Word quickly spread throughout the castle and undoubtedly would eventually spread through the rest of Forthren and the rest of Liticea. When the Prince joined his war council the following morning he was greeted by a plethora of congratulations and good wishes. He grew tired of it immediately.
"I thank you for your thoughts," he said to Martin, Jon, Nicholi, and the others, "Now can we please get on with this?"
"I'm sorry, my Prince. But this is so exciting," exclaimed Baron Nicholi, "I never thought I'd live to see another royal wedding. I remember your father's as if it were yesterday."
"Are all of the Royal Lands invited?" Martin Bailor asked, "Because this will be my first and I don't want to miss it."
"Gentlemen!" the prince called out of frustration, "I only agreed to it this morning. I do not know when I'll get married or even if I will be alive to be married at all."
"Don't worry, my Prince! We'll see to it you get home to your bride" Clayton Blackwell shouted and the others all voiced their agreement.
"That's very good to know. And now back to more current issues. Captain Noc, how many men are slated to arrive in the next few days?"
"About ten thousand, My Prince. And that will raise our numbers to approximately twenty-thousand strong. Most of those numbers are Forthren troops. The rest are Royal Lands and the Brukalil."
"Most of the Royal Land troops have not yet assembled. We right now have only half."
"Archduke Amos Velrock is going to lead the rest of them."
"But that likely will not be for weeks. Until then it is just us and whatever we can muster from Forthren."
"Which at this point is all the men of Blackfield. It will not be enough," Tauron stated.
"I doubt Lord Desmond would want to help us," Nicholi said.
"He'll be too busy catering to his on," Martin Bailor joked, "Boy gets stabbed in the neck and now the whole Swampland is in an uproar."
Clayton Blackwell gave Bailor the biggest smack in the head, "We'll see how well you are with a blade through your throat. Or even better let's stab one of your sons and see how you feel."
"Alright, I'm sorry," Martin said, rubbing his head, "It was just a joke."
"Well, keep your jokes to yourself," Gramman ordered, "Last thing we need right now is Desmond Guale angry with us."
"We'll need his soldiers. All the soldiers of Forthren."
"And we need them fast," Tauron said.
"It'll take at least a week for all the armies to assemble."
"Too long. Everyday we spend here, is another day the Morcars are cutting deeper into our country. I give it two days, and then we must leave," Tauron proclaimed.
"My Prince, that is not enough time!"
"Tell Lord Desmond's armies to make for Anton. We will meet them there. And sent word to Markus Eleanor to march his army north to reinforce us."
"Are you going to try to rally all of Liticea?"
"I want all of Liticea to be ready. Also send a message to my uncle, Arnos Heflite of Brother's Crossing. If the Morcars are half as bad as they are in the stories told to us as children, than Liticea is in for the battle of her life."
At that moment, Lord Yorod Dayvey entered the chamber. Along with him were his two oldest sons, Lord Desmond Gaule, Sir Ulysses and Sir Julius Cassius. They all took available seats and melted into Tauron's war council.
"Lord Yorod," the Prince said, "How good of you to join us."
"Since the armies of Forthren are being sent on your campaign, I only thought it appropriate that my sons and I sit as your advisers. Lord Desmond also requested as did Sir Ulysses and Sir Julius."
"We honored to sit with you all. May I introduce the Lords representing the Royal Lands?"
"Please do. I haven't been to the Royal Lands for so long I've forgotten half their names."
Tauron motioned behind him, "This is Bartera Noc, Captain of the Brukalil."
"'Bartera the Terror.' Is that what they call you?" asked Lord Desmond, his giant eyes gave Bartera shivers.
"Yes, my Lord Gaule."
"Clayton Blackwell, son of Conrad. Martin Bailor, son of Vince Bailor. Lord Jon Malken. And Lord Nicholi Gramman."
"Ah, Lord Nicholi," Lord Dayvey got up and shook hands with the old veteran, "the man ho has been is more battles than he has fingers."
"This cannot be all the Lords you have brought with you," observed Lord Desmond.
"It's not. At least half the Royal Land is here. Nearly ten thousand men."
"Not much to combat the Morcar horde."
"Which is why I've asked you to come as well."
"Might we ask why the rest of the Royal Landers did not come with you," Tauron understood why people called Lord Desmond the 'Frogman'. When he was staring right at the Prince, his wide mouth, leathery skin, and bulging eyes made him look the part.
"This was supposed to be an auxiliary force. Nothing more," answered Lord Nicholas.
"And now it is becoming a super force," pointed out Desmond, "Bigger than any auxiliary force I've ever seen. And my understanding was that you were to wait for Lord Ryden's call for aid."
Lord Nicholi laughed, "Come now, old frog. You know Horith would never do that."
"I know. Which is why I think we should let the Morcars put his head on a spike."
"We all would like that, Lord Desmond," spoke Yorod, "But he is currently defending our own holds against the hordes. So we must do something."
"The Swamplands can defend themselves."
"You're sounding just like him," said Sir Ulysses.
"Be silent, knight!" growled Desmond Gaule, "You will speak properly to an archbaron of Forthren."
Great, Tauron thought to himself. More bickering nobles. Heads so far up their asses they could not see a storm coming from a mile away.
"Gentlemen," cut in Lord Dayvey, "Let's be civil. We must save the Westland, and the Prince is to lead us. So Prince Tauron. What is your bidding?"
"We march to the West in two days. Until then, gather every soldier from Blackfield and everything around. Lord Desmond, I want you to go back to the Swamplands and rally your troops to meet us at..."
"Hold it right there, young Prince," interrupted Lord Gaule, "What if I do not want to march to the West. I don't feel like wasting lives and resources to aid Horith Ryden."
"You will march," Tauron said, "Your Duke orders it and your future kind orders it."
"And what if I don't feel like listening to either. Hmm? My son is injured and needs to recover. I will not leave him, and no Morcar Invasion is likely going to make me."
Lord Gaule's tone was so mocking and condescending that the Prince's face began to flush with anger. He had to promise marriage to Lisa Dayvey to win the support of Forthren and now a third of it is about to run away.
"Desmond Gaule, if you do not obey me I will force you to obey me."
"And how will you do that?"
Tauron hesitated a moment and turned to Captain Noc, "Captain, send the Brukalil to apprehend Baldrick Gaule, and instruct them to hold him until I say otherwise."
"What?" shouted Desmond.
"Prince Tauron!" exclaimed Lord Dayvey. All the other Lords flinched as if Desmond and the Prince had drawn swords.
Captain Noc began to exit the chamber, but Lord Desmond ordered her to stop.
"Get back here, you bitch!" Noc quickly walked out, staring down Desmond's men who stood in her way. Gaule turned towards the Prince, his huge eyes now bulging red and his yellow teeth were grinding between his slimy lips.
"You little..." he uttered.
"Do as I say, and your son shall be released. Disobey me, and he... will not."
"If anything happens to my son I will make you pay! I will make all the Heflites pay!"
"You'd do well to avoid that, unless you want all of your house to pay."
"Dirty sneaking little sorcerer. I should've known you would do this. Why don't you leave and live among your own kind? Your filth is not fit to sit on the throne!"
Prince Tauron stood up from his seat, and walked around the table, slowly approaching Lord Desmond. His eyes had a red flare in them, which all the nobles recognized as the magic stirring within him. When he reached Desmond, standing over him by a foot, the Lord of the Swamplands now had cold-fear in his eyes than burning anger.
"You get that one for free," Tauron calmly spoke,"Get out of my sight. The next time I see you better be you marching your army towards Anton to aid in the liberation of the Westland. If you are not there, you son will pay the price of your treason. Go now. You had better get there as fast as you can."
Lord Desmond said nothing as he hurried out, his bodyguards quickly following.
It was not until he was gone that someone finally spoke.
"Are you mad?" spoke Yorod Dayvey, "You just sent someone to kidnap an archbaron's son and execute him!"
"I will not execute him. As long as Desmond obeys, nothing will happen."
"And what if it does? What if he never shows up? You take that boy's head and the whole Swampland will rise up against you!"
"I will not execute him!" Tauron exclaimed, "I was bluffing. You think I am mad? My father taught me that madness can be an ally. I just hope that it has been mine today."
"What if he doesn't show up? What will happen if he takes his chances and stays behind?"
"I'll deal with that in good time."
"In good time?" spoke Nicholi, "My Prince you have threatened Desmond Gaule and captured his son! He will not forget this!"
"Fortunately he's an old man. He'll die before he can have his chance to pay back."
"Do not depend on the puzzle that is natural death! My grandfather lived to be one hundred and nine!"
"Than Lord Desmond will have to die at a hundred," Tauron said coldly, "Besides, I have an idea for getting more troops."
"Prince Tauron we have to think through this more!"
"I did, and it i settled. I take his son, and he will give me his armies."
"His men will not fight for you."
"If they value their lands, they will."
"My Prince...!"
"End of discussion! Now back to the broader issue. The Swamplands and the men of Anton will not be enough. So I propose another way of getting soldiers."
"What are you talking about?" asked Ulysses, who just recovered from the shock of the moment.
"We'll take Arhan Saud' mercenaries."
"Saud's mercenaries?" said Lord Dayvey, "But they are already hired."
"We'll pay them double and compensate Mr. Saud. Sir Julius."
"Y-yes, my Prince?"
"I want you to speak with their leader. This Nakbar Nazeen. I think you are the man for the job."
"Me?" Julius did not know if he could stand facing that man again. The opening on his chin began to throb with pain again.
"Who better than you to go talk to him. He will likely listen to you and respect you more than anyone else in this castle."
"But what if he turns on me?"
"If they think they have something to fear from Desmond, they will have a surprise from me if they lay any hands on you."
Julius Cassius, the Black Sun of Liticea began to curl away from the Sorcerer Prince as he talked to him. The sudden act of humiliation against House Gaule made them all weary and wondering what else he was willing to do.
"It will be done, My Prince."
"I know it will, Julius the Black," for the first time ever, Tauron felt himself speak with the voice of a king.