Chapter One Hundred and Fifty Nine: King Grinwald's Decision
There was only one thing keeping Vrael from falling apart.
He didn't think anyone would want to go along with the plan for declaring war once the rest of the facts were laid out on the table for everyone to see. He was still reeling with shock about the news of Sinmir's wife and son, as was Amelia.
She clung to his arm with trembling fingers as they followed Sinmir and Yuragh through the castle, through long halls and dark arched doorways, and then down a winding stone staircase, down and down forever.
When they reached a series of damp, torch-lit tunnels, it took him a while to notice that the torches were nothing but tarred sticks jammed into holders.
He rubbed his arms uneasily as goosebumps rose on them, shivering as they marched past a series of archways leading into a vast kitchen.
Dozens of loud, cheerful, grease-splattered men and women laughed and chattered with each other as they turned spits above roaring fires and brewed concoctions of some sort in great iron pots.
The smell of roasting meat and delicious food wafted across Vrael's face, then they left the kitchen with its charring meat and large pots behind.
Gradually, they left the smell behind, too, and then it was up and up a long stairway, and at the top of the stairs, just as his thigh-muscles began beginning to protest, Vrael found himself emerging through one of several doors and into another grand hallway.
He immediately noted that the décor here was the best that he'd seen in the entire castle so far.
The ceiling arched overhead, and huge, intricately carved timbers supported the roof. Beautiful tapestries depicting things from long ago hung on the walls.
The floor was paved in lustrous black marble that echoed flatly with every footstep they took, and it was so clean that it reflected everything almost as well as a mirror.
He saw an immense doorway straight ahead and straightened slightly as he walked because eyond it was a long crimson carpet that had been laid across black marble flooring.
The door stood open with flickering yellow light coming from beyond, and suddenly, he was found himself walking into a room so huge that it could have been a cathedral.
At the end of the red carpet was a set of grand stairs, and atop them, was a massive throne and the wall behind it, very high up, were narrow arched windows that glowed dully with gray light.
The King of Adanac was sitting in the throne, leaning to one side and quietly scrawling something across a piece of parchment with a quill and inkpot by his side.
Vrael examined him in dazed amazement, since the man greatly resembled his nephew in appearance: they both had the same long, wild cornflower blonde hair, the same sort of wild, unkempt beard, and even the same storm grey eyes, with bushy blonde brows framing them.
But the similarities ended there.
King Grinwald was old, likely in his late forties or early fifties, and age had hit him hard. His face was creased and lined with worry marks, weathered by the passing of time, but surprisingly, he was no less handsome for it.
His boots were made of knee-high, shining, supple-looking black leather trimmed in silver fur. His trousers were a deep crimson, and the long, belted shirt he sported was made of golden chain mail emblazoned with the crest of the Ein Vindrael royal family.
Gathered across his collarbones was a golden chain with a fur from some sort of huge white beast. He didn't even seem to notice their arrival, focused as he was with writing, but Vrael knew that he didn't need to because he could feel the man's power.
He was dangerously strong.
Self assured.
Proud.
Yuragh wasted no time walking forward.
"Your Highness," he said silkily, drawing the man's eyes from his writing, "forgive me for disturbing you, but I'm here to inform you th---"
The king's eyes flashed to Sinmir and he immediately bolted upright, ink pot, quill, and letter alike falling to the floor in a clatter of noise. Yuragh fell silent.
"Sinmir," the king breathed, grey eyes wide. "Oh, thank Asgrog... you've finally returned! I was so fraught with worry that I was just in the process of writing a letter to King Votrin requesting aid in a search for you!"
"I'm so sorry, father," Sinmir rasped, eyes more than a little bloodshot when he began to walk towards the throne stairs. "So much has happened... I need to talk with you. We need to talk."
The king, however, didn't wait for him to walk up; instead, he stormed down the stairs himself and met the prince halfway, pulling him into a tight embrace. They held each other for a long moment before Sinmir pulled back, looking at his uncle.
"Father, we must speak," he rasped hoarsely. "I bring grim tidings, and we must speak about them no matter the cost."
Amelia's grip tightened on Vrael's arm when concern filled the king's features.
"You're trembling," he said slowly, then paused, peering more closely at Sinmir's face; those grey eyes widened a fraction before turning angry, and he clutched his nephew's arms. "Your eyes are bloodshot... have you been crying?! Sinmir, what's happened?! Tell me at once!"
The man opened his mouth to speak, but his face screwed up and he looked away, squeezing his eyes shut. King Grinwald looked horrified when he realized that he was actually fighting back tears, and he immediately turned enraged eyes on Yuragh.
"Tell me," he said dangerously, voice radiating thunder and command. "Tell me, Yuragh, what has happened to my ward to have put him in such a state?!"
"It is terrible news indeed," the halfling growled, not raising his head from where he knelt on the ground. "While away in Aerika, Lord Sinmir discovered that the one who murdered his young wife, Aelinore, and his son, prince Theodore, was an assassin hired by King Votrin."
King Grinwald's face went bone white and Vrael flinched, cringing away from him as a wash of rage unlike anything he'd ever felt swept through his body. It radiated from the man in venomous waves that made his insides feel nauseous.
Those malevolent grey eyes turned to look at Sinmir.
"Is this true?" the king whispered. "Tell me... is this the absolute truth?"
"It is," Sinmir rasped back, then swallowed. "I still know not the identity of the assassin himself, but I know he was hired by King Osric, and I know that the Duke Strein McCarthy is involved with whatever the King is doing. I was imprisoned and almost tortured as a spy in Dynah."
"What?!" Grinwald roared, voice making Amelia cower against Vrael's side. "That... that... foul..."
"Before you go into a blind rage," Sinmir instantly said, cutting him off, "you need to know something highly important. Something happened while I was away amd it might change the future of our country."
Grinwald's nostrils flared, but he nodded.
"Speak."
Sinmir turned, then, and looked right at him and Amelia: Vrael felt his ears draw back involuntarily when the man's grey eyes roamed over his face before he squared his shoulders and turned back around.
"This country," he said calmly, regaining a bit of his regular stability, "has legally become allied to the Eastern and Southern rulers of Aerika because of my actions while I was there."
Grinwald froze, eyes growing wide.
"What did you just say?" he whispered. "My dear boy, what have you done?"
But when Sinmir opened his mouth to explain, the king lifted a hand, head flashing from side to side.
"Wait. This seems far more serious than I anticipated," King Grinwald said quietly, giving Sinmir a very reserved expression. "Come. There is a vacant sitting room not too far from here, and I feel we should discuss this where prying eyes and ears cannot get wind of it."
Sinmir nodded wordlessly, but just as Yuragh rose, King Grinwald seemed to notice Vrael and Amelia standing there for the first time and he eyed them both, brows creasing slightly.
He said nothing as his eyes roamed over their faces, but without a word, he turned and walked away.
Everyone followed him as he walked behind the throne and move to the left, opening a door that Vrael hadn't originally seen.
Then there was more walking.
He felt relieved when everyone made their way inside a rather plush room with a square table surrounded by comfortable chairs. The King sat down at the head of it and gestured for them to take their seats as well, which everyone did with haste.
The king leaned forward once they were seated, looking right at Sinmir.
"Now," he said stiffly, "tell me what you mean when you say that this country, without my knowledge or consent, has become allied with the Eastern and Southern rulers of Aerika."
Sinmir sighed, then raised his hand and jerked the collar of his shirt down.
Amelia stiffened when the bruised tooth marks from Zelphira's marking were revealed.
"It's a long, complicated tale," he said slowly, "but I am currently betrothed to the Faery Queen of Calcoon. Her heart belongs to me and me alone because I somehow triggered her racial magic, and because I... somehow grew very close to her nephew - a boy who is unfortunately not here at the moment - I agreed to marry her."
Grinwald looked equal parts horrified and overjoyed.
"S-Sinmir!" he squeaked, deep voice going high in an instant. "Oh, how dare you! I can't decide whether to embrace you or strangle you! Could you not have waited to consult me before making such a rash decision?! What was going through that thick head of yours?!"
"It couldn't be helped," Sinmir growled, slamming a fist on the table. "The events that were taking place left me no other option, and if I must be honest, I agreed to take her as my future wife for more important reasons than the political ones."
Grinwald's chin sank into his chest and he ground his teeth, squinting in thought.
"Start from the beginning of your travels," he finally said, looking up. "Tell me everything in the order that it happened, as it happened. In order to understand, I must know what sort of things you've endured and experienced during this year away from home."
Sinmir sighed and nodded in agreement, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together.
"I will start right where everything changed," he said slowly. "I met them on what I thought would be my last day residing in the city of Ordin..."
And so, Vrael sat back, listening as Sinmir began to recount how he'd first met Ella's group back in Ordin, to meeting him, to every little detail he could recall along their travels together. They heard about suspicions that neither he nor Amelia had even realized were plaguing his mind.
They heard how he'd warmed up to Xaphile, then Vrael, and then the rest of them, one at a time, before going over every single event that had taken place in Calcoon. He explained all of the interactions between him and Zelphira, and his reasons for agreeing to marry her, in full.
Vrael watched as Grinwald's face grew paler and paler, but more intrigued.
Yuragh's eyes were unreadable by the time he finally finished speaking, ending with the decision to split apart and go their separate ways to seek help from their respectful sources.
The entire room was so quiet when Sinmir leaned back that it was unnerving.
But one thing was certain.
Grinwald Ein Vindrael, King of Adanac, was angry.
Seething.
Vrael could feel it.
He had more anger inside him in that moment than all the rage he'd ever felt from other living beings combined. For the longest time, the king was absolutely speechless as he stared at his nephew, but Sinmir, being the sort of person he was, stared back just as evenly from his seat.
"So you're saying," Grinwald said slowly, "that King Osric has done all of these things, and more, to this troubled countess? You are telling me that he has violated his own country's treaty, which he agreed to, and has been secretly kidnapping the primordial faeries from a child ruler's lands to weaken them so he might destroy everything south of the Nimikan Border should she try to defy him?"
"Aye," Sinmir grunted, taking a deep breath. "This is so."
"And you are telling me," the king growled, voice growing ever louder, "that the same man who murdered sweet Aelinore and my daeling grandnephew, is now after the lives of her and all these other children because King Osric is power-crazed and knows she wishes to change the laws that are still, to this very day, causing families to be torn asunder in such brutal ways?!"
"Aye."
"And you are telling me," he roared, face turning red with outrage, "that this girl you speak of, this Ellameira Rochard, who is by your own words fierce enough to take on armies of demons all by her lonesome, has forsaken her unstinting pride and is now begging for the help of my kingdom to settle this peaceably rather than declaring an all-out war when King Osric deserves nothing less?!"
"Aye."
The king closed his eyes, then looked at him a little more calmly, but those eyes... they were sharp, insistent, and deadly.
"Pray, tell," he said in a calm, drawling tone full of icy hate, "why should I deign to heed her request and settle this in a diplomatic fashion? I would prefer to travel to Nimika and discuss with her how I plan to wring Osric's scrawny, cowardly little neck. Tell me, Sinmir, why does she not fight him?"
"Because," Sinmir said, giving him a faint smile, "Nimika doesn't have the resources to go to war with Osric, father... they are at a disadvantage. Not to mention, there are likely many more primordial faeries from her lands being held captive, just as Xaphile's little brother was."
"Sinmir," Yuragh said coldly, leaning forward and snatching his shaking hands. "After hearing everything that is going on, I believe that this situation is far too delicate to make any hasty or rash actions too soon. Not with innocent lives at stake."
"I agree," King Grinwald growled, slamming his fist down on the table. "I've decided. Yuragh, when we are finished here, I want you to rally the best of our men and inform them that they are to pack for a long, hard, heavy travel. Tell them to prepare an entourage for myself as well."
"Your Highness?" Yuragh asked, eyes widening. "What?"
"You heard me well," the king barked, rising to his feet with a vein throbbing in his forehead. "We leave for Nimika day after tomorrow. I'll not stand idly by as droves of people are slaughtered like cattle for the sake of one man's crazed desires."
"As you wish, your highness," Yuragh murmured. "Is there anything else?"
"Aye," Grinwald grunted, then pointed right at him. "I am commissioning you to send word to guards in every city that they are to begin production of legal documentations with the seal of my family crest, and they are all meant to allow the safe passage and transport of halflings through Aerika. Inform them that the documents are to given freely, without pay, to any and all who ask for them."
"Eh?!" Yuragh choked, eyes bugging out of his skill. "Your Majesty, forgive me for my impudence, but why have you made such a decision?"
"Because my Kingdom needs to be raised to high alert," he bellowed, slamming his fist on the table yet again with a furious expression. "Every city, every village, every man, woman, and child needs to know of what has been going on down in Aerika. More than half of our current population consists of refugee halflings and interracial married couples that fled from Aerikan soil so many years ago!"
"Er, yes, that is true, but---"
"But nothing!" Grinwald hissed. "Tell our people that by my decree, if anyone, no matter who they are, was harmed by Osric and wishes to speak out against his tyranny, they are to retrieve legal documentation to place themselves under the protection of my house, and then they are to make their way through Aerika down to Chisago, capital of Nimika!"
"Father," Sinmir said carefully, drawing the man's grey eyes, "Chisago is still in ruins, and if what Ella told me is true, they may not even have enough resources to supply the royal parties that will likely be attending this interpolitical meeting she's asking for."
"I see. Thank you, Sinmir," he said curtly, then looked at Yuragh. "As our country is known for supporting each other through times of hardship, I will ask you to also inform our citizens that if they choose to make the journey, they must bring their own equipment and provisions, but if, after they are there, they run out of those provisions, everyone must provide for each other."
"EH?!" Yuragh squawked, rising to his feet. "Your Majesty, I have no protest against such measures, but there are like to be thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of people who will travel down to Chisago for this if you declare it! Can we really supply that many people?"
"Indeed, we can," Grinwald grunted, grey eyes alight with pride and wrath. "If this treaty of the four was the one thing keeping the eastern Faeries from intervening and forcing change, it's too late for him to protest. He has broken his own laws, and his actions... they curdle my blood."
"You're going to help us?!" Amelia suddenly cried, clutching the table. "Really?!"
Grinwald, Yuragh, and even Sinmir jerked and whipped to look at her in surprise, as if they'd forgotten she and Vrael were even there, but the king's eyes softened when he saw how badly she was shaking.
He glanced at Sinmir with a gentler expression, then he rose to his feet, and gracefully lumbered his way around the table.
Vrael's ears drew back and he hunkered down when the king stopped behind them... but then, a gentle hand was set against his head, and when he turned, he saw the king patting Amelia's as well. Her eyes were shimmering with a combination of dread and hope.
"Aye, young one," Grinwald murmured. "We're going to aid you. I am obligated to help my nephew, but even more than that... a political tie as palpable as an arranged marriage gives me the right to intervene. The way that you children tied each other together, politically, to remain safe from harm was nothing short of ingenious."
"Indeed," Yuragh agreed, looking slightly flummoxed. "Even I feel mildly intrigued by the web of protection you cast across each other."
"Sir... er, I mean, your highness," Amelia whispered, turning to look up at him. "Please, if I may, would it be all right if I use magic to return myself to Ella's side? I feel too frightened for her safety to not be there under such dangerous circumstances."
The king gave her an unreadable look.
"Not this day," he said softly. "Wait until the rest of us are ready to depart. If you intend to travel to the countess's side by magic, I shall send a small escort party back with you for an added measure of protection. To do that, however, I'll need a little bit of time to prepare."
Amelia's eyes widened.
"Added protection?" she whispered. "Really?"
"Indeed," Grinwald growled, lifting his eyes and looking at a nearby tapestry. "There is a reason that the dragon of my family crest holds a shield beneath a star. We fiercely protect those who cannot protect themselves, and like the stars, our blood offers light to people who may be lost in darkness."
"Sire," Yuragh said, rising to his feet, "I would appreciate it greatly if you would allow me to accompany them back with the escort party."
"You, Yuragh?" Grinwald asked, eyebrows raising. "This comes as a surprise. What makes you desire to to leave with them?"
"Many things," Yuragh said silkily. "First and foremost, I know without a doubt that Lord Sinmir will likely be departing with them when they leave us, and I do not wish to let him go off alone after hearing what sort of danger these people are in. Second, I'm the best mage in this country, and I can offer everyone an invaluable amount of protection with my magic."
Grinwald tilted his head, seemingly waiting for a third reason.
"Anything else?" he prompted, giving a sly smile. "I know there's a third reason."
Yuragh sighed, closing his eyes.
"It is the boy, Phil," he muttered quietly. "Sinmir mentioned earlier that the journey these children were originally taking began because the primordial faery needs a dream walker to find answers on why his memories are from another place and time. I believe I can help with that."
"Ahhh," Grinwald said, eyes instantly glinting with traces of amusement. "That is true. I had almost forgotten that you'd mastered lost arts such as dream walking."
Amelia's hand snapped out and clamped down around Vrael's arm. He flinched when her claws tore through his clothes and punctured his skin, but when he turned to protest, he saw her face.
Bone white, eyes large, pupils dilated... and her emotions...
His gut clenched.
She exuded nothing but sheer, raw terror.
"I see," Grinwald murmured, raising his arms. "If that be the case, you may go with them once you've completed the assignments I've given you. Sinmir!"
"Aye?" the blonde man rasped, relief tangent on his face.
"I am inviting you and your young friends to sup with me later this evening," he said, then looked at all of them with much softer eyes. "It pains me to learn of the truth, but do not fear, any of you. Hope remains, and that is why I shall help you reach for it."
"Thank you, Father," Sinmir chuckled, giving a watery grin. "Thank you for lending your aid."
"Don't thank me, I'm just doing what's right," Grinwald snorted, then scowled. "Buck up, lad. And stop calling me 'Father' already! You know how much it irks me. I am your Lord Uncle."
"You'll always be a father to me," Sinmir snorted, waving him off. "You raised me."
"Aye, but your father was my younger brother, and I feel him turn in his grave every time you do. And I also raised Yuragh in place of his parents, and he's never once called me father," Grinwald pointed out, lifting an amused eyebrow. "Why must you be so stubborn?"
"It runs in the family," Yuragh sullenly grumbled, making both men laugh, but Vrael didn't notice any of that.
His arm was bleeding and hurting, and yet, all he could do was stare at Amelia's terrified face.
"He can dream walk?" she whispered, mouth quivering. "No... he can't... if he does, he'll..."
But she never finished.
Vrael frowned when she let go of him and fell silent.
He waited, but she said nothing more after that.