Chapter 2: Aeron
Somar was an ordinary Man by most accounts. He wasn't exceptionally strong of limb or of mind. He wasn't especially wise nor shrewd, but he wasn't especially slow nor ignorant. The fact was that his father had been the King of Aeron, and Somar happened to be his eldest son. His father had died, and Somar had been given the throne. Somar was the King of Aeron.
Aeron was a fair-sized kingdom. In its glory it had once covered the entire Mid-North area, but now it stretched only from the Bron River, halfway to the Western Sea, to Algon Forest in the East. Darland had come from the North and conquered the area between the Bron and the Sea many years before. Somar hated Darland. All Kings of Aeron hated Darland. So did all Aeronians.
The same morning of the meeting in Algon, King Somar was stretched out in prayer. "O gods," he intoned, "spare me this day and give me the wisdom to rule my kingdom. Slay my enemies and give me the glory that is due your servant." Getting up, he spread the ceremonial incense over his household idols, bowed, and left. It was tradition. he knew the Kings' Morning Prayer so well he could say it mindlessly. And that was how he said it.
Somar entered his throne room and was immediately given a report on the state of the kingdom by his priest-scribe. "Your Majesty," the scribe began, "there was another Randilian raid on the outreaches of the kingdom. An entire village was burned last night. Something must be done."
"I am not at war with the Randilians, nor do I wish to be. One village is of no consequence. We should be more concerned with what happens from within our borders. What of the grain tax?"
"It has been collected, sire. A few farmers, a mere handful, spoke against the tax increase- they will do that, you know- but they were arrested before they could cause any great uprise of the people. They await trial in your audience."
"Execute them," Somar said flatly. "The people will see it and realize the futility of opposing their King. The tax is all for their good, is it not? I see to it that it benefits citizens of Aeron."
"Yes, sire," the scribe grinned. "It benefits those who are important."
"Exactly. Is there any other news worthy of my attention?"
"Some, sire. The flooded Bron region has been put under martial law, as you commanded. Your son has been gone for over a week and has not yet returned from his journey north. There was a sighting of Nods, the Lehrs, north of the lowlands; an entire battalion was am-"
"Which son, Luna?"
"Sire?" the scribe asked.
"Which son is it. I ordered no travel between Darland and Aeron."
Luna sighed. "Rigard, sire. He left three days ago to-" He stopped.
"To what? Why was this not brought to my attention?"
"-To seek the hand of the King's daughter," Luna finished.
King Somar rose from his throne. "Treason! My blood will never mix with that of a Darlandian!"
"But sire," Luna said, "we are not at war with Darland."
"We are always at war with Darland!" the king shouted. "Never forget that, priest. I will have someone's head for this, and you had better pray to your gods it is Rigard's, and not yours."
"Yes, sire," Luna said, and bowed.
----
Borm the innkeeper was ready to turn in and close the inn for the night. It had been a long day, especially after the execution of three local farmers who had become too outspoken. They had been some of his favorite customers. Borm's Inn was on the edge of the capital of Aeron, Norlech, so he received visitors from far away, farmers from nearby, and city dwellers alike. It was a good place to do business.
As Borm was beginning to close up, he heard the sound of hoofbeats outside. It stopped at the inn. A Man, tall and pale-eyed, opened the doors and entered the inn, followed by four others like him, all cloaked in black. The first one approached the counter.
"I'd like directions," he said to Borm with no sound of question in his voice.
"Alright," Borm answered, "where y'headed?"
"We are passing through Aeron. It has... changed since we were last here. Which village is this?"
"You are on the outskirts of Norlech, the mighty capital of this great kingdom," Borm pitched.
The Man missed the opportunity to be impressed. "Norlech, then. Tell me, Padona is due east of here, is it not?"
"Yes, but it's a good two days' ride from here. You'd need a good night's sleep before such a journey."
"Past Padona is..."
"Nothing. Just the Forest. Beyond that is Randil, but I wouldn't-"
"You wouldn't. You are not. I requested directions, not advise from an old fool who has hardly set foot into the sun for love of money," the Man said flatly. "Very well. You no doubt have a room to rent. We will stay here tonight." The Man dropped a handful of coins on the counter, which appeared to be coins enough for the eyes of Borm the Innkeeper, and motioned to the other four.
"Thank you sirs, and may the gods protect you!" the innkeeper called after them as he gathered up the rent money.
"I need no protection; not from a graven statue worth more on the smithry market," the Man replied. "But may the gods protect you."