While the state hadn’t ceased to exist so completely as Scree had, the common folk of Helrect were almost as pleased as their neighbours to hear the Farlan’s declaration of annexation. The remaining nobles and their warbands hadn’t been so pleased, but there had been little they could do other than submit. Other than a few mass executions of marauding soldiers, the Farlan had effectively conquered two city-states in the name of peace.

‘My Lord!’ called an approaching nobleman through the clusters of hurscals. He ended up barging soldiers out of the way as he approached, almost knocking one proud young knight to the ground as he went. ‘There is a delegation to meet you,’ he announced as he reached Fernal at last. He sank to one knee, unclipped his sword from his belt and offered it to the massive Demi-God.

He was from one of the oldest families in Lomin, Fernal had been told, in a way that made it clear this was important; the count was an experienced soldier and commanded the scouts sweeping the fringes of Helrect territory.

‘Rise, Count Mekir,’ Fernal said, gesturing with one huge taloned hand. ‘What sort of delegation?’

‘Knights of the Temples, my Lord, and a group of preachers wearing white.’ Mekir stood and pointed back the way he had come. ‘They follow a mile or so behind me, escorted by some of my men.’

Fernal scowled as he followed the man’s pointing arm, looking over the heads of his guards. In the distance he could see a large group of riders approaching, still too far for him to make out any banners or formation.

Clearly my instructions were not simple enough.

‘Duke Lomin,’ Fernal said as he turned to the recently raised nobleman, one of those attending their lord, ‘what instructions did you give your men regarding parties from the south?’

Belir Lomin’s face tightened as the eyes of all the men present turned to him. He was barely secure in his position and still learning how to act in the company of his new peers, and he knew they’d take any opportunity for scorn or condescension.

‘I relayed your orders exactly, my Lord,’ he said carefully, taking note of who might be enjoying the implied rebuke. He outranked all of the five suzerains and scions present, but he was equally sure they all considered themselves above him, even if Suzerain Lehm was the only one who showed it.

‘My Lord,’ Count Mekir interjected hesitantly, ‘they came in greater numbers than my men, and they refused to turn back. When they heard your decree they asked specifically to present themselves to you as a delegation from the Circle City. As I did not have troops enough to forcibly stop them, I had no choice but to accede.’

So they did pay attention, Fernal mused. It’s amazing what loyalty these Farlan show once the niceties of rank are agreed and observed and there’s profit to be made. ‘I understand. Duke Lomin, have your troops make ready.’

‘My Lord, is the hostility necessary?’ asked Suzerain Fordan, gesturing to the soldiers surrounding them: there were five legions of troops, either camped around Borderkeep or patrolling within a day’s ride, and a similar number were stationed around Scree and Helrect to maintain order there.

‘That can’t be more than two regiments approaching; the threat is unnecessary, and it will be considered an insult if they are an official delegation.’

Fernal gave Lomin a look, and the duke relayed the order without waiting to hear Fernal’s response. Once men were rushing for their horses and forming up, the Demi-God addressed his six high-born companions, who had been granted the greater bulk of Scree’s territories between them, each to rule their portion as they would their own suzerainty. Of the six, two were scions, bearing the full authority of their suzerains as Torl and Saroc had marched west with the Palace Guard.

‘Let me add to my decree for the benefit of all of you: the territories in Scree you now own were granted because of your loyalty — or your lords’ — in the expectation that you will command this first line of defence of the Farlan nation and protect our borders. I do not care what deals you make with your peers to secure troops or boost trade, so long as Farlan law is extended to Scree and Helrect and is equally respected in our protectorate of Tor Milist.

‘These laws include bans on the Knights of the Temples and all followers of the child Ruhen, and I mean the laws to be kept to the letter.’ He took a pace forward, his lupine fangs bright against the dark blue of his fur. ‘The Farlan like laws; you like your bargains and compromises. This I understand — and I have Chief Steward Lesarl for this — but there will be no compromise where Ruhen’s Children are concerned, nor for any other groups that preach his message.

‘You will all do well out of me, you who govern the Farlan and gather the wealth of the nation: I will make you even more wealthy and powerful by the time my father chooses a new Duke of Tirah, this I promise. I shall not demand the Farlan make war on Byora, as my predecessor did. That is the price, the bargain that keeps the Farlan from civil war. What I expect in return is no grey areas; no unseen deals or “interpretations” of my decrees. It is very simple: any man or woman within the Farlan nation who aids or encourages the followers of Ruhen in any way will be deemed a traitor of the nation, and they will be killed.’

Fernal plucked at the long shirt he wore, fitted loosely over his powerful furred frame, and gestured to the adapted trousers and boots he had adopted to conform to the strictures of Farlan society. ‘I wear this to show publicly that I, as Lord of the Farlan, am one of you, but do not forget my heritage. If you wish to test me on this, you will see what I have inherited from my father, God of Storms — and you will see how widely and indiscriminately I can destroy.’

As the noblemen stared aghast at their lord, Fernal realised just how close to a growl his voice had become.

Lomin was the first to move; he dropped to one knee in acknowledgement of Fernal’s words. ‘Your words are clear, my Lord. Shall I order the delegation to be slaughtered?’

Fernal shook his head, the dark mane of hair flying freely. ‘I think they also must hear it explained clearly. Let them report my words back to the shadow so there will be no later “misunderstanding”. I will meet them.’

The hurscals spread out to flank the assembled lords. Fernal’s company of liveried personal guards formed a narrow avenue, to physically limit the numbers approaching their lord. A tense hush fell over the Farlan soldiers as they watched the newcomers arrive, and Fernal noticed more than one of his men whispering to each other. Even the officers were looking a little uncertain of how to treat the arrivals — until they looked at their lord, and took their cue from him.

Fernal stood with his arms crossed, his axes ready at his belt. He knew to his cost that humans could read little from his face, and that they always assumed a creature his size was capable of nothing but aggression — but in this instance that was precisely what he wanted his subjects to display.

When the Devoted and their white-cloaked companions were within shouting distance, one officer nudged his horse ahead of the rest and called out, ‘Lord Fernal, I thank you for receiving us. My name is Major Kadin. I am a Knight of the Temples.’

His accent placed him as Farlan, no doubt one of those Tildek men who’d followed the Knight-Cardinal into exile when Lord Bahl, Isak’s predecessor as Lord of the Farlan, banned their Order. The major dismounted and those behind him followed suit and continued their approach on foot, showing no apparent apprehension. Another Devoted officer, a captain, took up position next to a white-robed woman carrying an oak staff.

‘May I present to you Child Ileil, whose preachers we are escorting?’ Major Kadin said.

The preacher bowed. She was tall and thin, no doubt once beautiful by Litse standards, though perhaps twenty winters past her prime now. ‘Your divine blood graces us with its presence,’ she murmured.

Child? That’s the title she uses to bear Ruhen’s authority? ‘Why are you here, Major Kadin?’ Fernald asked bluntly. ‘Did you not understand my decree?’

‘We thought official relations between the Circle City and Tirah might yet be possible,’ he said smoothly, ‘especially given this mercy mission you have engaged in here.’

‘You bring them peace,’ Ileil broke in, her face shining with fervour, ‘you bring them the justice of the Gods, to save them from lawlessness. The child Ruhen asks us all to do what we can to aid our brothers and sisters in these parts — we carry his message of hope to everyone in these troubled times-’

‘Not without breaching the laws of the Farlan,’ Fernal said loudly, forcing the woman to break off from her rehearsed speech. ‘This is the only warning you will receive, you and any others sent in your stead: the lands of the Farlan are closed to you all. Any violation of this will be considered an act of war and receive the appropriate response.’

Child Ileil looked aghast. ‘How can you threaten war in such troubled times? The Farlan are assailed by the cruelties and corruption of the cults, just as the Circle City has been. Your people are wearied of war and fear — all

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