Aeolwyn's Conquest Book 1: The Boy General

The gentle shaking reminded Llarwyn of his time at sea, sailing to Tambryne to meet with Archduke Rovaielle, the ruler of the Duchy of Tambryne. He was as dark a man as Llarwyn had ever seen. So dark he was nearly black, and would be invisible in a moonless night.

The sea voyage was long and arduous. They had gone in winter when the storms were up. They had been nearly shipwrecked three times in the storms. It was then that Llarwyn had sworn never to go by ship anywhere again, or leave Teorton, for that matter.

“Your Grace?” A voice said as the shaking got stronger. He became aware of a hand on his shoulder; it was what was causing the shaking. He was not at sea at all, he was in the palace, in his bed. It was warm and soft. A gentle breeze was blowing through his open windows.

He opened his eyes. His chamberlain, Lord Smyton’s wrinkled, gaunt face was staring down at him. He couldn’t help but stare at the massive wart that took a prominent spot on his beak-like nose. He could smell the man’s fish-breath, even though he was still a proper distance away from the king.

“What is it, Smyton?” It was still the small hours of dawn. The sun’s light had barely started making itself known in Llarwyn’s bedchamber. He never was waken this early. Something must be wrong.

He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Smyton, who already had his gold-embroidered silk robe wrapped it around his shoulders and helped him to his feet. The polished marble floors were cold to his bare feet. Smyton had forgotten his slippers. Strange, he wasn’t one to forget things.

“Your Grace,” he said, “there has been an incident at the Star Children’s palace.”

“Did it burn down?” He asked. He looked out his window. He had a good view from his bedchambers and would have been able to see the smoke if it had caught fire in the night. No such luck. He couldn’t see the building, but he was sure it was still standing.

“No, Your Grace. It seems that Prince Aeolwyn was caught inside their walls last night.”

Llarwyn sat down hard on the chair that was set by the window where he usually had his breakfast. Aeolwyn was in the Star Base last night? What was he doing there? More importantly, how did he get out of the palace?

“What do you mean, caught inside their walls?”

Lord Smyton rang a bell, indicating to the servants waiting outside that Llarwyn was ready for his breakfast. Immediately two waif-like men rushed in carrying a tray of food, a goblet, and a jug of wine. He hoped the food wasn’t getting cold.

“Exactly that, Your Grace. He had somehow found his way inside their walls, and was caught trying to get into their keep.”

The servants set the tray on the table in front of him. A large cup of barley stew sat in front of him, along with a plate of fruit and a small hunk of lamb and a slice of bread. He grabbed the bread, dipped it into the barley soup and started eating.

“How, Lord Chamberlain? How did my son get out of the palace, and infiltrate one of the most secure buildings in all of Teorton?”

In truth, he was a little proud of his youngest son, for having the nerve to sneak out of the palace and go straight to the Star Children’s base. But why? And how? He was a crafty boy, but he couldn’t have done this alone.

“I don’t know, Your Grace. The messenger the Star Children just said that he had been caught and was currently being held by them pending your response.”

Llarwyn slammed his fist on the table, knocking the bowl of soup over and spilling its contents. A large puddle of soup made its way to the edge of the table and began dripping on the floor. One of the servants got to his knees and began wiping up the mess with his sleeve.

“They are holding my son prisoner? How are we to tolerate that? Send word to Lord-General Harmin to assemble the troops. And summon Ulfnar. That boy has some explaining to do!”

It had to be Ulfnar who helped him. The younger of the two twins knew the palace inside and out, and knew of every secret passage it held. If anyone was going to help Aeolwyn to sneak out of the palace, he would be the one.

“Your Grace,” Smyton said with a bit of condescension in his voice, either to calm Llarwyn or try to explain something he should already know. Petulant little oaf. He might have to smack the man upside his head.

“I think it would be best to resolve this without violence,” Smyton continued. “The Star Children have an impressive force themselves, and the nobles might take offense to the military running rampant in the city.”

He did have a point. The Star Children had been ringing the doorbells of just about every noble in Teorton. It was possible that some of the noble sons were among the Star Children. He couldn’t just up and attack the nobility. At least, not right away.

Perhaps he could take Shield Lord Barin up on his offer of help. They Shielders would have no trouble bringing a group of soldiers in to assault the Star Base. They would have the place in flames by the end of the day.

But that brought its own host of problems. The Shielders would expect something in return, and not just money. They might demand another seat on the council, or even that a Shielder take up residence in the palace as one of the king’s private servants.

Even worse, they might take up permanent residence in the city; that would be a disaster. It wouldn’t take long before they started running the whole town under the guise of ‘Shield security’. He couldn’t allow that, it would erode his power in Teorton and all of Camulan.

“What do you suggest, Lord Smyton?”

“My lord, there must be a way we can use this to our advantage. You told your son and I how you are worried about Aeolwyn’s popularity. Perhaps we can use this event to remove Prince Aeolwyn from the table, so to speak.”

“I will not kill my own son!” Llarwyn shouted. “He may be a danger to Alfyn’s rule one day, but that day is far off. Nor will I allow harm to befall him. I hope you let the Star Children’s messenger know that there will be severe repercussions if they are not treating him well.”

Lord Smyton took a step back, folding his hands together. His comment had angered Llarwyn and the lord chamberlain knew it. Aeolwyn might be a pain in his backside, but he was still family. He wouldn’t allow any harm to come to him, for both political and personal reasons.

“Of course not, Your Grace. I apologize if I suggested otherwise; I didn’t mean to. What I meant was-“

“I don’t care what you meant!”

He was right in suggesting that he could use this to his advantage though. Maybe if he brought one of the Star Children face to face, he could have a conversation with him under the guise of negotiation and find out what they were up to.

With one of the Star Children in his possession, that would give him an important advantage in getting Aeowlyn released, along with the intelligence the Star Child he acquired would give him, this could turn out nicely.

“Send someone out to acquire one of the Star Children.”

“We can do better than that, Your Grace. I am told that Lord Longinus himself is in town.”

Lord Longinus? He was the supreme ruler over all of the Star Children. He never left the Grand Star Base in Branson’s Fork. What we he doing in Teorton? Whatever they were scheming was bigger than he expected.

“Very well. Summon him for an audience. He will answer for this.”

Lord Smyton bowed. “As you command, Your Grace.”

“But I still want someone to acquire one of the Star Children. I need bargaining power while he is here.”

“Of course,” Lord Smyton answered. “There is another little problem, Your Grace. It appears Egnever from house Thaed was also taken prisoner.”

“He’s one of Alfyn’s friends. What was he doing there?”

“Indeed, Your Grace. Also, Prince Alfyn’s friend Rurik was killed.”

“Bloody Laryn!” Llarwyn cursed. This was getting worse. If Alfyn was involved and got a noble’s son killed, that would be a major incident. Rurik’s family, House Asconse were only earls, but they still held major influence among the Captain’s Guild. They could cause major problems with trade in revenge if Llarwyn didn’t placate them, and the cost for a dead noble would be high.

“This couldn’t get any worse, Smyton, and it doesn’t look good for you. You are in charge of my household, and it appears two of my sons escaped during the night.”

Lord Smyton’s face went pale. He knew he bore some responsibility for this fiasco. “Yes, Your Grace,” the chamberlain said, “I will have it investigated immediately and thoroughly.”

“Indeed you will,” Llarwyn said. “Send Lord Asconce and his wife our condolences, and tell Lord Thaed we are doing our utmost to get their son released.”

“I don’t believe they know yet, sire.”

“Well I’m not about to be the one to tell them. Now get out. I’d like to finish my breakfast in peace.”

He tried to finish the soup, he really did, but he just couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head. The absolute gall of them! The gall of Aeolwyn to sneak out of the palace at midnight; the gall of Ulfnar for helping him; and the gall of the Star Children for imprisoning his son. He was king! How dare they.

He was pleased, however, if only slightly. Aeolwyn had somehow found out that the Star Children were behaving strangely, and took it upon himself to find out why. If only the crown prince were bold enough to. Alfyn was the one who should be showing such initiative. Though, as crown prince, he should be wise enough to not go himself for the information. Aeolwyn should have shown such discretion.

What was he to do with the boy? He would have to be punished, after all. By him, not the Star Children. They would have to be punished as well. They couldn’t be allowed to get away with this insult. He couldn’t do something overt, as much as he would like to. He couldn’t take Shield Lord Barin’s offer, either. It would have to be subtle, yet obvious enough to the Star Children and the nobles that it was the king who imposed this punishment.

Perhaps an assassination? A random fire in the palace of the Star Children would be a good choice as well. All he would have to do is bribe one of the Star Children to knock over a lamp in the kitchen, and that would be it.

He could see the flames in his mind already. The image of that squat little tower of theirs just a smoldering pile of rubble brought a smile to his face. It was far enough away from the rest of the buildings on that street that there was little danger of the fire spreading to nearby buildings, but if it did, so what? As long as they couldn’t prove it was the king’s doing, the nobles who lived near would have no recourse. It was dangerous to make unprovable allegations of the king.

Either would be a perfect job. He had just the assassin in mind should he choose to go that route. He’d rather it be a fire though. That was less provable and more damaging, unless he killed the high leader, that buffoon Longinus, whatever that title was that he chose for himself. His Buffoonery had a nice ring to it.

The door burst open and Lord Smyton scurried in again. Was he not to get any peace this morning? Maybe he’d send Smyton down to get a few lashes for annoying him. Maybe that would get him some peace.

He wouldn’t do it of course, Smyton was a member of a powerful noble faction, and he’d earned his place of honor in the king’s staff. He would duly submit to punishment if ordered to, but he would also start his own schemes to get revenge on Llarwyn; he had no doubt of that.

He would punish the man if necessary, but annoying him was hardly cause for punishment. Llarwyn wasn’t cruel, no matter how much he wanted to be sometimes. He saw himself as a fair and just king.

Smyton stood before him and bowed his head. “Your Grace,” he said, “you have visitors who wish to see you urgently.”

“Tell them I’m busy.”

Smyton scowled. Not the proper sort of angry scowl, but the kind of scowl where you really wanted to yell at the person, but they would have your head if they did. That sort of scowl. A face if impatience and annoyance.

“Your Grace, you will want to see these two. Lords Thaed and Asconce have come.”

Before he could stop himself, he swatted his arm out and knocked his barley soup from the table. The glass bowl shattered on the floor amid a spray of hot soup. Lord Smyton hopped away, trying avoid getting sprayed with soup, with only marginal success.

“Who the hell told them?”

“I can only assume it was Lord Longinus.” Smyton replied.

Llarwyn eyed him strangely. Was there a hint of treachery in the chamberlain’s voice? He dismissed it. Lord Smyton had been a valuable and loyal servant in his service to the king, and was rewarded handsomely. He wouldn’t give that up for whatever meager scraps the Star Children could offer.

He sighed. He was not going to be able to have a moment’s peace today. “All right,” he said. “Send them in.”

The second Lord Smyton stepped out, two men came rushing in. The short, fat, bald one was Lord Asconce, who owned several ore mines in the east. He lived lavishly off the income it provided, and spent much of his time traveling. It was just Llarwyn’s luck that he would be in Teorton on the day his son was killed.

Lord Thaed was a tall brute of a man. He was built like a boulder, with shoulders chiseled from granite and a jaw to match. He wore a large scabbard on his back that was normally home to a sword with a length of at least six feet. He had gotten involved in a company of mercenaries in Fehu and earned his massive wealth in campaigns against Nordenland across the Stormdren Mountains.

Both of them, to their credit, formally bowed. They were both steaming mad, each of their faces contorted with anger. Lord Asconce looked as though he had been up all night. His eyes were red, his hair a matted mess, and his clothes disheveled.

“Your Grace,” they said in unison.

He stood, walked over to Lord Asconce and embraced him. “My condolences, Stilgar.”

“What in Laryn happened, Your Grace? I demand that my son be released!” Lord Thaed said as soon as Asconce released the embrace. Thaed was quick to anger, and had been thrown out of many taverns, but the king doubted he would dare lay a hand on him. Still, he couldn’t help the feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach.

“What of my son?” Stilgar protested. “I want revenge for this. I wish for your permission to march down to their temple and burn it to the ground.”

If only he could grant that request. Asconce had the men to do it, too. Some nobles had private security forces, and the number who did grew every year. It had been getting bad enough that Llarwyn had to cap the number of private soldiers within the city.

“Nothing would bring me greater pleasure, Lord Asonce, and if it comes to that, you will be the first one in line. But they have my son, and Lord Thaed’s son. I have summoned Lord Longinus for an audience.”

“I wish to attend that audience. I will wring his neck myself,” Thaed said.

“With your son as a hostage?” Llarwyn asked. “They would kill him on the spot, and mine as well. No, we have to be diplomatic about this as long as they have our children. Only when we get them back can we plan our revenge.”

“We can burn their temple?” Asconce asked. He punched his fist into the palm of his other hand to emphasize his point.

“By we, I mean you. I can’t be seen to have any part in this. I don’t want a rebellion on my hands. Now sit down. I have a plan that will take careful consideration.”

Asconce and Thaed sat down at Llarwyn’s table. He told Lord Smyton to bring food and wine, and to keep their cups full. They were going to be here for a long time.