Eyes of Mist

10 - Interlude II: Lies

Shakar watched Karatil carefully. The dark red robe the Mencun was wearing felt alien to him, but it was of magnificent quality and delicately adorned. Dark strips of cloth held the fabric at his shoulders before it draped over his back. His brown hair emerged from under a strange cap and framed a firm face.

His younger companion wore a similarly splendid attire, but his head was uncovered. Amidst dark brown locks Shakar noted the unusual ears, which weren't leaf-shaped like his own, but had a strange round shape as if some part of them were missing. 'Strange,' he thought. 'This seems more alien to me than their clothing.'

Iareg on the other hand didn't hide his contempt as he glowered at the Mencun. “How dare you intrude like this? What have you done to the guards?”

Karatil's mouth twitched to form a mocking smile. “You expected me to come here alone? My own escort saw to it that no one got in my way and your men were clever enough not to try and stop me. You aught to call them in and applaud their valiance.”

Iareg was on his feet in an instance but Shakar stepped between them and gently pushed the village leader back to his seat. Then he turned to Karatil and bowed low. “I am very pleased to be able to meet you now, Regent Karatil. I ask your forgiveness for not trying to get into contact with you any earlier, but maybe you will not think ill of me if I tell you I only arrived here in Landis a few hours ago.”

The regent nodded and stepped closer. Shakar didn't shrink back. “Well then, Prince of Illian, why are you here?”

Shakar smiled politely. “I deliver to you the best wishes of my father, King Arnthio. He sent me to assure you that when he gave permission to settle in the mountains, he never indented to violate the territory of the Mencun. With regret he heard of the problems he unintentionally caused you and seeks that you don't let this affect the good relationship that has, thus far ever prevailed between our peoples.”

Karatil snorted. “The good relationship? There never was a relationship of any kind between our peoples and I wish it to stay that way.”

Behind him his son Tamaril flinched slightly but stayed silent. Shakar noted the movement and smiled encouragingly at the lad. Tamaril smiled back bashfully. Karatil who hadn't missed this exchange glowered at his son.

Shakar kept smiling. “Maybe your disapproval stems from the reputation my people have unfortunately gained with you. Nevertheless, I ask you to invest the time in getting to know us. I'm sure that this would become advantageous to both our peoples.”

The Mencun's regent bowed with dignity. “Even though I see in your words nothing but that of which my forebears warned me, I do not want you to believe me a slave to my judgment of you.”

Shakar almost sighed with relief and waited for the regent to continue.

“In return for the favor of this evening I invite you and your escort to meet me tomorrow evening at the Osget's Threshold. There we can discuss, without interference, the kind of relationship our peoples may share in the future.” He glared at Iareg.

Shakar turned to glance at the settler's leader and almost regretted it when he saw the hatred in Iareg's eyes. He hastily bowed to Karatil. “Your invitation honors me. I very much look forward to reaching an agreement.”

Karatil offered a curt nod and motioned for Tamaril who stepped towards the door and opened it for his father and regent. A moment later the two Mencun had left and after a short but loud argument outside one of Iareg's men rushed in, followed by Shian, the leader of Shakar's escort.

Before Iareg, whose face had taken on a deep dark red, could start barking at his guard, Shakar stood in front of Shian and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I thank you for your consideration,” he said loud enough for all to hear. “It was wise not to provoke an open conflict and increase tension on both sides. Considering it was part of the reason for my journey to meet with Regent Karatil, it would have been foolish to deny his request to see me when he tried to make first contact.” Shian smiled knowingly and saluted.

Iareg's soldier watched his master, unsure of himself, until he was sent out again by a growl and a rough gesture.

“You acted wisely, Highness,” a melodic voice by Shakar's side chimed in.

The prince turned and found himself enchanted by the most piercing eyes he had ever seen. Within a heartbeat Iareg stepped to the beautiful creature and embraced her with one arm, his pride entirely apparent. “This, my prince, is my daughter, Jilla. The most beautiful gem Illian has to offer.”

Jilla blushed and mustered an embarrassed smile. “Every father would claim the same, I suppose.” she said and curtsied elegantly. “Highness, please accept our apology for the discordant start of your visit. Had we foreseen the Mencun's reaction, we would have invited them too. Then your talks wouldn't have to start on a sour note.”

Shakar smiled back. “It is hard to predict a person's reaction with whom you never had dealings before. Misunderstandings are no one's fault, my lady, especially not yours.”

“Your generosity is only surpassed by your wisdom. But please allow me to show you around the settlement tomorrow and get you acquainted with the people and the latest occurrences. I am sure that this will be an advantage when you visit the Mencun.”

“A truly gracious offer on your part, Lady Jilla. I am looking forward to it.”

She smiled again, curtsied and sat down opposite the prince as he gestured to her invitingly. Shakar called Cayoun to sit next to him and sat down himself. Iareg, who was clever enough to notice that he hadn't made a good impression, settled down beside his daughter and tried hard to steer any conversation away from what had happened that evening. Finally he left the conversation entirely to Jilla and concentrated on the pleasant food of the makeshift banquet. When the prince left very late that night, he kept sitting with his daughter for a while longer and talked to her in a low voice.

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Cayoun, alongside Shakar, was silent when he entered the room, that had been readied for them. He hadn't been talking much the whole evening but his gaze never left the prince. Shakar looked tired. In the candles' light he seemed very pale but his eyes burned.

“So it begins.” Shakar's voice was hoarse but firm.

Cayoun put a hand on his shoulder and smiled encouragingly. “Your father was wise to leave this to you.”

Sighing Shakar settled on a chair and stared at the wall. “I will need you in this, Cayoun. More than ever. When we leave for this Osget tomorrow you will come with us but do not stay too close to me. Try to establish contact with one of these Mencun who is less stubborn than Karatil with whom dealing will be my... pleasure. You always were good at handling people. I'm sorry that I have to ask you to use that talent with calculation but I doubt this conflict can be solved in talks with Karatil alone.”

Cayoun shrugged and leaned back, a casual smile on his features. “There's no reason for asking my forgiveness. I may have made contact with only two Mencun but the younger one, Tamaril, already seems to be made of different stuff than his father. I think that getting into touch with him might turn out to be a real pleasure.”

He saw Shakar glancing at him and answered with a little bow. “If I may be so bold I suggest we should both get some sleep to make us fit for making new friends tomorrow.”

Shakar nodded slowly. “Let's hope it will really be a day of new alliances.”

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The next day the sun shone brighter than ever before and the whole mountain village seemed to blossom. Small birds hopped over the neatly adorned pathways and children's faces were as radiant as the numerous flowers. Last winter's snow reflected sunlight from the summits of the nearby mountain tops and the villagers seemed to be in their best mood because of their prince's visit.

Cayoun felt like cursing them all.

He tried hard not to glower when he looked after Shakar and Jilla, who had been strolling the streets for far too long already, talking lively and breaking into merry laughter from time to time.

He had gotten up before sunrise, busy planning the day so he'd be ready for everything. For things concerning Shakar, he needn't have bothered. As soon as he had stepped out of the house with his prince, a certain red haired lady had taken over Shakar. Before Cayoun had realized what she was up to, Shakar had excused himself and left him alone to the brightest of all mornings.

Under different circumstances he might have enjoyed this. Ambition was a familiar concept for him and he valued cleverness. While he'd never mistake Jilla's obliging helpfulness for friendliness the way Shakar did, she nevertheless impressed him even more than the evening before. Still, that she'd managed to get ahead of him today annoyed him more than he'd dare to admit. That he only had himself to blame made it even worse.

Well, that and the sad fact that she wasn't spinning her charming webs in tandem with him.

He finally managed a crooked smile as he was watching the prince and his lady. Time would tell who was better at this little game.

The sun had already passed its highest point when he saw Shakar again. The prince smiled almost bashfully when he entered their room to get ready for the evening. Cayoun winked at him and returned the smile trying not to show more than necessary. Shakar sighed but his eyes still held a merry sparkle. He seemed to want to say something but then he simply nodded to Cayoun and allowed his servant to help him into a more suitable attire.

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Tamaril's heart was beating with excitement.

At last they'd get in contact with the people of Illian. Not just the settlers, no, real emissaries, even the prince would be coming.

While his father's refusal to let the guests enter the city was a drop of bitterness, they'd prepare the area in front of the Osget and thus it was not enough to really curb Tamaril's enthusiasm.

For a long time he had abhorred the Mencun's way of sealing themselves off from any outside contact. Once they had been a great nation, had ruled over large parts of the land now called Illian but wars had let their numbers dwindle until finally this city state was the last enclave of their kind. At least that was how the records the unicorn was guarding told it.

Those records were the oldest he knew of and though some of them had fallen silent due to their age he believed the unicorn to be even older. Not even Itaral, the keeper of ancient knowledge, could say how exactly the unicorn came to be and why it was created. The records spoke of a joint connection in the fabric of space and time that only the unicorn was capable of controlling. He assumed that once it had been possible to use this power for more than just taking care of all of life's commodities but he also knew the warnings that the abuse of this very power was what led to the descent of the Mencun.

In the end it didn't make much of a difference for him. In the past his people may have been grand and powerful but he didn't yearn to return to those days. Only being locked up in the city, knowing that his boundaries lay not far away from the stone gates and he'd never get the permission to get to know the world outside had made his heart heavy.

But now this past sadness made him swell with even more enthusiasm as he got dressed, buckled on his ceremonial dagger and stepped outside on the entrance square in front of the Osget.

The sun made the light gray rock shimmer like silver and he had to blink against the brightness. He craned his neck in the hope of maybe catching an early glimpse of Illian's delegation but his father's stern gaze made him resume a more dignified pose.

He hadn't been waiting for long when he noticed the guard detail moving. The appointed time had arrived and, on the path leading to the square, the first riders showed up. Accompanied by two men of the frontier patrols, the prince, his escort and his servants were riding up the mountain.

Prince Shakar looked tired and gray with the road's dust yet when he first saw the Osget carved into the stone 15 meters high, honest amazement replaced the exhaustion on his face.

Tamaril could hardly suppress an amused smile. How he'd love to take the prince on a tour through the city and show him how much more lay hidden behind these stone walls.

Well, maybe one day he'd have that chance. He had to do all he could to leave a good impression today and keep his father from ending the talks prematurely.

A quick glance towards Karatil revealed that his father's jaw wasn't as grimly set as the previous day. He took that as a good sign.

Prince Shakar bowed when greeting the regent and his escort joined in. Karatil graciously returned the gesture.

Servants hurried out, taking over the care for the horses, while others led the guests to the canopy where seats had been prepared for the noble folk.

Once Karatil invited him to do so Shakar sat down and the talks began.

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Cayoun had been waiting for some time for a chance to mingle with the Mencun. Unfortunately, they had not gathered in smaller groups as he had hoped, but were silently waiting on their regent. Likewise, Tamaril was standing behind his father biding his time until the conclusion of the talks. So Cayoun had positioned himself closer to Shakar to hear as much as possible of what was said.

Karatil seemed to be determined to make Shakar admit any bad intentions the settlers might have and ignored all assurances to the contrary. The prince had a hard time keeping up his polite smile and seemed to have more and more difficulties hiding his frustration.

Because of that Cayoun was even more surprised that the regent, in spite of his mistrust, was no longer as opposed to both peoples extending their relations as he had been the evening before. For the time being it was decided that Landis, the settler's village, was to remain where it was but no further houses were to be built and no further settlements were to be founded until a final agreement had been reached.

Cayoun didn't miss how breathlessly Tamaril hearkened for every word and began to realize how much these talks meant to the young Mencun.

The evening breeze brought cooler air and Cayoun turned around to watch the blood red sun set. Behind him he heard Shakar agree to receiving a Mencun delegation in castle Triannar where the discussion was to be resumed as well as the first steps taken towards normal diplomatic relations. He felt melancholic at the knowledge that it would never come to this meeting. The last spot of sunlight disappeared at the horizon and the glow it left behind in the evening sky mixed with the torches' light.

The Mencun started moving again, shaking Cayoun from his thoughts, as Regent Karatil clapped his hands and ordered dinner to be brought out to Shakar and his entourage. Now the Mencun dignitaries relaxed some more and spread across the plateau, presenting Cayoun the chance to casually approach the regent's son.

He saw Tamaril standing alone, looking into the fading glow in the west and smiling, apparently lost in thought. In his hand he held a white mug that looked like it had been carved out of some strange material.

“You have to be one of the happiest people to have that kind of beauty right in front of your door.”

The Mencun Prince flinched slightly then turned to Cayoun and offered an embarrassed smile. “It takes more to be happy than a beautiful view.” he replied slowly. “But from time to time it is good to treasure moments such as this one.”

Cayoun inclined his head in agreement.

Tamaril's smile became even shakier. “I take it you are used to more cordial receptions than what we have offered you here.” He raised his hand to stop Cayoun from protesting. “No, I know my people are very reluctant to meet outsiders with trust. I spent much time last night asking my father to be open minded. And still it seems to me as if we are hesitating to progress, as if we were living in so much fear of the past that we'd fail to face the future.” He tilted his head to one side and brushed a strand of hair behind his round ear. “Forgive me, I keep venting my emotions, although I should know better. I don't even know your name, but when I saw you in the settlement yesterday, it seemed to me as if you would understand all of this, maybe even better than I do.”

“Highness, you honor me with your words. Let me assure you that nothing you said could ever diminish the high esteem in which I hold you. To the contrary, I am very happy to hear about your interest in change.” With a flourish, the prince's servant bowed low. “My name is Cayoun. I have been serving the Prince Shakar for many years and kept at his side in everything he has done.” He smiled and winked at Tamaril. “Now you know my name, so this shall no longer stand between us.”

“Cayoun,” Tamaril repeated, “I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. I hope I may belong to the delegation my father is about to send to Triannar, now that I got to know one of her inhabitants.”

“I would feel honored to meet you there again. I hope that in the meantime there will be a lively exchange between our peoples, seeing that one of Illian's settlements is now so close to you and very inviting for contact.”

Hesitation etched itself on Tamaril's features. “I'm not sure these settlers belong to the kind of representatives Illian's citizens would wish for.”

Cayoun lifted an eyebrow. “I'm sorry to hear that. I wish I could assure you that all of these conflicts belong to the past but I'm afraid distrust with all its ugly facets can be found in all peoples.”

“I know that too well.” Tamaril glanced sadly at the mountain range. “All my life I was taught not to trust foreigners. But that way we'll get nowhere. We cannot stay for ourselves forever.”

Cayoun had to try very hard not to show his joy too much. The lad practically begged him to question him. With an open smile he dared putting his hand on Tamaril's arm and steered him further away from the others. “Your people will have a truly wise ruler one day, leading them into a grand future. A regent of alliances. A regent of knowledge. And I am overjoyed to be the first who will get to know the Mencun on this memorable day. Please let me know what is on your mind. Let me help you bring this first alliance on the way. Trust me.”

The Mencun prince stared at him with wide eyes, then his smile grew. “I can hardly express how much that means to me. I've been dreaming of this day for years and now the possibilities that stand open to our peoples surpass everything I ever imagined.” In his excitement red spots appeared on his cheeks. “There'll be so much to learn from each other! I can hardly wait to see Triannar castle and meet your people's scholars. And what they'll find in the unicorn's record halls once my father finally agrees to let emissaries enter our city shall be amazing for them, too. So much knowledge has been lost in centuries past, but I bet if our brightest minds get to it we'd all benefit from their findings.”

“The unicorn?” Cayoun smiled easily as if he didn't guess that this conversation was leading towards the closely guarded Mencun secret he had been so eager to find out. “Sounds like a creature from a fairy tale to me. Could you explain what you mean by that?”

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It wouldn't take long until sunrise but Cayoun didn't feel tired.

What an evening!

He had been talking to the Mencun prince for quite some time and Tamaril had held nothing back.

He had even received two gifts. One was a beautifully adorned dagger the prince had handed him when he admired it with sufficient enthusiasm. He had done all he could to make sure no one else noticed this moment so they could not give him any grief about it later.

The other gift was the means to make Shakar start down the path he was meant to take. The path to war.

He still could hardly conceive of what Tamaril had revealed to him, but he also didn't believe the prince meant to trick him. Why should he make up such a strange story about the Mencun's forefathers creating a unicorn that miraculously sated all their material desires?

Besides, even if the prince had lied to him it would only make their victory over the Mencun easier. But be that as it may, of course Falam had to learn about this grave new threat.

Cayoun smoothed out the creases in the letter Arris would soon receive. Part of the message was meant for Saskuen's ears and thus for the crown prince, but he had also included detailed instructions for his loyal shadow girl, that would shatter the kingdom just as much. His eyes burned but he hadn't been able to wait any longer when they returned late that night to Landis led by a Mencun escort. And now he held the key to Illian's future.

He folded the letter thoroughly and sealed it. The next morning he'd immediately pay the mail riders a visit and thus set up all the pieces on the board.

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Sitting on his horse Shakar raised his head and looked back at the little gathering of settlers. Jilla stood in front of the others at the edge of Landis, her father next to her, and waved goodbye to him.

He returned the gesture and forced himself to smile. He would surely see her again. She had promised to find a way to come to Triannar, either alongside the Mencun delegation that would depart in two weeks or via other paths. Given her cleverness, he had no doubt she'd make it. He, on the other hand, had promised to return her favor and give her a tour around the castle.

The anticipation almost made parting bearable.

After returning from visiting the Mencun three days earlier, Shakar had wanted to get ready for departure as soon as possible as he needed to consult with his father and prepare for the Mencun's reception. He had already brooded over the problem of including Falam into the talks without causing any harm on either sides.

Before enough food rations for their journey were ready, more time had passed which made him secretly grateful.

They had been the best days of his life. He almost felt bad for enjoying himself so much in times like these, instead of worrying about everything as he usually did. But just almost.

Jilla perfectly understood how to shoo away all worries. She was such comfortable company and at the same time so energizing to be with. She had been preparing him for his contact with the Mencun giving him both sound advice and confidence in his abilities without making him feel lied to or only flattered.

Although he tried not to admit it to himself he knew he was in love.

He had never given much thought to what his future wife would be like, had never minded the fact that his parents would pick a good match for him for the sake of Illian. But now he had found someone who was perfect.

He sighed and smiled. He surely would find a way when the time was right.

His escort gathered around him but his thoughts were far too occupied with other things to notice much of his surroundings. And so it escaped his notion that Cayoun wasn't among the other riders.

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Falam had never been very close to his servant Saskuen. He had been one of the first reasons he began to treat his father with suspicion when the king chose him as Falam's personal servant and companion ten years ago. While Shakar got someone adventurous and only a few years older than him, Falam was followed by an old man who never got tired of reminding him of his responsibilities.

Sure, his father had claimed that this was for his benefit. That Saskuen was preparing him for the throne, something that wasn't necessary in Shakar's case. But for Falam it sounded less like emphasizing his position as successor for the throne and more like hinting that Shakar was already so perfectly well suited for being king that his father didn't see a need for more preparation.

And thus he had spent his youth listening to Saskuen's cough and his constant admonitions “to think before acting” “not to waste his time with frivolities” and “to keep his temper in check”. All the while, Shakar set out on trips to the lakes around Triannar with his servant Cayoun. He had him to sing for him and to help him enjoy life to the fullest. Of course without losing their father's favor.

But when Saskuen told him of the rumors about his brother's traitorous plans several months ago small seeds of appreciation had started growing. It was unbearable to even think about what would have become of him if he hadn't at least been warned.

“So he allied himself with the Mencun,” he repeated in stunned disbelief.

Saskuen nodded eagerly. “My informant has friends in the prince's escort. She told me that Prince Shakar negotiated with the cave folk for quite a while and that they have a secret weapon he could use to defeat you. He'll probably use this journey to gather even more followers.”

“What does my father know about this?”

That made Saskuen's enthusiasm vanish. “I don't think...,” he stammered, “His Majesty would surely not prefer his younger... I mean he always recognized you as successor to the throne. I'm sure Shakar's treason goes against his will.”

Falam suppressed a contemptuous snort. Oh well, let Saskuen keep groveling before the king, but he'd make sure to keep his eyes open.

“Call for the generals and the minister of defense! Everyone in the vicinity of Triannar. And have scribes ready to inform those who are stationed near the border.” Saskuen stared at him but when Falam angrily stepped towards him he hurried away.

Falam didn't bother looking after him. He had more important things to do. If Shakar wanted war he could have it.

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King Arnthio hurried through the hallways of castle Triannar. He was more than indignant that his son had called for the kingdom's lords without inviting the king himself. Even worse: without as much as a word to him. If it wasn't for Saskuen coming to him, confused and hysterical, and calling him away from his hunting party, this gathering would have taken place completely behind his back.

He reached the twin doors to the council room and marched past the startled servants who hastily opened the doors for him.

“I had ordered you to let no one in!” his son hollered, admittedly before turning to see him. Arnthio's eyes made him flinch.

“What is going on here?” the king growled.

“Father,” Falam began, “I had hoped we could come to a decision before I had to bother you with this dreadful affair.”

Arnthio frowned. “Important decisions are still the king's matter, my son. So what is dreadful enough to justify such turmoil, yet doesn't need my personal attention?”

Falam started pacing nervously. “Father, I have learned of a conspiracy that has to be stopped as quickly as possible. But as this conspiracy is mainly aimed at me, I thought it wise to take action myself.”

“A conspiracy? Of whom? And how did you come by this knowledge?”

The crown prince smirked. “Well, father, I learned it from the same person who also told you of this meeting,” he said with a gesture towards Saskuen.

King Arnthio turned to the nervous, old man, who kept fingering his buttons before he finally coughed and bowed stiffly. “Your Majesty, I have indeed heard some very alarming tidings,” he said, every word causing his tremulousness to melt away. “It seems that your younger son is no longer content with the position his birth gained him. My confidante disclosed him using the talks with the Mencun to gather allies for a civil war.”

Arnthio just stared at him. “What are you prattling about? Your confidante? Who is that?”

A sliver of incertitude glided over his features, but after a reassuring glance at Falam, Saskuen went on. “A maidservant who has close contact with members of Shakar's escort has told me about what she has seen and heard. I have had all her past claims checked and they proved to be true.”

“A maidservant?” Arnthio growled. He could hardly keep from grabbing Saskuen by the lapels and shaking the man. Burning with anger he hissed: “How dare you? How dare you accuse the prince of high treason on the word of a mere maidservant?!”

Now the old man did cower from him. Yet Falam stepped closer. “But of course, father,” he said and smiled without mirth. “Your most precious son is naturally beyond all doubt. May every man in your service turn traitor, Shakar will stay the shining prince, the great leader, whom you always preferred to see on the throne in my stead.” He snorted. “Do you think I didn't know? Do you think I was blind of your love for my traitorous brother?” His eyes grew cold. “I'm only beginning to wonder about your part in this sad little play, father.”

Arnthio grabbed the crown prince's collar and hissed: “I won't have your petty accusations! How dare you address me like this! You will cease your insolence and stay in your quarters!” He let go of his son and glanced at the gathering. “This session is closed! There will be no campaign unless the king commands it!”

Bowing the lords and generals hurried outside, preceded only by Saskuen who had used his first chance to run. Only Falam remained, but after one last hateful glare, he left as well.

Arnthio pulled a chair close and collapsed into it. He hid his face in his hands and stayed there without motion for a long time.

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When Falam looked into his dressing room's mirror the next morning he almost shrank back. His cheeks were hollow and dark shadows rimmed his eyes. He had to admit it had been a rough night, a night when he, even after Saskuen had flown from his chambers, paced his rooms, ranting and raving, cursing his father and brother. A night when he had punched the walls in powerless anger, full of helpless fear. What would become of him, once Shakar had seized the throne. A night when he had been dragged from sleep, by his ruin foretold in his nightmares.

A noise made him whirl around.

Saskuen stood in the door, his gray hair ruffled, his hands wandering aimlessly over the frame.

In spite of himself Falam had to smile. “You look like you had a bad night, too.” At least there was one person who suffered with him.

But Saskuen didn't return the smile. “Your Majesty,” he breathed. “It's...” He was searching for words, moving his lips without making any sound.

Falam frowned. “What is it?” he asked impatiently.

“Your father...”

The crown prince's eyes narrowed. “What does he want now?” he hissed. “Did he decide to take the throne from me this very moment?”

“He is dead.”

Falam blinked. “What?”

“He was found dead in his quarters this morning.”

Falam's hand strayed to his face and passed over his eyes. For a moment he thought himself to be dreaming, but this was too unreal even for a dream. Silently he walked past Saskuen and sank into a chair in the neighboring room.

His servant followed him through the door but stopped in his tracks, not daring to come any nearer.
The prince stared into emptiness and was surprised to feel the sting of unshed tears.

“Your Majesty.”

He tiredly raised his head.

“There is something else.” Saskuen seemed to struggle with these words even more. “Your father... he didn't die of a natural cause. He was murdered.”

Within the blink of an eye, Falam was on his feet and faced down his servant. “Who? Who did this?”

“He was poisoned. The guards took the maid into custody who brought him his night meal. She...” he fumbled over the words. “Her name is Arris. I told the guards. This morning. I'd have told His Majesty yesterday if he had asked me. I'd have gone to him today and told him everything I know.”

Falam grabbed Saskuen's shoulders and realized how much the old man was shaking. “Saskuen? Tell me it's not true! She wasn't your confidante! Tell me!”

The distorted, pale face gave him the answer clearly enough. Screaming angrily Falam pushed him away and clenched his fists.

“What kind of snake did you drag to me, old man? You claimed to have checked whether what she told you was true! Was this merely incompetence?” Saskuen had crumpled on the floor and managed no sound. That only fueled Falam's anger. “Now what? Did you run out of clever lectures?”

The prince's servant still made no move to get up and started babbling excuses, but Falam hardly heard him. He didn't know what to think. Were all the things Saskuen had told him about Shakar's treason nothing but lies? No, that simply couldn't be! He didn't just imagine the rivalry with his younger twin! It would be madness to abandon all the plans he had made for his defense. No, he had to proceed against Shakar, if he wanted to secure his throne.

“We have been tricked, Your Majesty,” he heard Saskuen say and in this moment he realized something: it didn't matter. Whatever this girl's reasons were to approach Saskuen, the prince knew what he wanted and that was all that counted. He didn't want to share his throne with Shakar, didn't want to live in fear of losing his power to a more well liked candidate.

So he had to act now. There'd be no better time than this.

Without even looking at Saskuen he went to the door and called for the guards. When Captain Irjen arrived with two of his men he swallowed all remaining doubt and straightened himself.

“Captain, where is my father's murderer?” he asked with firm voice.

“She is secured in the dungeon, Your Majesty. My men are still searching for co-conspirators--”

“Looks like I did that task for you, Captain,” Falam interrupted him. “As it turns out my own servant had befriended this snake. Take him with you when you go down to the dungeons and bring me her head.”

Irjen stared at him for a moment, his jaw slack with surprise, then he gestured to his men to take out Sasken who was still protesting his innocence. Before following them he ventured a timid question. “Shouldn't the girl's guilt be confirmed in a trial?”

Falam snorted. “Is there any doubt she's guilty?”

“Well, we found her trying to sneak out of the king's quarters.”

“That'll suffice, I'd say. Why draw the matter out more than necessary?”

Irjen seemed to be searching for words, but in the end he simply bowed and hurried away to do his duty.

Next Falam sent for his master of ceremony and his mother. He knew, he had to act quickly now. He'd need her approval, yet he was confident she'd recognized what was at stake and act in his favor. Unlike his father his mother had never made him doubt her love.

Convincing Queen Lalay of the betrayal of her second son and the necessity to not leave the nation without guidance in such a dark hour happened so quickly, even the former crown prince felt almost surprised when his coronation was scheduled for that very evening.

And when the crown was finally placed on his blond head, Falam straightened himself and sat down on his throne, cheered on by the hastily gathered honoraries.

“Let the commanders come in. They shall start the muster tonight, for tomorrow we go to war!”