-Gerralt Huinot, The Annals of the Northern Kingdoms

-Early Winter, 3133, Royal Palace in Bordeau

Manes Rendor sat in silent thought. The ante-chamber of the great audience hall was empty save for him and his Chamberlain, Wiem Hallel. If the rumors that reached his ears were true, the next several years would put a mighty strain upon his aging psyche.

"My King," began Hallel, "you cannot doubt the validity of these reports. My spies have never been wrong."

You fool of a man! My spies are the only reason you are still alive!

"Why would the Istrim be infiltrating the North?" The king asked incredulously. "They know I will not tolerate their meddling in affairs of this Kingdom!"

Manes Rendor sat wrapped in finely made woolen blankets. Despite the rather large fire in the hearth, and the obvious heat of the room, he was shivering. He shivered often these last few weeks. As his health failed, he had begun to spend more and more time away from the great audience hall of the Royal Palace and more time in the smaller, warmer sections such as the Ante-Room.

Hallel peered at the old king through the corner of his eyes, careful not to let the king see him. Despite their long-time dealings, Manes Rendor was known to be of short temper. His wispy white hair belied the fiery spirit behind his wrinkled face and withered frame. He would be most angry if he spied a look of either pity or disgust on the face of his Chamberlain. Nevertheless, the Winter Fever would take him soon. This would be his last winter upon the High Throne of Iradar.

"Our agent in Rovane was clear." Said Hallel. "The body found on the North Road to Greywater Deep was indeed a man of the order."

"One priest of the Istrim is hardly worth a report from your agent." Replied the king.

Good, he has not lost his senses. He knows there is more.

"Why risk sending us a message over the body of a dead Istrim priest?" the King asked him between coughs. "He runs the risk of discovery over one priest? Pah!" He was interrupted by another spasm of coughing and hacking. When it passed, he spoke again. "You know more that you have not reported to me, Wiem. I do not like being kept in the dark."

"Your Majesty," said Hallel, "The Istrim would never have ventured into the North unless they were invited. The Treaty of Trecht forbids it. And thus far, the Churches have all adhered to its requirements. We have no reason to believe they would suddenly abandon their own treaty’s guidelines and send their spies into our lands."

The Chamberlain chose his words carefully. Bringing up mention of the Treaty of Trecht was a calculated move, since it was the most sacred of treaties to rulers in Northern Aridisia. It guaranteed their kingdoms from the meddling of the Powerful Churches of the south. If any noble violated that Treaty, every kingdom in the North would turn on them, and Iradar would have free reign to reorder the affairs of the Horwald as the king, or whoever ruled the Kingdom, saw fit. House Gendry might be overthrown, someone would have to be appointed to replace the Duke, someone with a legitimate claim to the Duchy.

"If you believe this man is the first Istrim spy in our kingdom, you are either a fool, or insane." The king said pointedly. "The Churches do as they please to suit their own needs. They abide by treaties and laws only so long as they are advantageous to their order. You know that."

"Yet Trecht has kept Iradar free from direct influence for your entire reign." Said the Chamberlain.

"Sire, there is more." Said Hallel. "Our agents in Greywater Deep have reported that another man, bearing the markings of a priest of the Istrim, has paid a visit to Duke Gendry, and had many long audiences in private with your vassal. That is why this was worth reporting."

The importance of the Treaty of Trecht and its possible violation was not lost on the King. The Treaty of Trecht was signed by the rulers of Mittelein, Farandor and Iradar in 2499 in the wake of a widespread religious civil war. In that war, the Three churches of Oes battled with private armies and the support of one or more kings for religious dominance in the North. Much of the countryside of the three kingdoms involved was decimated, and thousands upon thousands of peasants were killed.

The war ended when the rulers of the three kingdoms gathered in the small hamlet of Trecht and declared that they wold fight no more. They summoned the bishops of the three faiths to Trecht where they were pressured into signing the Treaty or face total expulsion from the North.

The three rulers agreed that each would accept the dominant religion in their lands as the official state religion. Violation that treaty would mean that the dominant church of the land could be expelled, and its vast resources and lands appropriated by the crown.

"So Gendry has spoken with the Istrim? You know this as fact?" asked the King. If he has, I can take his lands as well!

"My sources are indisputable." Answered Hallel, stealing a furtive glance at the wall behind the king’s chair behind which he knew another of his agents listened to all they said for future reference. Many secrets came to him from that listening port. He doubted if the king himself knew it existed. It was as old as the palace itself, and when Wiem Hallel discovered it in his youth, it appeared undisturbed. There were decades of dust on the floor of the hidden room.

"Gendry has violated Trecht!" The King said almost to himself. "What is he trying to gain from this?" His eyes were wide with excitement.

"Simple, sire." Said Hallel with a sly grin. "If he invited the Istrim to Iradar in secret, in order to plan an Istrim expansion into our realm, he would stand to gain much influence if such an incursion succeeded. He could gain many new lands and fine titles should he be the first supporter of the Istrim. Our dilemma- er, your dilemma, your Majesty- is what you plan to do about it."

"I will call him before the council!" The king weezed, his balding forehead becoming more red with rage by the second. "I’ll have his head for this, this…treason!"

Good, he is angry. He will be easily swayed.

"You know we cannot submit the reports of our spies to the council." Said Hallel. "A simple question could reveal many of our, shall I say, operations, that violate the pact between the nobles and the High Throne. And he is very popular with the others on the Council. They will never believe it of him. We must find…another way…to deal with this. First, we must be able to watch his actions. He is too far from your eyes in the north, your majesty. Your spy network has deteriorated over the years, Sire, and you have no eyes in the court of Greywater Deep. Perhaps someone needs to be sent to watch him more closely"

"Yes." The King answered finally. "I have let him run his little Duchy on his own for too long now. It is high time I reminded him who his sworn Liege is!"

"No!" The Chamberlain snapped rather quickly. "You must not allow him to know you suspect his complicity! He will surely cut of all ties to the Istrim at once. We- or you, Sire- must be sure that he continues! If he is indeed a traitor at heart, he must be removed!"

"Very well, Wiem." The king said. "How do you propose that someone gets close to Gendry without his suspicions."

"Sire, the Duke of Horwald has two unwed sons. Perhaps someone loyal to you could be sent north with an offer of marriage?" The Chamberlain suggested. "The father of the girl would no doubt be granted wide privileges in the Duke's court. He might come into a position of trust, and, shall we say- overhear- something useful to you, My King!"

"A wise plan, Chamberlain!" The King closed his eyes deep in thought. "But who would I send?"

"Someone you trust, majesty." The Chamberlain answered plainly. "There will be one more complication, Sire. My sources tell me both boys are already arranged to be married. A certain dowry will have to be paid to the families of their betrothed to compensate them for breaking the marriage contract. Whoever you select must either be willing to pay that fee, or you must be willing to pay it on their behalf."

"From what houses are these brides-to-be?" the King inquired, looking suddenly alarmed.

The talk of money always alarms him! As if he has no gold to spare! His family has been milking the royal treasury for generations!

"Minor houses, Sire, barely of note. The Dowry will be small."

"But who will I choose?" The King mused out loud.

"Perhaps Lord Barlay's child, Margotte, could be married off to one of the Gendry sons?"

"Barlay?" The king asked, "Why would Barlay want to arrange his only daughter to marry into a Northman House? You know as well as I that he holds no love for House Gendry, nor does the Bull hold any love for him!"

"Very well, Sire. What of Lord General Honoré? Does he not have a younger daughter of age?"

"The Lord General would never marry his daughter to the Gendry House. It is beneath him. Duke Gendry would be suspicious." The King answered.

"Lord Turnnan?"

"Bah!"

"House Smythe? House Ferloe? Rieven?"

"All beneath Duke Gendry." The King answered sharply. "Marrying his sons off to minor houses loyal to him is a cunning move- it cements their loyalty. Marrying the boys off to minor houses with no loyalty to him at all does nothing for his house! The bride must come from a family in the North, already sworn to House Gendry, or it must come from a House that will improve Gendry's standing in the south. Otherwise, he would never agree to it."

"But," the Chamberlain began, "You have already said that the houses loyal to you are either above him or below him. You must find a bride from a house that is not too wealthy, but wields enough power to make it attractive for him to risk alienating the house that is already sworn to marry the boy. Yet that house cannot be too powerful, lest he suspect…ulterior motives."

"Tell me, Hallel," the King began, a queer look in his eyes, "What of your daughter?"

"My daughters?" Wiem started, his eyes wide in seeming shock.

"Yes, Chamberlain." Said the King. "Your daughter should be what, thirteen? Fourteen? Are they not unmarried?"

"Sire," the Chamberlain began, "Elizabeth is fifteen, but you cannot mean to force me to send my only daughter to the son of that-that savage! Have pity on me for my many years of service!"

"Enough!" the king commanded forcefully, bringing on a fit of coughs. When he had recovered, he looked hard at his Chamberlain. "Your daughter is exactly the girl I need to marry to the Gendry boy. She is loyal to you, no?"

"She is loyal to me, Sire." Hallel said, his eyes downcast, but his heart beating a thousand times per second, or so it seemed to him.

"Then she will be married to the Gendry boy." The King said. "I presume you have not arranged a marriage for her already?"

"Um, no, My Lord." Hallel could manage to say no more for fear of smiling with glee.

"Then you shall make arrangements at once. You will travel there yourself."

Wiem Hallel bowed low as he backed out of the room. It was easier than I imagined! The old fool is losing his wits! I shall have the north soon, the old man is handing it to me on a platter! I must see to the prince soon enough, but first things first.

As he stalked through the halls of the Keep on his way to his own chambers, he passed the King's healer and personal priest, Father Dufries. The old man was hurrying toward the King's antechamber with a pouch under one arm and a bottle in the other hand. His fat, red face was wet with perspiration. Hallel grabbed his arm as he passed, almost making him drop the bottle he carried.

"Priest, where are you going?" he hissed.

"Um, Lord Chamberlain, sir." The priest stammered. "I am going to the king, to prepare his medicine for the afternoon. His cough is worsening, I fear."

"See that he sleeps well this evening, and see that he is kept…calm…for the remainder of the week. I have a project that he must not interfere in. Do you understand me, Priest?"

Dufries first looked as if he would agree, and move along. He nodded, looked at the Chamberlain, a puzzeled look on his face.

"Lord Chamberlain, sir," he began, "You cannot mean I am to drug His Majesty every day this week?"

"You will do as I command, Priest!" the Chamberlain hissed. "Do not forget your sister, so lonely in that convent so far away. She is far from you, priest, and far from the aid of your medicines, your questioning, or your king! And only my spies around her! Why, she could have an accident today, and you would hear nothing of it until long after she was dead and buried! Do we have an understanding, fat man?"

"Yes! Yes!" The terrified Father Dufries stammered. "My poor, dear, Cheldie! You wouldn't harm her, Lord Chamberlain? I- please, My Lord! I will do as you ask! Please, Lord, do not-"

Hallel cut him off.

"Be Silent, priest!" he said sharply. "If you do as you're told, nothing will befall your fine sister! I expect you will not question my commands again!"

"No, My Lord!" The Priest said kissing the Chamberlain's rings. "Never, my apologies, Lord Hallel!"

Hallel pulled his hands from the shaking priest's grasp and wiped the man's slobber onto his breeches. He is a liability, the fat fool! I cannot afford to allow him to cross me again. He will perform his duties this week, and keep the king asleep long enough for me to make my plans, and depart for the north. Then I will take care of him. Such a shame! His sister has been dead three years now, and he still trusts that I will protect her! Such a fool!

Wiem Hallel smiled to himself as he made his way to his chambers. He passed several people on his way, who no doubt wondered why this normally stoic man would be so happy on such a dreary day. Let them wonder!

Manes Rendor, King of Iradar and Lord of the North Coast watched the slinking figure of his Lord Chamberlain as he left the chamber, closing the door behind him.

"The fool thinks I am so blind with age and sickness that I cannot see through his schemes!" he said to himself. He turned in his chair to face the tapestries behind him where Hallel's spy was no doubt hidden.

"Come out of there, idiot! Your master has gone!" He called.

There was a muffled stirring as a hidden door behind the large tapestry depicting Cedric Rendor's victory over the Treacherous Lords of 2891 slid open. Cedric Rendor was Manes Rendor's ancestor, one of the early Rendor Kings to hold the throne of Iradar. He had uncovered a plot by several of his sworn lords to murder him and take the throne as their own. It was he who had built the listening room behind his antechamber for his own spies to listen to the plans of the Treacherous Seven, as the lords were now known. Fitting, that the scene on the tapestry that hid the secret door depicted Cedric Rendor holding a sword to the neck of one of the Treacherous Seven while the others looked on in horror.