but by turning Atlanti troops from entire villages, they
fear that which they do not understand,” he fell back
in his chair and raised his brows, “I have saved more
than it is healthy for you to know, my arrogance has
saved many, and if they think me arrogant, let them, I
couldn’t give a shit.”
“Whilst I would enjoy being regaled by stories of
your quest to become The Commander, I return at
dawn,” replied Brenin. He seemed to know what
Harris wanted, he wanted fame, power, but mostly, he
wanted appreciation. “Finish off here, return upon my
command,” he ordered. He was testing Harris, seeing
just how well he could take orders.
“As you command, Sire,” Harris bowed, his smile
continued to grow. “I’ll see you soon.” His smile
became crooked as he looked to Brenin.
Brenin liked his new champion. He was honest, he
did not hold back on his language towards Brenin, he
treated him like he would treat any who came across
his path. Harris was not one to stifle his words. His life
had taken him on a journey of loss and torment, he
had seen and caused enough death. He did want to be
free from the war, but at the same time he knew that
whilst the war raged, so would his temper.
Their way back to Cronnin was met with shingle
roads, empty and desolate. Many of the dwellings were
now empty, the Atlanti threat had chased many from
their homes. The farms were bare in many places.
The wildlands of Cronnin offered a haunting look into
their future, if the war continued, on an unfavourable
path.
“Do you think him worthy?” asked Afie as she
glared from the window of the carriage.
“He is very worthy, whether or not he complies is
another question.” Brenin took a pipe from his
trouser pocket.
A staggeringly frightening glance was thrown
towards him from Afie. “If you light that, it will be the
last thing you do,” she warned. “I’m still unwell, and
the stench of pipe weed is something I could well do
without,” she affirmed. Brenin placed his pipe back in
his trouser pocket, he would not push Afie, even as a
king, she was still a frightening woman to him. “I have
a doubt, Bubble,” her voice spilt with a sorrowful tone.
“The people of Xencliff are known to be reckless,
they are known to do as they please.” Her eyes drifted
towards him. “Harris Bearwood isn’t just born of
Xencliff, he is the embodiment of the place, he is a
shining symbol of uncontrollable thoughtlessness.”
Brenin sat back, he shook his head. “Why do you
disapprove of him so forcefully?”
Her deep tone spoke of warning. “Xencliff are
simply volatile, most of the mercenaries are from
Xencliff…”
“He hates mercenaries, I saw the honesty of hate
within him when he spoke of them.” He knew she was
running out of excuses, and simply wanted to be sure
he was the man for the job.
She shook her head and quickly blinked. “All I am
saying, is that Harris is much like Waron, his need for
extravagance, his need to put on a show, let’s just
hope, this isn’t just a show.” Her deep brown eyes
glared towards the worried eyes of Brenin. He knew
he was taking a gamble on Harris, the Xencliff shadow
had made an impact, but now he would need to prove
to an entire world, he was worthy of his title.
“I am sure, beyond measure, he is the man for
this,” Brenin tried to reassure her, knowing she had
seen years of war seemed to tear at him, she was his
maid once, she was the woman who cradled him when
his father died in his arms, everything about Afie
spoke of the mother he always wanted, he simply
wanted her to live in a world of peace, before the
otherworld greeted her.
“Remember, Bubble, he is just one man, do not
place the world on the shoulders of the weak.”
Her warning was clear to Brenin, although he
hated her secret pet name for him, he would only
allow Afie to call him ‘Bubble.’ “He is an unusually
large man; he can handle the weight of the world.”
“I only hope you are correct in what you are
doing,” she gave a softened look towards him, “I have
a feeling that you will discover more about him than
you care to know.” She held deep, dark secrets, but
they would remain with her.
Afie secretly hoped that Harris Bearwood would
be the man to end the war, someone needed to,
before she said her final farewell to the world, her age
was not on her side, she had worked tirelessly with
Brenin. The future seemed to grow a dark cloud,
there was no light facing them, the only light Brenin
seemed able to find was with a man who had lived as a
shadow.
The Cronnin palace had been in disarray for an
entire turn, but something was coming to cause more
uproar with the Cronnin council. The bitter old men
watched a carriage arrive through the mighty gates.
The turrets were swarming with guards as the carriage
approached the main gate. The courtyard was teaming
with the King’s Guard as they awaited his arrival. A
guard stood at the carriage door, the door slowly
creaked open. A small child stood at the door and
awkwardly made her way down the steps.
Her rags had been replaced with a simple cream
dress, small black slippers now covered her feet, she
was not used to wearing shoes. Her hair was neatly
braided to the back of her. Her eyes filled with
wonder as she tried to take everything in.
She stared towards the towering palace in front of
her, her mouth was wide open, her eyes drifted to the
very top of the palace walls.
“It’s so clean,” she whispered to herself, a bright
wonderous smile covered her face, showing her bright
white teeth.
One of the councillors, Connor, stepped forth
from the stone steps to the palace. His grey cloak
almost tripped him as he scurried forward hunched
over.
Connor called out, “What is this abomination?”
Uproar began as the councillors made their way
towards the child. The chaos caused her to jump back
in fear, she turned to the one thing she knew could
protect her, she held her hand out, ready.
They stood back, as a well-known face appeared
from the carriage. Towering from the carriage, stood
Grendel, alchemist to Queen Harelda of Sonnin. His
tall grey figure and broad shoulders spelt of a mighty
power of the ancient alchemists of their world, well
known for his power, and friendship with Brenin, his
clean grey beard and maddened blue eyes forced the
council to stop where they stood.
His deep voice greeted them, “Good morning,
Gentlemen.” His smile grew as he stepped onto the
gravel of th
e Cronnin path. Librye relaxed her arm
and lowered it to her side. Slowly, she stepped back,
hiding in the shadow of Grendel’s dark blue robes.
Connor stepped forward. His eyes were wide, he
bowed towards him.
“Lord Grendel,” he greeted with a quiver in his
voice. It was well known to Grendel that Connor had
often been guilty of starting difficulties he could not
finish. “What brings you here?”
Stepping from the carriage, Grendel towered
above them all, his unusual size was intimidating to
them. The fey would usually be smaller, but Grendel
was not all fey.
Grendel’s voice was filled with mystery and charm
as he replied, “I have come to deliver a gift,” he leant
towards Connor, “she is far from the abomination you
so claim, hold your words, councillor, else I will be
forced to place them back in your mouth for you.”
Grendel quickly made his way towards the council,
Librye followed beside him, her glances towards
Grendel comforted her, knowing she would not be left
alone.
“Who is the child?” councillor Adamar abruptly
asked, his pale face glared down towards Librye, a
bold head almost reflected the light of the sun.
Grendel lovingly looked towards Librye. “This is
Librye.” He raised his arms to his side and held his
palms up as he announced, “She is to live here, with
you, as the kings ward.”
“Outrageous!” called councillor Omar, he flailed
his heavy arms in the air while stepping closer. “He’s
said nothing of this!”
“Well,” said Grendel, his mouth pulled down,
“you know now.” Making his way towards the steps,
Librye quickly followed remaining in his shadow. The
council scuffled their way behind him.
The mighty doors opened, Librye looked up to
the towering beauty, her head spun around the sight in
front of her, it seemed too good to be true. As she
looked down towards the towering fountain in the hall,
she saw a woman holding a basket of clothes, Mord.
Such a small child had caused a horrendous
uproar. The council followed Grendel as he made his
way into the council hall.
Suddenly he turned to Librye who followed. “Wait
here, Little One,” he said with a soft voice. The doors
slammed closed. The girl stood, baffled and
overwhelmed by the size of the palace. Silence struck
her as she quietly turned in the halls, the odd few
sounds of rustles from the guards stood as statues was
all she could hear.
Making her way towards the small girl, Mord
placed the basket on the rim of the fountain; slowly
she walked towards the confident girl. She leant down
slightly and turned to the side. She did not want to
startle the girl.
“My name is Mord, what’s your name?” she asked
with a wonderous tone.
Librye turned; an enchanting smile covered her
face. Her battered clothes saddened Mord. “I’m
Librye,” she replied, she turned to face Mord, “I don’t
know what’s happening.” She shook her head and
raised her brow, “has Brenin returned yet?”
Mord was shocked at her linguistic skills, for a
child so young every word was perfectly pronounced,
her manner was like that of a small teen child. Mord
stood up straight. “He should be arriving soon, he’s
been in Marrion,” she softly replied, “he will be back
before Seooer, he likes to take his time.” Slowly,
Mord began to walk towards the fountain, Librye
followed. “He will be back before the end of the turn,
or at least I expect, the roads are dangerous, but he is
safe.”
“I know,” said Librye, she held a very sure tone.
Mord furrowed her brow but did not ask any more.
“He should be home soon. The weather is fair.”
Her strange attitude captivated Mord. “I take it
you’ll be staying for a while; I can show you to your
room if you wish?”
Librye was intrigued. Her eyes began to widen
towards Mord. “I have a room?”
Mord smiled as she led Librye up the stairs.
“There are many rooms in the palace, I think I can
find the perfect one for you.” As they came to the
landing, she took her towards the east wing. The
towering walls in the palace engulfed Librye as she
followed Mord. Coming towards the second door,
Mord took some keys from her pinafore. Unlocking
the door, Librye stepped inside.
A shower of blue and green fire-flowers cascaded
from the ceiling as she stepped in. Pale green walls
surrounded, a huge double bed on the right, adorned
with silk green sheets, a thin drape cascaded from the
window, where a small round balcony overlooked the
gardens and city beyond. To her left, a small
washroom, beside it, two towering doors; opening the
doors, the room was empty.
“I think we’ll need to get you some new clothes,”
said Mord as she stood behind her. The
overwhelming look of joy on Librye’s face warmed
Mord. Librye was not used to extravagance, she had
never seen anything as beautiful, apart from the
peaceful world of the forest. Her heart thudded in her
chest from excitement.
Having seen the kingdom’s treasurer, Mord and
dresses, linen pinafore’s, velvet cloaks, woollen
jumpers and leather shoes and boots were all things
Librye were not used to. The dirty, itchy rags she wore
would soon become a distant memory. Librye had
arrived at her new home.
She was soon noticed in the palace. The Unknown
Girl was already creating talk in the city of Cronnin.
Their king was eccentric, but this seemed strange,
even for Brenin. Farhope was not the first village to be
taken by the Atlanti. Librye had been born as a
symbol of hope, and now, as she skipped about the
palace, trying to find her place in such a big world, she
continued to bring hope to the palace. The council
ignored her, but the staff were drawn to her. Librye
did not try to make people like her, she was instantly
an enchanting wonder.
The kitchens had become a particular favourite of
hers, having eaten with the staff so many times, she got
to know them personally. From Gethen, the head
chef, who had no wife or children, opting to adopt the
kitchen staff as his family, even Mord, who was new to
the palace but still took it upon herself to act as though
she had been there for years. Even the stable hands,
Calven and Rowan, who would often bring wildflowers
from the meadow for Librye to tie into her hair.
Rebecca, she was strange to Librye, she always seemed
to hook herself into conversations searching for the
latest gossip. She had a family now, and she finally
knew what love and belonging could feel
like.
Chapter Four Dangerous.
he new moon had passed. The weather
remained fair as they journeyed north east,
T back towards Cronnin. Towering trees now
lined the roads, the red rocks of Marrion were far
behind them. It was a dry autumn, the usual smell of
rotting leaves gave way for a fresh smell of earthy dust
and chimney smoke in the crisp, fresh air.
Journeying back, the guards had been fully
entertained by the arguments from the king’s carriage.
Afie believed that Brenin was being hasty.
The Cronnin palace had heard a plethora of
slamming doors. The councillors scurried, as quickly
as they could, through the halls, trying their best to
avoid Librye. The council had seen guests from all
over Cammbour. The mabeara always opted for a
lavish stay, the lords of the North and South, seemed
to enjoy a more affluent visit, the council were used to
entertaining them, they were not used to entertaining a
child.
Her rags were now replaced by flowing dresses,
silk shoes and velvet shawls. Her new home had also
provided her with a sense of need, she needed to
belong there. Followed constantly, Librye’s favourite
pastime was asking the council members questions.
“Why are you wearing those robes?” she asked
Connor as she followed him through the mighty hall.
“Because I do,” was the confused reply of Connor
as he quickly escaped into the council halls, slamming
the door behind him.
“How old are you?” she asked Devon wandering
towards his room, having been followed from the
council hall.
“I’m one hundred and ninety-four, not that it’s any
business of yours,” he sneered, again a door slammed
in her face.
‘What happens in the hall?’ ‘Do you have a hat?’
‘How many people live here?’ Why are there so
many?’ ‘Do you like wolves?’ ‘How does weather
happen?’ Were but a few of her strange and annoying
questions. Doors slammed in Librye’s face constantly
as she awaited Brenin’s return. Mord had seen - on
many occasions - as Librye asked and got no answer. It
fuelled Mord’s hate of the council, they had no
understanding of children, or anyone for that matter.
Mord watched her closely. Librye was safe in the
palace, the ever-watchful guards were sure to keep an