4 Fayendrias I

The North is an incredibly cold and hostile place, reflective of its ruler in that regard, although none dare speak it aloud, none living at least.

Fayendrias himself was a cunning thinker, and he reveled in the moments of plotting and scheming, he was interested in the strategy rather then the war, the way with which a man swung a sword rather then how it fell on his opponent, the angle rather then the impact.

And there was no shortage of it.

From the moment he entered the war room in the castle, Jamie Haimon, his royal advisor, brought up many problems that needed immediate solving. Gareth Dexitum was overlooking the table, wherein a map was sprawled across.

Gareth was a man of significant stature, towering over Fayendrias, although some said it was Gareth's body compensating what his mind lacked, Fayendrias himself knew this to be false, as he wouldn't dare put the lives of his men in the hands of a base-minded fool.

Gareth also wore a black coat with an even darker shirt underneath it, along with his dark trousers, he also wore dark leather boots and gloves.

A simple choice of colour, but a fitting one for those who plot in the shadows

Fayendrias thought to himself with a grin.

"What is it that demands my attention, Jaime?" Fayendrias asked the royal advisor.

"As it pleases you my Lord, it concerns a rebellion brewing within your very kingdom."

"Ah, yes. The so called 'freedom fighters of Armeria.' Fayendrias said with deep contempt in his voice. "What about them?"

"They've taken to attacking our caravans. They let a single man live, carrying the message that they, the Elves of Armeria, have been oppressed for too long, and are going to take back what's rightfully theirs, all the territories of the North, and that they'll repay the blood of those they lost with ours."

Fayendrias remembered it all too well, the horrific song of steel against steel, steel against flesh, the shrieking of women and babes, the smears and streaks of blood across the streets, the walls and the keeps, the smoke in the air from the torches tossed into the houses of those who slept, never to awake again.

"Bloody elves." Gareth said angrily. "We've let them live in peace in the forests of Armeria for years, and they've never protested. The damned savages seem to prefer peace, although only when it suits them best."

"How eloquently put, ser." Mocked Jaime, "regardless, how would you like to deal with them, my Lord?"

"We don't." Fayendrias replied with a tone suggesting the very basis of the question was ludicrous.

"I'm sorry, sir? I know it's not my place to question your decisions but why would w-"

"Attacking the elves after they gave a righteous speech about oppression only stands to lend credence to that foolish notion." Fayendrias interrupted.

"So we just… ignore them?" Gareth asked, dumbfounded.

"Ignore them? No. Far from it. We simply assign more men to the caravans. How many were posted on that Caravan, Jaime?"

"Twenty sir."

"Double it. We will not retaliate, however, we also can not allow these attacks to continue, if we can show them that we can stand our ground, they'll quickly back down."

"If they know what's good for them." Gareth added.

"Is there anything else you have need of me for, Jaime?"

"There is one more thing." Jaime said, rather hesitantly. "King Wiscard is here to see you."

"About?"

"I feel it's best he answer that question rather than I."

"Very well, bring him in."

Wiscard opened the door to the grand war room, he was entranced both by the size as well as the beauty of it all, all the maps on the wall, the one that was sprawled across the table.

"Wiscard, my dear friend, how nice to see you!" Fayendrias feigned joy.

"Save your grandstanding to those who care for it, Llyond." Wiscard hissed at the King in the North, still enamoured by how a room so beautiful was used to strategize the fall of kings and barons.

"As you will, Wiscard. What's brought you here?"

"I think you know exactly what did."

"Why ask for knowledge of that which I would know?"

"Fine, play games if you must." Wiscard said contemptuously. "It's the west."

"What of Garret?"

"He's dead. All the local physicians are unable to identify how or why. He just collapsed in front of his son and died on the spot."

"So you came here to tell me something a messenger could've done just as easily? We all knew he was on his deathbed, we were fooling ourselves into thinking otherwise."

"The only fool here is you, Llyond." Wiscard hissed back.

"Tell me, Wiscard. Did you come all the way here to tell me something of actual worth, or just to accuse and insult me in my own kingdom? Because I have far more pressing concerns then the incoherent ramblings of a king long past his glory days." Fayendrias snapped.

"I know that you're behind it, Fayendrias. And you're going to answer for all your crimes, past, present and future. I know of your hatred for all things magic, believe me, I mourn for Aerin just as you do, but razing, murdering and oppressing all arcane-practitioners this side of Equestrium won't bring him back, nor will it honour him, no, if anything you're tarnishing his legacy rather then doing it any justice." Wiscard said with a hint of sadness and empathy in his eyes.

"Using a child, long dead, to further your own political aspirations? Tsk tsk, I thought so much better of you, stirring up old wounds. Well, I'll be damned if I'll allow you to use him as an excuse to come insulting me. You don't get to come in here, insulting me, then playing the long gone friend. So unless you have something to tell me that a messenger couldn't be entrusted with, I suggest you save us both the wasted time and go back home." Fayendrias said angrily.

"I'm not here to bring back bad memories, I'm here to offer a plea. Come with us peacefully, Llyond, this need not end in the shedding of blood of tyrants. If you come in without a fight, and admit, to god and heaven, of what you did, you may keep your life. I did not come here as an enemy, or as some lord of a kingdom. But as a friend." Wiscard said.

"Wiscard, the king in the East." Fayendrias said mockingly. "Come here to beg me not to stand my ground. I tell you, the history books will tell of this moment, of the moment King Wiscard came to King Fayendrias, begging for him to be known as Fayendrias the Craven, rather then Fayendrias the King. But I tell you, the history books will also tell of the moment he spat on the very concept of such an incredibly folly notion." Fayendrias concluded.

"As you say, your majesty." Wiscard said with deep sadness in his voice.

After Wiscard left, Fayendrias called all the advisors back in.

"Is there anything you need me for, Jaime?"

"The matter of succession in the West. With Garret dead, I take it that Eries will become King?"

"Indeed he shall." Fayendrias said with an evilish grin on his face.

The king is dead, long live the king, Fayendrias thought to himself.

"And with the matter of succession being rather certain, I'd like you to send a letter to the soon-to-be King." Fayendriass instructed Jaime.

"Very well, ser. What shall it say?" Jaime asked obediently.

"Tell the eventual King that we would like to meet with him, preferably in the North, at the time of his soonest convenience, and that there's many political subjects with which we must discuss with him."

"Is that all, my King?"

"For now? Yes." Fayendrias said.