and Pelias. “My term of office ends with the next moon cycle.”
“Let Lothair transport you,” Pelias said. “I do not trust Gaius Prospero in general, but right now he suffers from the people’s displeasure, and may try to seek revenge on those he feels have wronged him. I understand a mob attempted to storm the Golden District yesterday. They were shouting his name combined with some most unfavorable epithets. They seem to be holding him entirely responsible for what happened to the mercenaries. The Crusader Knights were called out to keep order, for the Guild of Mercenaries would not. Their ranks are weakened, and they must house and feed the widows and orphans of those killed in the Outlands. They are not happy about it.”
“They can afford it,” Delphinus responded. “They received a fair portion of Gaius Prospero’s thievery. But I agree with Pelias. Let Lothair use his magic to send you home.”
“Very well,” Archeron replied. He was a tall handsome man with wavy silver hair, and eyes the color of aquamarines.
He disliked the City, and would not mind avoiding a long trek through the winter landscape back to his own province where winter came only gently. Winter in the province of the Coastal Kings was a short season when the rains arrived. On fair days the sun sparkled on the sea making it almost seem like a basket of the finest sapphires, aquamarines and emeralds had been tipped among the waves.
“With whom will you speak in the Outlands?” Pelias asked.
“It would seem that the one they call Lord Vartan is their leader. This lack of a centralized government in the Outlands makes it difficult to know how to deal with them, but I shall ask Lord Rendor of the Felan for his counsel.”
“Will you go to this Lord Vartan?” Pelias wondered.
“I do not know,” Archeron replied. “It is Rendor who must guide us in this matter so we do not offend the Outlanders in our attempts to make peace again. It would be so much easier to deal with them if we were cognizant of their customs.”
“But Hetar has never before wanted to deal with them,” Pelias said. “It has always been considered they were barbarians, and best left alone.”
“Yet we knew differently, didn’t we?” Delphinus said.
Archeron grimaced. “Aye, we did, and so, I suspect, did the Shadow Princes. Yet there was never any need for us to share our knowledge, was there? How could we have imagined that any among us would attempt to invade the Outlands? We underestimated Gaius Prospero and his colossal greed. Something is changing in our world, my brothers. We have been too prosperous, I fear, and now the balance is tilting the other way. There are more beggars in the streets now than ever before in my memory. There are too many mercenaries, and not enough work for them. The farmers of the Midlands seem unable to feed us as generously as they once did. Their land is worn out, and the cost of our foodstuffs is rising, yet the farmers see no new profits.
“When the people grow unhappy and hungry they also become restless. They begin to huddle with one another and talk on matters they do not fully understand. Eventually some among them will decide that our way of governing is responsible for their misery. They will revolt against that government, and whether they triumph or do not triumph matters not at all. Many will be killed, which will relieve some of the problem for there will be fewer mouths to feed. The damage, wherever it is, will have to be repaired so there will be work to be had. A new government for good or evil will arise. And prosperity will eventually return to put our world once again in balance.” He signed. “May the Celestial Actuary have mercy upon us, my brothers.”
“You will be home shortly, Archeron,” Pelias attempted to soothe him. “This has been a difficult time for us all. Once you walk along the golden sands by the sea, and feel the clean wind on your face it will seem less distressing.”
“Aye, but the problem will still be there,” Archeron said. “It will not go away. Hetar’s way of life, the Outlands’ way of life-it is all changing.”
“I will speak with Prince Lothair,” Delphinus said, and hurried off.
The Shadow Prince was more than happy to take Archeron home, especially when he heard of the dark mood that had descended upon the Coastal King.
“His words frighten me,” Delphinus admitted to the prince. “He has lived longer than any of us, and we revere his wisdom. Sometimes he sees things, as I believe he does now. Is this a vision of what the future of Hetar is to be?”
“He is correct that things are changing,” Lothair said, “but do not be afraid, King Delphinus. Everything changes eventually. Sometimes the change is so swift we do not really notice it, and at other times the change is so slow that we can see it coming, and we are afraid. Change, whether for good or evil, cannot be stopped, I fear.”
“You feel it, too!” Delphinus cried.
Lothair smiled, and nodded. “When Archeron is ready to travel, come to me,” he told the Coastal King. “I will transport him.”
A few days later Delphinus bid Archeron farewell. The High Council was now in recess for the winter, but it was necessary for the general council members to remain until their replacements came in the spring. Only the head of the council might leave.
Back home in his spacious palace by the sea King Archeron rested, but the necessity of contacting the Outland chieftains weighed upon him. He sent a messenger to Rendor of the Felan asking that they meet in two days’ time on the seaside border between their two kingdoms. There would not be time for the messenger to return, and so Archeron, in the company of his son and heir, Arcas, set off in hopes of meeting Rendor at the designated spot. To their relief he was there. The two men, both of whom knew Rendor well, embraced the Outlander warmly, inviting him to join them beneath a blue-and-gold striped awning that had been set up upon the beach. There were chairs, and servants who brought wine to the three men.
“I have always enjoyed this air of elegance you bring with you,” Rendor chuckled as he took a sip of the excellent wine. “We Outlanders are a simple folk.”
“Not so simple,” Archeron replied, “that you did not destroy your enemy successfully, and with flair. The High Council, while shocked, was most impressed by those seven carts of dead driven into the City by their gaunt and hollow-eyed drivers.”
Rendor chuckled wolfishly, but then he grew serious. “It was unwise of Hetar to invade our lands,” he said. “I hope they understood the message we sent to them.”
“They did, and would return to the boundaries of the ancient treaties, Rendor,” Archeron said quietly. “I have come to ask how we should approach the various clans, and their chieftains. We would not offend your lords and add to the problem.”
“The offense was in your attempt to annex a portion of our lands,” Rendor answered. “But we have had our revenge, and now wish to return to the way it was between us. We have formed our own governing council because of this incident. It is obvious to us that we can no longer live quite as separately from Hetar as we have in the past. The lady Lara has convinced us of that, though some would resist. Your High Council needs to be able to speak to us as one when problems like this arise.”
“When was this council formed?” Archeron asked Rendor.
“After the battle. The clan chieftains met at Fulksburg before we departed for our own lands. The council is made up of our eight chieftains. Vartan of the Fiacre was elected its head. He remains in office until he chooses to step down or we vote to replace him, which is unlikely. His clan is the largest, and Vartan is both fair and wise.”
“With a beautiful faerie wife, I am told,” Arcas murmured.
“The Lady Lara is a halfling,” Rendor said quietly. “Her wisdom is as much admired as her beauty.”
“And she is a competent warrior, I have heard,” Archeron said.
Rendor grinned. “That sword of hers would frighten a demon,” he told the two kings. “It sings in a voice that goes from low to high as she battles. And when it is time for the kill Andraste sings of drinking the blood of the unjust and the evil. A man could die of fright facing that ferocious sword. And looking at that delicate beauty wielding it, you would not expect her skill with a weapon.”
“She has a killer’s instinct?” Arcas asked.
“Nay, my lord, not at all. But her heart cries out for justice,” Rendor said.
“Can you take a message to Vartan from our High Council?” Archeron asked the Felan chieftain. “If it is possible I should like to meet with him, and apologize for the actions of our people against yours. Might he come to your
