A Guide to Kingdom Building

Tarsuria, Year of Severus, 18, I.R., the 70th day of Spring, Camp Lionclaw, Great Dunes

-------------------------------------

Night fell as fast as the sun hurriedly hid into the horizon. The days were supposed to be longer at this time, but for some reason, it rested early today. It was strange, but Urfaal had more pressing matters he needed to attend to. They went back to the winding maze going to Lord Prestonheim's tent.

The big tent glared from the distance as the light coming from the torches reflected on the smooth leather and cloth covering the tent. Once again, they were greeted by the new set of knights guarding outside. Urfaal took a good look at his dwarven friend and noticed how calm Ghwynmyr was. His was stoic, a vast difference from how he acted earlier that morning. However, it looked like he may need his friend's encouragement, as his heart was beating wildly from his chest. He wasn't sure what may happen to Ghwynmyr once they met with Lord Prestonheim, but he had to remain strong for his friend.

They requested to enter the tent. A gust of warm air welcomed them as the knights opened the flaps. Unlike the busy and crowded scene, they saw earlier that day, the tent was quite and empty. The bickering commanders were not around, the wooden knights and other miniature carvings were arranged properly all over the map, and it was only Lord Prestonheim sitting on the table at the time when they entered.

Urfaal and Commander Crovar greeted the silver-haired commander, saluting him with the Principalian standard, but Ghwynmyr didn't do the salute. He nodded slightly to the commander instead. Lord Prestonheim stood up from his chair and saluted back at them, before gesturing them to sit where a small table with four chairs was conveniently placed.

"I hope you had your dinner," Lord Prestonheim said. "This is going to be a long night for the four of us."

Commander Crovar smiled. "Oh, godfather! We haven't had our dinners yet. Do you happen to have one prepared?"

"I guess I do." The old commander clapped his hands. A man dressed in A.R.T.E.R.I.U.S colors of white and violet went inside the tent and laid down a sack filled with parchment into the small table. "This is dinner."

Confused, Urfaal scratched his head and tried asking Ghwynmyr what's going on.

"Dem coverin' der tracks!" Ghwynmyr said aloud.

"W-what do you mean?!" Urfaal asked.

His answer caught Lord Prestonheim by surprise.

"Don't get me wrong," Lord Prestonheim said. "We are not covering anything, Ghwynmyr, this is just standard procedure. I understand where your anger is coming from." The silver-haired lord went to the table and gestured them to join him.contemporary romance

"Then let us begin with whatever this is." Ghwynmyr answered.

Urfaal looked at Commander Crovar who seemed to know what the fuzz was all about. He tried asking the young commander, but he was just left as puzzled as he was.

"Why not see it for yourself?" Commander Crovar answered.

Urfaal sighed and shook his head. He approached the table along with the other two. They took a seat just as Lord Prestonheim recapped what they reported to him earlier that day.

"Aside from that outburst that happened earlier." Lord Prestonheim glared at his friend. "They're worried about those…things."

"Tis Necromatons!" The dwarf clicked his tongue. "Can't believe yah work dis behind me brethrens backs!"

Urfaal could see Ghwynmyr's jaw clinched as he delivered his answer. Just his mere mention of the Necromaton seemed to upset him. It was as if he got betrayed with something. His friend's anger was raw, and he could feel his friend's energy from where he stood.

"Alright." Lord Prestonheim sighed. "But I just would like to be clear about this. We have not soiled the agreement we have with the dwarves."

"What agreement?" Urfaal accidentally voiced out his question.

The other three looked at him, with raised eyebrows. At that point, he wished the earth would swallow him whole. Their gazes were sharp and judging, as if they were to punish him with such an ignorant question. But there was nothing he could do but bit his lip and looked down on the ground hoping that they would continue with their discussion.

"The Dwarven Subordination Agreement that was signed in blood by the Imperatur and our elders." Commander Crovar answered as he placed his hands on the table. "Care to explain that to him?" He looked at both his friend and Lord Prestonheim.

"The agreement is about—" Lord Prestonheim began.

"There'll be nay desecration of the dead on both sides." Ghwynmyr interrupted the old commander. "Thus, we give 'em peace and the land as well. With the rest of 'em rules placed by the victor, we the Dwarven folk swore allegiance to them Principalia and shall work for dem in payment."

Urfaal silently sat down as he watched Ghywnmyr eyes glared at Lord Prestonheim's. It was clear how his friend wanted to give the old man a beating. But he still wasn't sure what was going on.

A few moments later, Commander Crovar coughed and turned their attention on the bag of writings on the table.

"Godfather, as you were doing your staring match. I couldn't help myself and got my hands on these parchments." He cleared his throat. "What are these?"

Lord Prestonheim looked at his godson with a stoic face. "While you went missing for lunch, I asked the A.R.T.E.R.I.U.S team to look at your ship and ask your men about what happened that night. Those are their reports."

"That's just hurtful, godfather." Commander Crovar sighed. "You could've told me about it first."

"I know you, Maceus. You won't let them speak." Lord Prestonheim answered. "Especially with the death of Jonas. I know you wanted to keep it within your crew, but it's quite obvious. So, feel free and read them all."

Commander Crovar gave also glared at him. It seemed like the old commander knew how to get into his nerves. The young commander went into the papers begrudgingly. He sat silently and let Lord Prestonheim and Ghwynmyr talk without any interruptions.

"Tis nay answer anything!" Ghwynmyr commented. "How could yah use yer own dead to attack us? T'was a botched plan is it not?"

"It wasn't us." Lord Prestonheim answered. "We have kept our word the same way your dwarven elders had."

Ghwynmyr placed the aetherium on the table once again. Now that he saw the ore close, Urfaal noticed a few differences on the stone. It had a different shade of blue compared to what they had. They ore had a dark tint to it and had some weird writings etched on the stone.

Urfaal picked it up, it was light and felt itchy on the hands. It was a wonder how Ghwynmyr moved around with that thing irritating his skin. He guessed his friend's anger might have made his friend numbed to its irritating effects.

Lord Prestonheim noticed how Urfaal's face crinkled as he looked at the stone closely. "You noticed it too, have you?" The old commander asked. "This is not from our land."

Urfaal nodded, but before he could speak, Ghwynmyr instantly interrupted.

"Tis obvious not from 'ere." He shook his head. "But tis not what I'm upset about. Only the Principalia knew 'bout creatin' Necromatons! No one else could and can. So, how were they able to make 'em and do it stronger than dah 'uns we have thirty years ago?!"  Ghwynmyr smashed his hand on the table.

"Thirty years ago, we have the documents destroyed in front of the great furnace on the capital's smithery!" Lord Prestonheim answered. "That's the very reason why you're here. I want you to give this letter to Prince Arterius." He offered the letter to the dwarf.

Ghwynmyr never lifted his hand and instead, Urfaal took it for him.

"And whut've dis letter be?" Ghwynmyr asked.

"It's a summoning order." The commander answered. "I want you to get that letter to Prince Arterius and let him know that Servus 305-M is under arrest."

"305-M?!" Urfaal got as confused as he heard their former comrade's name.

He took a look at Ghwynmyr. His friend was emotionless as their fellow slave's name was mentioned.

"Was it him?" Ghywnmyr asked. "Did he create the Necromatons thirty years ago? Or did he leak that information to the Ardants?" He asked.

Lord Prestonheim refused to answer the question and instead looked at Ghwynmyr straight in the eyes. "Get him here!" He said. "We shall know the answer once we summon him."

Urfaal saw Ghwnmyr's eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

"Of course." Ghwynmyr bowed and stormed off the tent.

done.co