherbor has been weak for longer than I have been alive,” he said gently. “Even more than strong allies outside our borders, we need a strong ruler, a strong queen. The people like you.” He smiled suddenly. “I have never regretted marrying you. From the moment I met you, I knew you would be my queen. I don’t think I had a choice in the matter.” Pelaren hesitated, knowing what he was going to say next would be difficult for him. “You can’t blame yourself. Things have been difficult for Cherbor for a long time. You know after Leopold’s violent death, a lot of suspicion fell on Cherbor, not just from Fellath, but from surrounding nations. Not only myself, but someone else high in the king’s confidence were heavily implicated in the murder. I was there at the time; I saw him fall with a dagger in his chest. Something like that just can’t be hushed up, and it took all my father’s skills at diplomacy to prevent all our neighbours declaring outright war on us, though our relations with them remain hostile. To this day we have still not found Aline, and I wonder if she knows how much her act of revenge hurt us all. That girl seemed to destroy everything she came into contact with, and everyone she claimed to love.”

“You loved her.” It was a statement, not a question.

A shadow passed across Pelaren’s face. “I was young. I didn’t realise until much later that she had been using us all to get revenge on Leopold. I sometimes wonder if she loved any of us, for even though I like to think Derren’s death made her bitter, I wonder if she ever had a heart at all.” He looked carefully at Lianna’s face, expecting to see signs of jealousy, but her face showed nothing but concern. “Talking about this doesn’t bother you?” he questioned.

Lianna looked genuinely surprised. “Why should it? All of this happened more than ten years ago. There’s little chance you will ever see her again.”

“She promised she would return,” Pelaren said, walking over to the window and looking out over the water once more. The full moon shone bright across the ocean, and Estel, the hope-star, twinkled like a promise in the sky. “For ten years her words have haunted me. Ten long years of fearing that she will return to destroy everything we have worked so hard to create. A word from her could ignite our people, another word could destroy our hold over Fellath, and even you, my lady, would doubt me.”

“You give too much power to her.” Pelaren could hear the puzzlement in her voice. “She is but a woman, and you are king.”

Pelaren laughed harshly. “Lady, if there is anything that eight years of marriage has taught me, it is never to underestimate a woman,” he said, then fearing he had hurt her, he softened his voice as he continued. “I am fortunate that you are my queen, but even so you would make a formidable opponent. You also forget that you were not here in Aline’s days, so do not know the power she had over Terinor. Some even said that he would have disowned me and given her the throne. Others whispered he was going to take her as his bride, only Cherborian law prohibited intermarriage between the royal house of Cherbor and Fellathian nobles.”

Lianna pondered. It was clear that the memories were painful for Pelaren, but it was all too rare that he would talk about Aline at all. Rumours she had heard in plenty, and even her father had warned her against marrying a Cherborian. Only a persuasion that Pelaren was a good man despite the rumours had made her go against her father’s inclination, and Lianna had never regretted her decision, no matter how much of Pelaren’s past still remained a mystery to her. Now was a chance to throw some light on the mystery. “And the truth was?”

“Perhaps I don’t know the truth. I was never close to my father. But even then I suspected enough to be jealous,” Pelaren said softly. His evasion spoke to Lianna clearer than a direct reply, and she instinctively moved closer to him.

“Pelaren, I never believed the rumours about you,” she whispered.

He gave her a grateful look. “I know.

They stood there for a while in silence, watching the moonlight play across the water.

Pelaren stood at the head of a long table which seated lords from each province of his kingdom. “Pelaren, King of Cherbor, now calls the council of Armin. Are the lords of each province present?” he asked, using the ceremonious words which traditionally opened each council.

The man to Pelaren’s immediate left stood and inclined his head formally. “Lord Errol on behalf of the Six Counties.” Lord Errol was a tall, well-built man who had obviously fought in many battles. Indeed, he had been a prominent figure in capturing Fellath, and spent his spare hours driving off pirate raids. Pelaren regarded him as a valuable but volatile ally. Here was a man who was fiercely dedicated to his cause- whether or not his cause matched Cherbor’s agenda was another question. He sat down, and the man next to him stood and announced himself.

“Lord Wilbur for Terat.” Pelaren observed him with some distrust. Terat was the trading centre of Cherbor, and Lord Wilbur had been absent from the last council because he had seen fit to avoid paying the levy that was due to the king each year. Pelaren knew it, and Wilbur knew he knew it, and yet even though Pelaren had doubled the number of spies in Terat, it still could not be proved. And Wilbur has too many connections in trade to even consider punishing him, thought Pelaren discontentedly. He may be a scoundrel, but he’s a profitable one. I wonder what made him come today?

A fair-haired man stood amidst curious glances. Unlike the others, who were dressed in ornate tunics, this man wore a flowing green cloak, without embellishment or decoration, and yet Pelaren did not doubt that fabric was far more costly than anything he himself was wearing. “Lindor from the North,” he said simply, and returned to his seat. The people of the North were a strange folk, rumoured to be half-elvish, but Pelaren believed that was a myth perpetrated by Lindor and those like him to ensure the borders of their province were kept safe. The North was not traditionally a part of Cherbor, but had been conquered by a great warrior-king generations back, and so the people of Cherbor tended to look askance at their Northern cousins. Although Lindor has always puzzled me, thought Pelaren. He is strange even by Northern standards. But there was no time to muse over this ever-present quandary, as he turned his attention to the next speaker.

“Lord Unger from Estinmore.” Lord Unger was a tall man with a frank, open countenance and a relaxed manner which concealed his shrewd mind. Perhaps the reason he was such a successful spy was that he looked nothing like one; he was unremarkable looking: the kind of man you would pass on the street without a second glance. This man had made his fortune through being underestimated by other people, and Pelaren was determined not to make the same mistake.

Other notable lords stood up in their turn, but Pelaren barely noticed them. All his attention was taken up by observing Unger, who seemed to Pelaren to be concealing a secret smile, although Pelaren had always felt that Unger was quietly laughing at him the whole time, but never let it show. He was startled back to attention by Olan, a tall lanky boy who bore his title awkwardly, since he had but recently succeeded his father, who had died a violent, but all too common death- poison. “Why are no nobles here from Fellath?” he murmured, just loud enough for Pelaren to hear.

Pelaren looked sympathetically at the lad, remembering how hard it had been for him as a young lad trying to prove his worth. “No nobles are present from Fellath because it is still occupied by soldiers. The area is still unstable, and establishing a governor has not gone to plan, so under Cherborian law, the land still belongs to the Throne and is under military rule.” Pelaren did not feel secure enough in calling Fellath part of Cherbor just yet, since he was having a hard enough time occupying the country as matters stood right now.

This comment made Pelaren recall his duties. “I now call the Council of Armin to order,” he said, catching a look in Unger’s eyes which made him feel oddly uncomfortable. “Lords of Cherbor, please consider the table open.” Several voices tried to speak at once, but Pelaren quelled them with a firm stare and the words, “I believe we have some common issues, which will be better dealt with if I raise them now in front of you all. Fellath…”

“I think not, Sire,” Lord Devont burst out. “Fellath is your concern, and meanwhile the people are starving because you are throwing all our money into war. The taxes that we pay have increased three times this past year alone. Your father…”

“Do not mention my father to me in this room,” Pelaren’s voice rang out sternly. “That is beneath you,” he added. “Lord Devont, if you have nothing useful to contribute to this discussion, then I beg you would remain silent. The problems you refer to do not just affect your province alone, but our entire country, and it is only through councils such as these that we can keep Cherbor strong.”

“But that’s just the point: Cherbor isn’t strong,” Lord Wilbur breezed in smoothly. “Lord King, most of us agree that the war with Fellath is not only expensive, but fruitless. We would be much better off strengthening our borders rather than pushing them further afield.”

Errol cleared his throat. “If I would beg to disagree with my amiable colleague.” His words were as sharp as steel. “But we do not all feel the same way about Fellath that you do. The Fellathians are our mortal enemies. If we don’t crush them, then they will destroy us. Has my learned friend”- now sarcasm was positively dripping from his tongue- “forgotten the treachery that occurred in 901, and the proverb that came from that: ‘Never trust a Fellathian’? Or has my enlightened ally neglected to mention the border war of 1068, where they burned every man alive, but cut off the heads of our women and children so they could parade them about on stakes as big as a man’s fist? Or…”

“We enjoy your history lesson, Lord Errol,” Lord Unger interposed politely, “but we are no longer babes at our mother’s breasts.”

There was a short, awkward silence, which Pelaren broke. “Lord Unger, what is your opinion on the war with Fellath?”

“Me, Sire?” Unger asked, affecting surprise. “I am but your majesty’s humble servant.”

Pelaren tried to conceal his irritation. “Nevertheless, a man of your standing and intelligence must have something valuable to add to this discussion.”

Lord Unger looked faintly amused, as if he knew Pelaren was trying to draw him out. “Now you flatter me, my King.” His voice was deferential to the extreme. “But I really must protest. There are others here far more educated about this matter than me.”

Pelaren gave a half-smile, but there was that in his voice which signalled it was not a jest. “What if your King commands it then?”

“Then I would advise my Lord King to be careful in what he commands his subjects,” Unger replied, raising an eyebrow. “But if my King doth command it, then we shall obey him. On the one hand we cannot afford to continue our present campaign in Fellath, that much is obvious. But on the other hand we definitely cannot afford to retreat. So we have a dilemma. It is up to you, our king, to solve this.”

“Thank you, Unger,” Pelaren replied flatly. “Lindor?”

Lindor fixed him with that characteristic half-stare of his which always made Pelaren wonder if he was asleep or awake, and said mildly. “My people are a people of woods and trees. We have no knowledge of Fellath, nor do we care, yet we pay taxes towards this war, and so apparently we have a say in what happens. My people would send a small force into Tyellher’s retreat and dispatch of him there, whether by fair or foul means. That would end the war and conquer Fellath, all in one fell swoop.”

“And how do you propose we discover where Tyellher is?” Pelaren was truly curious.

Lindor gave him an enigmatic look, but said nothing.

“Very well then,” said Pelaren, seeing that there was nothing to be gained from continuing with Lindor. “It seems that we have a number of proposals, all equally valid. Does anyone have anything further to add?” Olan looked uncomfortable, and said nothing.

“My king,” a gentle voice intoned. “May I speak a moment?”

“Certainly, Gedlen,” answered Pelaren neutrally. As far as kings are permitted to have friends without compromising their political standing, Gedlen was that friend, but Pelaren was always careful not to be seen to favour one lord over another, since that would create contention amongst an already-divided nobility.

“It appears to me that, out of all of us, Unger has perhaps summarised the dilemma we all face most succinctly. We can neither continue our campaign against Fellath in the way we are currently doing, and yet we can neither be seen to retreat. I also note that none of the Lords of Cherbor have managed to propose solution to this. If I may be so bold…” He looked to Pelaren for permission, but Pelaren kept his face carefully blank. “Something which we have not considered is to take a different approach to the problem we face. Instead of trying to conquer the whole of Fellath, we should strengthen the borders of that part which we already own. It is better for us to draw Tyellher out than to face him on his own ground, but if Lindor wants to volunteer a force to discover where exactly Tyellher is hiding, then we will not discourage him.”

“Nice, Gedlen, very nice. You have just effectively added nothing new to this conversation,” sneered Devont . “In fact, what you have suggested is completely useless since it cannot be done.”

Gedlen smiled, keeping his temper with an effort.

“The fact is that we cannot strengthen our borders. We do not have the soldiers necessary to hold the land that we already have,” explained Errol calmly.

Wilbur broke into the conversation. “Since our alliance with the Sea King, trade has improved greatly in Cherbor: our ports now traffic in such rarities as jade, amber, and the ever-elusive saffron. As a result, our relations with other countries have improved, and it behoves me to wonder just what exactly Cherbor could gain from increasing trade even further. Perhaps we should reduce the amount of gold given to the soldiers each year, increase our trafficking in precious gems, and soon we will have enough to finance an army big enough to conquer the whole of Fellath.”

Pelaren looked at Lord Wilbur carefully. He knew that was a veiled request for more money to go towards trade, and hence, Wilbur’s own pockets.

“Where is Tyellher getting supplies from?” Olan said suddenly, then blushed at the sound of his own voice.

“Allies, both in Fellath and without.” Pelaren smiled encouragingly, willing the lad to continue.

“Can’t we cut off his supplies and starve him out?” Olan asked.

Lord Errol looked thoughtful. “We should not dismiss Olan’s proposal because we do not have enough manpower, for I believe that there are others surrounding us that may have an interest in seeing Tyellher’s supplies dwindle. For a renegade king, he is not powerful enough to be any more than an annoyance to countries outside Cherbor, or else, he has been considered our problem, and solely our problem, for a long time.”

“Probably because Fellath and Cherbor have been at war since time immorial,” murmured Lindor, who was listening keenly, but no one paid him any attention.

“But if Tyellher’s actions interfered with trade,” interrupted Wilbur, “then perhaps they would be more amenable to helping us. Tyellher is not king of Fellath, or any sovereign nation. It is written in every law book in the known world that traded goods must be acknowledged by the ruler of the nation that they pass through. Any trade that is not sanctioned by the sovereign of a nation is classed as smuggling.”

There was silence as the full impact of what Wilbur had said sunk in, and Pelaren looked at him with begrudging admiration. The plan, to outlaw Tyellher in his own land, would be a stroke of genius- if it worked. The obvious downside to that was Tyellher could easily claim that he was king of Fellath, and no smuggler. Pelaren voiced this concern, and asked if anyone had anything further to add. There was an uneasy silence.