The sun rose to start the day and Ferenor's streets buzzed with commotion. The sounds carried across the city and to the Royal Estate, where they fell upon the waking ear of the Queen. Rebecca had slept on the balcony of the guest room where she spent her nights. The king's Chambers was no place for her to rest her head. The guest room had become hers, suiting enough. For she felt more like a guest than a queen, a guest who was unable to leave.
Rebecca found her peace at night, on the balcony, listening to the sounds of Ferenor. Ironically, she envied the peasants and commoners. They had simple lives, and loved ones to return to after the day's end. They lived in ignorance, unaware of the danger they were in or the wickedness of those who ruled over them. But that ignorance allowed them to be moral, to be sane. She gazed towards the market, pretending that she too could escape from the hold of royalty.
She gathered herself, and made her way to the King's chambers, as she did most every morning. She felt it was her duty to wake her husband, even if another had put him to sleep. She never could understand why she still did so, but it was habit, it was structure.
The doors to the King's chambers were opened, an unusual sight for the morning.
"At this hour? Kline, out of bed?" Rebecca mumbled to herself under her breathe. Her steps hastened as she approached the opened doors. She turned and peered into the room, resting her left hand against the opened maple wood door. The room looked unsettled; the maids had not yet been in yet. The bed was unmade, the drawers opened, the blinds still closed. Rebecca stepped into the room and soon realized that she was in fact not alone.
From under the sea of blankets, a whore arose and raised her head. Her eyes grew large as she saw the Queen standing over her, peering down. Startled, the woman shuffled back towards the headboard, covering her body from the Queen's gaze, leaving just her regretful face above the sheets.
"My Queen, I-" Queen Rebecca cut her off as she interrupted.
"I haven't seen you before. You must be new to the brothel. I am quite used to seeing women arise from my husband's bed. You are not the first, nor the reason for my concern." The Queen turned away from the whore as she peered around the room. "My husband is awake, I take it? Where has he gone and for what reason?" The Queen asked the fearful girl, as she turned back to face towards her.
"Before the sun rose, a knock came at the door. The King went to the door, and spoke for a moment with a man, I... I do not know about what. Then he turned and came back towards the bed, shuffling through his drawers and dawning his cloak. I asked if everything was okay. He told me the business was no concern for a whore. I should have left the estate and returned to the brothel, my Queen. I was unsure of what-". Again, the girl was interrupted as she attempted to defend her actions from the night before.
"What did the King speak of with the man at the door?" The Queen pressed on, searching for more.
"I had just woken, they spoke softly. I could only make out a few words, a phrase or two." The girl sat herself up in the bed, leaning forward towards the Queen as she spoke. "They spoke of The Vanguard, that they had been defeated. I heard nothing more, my Queen."
Rebecca turned away immediately and left the whore alone in the chambers. She knew of the Vangaurd's mission in Oaksguard, which Kline had mentioned. She had begged him not to send them away. But he did, half the Vanguard leaving Ferenor's walls. If things truly had gone awry, she knew the High Council would have met. Rebecca made her way from the Estate and made the short walk towards the Hall.
As she approached, she noticed a fire lit the inside of the Hall, contrasting the room with the dawn sky. Voices echoed from within as she approached the door. Surely, Rebecca thought, the High Council would dismiss her, Kline would not tolerate her presence in the matter.
Rebecca figured there must be a way to peer inside, without entering. She noticed a sliver in the wood wall of the Hall. She peered through, seeing the High Council, indeed was still joined. In her limited vision, she saw the King, Sir Vicar, and Thomas Siln. The light of the fire danced around them. She listened intently, trying to decipher their voices from the crackling of the fire.
"The rest of the Council must not yet know of this. We cannot risk their interference. Oaksguard must be recaptured, quickly. I will call upon all armies of The Realm, what little they may be. Sir Vicar, ride to Highland and Kessex, deliver this call to arms. The longer we give Morione to strengthen her forces, the more of a threat she becomes." Rebecca was stunned to hear these words from her husband. She was disgusted by the High Council's inability to properly assess the threat from Oaksguard. She listened further on.
"I am ready, the Vanguard is ready! We will smash the sewer rat once and for all. Never again will her trickery prevail against the sword of the Ferenor. This woman will gasp for air as she begs for her life. I will spill her blood in the streets, and hang her body in the courtyard." Vicar Alaine, slammed his fists on the table and stood from his chair, enraged by the embarrassment he had so recently suffered.
"Return Morione alive, we will take her through Miriela, make an example of her to the other cities. Make sure of it that every ear has heard of her fall. Including Edward Reed." Lord Siln continued his talk, but Rebecca's ears had heard enough. Her disgust of her husband had grown for far too long. This Council of Three, now meeting in secrete, it was not in the interest of Ferenor for them to serve. They overlooked the threat in Oaksguard once before, they were sure to do it again. The Queen felt that she could no longer stand idly by while her King and the rest of the Council sent Ferenor to her doom. Rebecca knew what she must do.
She stepped back from the space in the wooden wall and turned to head back towards the Estate. She took several steps, crouching towards the ground, trying to quietly move around the Hall. As Rebecca coursed through the woodland terrain, her foot caught hold of a root, pushing through the soil. It sent her falling to her hands and knees, leading to a loud crack against the ground. Rebecca froze in fear, as she heard the voices from inside the Hall.
King Wullmont, Sir Vicar, and Lord Siln all paused. They stopped their conversing and silence came about. "There's another among us, Your Grace," Lord Siln said quietly.
"We mustn't be seen together. No one must know of our council together, nor our plan for Oaksguard." King Wullmont stood quickly and made his way to the door.
Rebecca, laying in the dirt, quickly crawled her way into a nearby bush and kept low to the ground and out of sight. King Wullmont opened the door and stepped into the morning, peering out, searching for whomever they had heard.
Rebecca watched from the bush as Kline gazed out into the opening outside the Hall. He saw nothing. He continued to peer around the brush, walking his way back towards the Estate. Suddenly, there was a ruffling in the brush that drew the King's attention.
The Queen watched as Kline stepped towards the bush, peering through the morning fog. Kline was only feet from Rebecca, the tall grass and thick bushes keeping her hidden. He knelt down and moved the twigs of the brush back, opening them to see a baby Grand Deer stuck in a hunter's trap. It had laid quietly until it saw Kline. It must have been there for some time, and it was near death. The Grand Deer of Ferenor were rare animals, large and powerful. Rebecca had never before seen one this close to the Estate or the Hall. The Grand Deer of Ferenor tended to stay North, away from the walls of civilization.
The deer thrashed side to side, attempting to escape. Rebecca could see its blood trailing towards her. The King reached down, and grasped the deer by its neck, as the Queen watched. The deer went limp. The blood flowed quicker from its neck as it now lay dead. Her husband walked away, but Rebecca couldn't take her eyes off of that bleeding deer. It wasn't remorse which she felt, not pity or sadness. But she was drawn to it, something inside wouldn't let her look away from the bright red blood, or the deer's rough brown coat. She was lost in the sight. She finally gathered herself and scurried back towards the Hall. Quietly, she peered back in through the wall as the King entered.
"A Grand Deer, caught in a trap," Kline said as he entered. Lord Siln and Sir Alaine both released a sigh of relief, upon hearing the King's words. Rebecca watched on as they continued to converse.
"Well, I am off to see to it that our exports stay clear of Oaksguard. With Oaksguard lost, the city of Cranst remains our only territory of the Eastern Coast, a hopeless defense upon an Esternlund attack. It would be wise to focus our efforts on readying Kessex and Highland. They will form the new Eastern front." Lord Siln spoke to the King and Sir Alaine as he stood from his chair.
"A wise point made, Lord Siln." Vicar stood as he pointed towards a map of Miriela that laid out across the table. "A small group of Vanguard Scouts will escort a caravan to the East. Cranst will need arms one last time, for they will fight with us at Oaksguard. Time is of the essence, the caravan will take the Southern Pass, for it is the fastest way to the East, and the fastest way to ready Cranst," Vicar finished. Lord Siln was glad to hear the Vanguard Commander's offer. He had lost a significant amount of export to bandits and highwaymen, pirates amongst the coast. The Southern Pass, however, was not a risk Lord Siln wished to take.
"The Southern Pass? Are you mad? I have never sent an export through the Southern Pass, and I do not intend to do so now. The travels of men are not meant for Mount Valendale," Lord Siln spoke sternly to the Vanguard Commander.
Vicar smirked as he responded to Lord Siln, who stood across the table. "Thomas Siln, surely you do not believe in the tales of the Mount Valendale." Vicar paused, peering at Lord Siln, waiting for a response. Lord Siln remained still, saying nothing.
"Ha! By the Gods, Lord Siln, you've spent far too much time drinking in the pub! The tales of the Uri? If they ever did walk the rocks of Mount Valendale, it was a thousand years ago or more, before the Gods! Ha! The Uri. Maybe we should consider the Northern Hill Giants, the Krugen, or the River Witch, Esithril? They are all simply tales of Miriela, tales of handmaids and drunkards." Sir Vicar stood over the map, in disbelief of Lord Siln. "No matter. The fact is, that we do not have the time, nor luxury to travel our caravans around Mount Valendale through the Northern Pass. If the Eastern assault is truly as imminent as we tend to believe, we must bring resources across Miriela with haste. The Southern Pass will allow for word and supply to be brought to Cranst. And it will allow the caravan to stay off the thief ridden trade routes," Sir Vicar continued in his suggestion of travel route.
"Whether tales or truths, it is no matter. The one truth we know to be, is that Morione grows stronger with the taking of Oaksguard. Our spies that have returned to tell what they've witnessed, they speak of a fleet bigger than the waters of the Midsea have ever seen. It sits just off the coast of Oaksguard. The caravan will take the Southern Pass, and two Vanguard scouts will go along. And after it safely reaches Cranst, the Vanguard scouts will scout Oaksguard. We must understand our enemy. Sir Alaine, if you fail, if this Morione defeats your guard, then our Eastern assault has already arrived. I will send ravens ahead of you to Highland, Kessex, and Cranst, their armies must be ready to join the Vanguard in battle if needed. I will not underestimate Morione a second time." Kline spoke sternly, with an understanding of what was at stake.
"My King, the sewer rate will not stop the Vanguard again, I swear it by the Gods," Sir Vicar starred his King in the eyes, eyes which burned with the need for vengeance.
"Very well, my caravans are to depart later today. Will your men be ready on such short leave?" Lord Siln asked, now feeling unsure of his thoughts of the Mountain.
Sir Vicar responded, "My men have been preparing to leave since my return, surely I can ready a couple of scouts. The more time Morione has, the more dangerous she becomes. I will gather a few Vanguard scouts and they will meet your caravan for departure outside the city walls, at the Old Eastern Gate. Before we attack Oaksgaurd again, we must scout the peasant Queen. We'll need as many men as we can bare. While my scouts ride West, I shall make my way towards Highland, to speak with the Queen, Lady Emerick. Whatever is left of their army must be ready to join us. Send ravens elsewhere. Highland still has a strong army, and I'd like to speak with the Queen myself."
"Very well, Sir Vicar. It's no secret that Lady Emerick is a difficult woman, put lightly. Maybe your words will reach her mind easier than that of a letter. Ride whenever you are ready," Kline responded.
Rebecca tried her best to quiet her breathing as she listened. More of the Vanguard, to leave the city through the Old Eastern Gate. Kline was even more idiotic than she thought.
The Old Eastern Gate was never truly a gate at all. Its true origin was unknown, but many believed it to be a smaller Catredal, founded by the Gods themselves. As Ferenor was established, it's walls moved Westward towards the Grand Sept, leaving the Eastern Gate behind. Over time, the walls fell, and only the great door frame remained behind. It became known as the Eastern Gate.
Sir Vicar continued, "Come Lord Siln, let us prepare." Vicar Alaine turned, as did Lord Siln, and they bowed before the King. "Oaksguard will be yours once more, my King. United be The Realm." Sir Vicar stood, and Lord Siln echoed his words. "United be The Realm, indeed." Lord Siln joined Sir Vicar as the two left King Wullmont alone in the Hall.
The King looked down towards the table, and studied the map. Rebecca watched as the flicker of the flame continued to bounce around the room. Kline took a deep sigh and rested his face in his hands. Rebecca could tell he was overwhelmed, and rightfully so. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, as she saw the look of realization climb across his lifeless face.
It was just as she had warned him, her words had become his reality, and Kline sat, hopeless and defeated. The attack from the East had come sooner than he expected. An attack from Miriela's own land, an attack from within The Realm. And Kline had allowed it. His incompetence had forged a weakness, a vulnerability, all across Miriela. He sought after power but ran from responsibility.
As he sat with his head still buried in his hands, one word slipped from his mouth, "Odwin."
Rebecca was confused at what she heard. She knew no Odwin. Was he a foreign adversary, or an ally in Miriela? A King, a duke, a priest? Rebecca was unsure. But the thought of her husband's secrecy continued to drive her rage for control.
He was not fit to rule and maybe he was just now starting to realize it. There were forces approaching Ferenor, forces much stronger than the city could defend. Kline's throne had blinded him and he fell for its lies. He did not have power, he had a chair. But Rebecca feared the city was about to see true power, a true army, a true force which would crush Ferenor in its path.
But maybe it wasn't too late, maybe there was still time to save her beloved kingdom. But if she was to strike for the throne, she would have no army, she would have no horses or swords or shields. Rebecca did not have the power of men. She would need to find opportunity through a different force, a much more dangerous one. Rebecca would need chaos.