The Banquet
"Hah!" The bearded man laughed. "Twas a fate he deserved, the bastard!"
"Mayhaps." I replied, still sipping my wine. "The woman was to be pitied,
though."
"She killed herself before the paladin's body was even found, if I recall
correctly." The muscular man remarked.
"Twas a sad fate," The old man sighed, "Though inevitable, of course."
"And that, my friends," I smiled. "Was how our little kingdom began."
"Kingdom?" The bearded man laughed again, a full, jovial laugh. "I wouldst
call it an empire, after the foes we've just defeated."
"Defeated, yes, but not yet conquered." The old man put in. "Though I do
doubt at this rate that'll take less than a few more months."
"Indeed," I replied, "And I think our story is far from complete, as well.
The tale of the archipelago, after all, certainly didn't just end
when the Montarians were overthrown."
"Aye," The old man replied, "We wert all shocked by their new king's response
a few months later. He wast quite friendly, considering Taljehn a traitor
and inviting us to secede Farthing into our territory."
"I believe thou spit up a whole flask of ale when you heard." The bearded
man remaked to the muscular man.
"Hmph, well at least I allowed our lord to make the decision. Thou wert
just in favor of accepting unconditionally." The muscular man replied.
"Twas quite a skillful ploy, actually." The old man remarked. "Though we
didst make the best of it in the end. As I recall it…"
XXIV
Lord Dredanal of the Valorian Archipelago,
May I be the first of many New Montarians to offer our sincere forgiveness
for the atrocities commited against the people of Jhelom and Nujelm by
Montarian soldiers under the command of general Taljehn. I can assure you
that I and the Order of the Silver Serpent never intended such wrongs to
be done under our name.
As compensation, I offer you the isle of Farthing to annex into your new
kingdom. I hope in the future we can meet and trade without any serious
tensions.
Lord Kilatarn
Ruler of the Kingdom of New Montor
Ingamar put down the letter and looked up at me silently.
"I've already shown it to Handaran and Vassily, but I treasure thine opinion
most of all, my friend."
"Kilatarn is still young and new to the throne, Tarnor, and I know little
of him. However, he is certainly not naïve enough to mean this seriously."
"Your thoughts, then?"
"We seem to be in a difficult position, Tarnor. I doubt Montaria will take
no for an answer to this proposal, seeing as it is vital to peace, yet
I also think we are being lured away."
"How so? I shan't think there'd be anything as ridiculous as an ambush
at Farthing, though you know more of Montarians than I."
"Nay, but think of the geographical postion. Farthing is far from both
the archipelago and the Isle of Deeds. While Montaria owned both of these,
it wast easy to control. But now that the archipelago is independent, Farthing
becomes a nuisance, a depletion of resources. So they transfer it to us--"
"And trick us into stretching our forces out, risking an invasion. A splendid
plan, indeed, though we hath little way of deflecting it. Hast thou any
other ideas, Ingamar?"
"It seems our hand is forced." Ingamar sighed. "We must take Farthing,
though we canst still make the best of this situation."
"Through what means?"
"We shan't overextend our forces as Kilatarn plans. Send only a very small
detachment to Farthing, and give the locale government there almost full
administrative power over their island. We still won't be able to protect
Farthing from a Montarian attack if it comes to that, but at least we won't
lose as many men there and perhaps we'll be alerted of the hostile movements
against the archipelago."
"Then I take it thou feel it shalt come to war, my friend?"
"I shan't deny it is a likely possibility, Tarnor, but I doubt Kilatarn
wouldst tarnish his honor so soon in his reign. I'd expect a more cunning
plan to reclaim the archipelago for now.
"Of course, I am just a silly old man, Tarnor. I doubt mine abilities art
up to the strains thou put me under."
"Nay, Ingamar," I smiled. "I know thou to be my greatest and wisest advisor,
despite thy humility. Fear not, I shalt take thine council well."
XXV
Kilatarn: Last king of New Montor during the later days of Christophrea…
…Succeeded to the throne in 613 AB (223 CE). The same year, a revolution
on the Valorian Archipelago led by the peasent Tarnor Dredanal caused a
coup against General Taljehn of New Montaria, resulting in the independence
of the archipelago from Kilatarn's kingdom…
Kilatarn sat upon his throne, staring outwards with an idle glance. It
was a state his advisors had found him in quite frequently, and there was
whispered talk of it throughtout the hold.
But Kilatarn did not care. His mind was elsewhere, concentrating on that
which they around him could not understand?
But how could they understand? Kilatarn thought.
They are
not rulers, they do not have the responsibility of a whole kingdom
resting upon their shoulders.
Kilatarn knew that he kept the throne only through his ancestors. Had his
father borne even a single other son or daugther, they certainly would
hath become the next Montarian ruler. For though others might not realize
it, Kilatarn felt within himself that he was weak of mind and spirit, not
fit for that which he had been given the responsibility to.
Yet he should not fear of anything, his advisors often counseled him. Many
of Montaria's lords had done little for their kingdoms, yet they are remembered
with equal respect and honor to the great kings.
Kilatarn rejected this, he knew there was more at risk here than words
scribed into dusty tomes. Not half a year after Kilatarn ascended the throne
did the Valorian Archipelago rebel and deem itself separate from New Montaria.
For three months did Kilatarn ponder his course of action. In the end,
he allowed himself to be directed by his advisors. Kilatarn did not care.
He felt he was too weak to come to a solution on his own, and allowed those
of stronger will to decide the kingdom's fate.
And thus Kilatarn had declared General Taljehn of the Serpent's Hold a
traitor to New Montaria, and given to the archipelago's lord the isle of
Farthing. Few among the order felt it to be an act of Courage, but Kilatarn's
advisors told him of their plan to which the archipelago would be reclaimed.
Another four months passed, and Kilatarn had yet to deem himself worthy
of the throne. His advisors' plan had failed, few even talked about it.
Yet they gained no scorn or dishonor. Only he, Kilatarn, king who sent
Dredanal of Jhelom the letter of apology, heard the sharp whispers behind
his back, the hidden looks of contempt, the mild outrage of serving one
weaker than thyself.
And Kilatarn knew all of this, for with all his faults he was preceptive
of those around him. Kilatarn the Weak, they would call him, he thought,
or perhaps Kilatarn the Coward. The young lord of Montaria could not bear
this. He could not allow himself to merely become an object of mockery.
He knew that he would not die a king, and that another knight would usurp
his throne, but Kilatarn desired to do at least one deed of greatness for
his kingdom.
"Sire?"
Kilatarn looked up with annoyance. Before him stood a tall, slin man with
an equally long, thin beard. He recognized Marstaden, one of his advisors.
"Thou appear troubled, m'liege."
"Aye, I am." Kilatarn smiled weakly, pleased to be able to share his troubles
with another.
"Tell me of thine worries, my liege."
"Dupeil and Rfelia's plan for dealing with the Jhelomic dissidents failed,
as thou certainly know. And now their 'king' sits proudly in his castle,
while we hath gained nothing."
"Indeed, twas a catastrophe none of us foresaw. Alas, had I only spoken
my reservations against that course of action…" Marstaden noded sympathetically,
though in fact he had been one fo the strongest supporters of this project.
"And now our army dwindles away to private guards and sentries along the
Trinsician border and our great paladin generals hold their distinction
only through blood line. And I am no different from them, Marstaden."
"Nonsense, sire." Marstaden, despite his seemingly casual, sympathetic
air, picked his words with the carefullest of discretion, a mixture between
flattery and condolence. "Thou hast many years ahead of thee, much time
to prove thyself an enlightened ruler."
"Yet I still cannot forget the humiliation of every instant as I penned
that dreadful letter to the wrong handed Dredanal of Jhelom. I long to
somehow right my mistake and retake Farthing and the archipelago."
"You yourself mentioned just now that our armies art becoming weaker!"
"Aye, but I still desire a way to once again spread the order's banner
to the west. Hast thou any suggestions?"
Marstaden concealed a smile. He had succeeded. Through a few sly words
and gestures, he had gained the trust and confidence of the young king.
Of course, he believed not a word of what he said. He felt himself that
Kilatarn was a weakling, but knew that it would require skill to become
the next Montarian ruler. In but a few moments, Marstaden considered his
power as having grown expotiently. Were his suggestions to succeed, Marstaden
knew the time wouldst finally be ripe to claim the New Montarian throne.
"If thou wouldst put thy trust in me, my liege, I would do all in my power
to satisfy you. Fearew not, I shalt concoct a plan through which your wishes
canst be fufilled…"
XXVI
The Montarian ship hadst been spotted long before it arrived within sight
of the archipelago. I'd already discussed our actions with Ingamar, Vassily,
and Handaran, and we had concluded that a single frigate couldst not constitute
an invasion force.
I stood at the northern docks to Jhelom with Vassily and Handaran. Ingamar
had declined to meet the emmisary, still uneasy about what he considered
a betrayal of the order's trust in him.
"Milord Dredanal!" The emmisary walked down the gangplank to his ship and
knelt before me.
"Rise, good sir, for I am not of noble blood. What message dost thou deliver
from New Montaria?"
The emmisary handed me a scroll. "Lord Kilatarn of the Serpent's Hold hast
noted and respected thy courage in battle during the Jhelomic Revolution.
He wouldst dub thee a knight of the Order of the Silver Serpent, thus cementing
ties between our two kingdoms."
I glanced over the scroll, signed by Kilatarn's hand. All appeared as the
emmisary hadst stated. I looked around at Vassily and Handaran, both of
whom eyed me curiously.
"I thank thee and thy king for this invitation." I turned back to the emmisary.
"My servants will prepare quarters for you. I shalt make my decision at
a banquet tonight in the palace. May your stay be pleasurable."
XXVII
Ingamar (549-618 AB): A knight of the Order of the Silver Serpent and a
general of the Kingdom of New Montor during the last years of the Christophrean
Era, remembered mostly for his final years as general and advisor to Tarnor
Dredanal. Ingamar was born to a noble family in New Montor on…
"Kilatarn and his advisors are planning something." Ingamar put the scroll
down.
"Even the most inept of my court couldst guess that, old friend." I replied.
"What doth thou think is their plot? Assassination?"
"Perhaps. It seems the most likely of their options. But they must expect
us to see through something so simple--"
"And bring a force to attack the Isle of Deeds?" I finished. "So that they
can wipe us out in a single stroke and justify it as defense? No, that
doesn't fit. Then what…"
"Montaria knows naught of our numbers, Tarnor, but I suspect that their
own forces are strained, and that is why trickery is necessary. Yet, even
so, what have we but a few hundred barely trained peasents? Or do they
think, from the revolution now half a year ago, that we possess greatly
skilled warriors?"
"Yes, ones whom they couldst trick into defecting, once they see their
leader is dead!" I was struck by a realization. "Of course, regain their
territory and increase their army at the same time. A crafty plan."
"And this time we cannot evade it as we did with Farthing, Tarnor. If you
don't lead an army, you will be assassinated all the same, and with
an army we still couldn't stop them--"
"Or can we, my friend? If they think we art the superior force, do you
think the battle will be planned openly? Nay, we must use their own tactics
against them."
"Then what is thy plan, Tarnor?"
I smiled. "I hath absolutely no idea, Ingamar. However, this is an opportunity
for us as well, to claim the Isle of Deeds and the surrounding territory.
I will almost certainly agree to the messenger's proposition at tonight's
banquet, and by tomorrow's mourn I shalt have a campaign of our own planned."
XXVIII
The night passed as a brilliant display of flattery and deceit upon the
part of all concerned. Though I'd drunk much, I slept little that night,
going over all I knew of the archipelago and Montaria in my mind. Eventually
I drifted off into rest, but not before I'd devised a course of action.
"Tarnor Dredanal," A voice seemed to speak to me in my dreams. "Thou
progress well. Now your home hath been saved, but Britannia yet remains
un-unified. Now thou begins thy first conquest. Go and succeed for the
new empire!"
When I awoke I had little memory of this voice, yet I carewed not, for
my purpose was with my generals. By noon, Ingamar, Vassily, Handaran, and
I were assembled in my palace.
"As those of thou who attended the banquet know, I shall sail for New Montor
in one month's time, accompanied by several dozen men upon a single frigate.
I am to be 'knighted' on February 18th.
Vassily, thou wilt journey alongside me.
"Ingamar, by the evening of tomorrow I want thou to have left Jhelom with
our entire fleet now docked there. You will sail west--"
"West, Tarnor?? But--"
"…Past the Isle of the Avatar towards the Isle of Deeds. If you arrive
within sight of Fellows before the 18th,
anchor near Terfin. Draw up the banners of the Triumvirate upon your sails
as you approach Fellows on the evening of the 18th,
so that thou'rt mistaken for merchant vessels. Capture the small island
city with as little commotion as possible. Secure all cannons on board
your various ships. At sundown sail out and circle around the Isle of Deeds,
firing cannons towards the isle. Set fires on Fellows large enough to be
seen from the Serpent's Hold. Keep this until the sounds of battle have
ended, and do not disembark from any ships until it is clear we hath won
the day.
"Handaran, Vassily, thy orders shalt come later. But until we set sail
for the isle, surreptitiously round up as many small, fast merchants vessels
as thou canst in port. They do not need to be particularily heavily armed,
but the must be capable of carrying large garrisons of soldiers.
"That is all for now. Ingamar, go and prepare thy fleet. Let none know
of these plans."
XXIX
Handaran (582-660 AB): A commoner of Jhelom during the final decline of
the Christophrean Empire, Handaran was a companion of future emperor Tarnor
Dredanal since the Jhelomic Revolution (613 AB). He became one of Dredanal's
three most respected generals early on…
Handaran stood at the head of a sleek ship. It was noon of the 18th
of February, the two hundred and twenty-fourth year by the Christophrean
calender. Even now I, Tarnor Dredanal, dismounted from my ship with Vassily
and strode across the docks of New Montor.
His fleet was now docked at Farthing. Each ship was ready to sail at an
instant's notice. Watchmen kept a close eye into the distance, knowing
what sight to expect.
Already Handaran's watchmen had noticed a small fog from the east, as I
had suspected. But Handaran had been warned of this, and we all counted
upon it for our plans.
As Handaran saw the signal, a single gesture and shout from him wouldst
drive the fleet forward. They would not make for the docks, merely disembark
at the nearest shore of the Isle of Deeds and charge into the city.
Even as Handaran watched, he knew the fog was growing stronger. Soon the
plan would take effect. Soon…
XXX
"Ah, Lord Dredanal, tis an honor to finally meet thee."
I stood before a young man in ill-fitting robes, a golden crown atop his
head. Twas easy to see that this was Kilatarn, the lord of New Montaria.
Already the shadows were lengthening as the day waned. I was accompanied
only by a dozen some men, Vassily and others spreading off into different
parts of the city. Twas impossible to think that the Montarians did not
notice this, but they no doubt suspected my soldiers were ammassing in
a single location.
The fog outside the Serpent's Hold grew thick. I knew my guess had been
correct. I smiled as I leaned back in a chair. All was going as planned.
"The honor is all mine, Lord Kilatarn." I replied.
The young monarch's face twitched nervously. I couldst see he was uneasy
with this plan. Even if Montaria succeeded, he would clearly not lead it
for long unless he grew in courage and spirit.
My men and I sat around a large table with Kilatarn and his nobles, a great
feast arrayed in front of us. We chatted idlely, though a strong silence
often hung over the room, as all present awaiting even the slightest word
of myself or Kilatarn.
The Montarian king remained nervous throughout the evening. The slightest
implication on my part that I suspected his plans would leave young Kilatarn
flustered and agitated, quickly glancing around at what I suspected were
concealed assassins. Many of his advisors tried to hide their exasperation
and embarassment from their faces. If my life were not in danger, it would
have been an amusing sight to watch.
At last the banquet ended. The redness of sunset dimmed as evening approached.
Soon the sky wouldst be red once more from flames. I had only to hope that
all would go as planned, that Ingamar and his fleet had indeed reached
their proper location.
"Lord Dredanal," Kilatarn stood and slowly walked towards me from across
the long room. I knew the moment was at hand. "Tales of your bravery and
exploits abound here within the Serpent's Hold. Though we know your path
leads you elsewhere than the kingdom of Montaria, your courage is of such
height that we feel you to be worthy of taking the title of a knight of
the Order of the Silver Serpent. Rise now, and be knighted!"
I tried to maintain as solemn an expression as I could as I slowly stood
and proceeded towards the Montarian, trying not to invoke suspicion. Just
then--
"Now!" Kilatarn cried, raising his hand. From behind the curtains several
dozen figures leapt out, drawing swords. In an instant, I drew a dagger
from my belt and grabbed the Montarian ruler, holding the blade to his
throat.
"Stay where thou art or thy liege dies!" My men drew their blades and formed
a circle around myself and Kilatarn. We were easily outnumbered by these
assassins, however, and twould be the death of all of us within minutes
if we wert unaided.
A few tense seconds passed in silence. Suddenly, shouts and cries of confusion
sounded from outside. Fog now enshrouded the whole isle from past the window.
Flames rose up from Fellows in the east. Ingamar had succeeded at the first
part of the plan.
And now Vassily and his men would begin their actions. Using the fog to
hide their numbers, they burned down the most flammable buildings and slew
the blinded Montarians. This fog, intended by our enemies to blnid my own
forces, was now being used against them by ourselves.
Cannons roared from all sides as Ingamar's ships bombarded New Montor.
The Montarian nobles and assassins paled with fear as I smiled. They certainly
expected that I'd ammassed a mighty invasion force.
And now Handaran's sleek fleet anchored at the western shore of the Isle
of Deeds. Unlike Vassily's forces, this army was heavily armed and eager
for battle. As many branched off into the winding streets, a large number
laid siege upon the Serpent's Hold itself.
As quick footsteps echoed through the halls of the Serpent's Hold, the
Montarians seemed to suddenly forget about me and rushed for the door.
Just then, Handaran and a large force barged in, surrounding the assassins.
"Well, Tarnor, I must admit I had my doubts, but brilliant dosen't even
begin to describe thee." Handaran grinned. "I believe all is going perfectly.
The isle is ours."
Kilatarn, my dagger still pressed to his throat, sighed a weary, resigned
sigh, and tears began to streak his face. As the young king fell to his
knees, I looked out the window at the burning city. Victory had been ours.
XXXI
Three weeks had passed since I'd captured the Isle of Deeds. Already I
knew my ordeals had only begun, for now I was forced into a web of relations
with Greater Trinsic and the Triumvirate. New Montor and Fellows were still
in good condition and were being repaired, but I worried of how I would
be able to keep these captured lands under my control.
Marstaden and many of the Hold's other sly advisors had been executed,
but Kilatarn remained and was treated well. I knew I needed his abdication
to convince the people of Montaria to side behind me as their new king.
Now I stood atop the hold with the Montarian ruler. Once more didst I try
to convince him to give me the throne.
"You will find nothing from me but contempt, wrong-handed Dredanal. Montaria
may hath fallen, but it shalt keep its honor."
"Honor?" I responded. "Or doth thou mean pride, Kilatarn?"
"Idiot! We shalt never bow down to thee!"
"Whom was it who began all this? Did you consider it honorable to
try and kill me, or were you merely lashing back at the humilation of your
armies at the Valorian Archipelago being defeated by mere peasents?"
"Still thy tongue! We did what we had to!" Kilatarn turned away, flustered.
"Kilatarn," I continued in a softer, more reassuring voice. "I understand
that thou wert deceived. The fall of Montaria is not your fault. But it
will rest upon thee if you do not let Montaria rebuild, if you insist that
it remains the ruins with which your reign ended. Please, Kilatarn, give
to me the throne, for the sake of all your kingdom."
"And thus be reviled as a coward throughout all history?"
"Wouldst thou place thy own reputation over the good of thy land, or even
ancient Britannia? Is this what you always feared wouldst rest upon yourself?
Cast it away, my friend. Do not let yourself get in the way of the good
of the land."
Kilatarn sighed, and I could see once more tears streamed from his eyes.
He turned to face me, and, in an instant, grabbed my sword from my belt.
"Let them call me Kilatarn the Weak, then! Or Kilatarn the Coward if that
is what they desire! But know that in the end I did posess some remnant
of courage!"
Before I could stop him, the Montarian king plunged the sword throught
his chest. And thus was the final death of this brief war.