Kingdoms of Caelum; Autumn of the War Queen

Chapter 14

Dalbet Harn, cousin of King Edwin Raak of Thurlstone and second in line to the throne, had received Ragan's message several days ago. To say he was irked was an understatement. The journey to Fortis was long, unpleasant and dangerous, and since this new alliance with Ragan, Dalbet had done more travelling in the last few months then he had ever done. Nonetheless, he had packed his belongings for this, hopefully, last trip to that damn awful place. Edwin was sniffing around now though, Dalbet thought. He had been summoned to the throne before his departure and he had to make this audience with the King count. Dalbet cursed under his breath.

"Dally come back to bed", the woman cooed from the sheets of his four poster. She was a lady from court, he couldn't remember which one. He ignored her as he sat half naked on the bed and clumsily buttoned up his tunic. He knew he was a handsome man; the women he slept with meant little to him.

"Dally, Dally come back to bed."

"Stop your bleating woman and leave!" he snapped, adjusting his belt and breeches. How could he concentrate with a damn whining woman in his ear? Hastily she climbed out of the bed, wrapped in silks and furs and gave him an apologetic look.

"Go!" he barked; without hesitating she obeyed. Dalbet had a notorious temper and more then one woman had bore his fist marks on her skin. After several moments of rehearsing his 'lines', Dalbet left his chamber. His footsteps echoed angrily through the halls. He was only in his thirty eighth year but he felt much older. His life had been lived playing the role of doting cousin to the fat ginger-haired buffoon who called himself King. A long role, when in reality his bitter resentment grew stronger year by year. His head and stomach grew hungry to see Edwin and his heir Thornic's glorious demise. The sixteen year old brat was already playing King; clever and cunning, he knew his father would not last much longer. Fat, old, the red rash of death had begun to creep under the buffoon's skin, ruined by a lifetime of self indulgence. But the boy played a clever game. After weekly hunts on the mainland he ordered the fattest cuts of meat to be served up to the King, helping after helping. He made sure his chalice always flowed with wine and had a special cook serve up sweet and succulent desserts. He would encourage the old man to sit and play chess and read, made sure his bed was warm with women; and all this was encouraged happily by his mother, the Queen, who had grown to resent her husband. In a way, Dalbet was in awe of Thornic's thirst for power, but Dalbet wanted it more, and that only meant one thing: the carefully orchestrated collapse of the monarchy. Only then could Dalbet rise to take his place as King.

When Dalbet had received the very first correspondence from Ragan, he was cautious, suspicious even. He had taken a big gamble to meet with Ragan on the mainland, and he could not possibly imagine what the brother of the great Hallvarder of Roskilde could have wanted. All the note said was:

I wish to speak in utter secrecy regarding the future. With you and only you Dalbet Harn. I hope you understand the importance of secrecy. Ragan Veurink.

It had been crazy, but the mysterious note had grabbed his attention and, taking his most trusted men into Gaar, he travelled the route of The Gateway up towards the DraklanDesert and, sure enough, Ragan had been there. After weeks worth of travel all Ragan had said was that if Dalbet ever wanted the throne of Thurlstone, Ragan could make it happen. He needed an ally in Thurlstone, and would tell him more if he came to Fortis. Then he had given him a young hawk in a blue cage and left, telling him to send note by hawk if he accepted. Thinking back now it had all been such a mad whirlwind, but out of curiosity Dalbet had been hooked, creating a story about investing in more mines in Fortis, leaving Thurlstone to once again meet with Ragan. Again Ragan had been there, when he said he would. This time in a small and unpleasant tavern in Fortis, and Dalbet had sat, incredulous, while Ragan spoke about the unspeakable. Like a mad man his eyes had been wild and his sanity seemed frayed; it was like listening to the drunken rambles of a twisted crazy fool. But Dalbet knew Ragan was not crazy, nor a fool, and for a moment, some of the vile bitterness and hatred he had harboured about his cousin the King began to work its way from his stomach to his throat, and finally, into his imagination.

Now, as he felt the newest note in his tunic pocket, the excited thrill came back. Beyond all expectations, Ragan had taken the first steps. He had actually murdered his own brother. He knew the note to speak truth, as the official news had filtered down to Thurlstone yesterday and the court was in uproar about the broken betrothal.

Dalbet came face to face with the throne room door and stood outside for a brief second, all these thoughts spiralling through his mind. Yes, he said to himself, he was ready to go back to Fortis and play his part in the whole dark affair. He turned the golden handle and entered the room.

"Dear cousin!" he beamed with a smile on his lips as wide as the ocean.

o