“This generosity is far beyond anything I could have hoped for,” Antonil said, meaning every word.
“Her majesty has a kind heart,” the commander said. “We will not leave so many to starve, not on our doorstep. We have wagons coming in with wheat and corn from the outlying towns. Our storehouses in the city are plentiful as well. Do not feel yourself a burden. Should these dark days pass, a renewed friendship between our kingdoms would be well worth the price.”
The castle’s doors swung open, a roaring lion molded from black steel on their fronts. Harruq winced at the sight. He remembered Tarlak mentioning once that priests of Karak were far more open in Mordan than they had been in Neldar. He wondered just how much of that was true.
At first the hallway was narrow, with two separate turns to slow attackers, and then suddenly they entered a gigantic chamber, twenty times taller than any man there. Columns decorated with banners ran along either side of the red carpet. At the other side of the room, sitting in her throne atop a raised dais, waited the queen.
“Please, for all that is holy, behave,” Tarlak said to Harruq.
“I’m not an idiot,” Harruq grumbled.
The queen stood. She wore an elegant dress of lavender and a silver crown atop her auburn hair. Her skin had a few wrinkles that seemed to vanish when she smiled, and her eyes sparkled with life.
“Your majesty,” the commander said as he saluted. “I present to you King Antonil Copernus of Neldar, and his servants.”
“Servants?” Harruq muttered. Aurelia jabbed him with her elbow to silence him.
“We are most humbled, your majesty,” Antonil said as he bowed on one knee. “I can only dream of repaying the kindness you have shown us.”
Queen Annabelle dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand.
“Too long our nations have acted as strangers to one another, more prepared for war than friendship.” She was smiling at Antonil, but her eyes glanced to Aurelia, who kept her head low and her face to the floor.
“Your friend,” she said, gesturing to the elf. “What is her name?”
“Aurelia Tun,” Aurelia answered, shaking her head so that her pointed ears were clearly visible through her hair. “Elf of Dezerea.”
At that Annabelle winced, and Antonil’s heart doubled in pace. Never had he heard Aurelia introduce herself as such. He had no delusions as to why she did so now.
“Dezerea,” the queen said, her smile vanishing from her painted face. “That is a name I have not heard in years. But Tun does not sound like an elvish name. What was it before you crossed the rivers?”
She took Harruq’s hand in hers and met the queen’s gaze.
“Thyne,” she said.
The corner of Annabelle’s mouth quivered as she fought off a second frown.
“Your parents killed a thousand of my husband’s soldiers,” the queen said. “My libraries have books devoted to the sheer power and tactics demonstrated at Bloodbrick Bridge. Tell me, Aurelia Tun, daughter of Kindren and Aullienna Thyne, do you hate me?”
Annabelle carefully approached the elf, taking each step with a gentle pause. Harruq winced, his wife’s grip on his hand excruciating. He could see Tarlak and Antonil waiting for an answer, each one tensed as if someone were about to strike.
“No,” Aurelia said at last. “I have done my best to forgive. I bear you no anger, nor blame.”
Queen Annabelle closed her eyes and shook her head. Then, to their shock, she fell to one knee.
“I was but a child,” she said, “married because of my bloodline to King Marcus Baedan. I held no sway then, but I still feel his shame. Aurelia, elf of Dezerea, will you accept my apology, and the apology of the Mordan humans, for what we have done to your people and your home?”
Aurelia’s mouth dropped open. She didn’t know what to say. Harruq nudged her, and she shook her head as if coming out of a daze.
“I am not royalty,” she said. “Nor am I revered among my own kind. I do not know if I am worthy to accept such an apology, but I will accept it in the spirit it is offered. Please stand, your majesty, you need not kneel to me.”
Queen Annabelle stood, and she beamed at the elf.
“I have long wanted to atone for my husband’s ignorance,” she said, returning to her throne. “But I have not known how. Perhaps you can help me with such an enormous task.”
She looked to her commander, who stood to the side of her throne.
“You may send in my advisors,” she told him. “We have much to discuss.”
The commander bowed and exited a door to the side of the chamber. Harruq kissed Aurelia on the cheek, chuckling at how flustered she seemed.
“I was prepared for exile, imprisonment, even her to execute me,” Aurelia whispered to him.
“Didn’t expect that, eh?” Harruq asked.
“No. Not one bit.”
Tarlak leaned in and joined the whispering.
“Think you can use a bit of her guilt to get us a fancy room?” he asked. “I’m pretty tired of sleeping in a tent.”
“Shush,” said Aurelia.
“I hate to bring attention to darker matters,” Queen Annabelle said, “but I must ask more about the tragedy that brings you to my city. My scouts warned of your arrival, but have had little more to offer me about the fate of Neldar.”
“An army marched upon our city,” Antonil said. “One of all vile races. Orcs, hyena-men, wolf-men, bird-men, and even the dead, assaulted our city. They were led by a man named Velixar, one who has long been a servant of Karak.”
Advisors poured into the room, twelve by Harruq’s count. Most wore elegant clothes and abundant jewelry, but one in particular stood out. He wore a simple gray robe, and hanging from his neck was a pendant shaped like the skull of a lion.
“Karak?” that advisor asked. “For what reason would Karak want your city destroyed?”
Antonil glared.
“And who are you to question the word of a king?” he asked.
“Silence, Hayden,” Annabelle said. “You show our guests disrespect unfitting of a priest.”
Harruq shifted side to side, his hands on the hilts of his swords. Next to him, he saw Tarlak’s fists clench white, tiny sparks flicking off his knuckles.
“Karak has tried several times to break through the walls of our city,” Antonil continued. “And there is no doubt as to whose banner they marched with. His priests and paladins were among them, and killed many of my people as they fled.”
Hayden shook his head, looking as if he were correcting a child.
“Many wear robes and carry sigils, but that doesn’t mean they follow or even understand what Karak teaches. Why would our beloved deity seek to destroy the city crafted with his hands?”
Antonil reached for his sword, but Aurelia grabbed his wrist.
“I will not be treated like a fool,” the king said.
“Rude as he may be, he questions wisely,” Annabelle said. “Karak has always desired order. What order is there in the destruction and ransacking of a city? Of throwing your entire nation to anarchy and lawlessness?”
“Forgive me,” Harruq said, doing his best to be polite. “But I don’t think you’ve seen the order he desires, your majesty.”
“And you have?” Hayden asked.
“I once served under Velixar, he who calls himself the mouth of Karak,” the half-orc said, his voice growing louder. “One who speaks Karak’s will. One who has served since the very birth of your race. I have seen what he desires. Nowhere in this land is one more faithful to Karak, and nowhere in this land is there a man, dead or alive, that is more dangerous.”
The advisors clamored amongst themselves, and Hayden clutched his pendant of the lion and waved his hands in a pattern symbolic for banishment. Guards rushed to either side of them. They had not drawn their weapons yet, but they were ready to.
“Enough,” Queen Annabelle shouted. They quieted. “Whoever leads this army is irrelevant. If an army of vile creatures marches to our gates, we will slay them. We will take back Veldaren, and rebuild it to its former glory.”