What ails you, my Lord?

Boras Taft eyed his master with a furrowed brow. Stone-faced but otherwise kindly, the aging Boras had served his lords kingdom since he assumed power twenty years past. As his most trusted general, Boras had long been accustomed to reading his masters emotions with just the look on his face. Tonight, a large scowl on his masters face was all Boras needed to see to know that something was afoot. Even in the shadows of the dimly lit private chamber, Boras could make out the features of a tall, stalwart man with the visage of a daunting ruler clearly disturbed by something. Boras saw now that the man had shoulders slightly slumped and both hands on a window sill, Boras thought to himself that even an imposing figure such as his master looked weary.

Am I to end my reign soon, Boras? asked Loran in reply.

Beg your pardon my Lord but what are

My reign, Gods be, my reign! The kingdom, that you and I fought for together many, many suns past, does it fall beneath my feet Boras? Do I not have the strength to hold this kingdom that I love together? Do I fall short as its ruler? Tell me, dear friend; am I to be its last Liege?

As the last few words were spoken, Boras now found himself face to face with his master, his commanding officer, his friend. King Loran Lightborne of Haggelm was a strikingly arresting man. A wild mane of graying dark brown hair fell to his shoulders, his brown eyes seemed tired but wary and alert, and his face lined with the tenure of battles fought gave him a look of a seasoned fighter. His strong jaw and the slightly large pointed nose made him look almost hawk-like up close, tonight though; it looked like they had seen better days. Despite his age, Loran, as Boras remembered, was every bit as burly and strong-willed as he was when he was younger; here stood a man though somnolent, looked as if he wouldnt go down easily.

And if he did, he would take you down with him. Loran Lightborne you know not of defeat, do you?

I do not believe that you are the last of Haggelms kings, your Grace. Boras said brow still furrowed.

Oh? What of your insinuation, Boras? Why do you think so? Loran asked.

Boras could feel anger rising up in his chest. Of what caused it, he did not know for sure.

Your Grace, such mundane thoughts about your reign ceasing cannot come to materialize, simply because of your will to hold this kingdom together. That alone, speaks of your resolve as king. explained Boras.

But I grow older each second Boras; every time I do someone else grows stronger! What I speak of may not necessarily mean age; it could mean the last few moments I could sit upon that throne. I hear them Boras, for months and months; people in hushed tones speaking of sedition. I hear muted plots of taking over my throne my kingdom Boras!!! Loran almost looked severely upset, his face halfway between scowling and bursting in anger; the veins in his temples bulged dangerously as he ran his hand over his sweaty forehead. Struggling to keep his composure, he paced and shook his head as if discounting the ideas in his head. Boras could hear the king muttering things, this troubled him a bit, and he had never seen Loran so distraught over something possibly non-existent.

Treason..my people..this kingdom..twenty years..no, no.. Loran muttered under his breath.

Boras now knew why he was angry he hated weakness. Now, the king who held his kingdom together looked almost willing to give in to such atrocity. He could not stand idly by and let that happen. Loran was a king but most of all, a friend and Boras was the most trusted of all in every aspect. He had to do something, say something at least. But what?

What evidence do you have of this plot aside from mere rumors? You mentioned being king of this monarch, what of your son then? Boras asked.

What?

Of Aidan, your son! The heir to this kingdom, have you forgotten of his birthright as well?!

I Aidanoh Gods forgive me. I cannot leave this kingdoms corruption as his inheritance Boras. He is not to be king, unless we purge this this iniquity. You will reign, in my stead Boras. Loran said nonchalantly.

I serve as king? What of Aidans rightful place then? Does he not have the chance to be king and fight this corruption that you speak of so surely? With all due respect, he could even outshine you in governance, in time. Wont you agree with me on this? Boras asked his voice in slight panic.

He cannot rule with this corruption Boras! His soul is too pure for such a burden! Gods be good the betrayers might let him go in the middle of some forest if they get their hands on him, which I doubt. They might slay him in his youth and serve his head to me on a silver platter! Now that Boras, I cannot allow! There is evil in our walls. I only wish to protect my son from it all! said Loran his tone resolute.

Betrayers? You speak of such unbelievable things and that you say my soul

has lived through enough corruption unscathed, as it is. Loran finished.

And this is supposed to make me as a perfect candidate, is that it; Ser Boras Taft, general turned ruler by King Lorans decree because his soul can withstand corruption that lurks between the castle walls? Is that it then, all this for hushed tattles? Boras asked eyes glaring.

You make it sound like you are in for court jester Bo-,

What about the boy Loran? What happens to him after I take over? Do you think he will not question such a decree? Where will he go, what of his education, his practice as a young prince and future ruler? You underestimate your own son Loran! He may be young but not forever! Boras said, cutting him off in mid-sentence.

You will take him to Autumns Ring. You are to leave him with his great uncle Bertram Bannister until it is safe enough to return. Worry not for Aidan, I have arranged for his schooling and his protection. I have written to Bertram and he was kind enough to agree with me on this. You will

escort Aidan in a fortnight, as I have already asked the servants to make preparations for his departure. When you arrive, stay for a few days seeing to the final arrangements, then you are to come back and assume the position I have bestowed upon you. This kingdom cannot fall to corruption. You will rule Haggelm in my stead and I will bring those who seek to destroy it down! Loran said in finality.

What does the Queen say about this? Boras asked.

It is of no consequence, she knows what must be done to protect our only son. Loran said his tone flat.

It took a while for Boras to take a rein on this. Loran, the ruler of his kingdom, was asking him to run it, denying the rightful heir of his place in the throne, sending him away, denying the boy a chance to govern it, to fight for its people and to punish those who dare oppose denying young Aidan Lightborne sovereignty of his crown to a kingdom that he was meant to rule, all because of some hogwash. He fought himself from spitting on the stone floor. Boras had enough. Forgetting formalities, Boras spoke in disdain.

By the Gods, what has gotten into you Loran?! You speak of evil in our realm; you speak of hushed tones, of rumors, of things that may not come to truth. All these years Loran, all these years and all those battles, I have yet to see you so distraught! So distraught, that you ask that I run this kingdom while your own son is cast aside, as if he does not play any part in this!

You do not understand Boras. Loran muttered, burying his face in his hands.

How can I Loran? You fret over nothing, and then you ask so much from me and give less than that to your son. You jest cruelly my friend. I will play no part in this. Boras said his tone steady.

Are you disobeying a direct order General? Loran asked, looking skeptical.

Direct order? I I disobey nothing; I am merely pointing out a possible misjudgment on your part! Weakness does not become you, your Grace. Boras said.

Oh you would know the face of weakness Ser; having lived under its mercy once upon a time. Loran said his tone almost in banter.

The look on King Lorans face almost matched the revving glare that was plastered on Borass own. The two men eyed each other dangerously, like two predators waiting to pounce in for the kill. Loran could feel the anger rising up from the shadowed figure, half-expecting Boras to take a swing at his jaw. But no attack came, only a pair of sad pale-blue eyes. Boras had not expected it, but he felt exhausted, clearly tired of a fruitless argument so late at night. Boras walked across the room, picked up his broadsword and put on his cloak. He would hear no more of this, at least for tonight.

I am sorry your Highness, I hear your concerns, but I am tired and being so you cannot expect the best from my judgment. I would like for this conversation to take place on the morrow. Boras said weakly.

Very well, you may go Boras but think about it. Aidan, he is but a boy you see.

He is eleven; he wont be a boy forever. Good night, your Grace. Boras said, nodding curtly.

Good night Boras. Loran said quietly.

Boras made his way to the door, shutting it slowly behind him and disappeared into the dark halls, shaking his head with the events of the last hour.

I was never at the mercy of weakness Loran. I was weakness itself. And it is you who does not understand. Boras leaned against the stone wall, sighing heavily as he weighed his options carefully. He would have no other choice in the matter. Lorans word was law.

Fool.

As he reached his own private quarters, he lazily removed his armor and sprawled onto the bed, glad to be under the covers and out of the cold. He lay awake for a few moments before finally drifting off to sleep.

Aidan, forgive us.

Aisla Lightborne was never the one to sit around the house; she always had to do something to pass the time. The castles servants wore bemused expressions every time they see her tending to the garden, feeding the chickens or simply pacing around her study. Over the years, this led the servants to the conclusion that Aisla was not your typical queen. She always walked with her head up high, her figure slender and authoritative but never in a strut. The servants for the matter were even grateful that she regarded them as proper laborers and not mere slaves; paying them what is due and helping around when needed, even if she was the queen. Today however, Aisla looked as if she was a scullery maid herself; her sandy-blond hair tied untidily in a bun, thin streaks falling to the sides of her face and sweat covering her lined brow. She wore a simple white dress with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a tattered apron. The queen had her light blue eyes focused only on the little paring knife in her hand.

Aisla! a raspy voice came from the kitchen entrance.

No reply.

Queen Aisla! Aisla quickly turned her head to see who it was. There stood an elderly woman; her face too was lined with age, her body almost in a stoop but nevertheless held upright. She wore a stern expression, her thin lips pursed and her eyes squinting as if in deep curiosity with the queens actions; her lightly colored tunic flowing behind as she held them with her bejeweled hands and making her way to Aisla.

Oh, its you Helen. Aisla said, turning.

Goodness child, do you plan to peel all of Haggelms potatoes in one day? Helen asked jokingly.

I can assure you, it is not all that I plan to do with them. Aisla answered, still peeling.

Enough of this put that down Aisla! Come, you will get yourself cleaned up; your husband needs you in the council room. Helen said, taking the knife from her hands.

Helen motioned to a scullery maid and dragged the reluctant Aisla out of the busy kitchen. They made their way across the richly decorated halls of Castle Light; the stone walls bore both the wrought iron lamp sconces and the banners of House Lightborne, tall, ornate oak doors lined the entire castle interior, lavishly arranged flowers of every color filled its drab halls, polished pieces of furniture wares dotted the gray castle and immense ribbons of dark purple and gold hung from the balustrades; bathing the castle in opulence even when the sky was overcast. It was truly a magnificent place to be for someone like Aisla, who was born to nobles and raised to royalty. Though now, she felt nowhere near noble let alone royal. Aisla had let herself be brought to her private bath, where, under Helens orders she began to undress and bathe herself. She let the warm water release the tension building up on the back of her neck. The soothing waters made it easier for her to calm herself down and finally allowed the rest of her body to relax. She placed a hot washcloth over her face, it was clearly a welcoming feeling after being out in the cold for so long, and even the hot kitchen fires could not calm her nerves. Aisla felt the tight knots loosen around the length of her muscular arms, she let out a sigh of relief; she was quite trim for a woman her age but even so, she wasnt getting any younger.

Helen sat near the washtub pouring scented liquid on the hot water. Old as she might be, she always saw to Aislas needs, even after she was crowned queen.

Aisla, my darling girl, what distresses you so? I doubt that peeling all those potatoes would help get rid of it. If its something truly bothersome, I might be able to help; all you have to do is ask, those potatoes wont tell you a thing Im sure of it. Helen chuckled, still pouring bath oils.

You always lighten the mood up Helen but I believe that what distresses me today, neither you nor I can do a thing about. Aisla said.

What do you mean? Helen asked, confused.

At this moment, Aisla suddenly burst into tears, her painful sobs filling the bath chamber and her eyes red with sadness. She shed her tears heavily for a few more moments before turning to Helen.

Its my son, Helen. Loran has ordered him to be taken away. He says there will be treason from inside these walls and that Aidans life may be in danger. He speaks of corruption, oh Helen, I do not know what to make of all this but I cant endanger my sons life. If he is to be far away to be safe, Id agree but, oh, so young, to be so far away. I cant do it. Aisla said, heaving with sadness.

As Aisla stood up and got dressed, she briefed Helen on her husbands plans of taking their son to Autumns Ring and about deceitfulness to the crown. Helen listened intently as Aisla poured her heart out about the kings intentions, nodding and shaking her head with every detail she took ear to. Finally, after much had been said, both women now found themselves inside the sparsely decorated War Chamber. Feeling exhausted from her dilemma, Aisla let the subject rest. It is of no use. I cannot stop this, even if I am queen. Purple and gold trimmings lined the entire dome-like structure, to the middle of the room was a very large wooden table and on it a small stone dais with the crest of Haggelm; a tusked boars head. It seemed all of the chambers furnishing was standard, save for the seats encircling the polished oak. Twelve peculiar looking chairs surrounded the vast circumference; every single one looked almost identical yet so subtly different. Aisla ran a wrinkled hand over the handles, the entire length it was hard like stone yet smooth to touch, and it seemed oddly familiar. The chair looked ashen almost burnt and she could tell from the frame that it almost looked like someone melded together a pile of Bones, Helen said from the Coven of the Damned. These were the bones of those who fell to the witches of Old Haggelm many many centuries past.

All these years and Ive never paid attention to these things, Aisla said, dourly and the witches never existed Helen, you know that. If they did, none of them remain. All I see are sick tributes to them. Vile. We should get proper ones.

Helen managed a weak smile, suddenly the door to the chamber burst open and two fully armored men entered the room in a heated discussion; Aisla automatically recognizing who they were. Loran and Boras both had a steady exchange of words and clearly unmindful of the two women already inside, just then a third man stepped inside and spotting the two women cleared his throat. Loran raised his hand to Boras, both men ceasing their conversation before turning to Aisla.

Love, Loran said quietly, kissing her hands thank you, it is crucial that you be here.

I understand, Aisla managed, turning to Boras Ser Boras.

Your Grace, Boras said, nodding to both women Madame Helen.

Your Highness, a large voice said. Ser Thomas Mirrenor of Bolingard, its good to see you again, Queen Aisla.

Ser Thomas Mirrenor of Bolingard stood wizened but wore a smile that seemed to take years off his face, Aisla finally managed a chuckle when she saw the graying features of her old mentor; a welcome sight despite being in her own home. Thomass once-blonde hair sat neatly on his balding crown, gray streaks now outgrew its former hue, and his heavily scarred face forever spoke of battles long fought. Thomass brilliant blue eyes bore down on Aisla like a concerned father and Aisla stared back at them like a loving child.

Youve done well for yourself child, he mused eyeing her with glee,forgive me, you are no longer a child. You are a queen now Aisla, you were one of my best warriors but you are now a queen and since you offered me your services so long ago, I wish to return the favor.

What are you talking about Ser Thomas? Aisla asked, frowning.

King Loran has written to me about your kingdoms presumed state, Your Grace. Thomas said. And that of the young prince.

Assumptions is what they are Ser! I assure you nothing will befall this kingdom and whatever favor you wish to offer us, I can tell you this moment that we will not need it. This kingdom is no danger and same goes for my son. If that is all gentlemen, I would like to return to my quarters now and I do not wish to speak of this any longer. Aisla said sharply, tears welling up.

Love, Loran started but Aisla cut him off.

No, Loran! I will not have my son ride into the night, all alone and indefinitely just because you fear of treachery! The true danger lurks outside the walls Loran; bandits, thieves, slave-traders, the lot of them waiting to get their hands on him! There is no danger here, you ask so much Loran! What kind of king sends his son away?! Aisla shouted her voice hoarse.

The kind of king that cares more for him that the rest of the kingdom, woman! Loran yelled, eyes glaring. The kind that will lay everything beneath his crown to see to his familys safety! Do you not understand what I am trying to accomplish? I want our son safe and it wont be here and it definitely wont be out with bandits, which is why Ive sent a letter to your Ser Thomas, so safe passage can be granted to Aidan!

Both king and queen merely stared at each other with flaring intensity; Lorans eyes continued to glare in anger and Aisla bore down on him like that of a hawk during a hunt. The two remained so for a full minute before Aisla spoke, her voice heavy with grief and exhaustion.

Why does he have to go around Bolingard? Why not take him to Kings Pass, that way he can take Nightdawns Road and straight ahead to Autumns Ring? Aisla asked.

Your Grace, if I may, Boras said, speaking up Ive received word that there had been reports of pillaging down by Kings Pass and a few up by the Road. It seems that a new group of thieves have decided to take the main road for their pilfering, which is why it seems more reasonable to take the young prince up in Bolingard.

Indeed, Thomas said the boy cannot be in harms way if we take a longer but safer route. I ask you trust me on this Aisla, for the sake of this kingdom and the boy. Please allow me take him to Autumns Ring.

Aisla pondered on this for what seemed like an eternity. To her it was all some big ruse, she could tell that something was not in place, she couldnt shake of the gnawing feeling that something terrible was going to happen but she did not have any choice for the matter. Loran was bent on taking their son Aidan back to her old town and he had sent her old mentor as guardian to the journey. She clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white; her head swirling with ideas and mixed emotions but what if it were all true? She would not only jeopardize the kingdoms only defense against their enemies but she would also endanger the life of her only son. This infuriated her even more, the well-being depended entirely on what she and Loran decided to do; such decisions were hard and toiling but they made them anyway. This by far, was the hardest one; for it involved the life of the one most dear. Having regained her composure, she wiped her eyes and faced the others, her face in a cowl but otherwise agreed to the plan. She hoped she had made the right one.

Alright, take him to Autumns Ring but I am still his mother, so dont you think for a second I wont be concerned about him and if you are wrong about all this Loran, I will personally ride out to get him back myself. Aisla said her tone absolute.

Thank you, my love, Loran said in reply, his face no longer angry. Thank you, you will not regret this, my queen, it is all for the best and I am certain Aidan will think the same.

I hope so Loran, by the Gods, I hope so. I rather you not speak to me for the remainder of the day, I am exhausted and I need my rest. Come Helen. Aisla said, motioning to Helen and turning to face the other men. Gentlemen, if youll excuse me.

Aisla turned her heel and marched outside the chamber, slamming the door behind her. She felt rage slithering up her veins. She would take matters into her own hands now; she needed to know what was really going on. She stared out to the midday sky, her eyes hungry for answers. If she is to send her son away, it would not be taken lightly. Aisla closed her eyes already dreading their separation but mostly yearning to put a stop to impending betrayal.

Tonight I will have answers Loran and I always know if you lie.

Always.