Equestrium: The Blood of Tyrants

Fayendrias II

The smells of smoke and fire from the blacksmiths and the singing of wooden swords smashing during the training in the yards outside of the barracks pleased Fayendrias. He'd been preparing for Eries's arrival for quite some time now, he'd overheard the troops themselves making remarks of the King in the West, the titles they decided to give him were juvenile and crude. Names such as "Eries the Fairy, The King of Nothing," and other such droll titles were used often in the barracks. Fayendrias himself had allowed these nicknames to go both ignored and unpunished, all except one of course.

"The Bastard King," this was the South's attempt at discrediting Eries's right to rule, Fayendrias found the man who'd made the remark and had him whipped with a scourge in front of all the soldiers, that put an end to the nasty rumour rather well. Damned craven, Llyond thought to himself, he seeks to gain the Throne for himself, and what better way to do that then accuse his brother as being a monstrosity born of lust and sin?

That wasn't to say that we was at a loss as to what to do, he could just as easily play the game that they wished to play, even better in fact. He had many options at his disposal, but with varying levels of consequences, declare them as magic-using heretics and that they're only trying to save their skins, but that would harm what reputation the North had with the three other realms even more. He could meet with the leaders of the realms to come to an understanding, but Fayendrias couldn't be too sure if they would set a trap or not. He could apply the proper amount of political pressure to silence the opposition, although he'd have to be doubly careful about it, this was something he'd need to discuss with Eries once he arrived.

As he leaned against the gate where the training happened, he couldn't help but long for the life of a soldier, the life he'd once had, one that seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet a minute ago at the same time. . . He longed to only have to worry about what his superiors ordered him to do rather being the superior. Yet he eventually retrieved his senses, he knew he much preferred the life of a cunning strategist rather than that of a base brute.

The troops who were training wore an extensive amount of armour and clothing, something that was quite necessary due to the North's weather consisting mostly of the traits of the cold winter nights, and those were the better days. Many a man had died out of being ill equipped for such terrible and unrelenting weather, Fayendrias enjoyed it, however. If a man could keep his wits about him in the cold of the North, he could keep it just about anywhere else.

"Sir." A soldier said saluting him, seemingly out of breath from running. "King Eries is here to see you."

"Bring him to me." Fayendrias said.

"As it pleases you, my lord."

After a short while, the soldier returned with King Eries in tow, King Eries seemed pleased to be in the North, which was more than could be said for the other two realms. Every step the young king took demanded authority and respect, something that Fayendrias himself respected, although he dare not say it aloud. "Leave us," Fayendrias said to the soldier, "go back to your training."

"Yes sir," he responded obediently.

"You know Eries," Fayendrias said, turning to the King and motioning towards the training grounds."I know the dance all too well."

"Dance?" Asked Eries in confusion.

"Yes, dance. The only dance worth learning. The dance of death. I used to serve as a soldier, and from it, I know the moves to this dance by heart. Backslash, a parry followed by a sidestep which leads into diagonal downward slice. You do understand, yes?" Fayendrias asked him with a courteous smile.