The Kingdom of Liticea: The Sorcerer Prince

Chapter Eighteen: Flexing Muscle

Word quickly spread throughout the castle and undoubtedly would eventually spread through the rest of Forthren and the rest of Liticea. When the Prince joined his war council the following morning he was greeted by a plethora of congratulations and good wishes. He grew tired of it immediately.

"I thank you for your thoughts," he said to Martin, Jon, Nicholi, and the others, "Now can we please get on with this?"

"I'm sorry, my Prince. But this is so exciting," exclaimed Baron Nicholi, "I never thought I'd live to see another royal wedding. I remember your father's as if it were yesterday."

"Are all of the Royal Lands invited?" Martin Bailor asked, "Because this will be my first and I don't want to miss it."

"Gentlemen!" the prince called out of frustration, "I only agreed to it this morning. I do not know when I'll get married or even if I will be alive to be married at all."

"Don't worry, my Prince! We'll see to it you get home to your bride" Clayton Blackwell shouted and the others all voiced their agreement.

"That's very good to know. And now back to more current issues. Captain Noc, how many men are slated to arrive in the next few days?"

"About ten thousand, My Prince. And that will raise our numbers to approximately twenty-thousand strong. Most of those numbers are Forthren troops. The rest are Royal Lands and the Brukalil."

"Most of the Royal Land troops have not yet assembled. We right now have only half."

"Archduke Amos Velrock is going to lead the rest of them."

"But that likely will not be for weeks. Until then it is just us and whatever we can muster from Forthren."

"Which at this point is all the men of Blackfield. It will not be enough," Tauron stated.

"I doubt Lord Desmond would want to help us," Nicholi said.

"He'll be too busy catering to his on," Martin Bailor joked, "Boy gets stabbed in the neck and now the whole Swampland is in an uproar."

Clayton Blackwell gave Bailor the biggest smack in the head, "We'll see how well you are with a blade through your throat. Or even better let's stab one of your sons and see how you feel."

"Alright, I'm sorry," Martin said, rubbing his head, "It was just a joke."

"Well, keep your jokes to yourself," Gramman ordered, "Last thing we need right now is Desmond Guale angry with us."

"We'll need his soldiers. All the soldiers of Forthren."

"And we need them fast," Tauron said.

"It'll take at least a week for all the armies to assemble."

"Too long. Everyday we spend here, is another day the Morcars are cutting deeper into our country. I give it two days, and then we must leave," Tauron proclaimed.

"My Prince, that is not enough time!"

"Tell Lord Desmond's armies to make for Anton. We will meet them there. And sent word to Markus Eleanor to march his army north to reinforce us."

"Are you going to try to rally all of Liticea?"

"I want all of Liticea to be ready. Also send a message to my uncle, Arnos Heflite of Brother's Crossing. If the Morcars are half as bad as they are in the stories told to us as children, than Liticea is in for the battle of her life."

At that moment, Lord Yorod Dayvey entered the chamber. Along with him were his two oldest sons, Lord Desmond Gaule, Sir Ulysses and Sir Julius Cassius. They all took available seats and melted into Tauron's war council.