A lean middle-aged man came forward, putting one hand on the shoulder of the wizard who appeared to have summoned them, gently pushing him aside. Calm brown eyes shone with unexcited politeness, his thin lips curled in a smile that brought no life to his gaunt cheeks. Feathered brown hair covered his ears and touched the upturned collar of a cloak of purple and gold hanging to his waist. A boar had been emblazoned on it. A brown tunic covered his torso, tan, tight leggings disappearing into darker shoes. That this was a seasoned politician seemed clear.
“Ellorian Champions,” he began in a smooth voice, “I am Prime Minister Othor of Kingdom Thiat, on the world of Eridos. We are pleased to host you. If you will follow me, some introductions are required.”
“Thank you,” replied Ryan.
As Anna walked out of the alcove with her friends, and into the two-story throne room, she sensed their overall mood was the best it had been so far at the start of a quest. Normally, being snatched from Earth upset them. She made a note of her own grin so she could at least fake it the next time. This is what it feels like to be thrilled with a quest. She doubted she would ever be so happy to start one again. The others seemed similarly affected, and their jovial mood may have inspired the men and women they passed as they followed Othor. Most bowed or made similar displays of respect, and she surmised that the boar silhouette several wore was the symbol of Thiat. Polished tile floors had inlays of fanciful beasts beneath their feet, while tapestries and giant, gilded mirrors hung from the walls, two unlit chandeliers evenly spaced. Enough light came in from the windows to not light them.
Ahead were several steps leading to a pair of golden thrones, one empty, the other occupied by a lounging, overweight, bored looking man in his fifties, with multiple jowls that were visible through his scruffy gray beard. A tall, gold, jewel-encrusted crown sat atop his round, balding head. A long purple cloak covered most of his wide body, gold fasteners keeping it closed. The King of Thiat sat frowning at them, watery-blue eyes unimpressed. The idea of summoning them clearly hadn’t been his. Could they count on his support? It didn’t seem like it. The two dozen others who had assembled remained standing like the champions, for no seats were here as they stopped before the steps, Anna wondering how many of them were royalty. Most were men.
“King Varrun,” Prime Minister Othor began, “may I present the Ellorian Champions, Lord Korrin of Andor, Soliander of Aranor, Andier of Roir, and of course the Lady Eriana of Coreth.”
“So, where have you been?” the king demanded, surprising Anna. At least he could be honest, and that was something. King Varrun waved a hand toward one group of standing nobles. “We could have done this years ago and gotten this lot out from underfoot.”
Ryan bowed his head. “Our apologies, Your Majesty. We hope we are not too late to help.”
“No, just too late to restore the peace of my home these last few years, but I suppose I should be grateful. You are about to do me a service worthy of earning a fiefdom. I should re-knight you just for giving me hope.”
“I would be honored,” replied Ryan.
“Yes, everyone is always honored.”
Looking caught between amusement and embarrassment, the Prime Minister said in a conciliatory tone, “As you can likely tell, our matter is not urgent, though needed all the same. We will make preparations for a banquet in your honor this evening and a more proper welcome. We were not entirely sure you would arrive, given the number of kingdoms whose needs have waited while you were absent. We are thrilled that you have returned, both for our small matter and all the great ones in your future.”
“Fine speech,” King Varrun said with sarcasm. “If that’s what it takes to earn power, then I’m glad I was born into mine and am spared the humiliation.” He turned to a fidgeting man who was dressed in blue and green, the symbol of a bird of prey on his breast. He snapped, “Oh, stop shuffling your feet. It’s like you have to pee or something. Show some dignity. And do it elsewhere. Othor take our guests and our restless friend away to tell them what is expected.”
Prime Minister Othor bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The fidgeting man bowed and said, “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I merely share your excitement.”
The king snorted. “Well, Your Majesty,” he sneered, “one day you’ll learn that being king means not being so polite about everything. Now get out. Of my castle, and my kingdom. I have long looked forward to your departure from both.”
Anna cocked an eyebrow. Was King Varrun just being snide or was this other man another king? He didn’t wear a crown, but then she wasn’t sure how that worked. It wasn’t like royalty always wore one. She was glad to be leaving the curmudgeon’s presence and didn’t want to speak with him personally.
“Lords and ladies,” began a smiling Othor, “please accompany me.”
They filed out of the room behind him, several of the nobles coming along but the rest remaining behind. Passing through a short hall, they turned into a meeting room with a large oval table surrounded by high-cushioned chairs, a large map spread across it. Several youths were hastily laying out plates and goblets. Another stood ready to help beside a small table filled with pastries and crystal decanters, each filled with different color liquids. Anna wondered what time of day it was, but saw the sunlight coming in at an angle that suggested either mid-morning or late afternoon. They needed a list of things to ask
