Azoun had resumed his pacing, and Vangerdahast started for the trapdoor. The wizard was reaching to close the door behind him when the king suddenly looked in his direction.
'Thank you, Vangy,' Azoun said sincerely. 'By the way, have you heard anything from Lord Mourngrym or the other dalelords?'
'They'll come, Azoun. The crusade has earned you enough influence that they'll have no choice,' the wizard said-a bit sourly, the king noted. 'To be honest, I don't know why you're wasting your time. They'll never agree to unification with Cormyr. Neither will Sembia.' When he noted the determined look crossing the king's face, he added. 'Of course, that's just my opinion.'
The wizard knew better than to argue certain matters of state-like the unification of the Heartlands-with Azoun since the crusade. The success of the foray against the Tuigan had bolstered the king's opinion that the tenets of Law and Good could be used to govern. In the wizard's opinion, that made Azoun rather intractable. Still, the old mage found that he respected the king more these days, even if he did believe his plans to be unrealistic. Like most people, Vangerdahast found it hard not to respect someone so dedicated to the welfare of others.
With a short bow, the wizard disappeared into the stairwell and closed the trapdoor behind him. The heavy wooden door forced a breeze into the small tower room, making the tapestries wave on the walls. The echo of the iron ring clanking against the wood had barely died before the king was pacing again.
In his mind the arguments for uniting Cormyr, Sembia, and the Dales turned over and over, arranging themselves into the best logical order. Azoun occasionally dismissed a reason for the extension of the union, and every few steps a new argument for or against the plan would present itself to him. At the heart of the king's thinking lay one thing: The crusade had proven, on a very limited scale, that such an alliance was beneficial.
No one could deny that. Relations between the three countries and the independent city-states that had offered troops for the crusade had never been better. With the exception of Zhentil Keep, of course. The increased activities of the raiding parties out of Darkhold troubled everyone, and the Keep now found itself politically isolated more often than not.
Most importantly, the crusade had shown Azoun that he could change the world. After all, the Alliance had been founded upon his ideals, his dreams. Certainly he had faltered once or twice, falling prey to the easy solutions of political necessity. Even now, the dalesmen pointed the finger of blame at Azoun for the problems with Darkhold. After explaining the treaty he'd signed with the Keep, the king had offered no excuse for his actions. The guilt was his, and he accepted it.
That was what his conscience advised him to do, and more and more these days Azoun followed that guide. It also told him to forge a new country from the Heartlands, a new empire dedicated to Law and Good. If possible, he was going to do that, too.
The king stopped pacing for a moment and opened the window. Suzail spread before him in the late autumn sunshine, still peaceful, still prosperous. The whole of Faerun could be like this, he thought.
Koja's comment about the world and great men came unbidden to the king's mind. His humility rebelled at naming himself great, but Azoun realized that the priest had been talking about him as much as Yamun Khahan. He pondered that thought as he watched the gulls wheel over the docks, the tradesmen and peasants hustle down the Promenade.
Closing the window, the king shut the chill breeze out of the room. If Koja is correct, Azoun decided as he began to pace again, then I must achieve what I can in what little time I have.
