The Coward King: Part One - Rebellion

Rebellion: Chapter Four

It wasn’t long before Dorad had chosen a chamber on the top floor of the tower, a big, spacious room. An enormous bed sat underneath a window overlooking the city, and there were ornate chairs and tables aplenty. Despite his misgivings and his mother’s warning about the city, Dorad knew he would spend his stay here in great comfort.

Rearranging the room to suit his liking—he was not entirely comfortable having the bed right below the window—Dorad emptied his bags into a big wardrobe. When he completed this task, he sat down and sunk into a blue cushioned chair, hoping to catch a little sleep.

The court of King Allard Navri was an impressive sight. After managing to sleep for most of two hours, he had been led out of his high tower and throughout the labyrinth that was the Castle of Werach, until he finally reached an enormous Great Hall.

Dressed in his best green and yellow silken finery, Dorad still looked poor among the people who half filled the hall. Men and women milled about the large room, talking to each other over fine glasses of hot spiced wine, making pleasant, courteous remarks on the weather or the clothes they wore.

Dorad walked among them and partook in the exchange of pleasantries, but his mind was elsewhere. He could not stop thinking and worrying about the suspicious manner of how he had been summoned to court here to speak with the King. Wondering what the King would have to say, Dorad spilt a bit of his wine as he collided with a high lady, soaking the front of her fine silk gown. 

“I am so—” Dorad began, but stopped when he caught sight of the lady’s face. The comeliest woman he had ever seen, the very sight of her made his breath catch in his throat. Thick, raven colored hair cascaded down past her shoulders to end at the small of her back, and deep blue eyes like pools examined the damage done to her exquisite and very expensive violet dress, and she wore a deep frown.

Suddenly, and much to Dorad’s relief, the lady began to laugh. She waved off his feeble apologies and smiled broadly at him, showing him her ivory white teeth and small dimples at the corners of her mouth. “Do not worry yourself, my lord,” she said to him, “I have more gowns, even prettier than this one, back in my home.” She extended a delicate hand to him, and he took it gladly and gently shook. “I am Asalain.”

“Asalain,” Dorad repeated, grinning like a moron, so smitten was he by her. For a stretch of a few long moments, he stood staring wordlessly at her, until she coughed.

“Your name is?” she prompted.

“Uhh…Dorad…My name is Dorad Erilion,” he spluttered nervously. “I must seem a great fool, my lady.”

“Indeed you do,” Asalain replied, laughing, “but I can tell that you are not as stupid as one might think.”

“You are kind, my lady,” Dorad said. “I must ask, from where do you hail? I can tell from your accent that you are not from Elaech.” Indeed, this Asalain had a slow, precise way of speaking, enunciating each individual word in turn, whereas the people of Elaech spoke quickly and sometimes jumbled their words together.

“Eretum,” she said, “Onar Elith, to be specific.”

“Truly?” he asked, shocked. “Onar Elith, the City of Dreams?”

“Do you take me for a liar, Dorad Erilion?” she asked, acting offended.

“No, of course not, my lady!” Dorad said quickly, thinking that she had really taken offense. “I only meant that Onar Elith is quite a long trip north of here, and I have never met anyone from the City of Dreams before. Tell me, what is it like there?” he asked, curious. He’d heard stories about the city before, how it was larger than any other city in the world, and how magic things happened there, but he knew not if they were true or entirely unfounded.