The steward of Felgarn looked from the city to the king. “Indeed, your Grace!” he agreed with all the enthusiasm of a man who had no idea about what was really being spoken.
Deciding his thoughts were too involved for the lord to grasp, Alijah turned to a simpler subject. “Forgive my late arrival, Lord Starg,” he began. “Our journey is long and rest was required. You have my thanks for the hospitality and the fine room.”
“Lirian flies the banner of the dragon, your Grace,” Starg blurted, bowing his head. “This will always be your city before it is mine or any of my successors.”
“Successors…” Alijah muttered. “How have you found your appointment in Lady Gracen’s stead?” he asked.
“I speak on behalf of all house Hamish when I say we are humbled by your confidence in us to steward the region, your Grace. I have lived in Lirian all my life. There is no better place,” he added with a beaming smile.
“I too am very fond of the city,” Alijah said earnestly. “That’s why I was so disappointed to hear of rebel activity, right here in Lirian.”
The smile fell from Lord Starg’s face. “Rebel activity, your Grace? Oh yes, the rebels. There were multiple eyewitnesses who reported seeing…” The steward hesitated, licking his lips with uncertainty.
“I read the report,” Alijah said, putting the man out of his misery. “I am aware that my father has been moving from city to city over the last two years in a bid to recruit more to their pathetic cause. It’s just a pity you didn’t capture him. Though I am interested in the subsequent arrests you made after his disappearance.”
“Arrests, your Grace?”
Alijah looked round at the lord. “Those my father spoke to,” he specified. “The men and women who are sympathetic to The Rebellion. I’m sure you arrested at least a few of them.”
Lord Starg’s body language shifted and not subtly. Alijah knew fear when he saw it.
“There were no arrests, your Grace,” he confessed. “Many of the watch were replaced by the knights from Erador, none of which… take orders from me. I commanded the few I can to search the rebels out but they found no leads to pursue.”
Alijah looked out at the city once more, his focus directed east of Lirian’s heart, where one familiar building resided. His thoughts remained there for a while, distracting him.
“Your Grace?” Lord Starg enquired.
“My apologies for removing so many of my knights of late,” Alijah managed, his mind elsewhere. “I have need of them on the plains - that is where my journey ends. You have my word they will return to keep the peace.”
Without further instruction, the king walked away from the steward of Felgarn and made for the grand staircase that would take him down to the courtyard and the palace’s main gates.
“I do hope that wasn’t your horse, Lord Starg,” Alijah remarked, gesturing to the carcass in front of Malliath.
Lord Starg hesitated, undoubtedly upset by the scene. “No, your Grace,” he said, watching the king accept another horse from one of the stable hands. “It was my daughter’s.”
Alijah wasn’t about to apologise for the dragon. “You’re welcome to take it up with Malliath when he wakes,” he replied with half a smile.
Lord Starg held up his hands. “There’s no need, your Grace!” he fretted. “My daughter’s a terrible rider. Better suited to carriages! Your Grace, perhaps you would like an escort into the city? I have good men who could accompany you.”
Alijah gritted his teeth through the pain as he swung his leg over the saddle. “I require no such escort, Lord Starg. I do not fear my own people.” With his last word, the king guided the horse through the main gates. From there, the road sloped down and round to the city below.
The king was acutely aware of the pain that plagued his ride. Thankfully, the streets of Lirian offered him some distraction. He could also feel the presence of his Reavers. They were few, having sent most of them to reinforce the dig site and protect the doorway. Alijah ordered them to keep to their patrols with their Seekers on their leashes. He wouldn’t need them this day. Here and there, however, he did discover some of the city’s watch and he was pleased to see them attired in his colours and sigil.
And, of course, they bowed. They all bowed; every man, woman, and child. Though, in truth, they likely had no idea who he was. His armour, cloak, and sword declared his status, but his exact title was probably a mystery to most. They knew Alijah Galfrey was their king, but how many had actually seen his face? Without Malliath behind him he was just another man of power and wealth. Still, they knew enough to bow in his presence.
When they had succeeded in destroying magic and brought peace and balance to the realm, Alijah told himself that they would visit every town and city. He wanted to meet his people and them to meet him. Then he would return to Erador and do the same. His work there had been all-consuming, barely giving him the chance to see the country outside of old battlefields and fortresses.
Alijah guided his horse into the centre of Lirian’s eastern district. He unthinkingly jumped down from his horse and concealed his face behind the animal’s neck. The pain in his leg contorted his expression and he didn’t want any of Lirian’s inhabitants to see him suffering. It didn’t take long to subside, allowing him to turn and look upon the tired tavern that had drawn him from the palace.
The Pick-Axe.
This was where it had all begun for the half-elf. After exiling himself from the Galfrey home, destiny had guided him here, to the same decrepit green door that
