Several Winter Keep: Betrayal in the North:

Reference: valkaneer.deviantart.com/journ…

"Betrayal has ever been my curse. Though I have loved my wives and my servants, they fail me in every case. Only with a few have I known justice. A truth devoid of baser passions. I can but only offer my trust. And hope in that, my fellowman shall be true. It is my burden, as king, borne in remorse. My substance, nurtured by doubt..."

-Albert Husbern I

***
And so it went, that the festive time drew in, and all the land were gathered for the tourney of the Fold King. The joust then held, for the choosing of gallant knights. The folk mingled and went to the open markets lain before the great spires of Several Winter Keep. Feasting and drinking was encouraged on the bounty of the harvests and the herds for this year. Each man given his crop and share, each citizen of the realm feeling well tended to.

It was heartwarming to see the nobles, only recently released from duty in the bickering of policy, set one by the other as if they were cousins at some family supper. They watched the clash of lances on steel shields and men unhorsed to the roar of the commoners only yards from their wooden bower. Yet one was not amongst them.

The young duke, clad in irons of superb craftsmanship, draped over with a silken tunic of royal blue. The likeness of the owls eye on its rear and breast. He wore the champions medallion. The fine silver ornament of the kings chosen knight, and proudly he availed himself in the joust. His skill undeniable as he rose in the lists after twenty days of games.

In the melee he had placed only tenth, but on the ride, so many as met him had fallen to the earth!

"How find you my champion, Lady Talphenia?" Albert asked his maiden of privilege beside his outing throne knowing full well how she disliked the spectacle in general. As evident in his coy winking smile.

She bounced a moccasin loosely on her toe-tips, as she leaned over with a sigh. "A boy, like all the rest. A pensive and trite gambler. But indeed, perhaps the better man in this contest?" was her reply.

"Ha! I must agree with you! Ha, ha! Such things are in good fun, and help the peasantry cope with the dullness of routine. It is a pastime they relish, and I'm guilty of that same folly! Ha, ha! It has been grand to see them smiling in all of it! Soon the final call will be sounded, and I will choose my men for the guard. Then you may disembark for your castle and be back within your element." he laughed warmly!

"And none too soon..." she added under her breath.

"The lad has a spirit about him! Sure, he will hold the purse at the end!" the newly appointed baron of Midguard added, after a pretense that he was not listening to the private conversation.

"That he may! We shall see, but Gilder, were he here, may have offered him a greater challenge!" the king agreed.

On went the hour, and the jousting was cheered riotously all the while.

Yet, even as the final run was being trumpeted, a page boy ran up behind the throne to bend toward the kings ear.

"You must forgive me all," Albert began as he stood from his seat and released the lady's hand. "something urgent has been called to my attention. I must convene my officers." the king excused himself.

"Do return soon, milord, without your company, this pleasantry becomes a chore." Talphenia added, as he nodded and left the platform.

He was led by the page to the royal courtyard beyond the central South Tower, escorted by ten fit and able men of his fasts. There he met Winnlock standing at attention, his hand upon his hilts as he bowed in brief to his sire.

"You have word for me?" he asked the Prelate.

"Indeed, my lord, urgent news from the Copper Fold. A doves letter flown in, in the hand of, Sir Gilder. Blood upon the snippet to indicate its authenticity. He writes that mighty Foglander has fallen." the man told him with a grim face.

Albert sighed helplessly, yet more folly to overshadow this brief period of joy.

"That is regrettable, and who is the culprit?" he questioned the older knight.

"Spiders fangs, by the content of the letter. The fold is crawling with them. Your dutiful servants thought it best to eradicate the threat before the militia be put to the task." he returned in solace.

"A loss we can ill afford. His body must be entombed in the hills with our greatest heroes. His presence in the Hinterland and the South Passage, and his deeds there along with his service to the church demand no less." the king said, a tear streaking his cheek. "Has Gilder need of more soldiers to tend to his task?" he snapped back into stately poise.

"He has brokered alliance with those he set free. The hob's makeup his party of hunters, and doubtless the rangers they chance to find there will join in. They are beset by the damnable things as well." the Prelate relayed.

"When shall I expect his return?" the king then asked of his dear companion.

"He sent the word ahead of his journey home. We expect him within the fortnight, my liege." Stanton replied.

"Very well. I will retire for the day, and I leave you to crown the elites in the jousts. Express my apologies to the nobles, but the sun with such news has shed its rays too heatedly. I am spent for this day. Though, should the lady ask it, send her to my chambers." he droned in low spirits.

"Milord!" the Prelate said, striking knuckles to his breastplate!

***

"Fifth Wing Cavalier! Sir Gilder! I return by forced ride bearing the body of a fallen legend!" the cry went up to the king as he awaited his champions return on the open parapets.

"A great cleansing has passed it the Edge Oaks! The webs of dread and nightmare are unstrung, but our noble paladin is slain!" Gilder shouted in customary greeting.

"The telling you bear is dire indeed, but you honor the fallen by seeing his body home! Noble is the heart of, Sir Gilder, who gave service to the land in it's farthest corner above the call! We salute you!" the king greeted.

The pensive ruler descended the steps to meet the remains of the crusader knight, his hand finding the forehead of the corpse, offering a kiss to it as if wishing ones father to the grave.

"What ill chance beset him?" the kings shaking head inquired.

"He was set on by the widow, a snare lain for his foot that not even the greatest scout could see in the denseness of the oaks. It is my own shame, that I live yet again, and be the man to bear this hard news." Gilder wept.

The kings hand went to his shoulder. "No more, dear friend. You both sought to rid that land of its dooms before the Lady's bannermen be taxed. And doom strikes where it will, there is no knowing when or for who it comes." he consoled the anguished knight.

"My lord, he was bitten, and fell stricken so much by the venom that he could not heal his own affliction. I was then left to curse my lack of healers. For strong as the magic's of the hob shaman might be, there was no spell for this. I thrust it with my hunting spear before the sting seized his spine and sent him to the forest floor. It all happened too swiftly to react. Not even an elf would have fared better." Gilder said.

"Be not dismayed by unwanted death. Old Ben would have had it no other way. A fit life of servitude to my father and he had taken up the crusades! He returned from thence unkilled by the menace, but sure this fate was a good death! To die clearing the way for the commoner, the merchants of the east and south. I know his spirit will find rest. Even as we lay him beside kings in his rest on this world. May his bones be guarded by our lady's blessings! And Whitria bless and lead his soul to the hereafter!" These words when spoken made each knight in the courtyard bow their heads.

The Prelate, the King Friend, old Xerka, and the some twenty who stood about.

It was hard to see the end of such a man.

A hero true, from the age of twenty and eight winters.

"I request that errand, sire." Gilder begged for the honor.

"As do I," Stanton added. "I would go with his body to see him to final slumber."

"And I will go to offer the rites." Xerka promised.

"I remain to my displeasure, but the folk farewell me this day, as the gatherings grind to their close. I know the ritual will be honored by you all, and a part of my heart will rest with him in those hills."

And so the king went to his station at the south tower, to wave and wish his common men a safe journey. Fifteen fit knights were chosen to sport the Dawn Robe. These were welcome and gave oath to his throne only a several hour after that. He shook the hands of all the nobility, and when it was time, the Lady Talphenia, lingered the longest, walking with the king in private to the solitude of a wide and darkened passage beyond the halls and antichambers.

"They took to news of our betrothal well." Albert said to her.

"It is sudden, perhaps for us as well? This thing is good for the realm, I know I can be a taxing matron and the customs must be respected. We shall keep our secrets, none need know the passion that sealed this bond. I go to the Copper Fold to restore the normalcy that is sure to need direction. On the next season we shall sup and be wed, and you will be tauted as a fool by some in the land no doubt." she confided in him.

"There are those who would seek your heart for the purpose of burning it. And I know that the elf in you is offended by the thought. Magic and wizardry is an all too uncommon thing in this feral land. The people find extremes a comfort and blame woe on what easy scapegoats they can find. You've done nothing but improve the realm. Though at the cost of your piety." he said, taking her dainty hands in his own, his thumbs rubbing the back of her hands with tenderness and understanding.

"As a matron they will see this. But an ambitious woman looking above her station makes all to question. We must work to unite the realm in a solid front. Talk of some new enemy is less in the festive times, but we will be tested this winter. We have our cunning, our strength, and our spells. The church I fear, looks to me when there is surely a better target about worthy of their efforts. Let us trust to hope, my king. That when we are joined as man and wife, the stigma of witchery is broken. I shall have to make it a point to double my efforts to appear as the queen you have desired, and It will not be taxing, for it is an easy task to offer truth from true emotions." she said, pulling him near for a passionate kiss.

Then she drew back from him, releasing his hands with reservation. As if she were saddened greatly to be parting. He stood there, to watch her turn and make way down the corridor. Her guards falling in around her as she passed between them on her exit. The trailing shaw a fiery orange silk batting in the draft created by her hurried pace.

She was not the tyrant the land made her to be, four nights had belonged to her and the king over the months they spent at the gathering. Four nights of deep passions and needed affections both yearned for. Talphenia, the consummate and most talented lover in any corner of the empire. Her charms an intoxicant that could in no wise be ignored. Not even by royalty.

Albert, was the more smitten of the two. His previous apprehension replaced by raw desire. He was building a foundation for genuine love in her heart. Even if the initial push for seduction had been a purely political tool from her perspective.

In practice, the king was a more than adequate love maker. He had curled her toes, and this was a pleasantry added to the obvious abatement of her ego. For she had set out to capture him, now that she had him, she was impressed by his virility. Sons and daughters would be strong and able if sired by such a man, and an heir carried in her womb would mean she held the title of queen with an iron that could not be broken.

The young prince was far afield, he was the favored son, the only son of the king. She bore him no ill will. Half-elves would out live him, and it was uncertain if a boy could even make it to the age of station in the unforgiving wilds of the black northern skies. She need only conceive, and when his life as king was spent, her own offspring would sit after him. For even if he marry and bare young with a secondary queen, the purer line would still be Husbern and Paleokor. Even if the prince lived to the ripe age of ninety, his death would inevitably see her issue on the throne as the "elder" heir.

She went to the bottles and canisters in a roll-down libations cabinet once she was comfortably seated in her state carriage. Even as the coach pulled off for the long ride home she searched the labels and found a potion. She inspected the label as she lifted it to her lips. "Fertility Elixir", read the elven runes.

***

The Emitria's, were going farther along the open byways, south into the Heartwood, and west again into the Hinter Fold. The road was not hard and returning peasants passed by en route to their homes in the Shadow Fold.

Some swatted pigs and piglets with long cane rods to keep them on the side of the wagon rutted path. Others carried rickshaw yolks on their foreheads and pulled with arms behind on the shafts, their carts laden with harvested vitals.

The clan was following the way to reach the granary. Led by the two eldest brothers.

Word was, that the men of the South Passage needed hunters to harvest the rush quail, and to gather herbs. This was paid for with coin, and coin was needed to stock up on steel tipped bolts and arrows. They'd make a small profit this summer, here at the close of the warm months the forest budded with most of the regents that brought hefty prices.

"Remind me once more why we didn't simply go north?" The scruffy older brother asked, Gasca.

"Because that baroness passed us by last winter. She saw us on the road with the children, but yet, not even a loaf of stale bread was tossed over her shoulder." he defended the long road.

"That's a real vindictive attitude, brother." Danel sighted.

"And father wouldn't approve. I know, but not all of us can be so noble." Gasca replied.

"I think it proper enough." Octeria sided with Gasca's cynicism.

"No one is asking you, girl." the huge barbarian warrior growled.

"I need no incentive to give my opinion." she boldly retorted.

"Your growing far too bold of late, little one. Let the men discuss these things. Your learning too much from elf maidens of the downs." he scolded her.

"Your a bit too overpowering, Danel, father is our chieftain, not you, and I may speak freely on the hunt." she sighted their own customs.

"Aye, I suppose a huntress is entitled to that. But you gave your opinion at rest in the inn as well." he grimaced.

"And you spirited me away before I had occasion to meet with my new friend again." she rebuffed.

"That was a poor choice on your part, sister. Danel, was only looking out for you. I know you must see it differently, but we guard you from those things you have yet to learn." the able leader of the family troop answered in defense of the elder brothers caution.

The girl said nothing. She knew being hurt and spouting back would only lead to another scolding and mayhap even a slap from a brothers hand.

But she thought back to the night of their meeting. And the second occasion, when she had lulled the family to the troops show for songs and feasting. In reality, it was a selfish desire to gaze upon the charismatic young elf man again.

Nothing impure had passed between them. He had not touched her as a woman, nor had she felt anything but his hand upon her own and his lip gracing her knuckles. But ever watchful kinsmen had seen it as well.

The next day, the brothers made arrangements at the local shrine. That they might leave the children to the care of womanly druids, and priestesses. Not trusting the obscure and questionable servants of Whitria's Abbey. Men all, they lived isolated on a hillock. They kept know women, saying; "we be mated to the goddess herself and have cast off the love of women." but the brothers believed it not.

A holy witchery to beguile trusting villagers, covering a pattering of tender boys, or an improper and damaging misuse of youthful lasses. That might be the truth of the monastery, and neither wanted to chance it.

So they left them in the care of the sisters of groves. And took the eldest on the seasonal hunt. Hearing tale of the tribe in the north meeting with hard fighting as the Kirawak tribes moved on the woodlands beyond the mountains.

Now, more than a sting to her ended crush on a traveling player, was the thought of missing battles to hunt for mushrooms and birds. When many of the wild-men ranging into the south had spoken of troubles facing her tribe.

"But a few days more, and then can we be headed north?" she asked her brother with a better and more sensible tone.

"Aye, girl! I have the same thoughts gnawing on my mind! We will hunt for our keep and no more, then be off to seek father and our uncle. Who knows what trials they face?" Gasca returned.