Chapter Two of "The North"

Chapter Two – A small meeting
Hevel had left Alavor with Lira when they entered the castle.
‘So…’ began Lira, confused ‘Father is the king of the world?’ Alavor chuckled.
‘No, little flower. Your father is king of all lands north of the river.’
‘River?’ she asked, holding her uncle’s hand as they walked down the long, stone hallway to her room. ‘Which river’s that uncle?’
They stopped in the hallway and Alavor pointed to a map hanging to their left. ‘Look here, girl’ he began, pointing to a river about a hundred miles south of Curtelen. The river ran horizontally from coast to coast. The river was man-made by the men of the south, hundreds of years ago after the Great War against the north. But that was no tale for Lira, not today. ‘Everything north of this river is the land of your father’. Alavor smiled musingly at Lira’s mesmerised face as she stared up at the map.
‘All of it?’ she asked fascinated.
‘Ye- … yes’ he said. Honestly however that was not the truth. For although most of it was the lands to the west and north of Camble had no allegiance to her father. For they were uncharted lands ruled by wild clansmen. He outstretched his hand and pointed to Curtelen. ‘Here is where you are’ he smiled.
‘And what about that?’ she asked pointing and circling the land south of the river.
‘Well that belongs to the kings of the south, none of us can ever go there, little flower. Dangerous lands they are’ he trailed his finger to the west across the sea to a small coastline on the edge of the map, of which only the western coastline was charted. ‘And here belongs to the kings of the east’
‘That place is very small’ she noted.
‘No, no’ corrected Alavor ‘the land outstretches much further this way’ he trailed indicating to the right of the framed map before continuing in a softer voice ‘and south’. Lira fell silent and began to walk with her uncle. ‘And someday you will be like your mother, and you will be a queen’.
A large smile spread across the little girl’s face. They reached the end of the hall and entered Lira’s room. It was a large room, ensured by Hevel being her only daughter. There were many windows that looked out down at the town. Banners hung from the wall showing their house symbol: the Leron’s bear paw. A large bed sat in the middle and many books on the shelves to the sides, many books. Some fairy tales of the moorlands in the south, some of the isles in the east, highlands in the north and the mysteries of the forgotten land in the west. And even some from her school. Where Duncan and Peter would go hunting she would attend to her studies, learn poems, and learn how to sing, learn how to be a lady: how to be her mother. A queen.
Alavor said his farewell and left the little lady in peace. He retuned down the long hallway back towards the stairs. The wide, circling stairs lead down to the main hall, also the throne room. And the end of the throne room lead out to the courtyard. On the same hall of Lira was all the children’s quarters. Peter’s nearest the stairs, Duncan’s closer to Lira. In the castle rose many towers of stone, and many balconies. It was quite the scene in winter, the paintings of Curtelen seen all around the world in its snowy niche.
Alavor reached the bottom floor and found Nithron in the throne room, alone. It was a cold room, solemn and dark save the light of candles hanging on bronze chandels from the roof. The room was fairly empty considering its size, made of stone yet had oaken pillars and supports all carven with symbols and figureheads of the North’s past. At the end of the hall sat the wooden throne, its back rising high. A large, ever-burning fire in the centre of the hall. To the side of the hall was a long table where the council would meet and that is where Nithron sat alone. Alavor approached him.
‘I thought you had the day off?’ he asked. Near the table was a table of which on sat a selection of wines and ales. Alavor leaned on the table and studied the choices.
‘I do’ he replied, ‘but honestly I’m not entirely sure what to do’. Alavor picked up a glass and pored himself a small glass of white, taking a seat next to the king’s advisor. He let out a long sigh.
‘What do you usually do on your days off?’
‘Well, I don’t actually have days off’ said Nithron flicking through a small notebook from his tunic. ‘What do you do on yours?’ he asked, rather confused, looking blankly at the pages. Alavor thought for a moment.
‘I don’t get days off either, but sometimes’ he said trailing, lifting his glass and fining his tone ‘Just sometimes I get the day off. On special occasions, like Peter’s birthday two months or so ago, or Lira’s where Hevel and myself took her to get her new pony’ he placed the glass down on the wooden table. ‘I’ve forgotten how many years ago that was now’. Nithron looked up at the knight, he had taken off his helmet when he entered the castle some time back, left it by the gate somewhere. His gauntlets lay now at the side of the wine table and so Nithron saw his face. He had black hair, long and strangely black eyes yet truthfully they were dark brown. Very dark. He was not old, yet not young though he had seen many things. Far too many things by his judgement, terrible things. Death by all means and forms he had seen and Nithron wondered how many people he had killed.
‘It must be so exciting being a knight’ exclaimed Nithron ‘All I do is tend to parchments and letters’. Alavor took longer to reply than the man expected, he just sat stirring his glass in his hand, head bowed in weariness.
‘It was’ he said finally, long ago. ‘Exciting it was but hardly fun. Broderick and I rode off together when we were younger. Before he had a family we often lead men North West to the Clanlands’
‘Ah yes, the Clanlands’ said Nithron remembering his education many years ago. ‘Wild lands they are. Once a part of the kingdom if I remember right’
‘Aye, long ago. Though we never had much authority there in the west. The local wild men did not like being told by us how to live their lives – I suppose much the same as we do not like the southerners having control of us’
‘It’s strange how people here in the north think Broderick has utter control, we all like to think that. Although it is mostly true the south has final say in all laws we want to pass. We aren’t even the same country anymore. The southerners made the Diver to keep us from going south, as if we even wanted to’
‘Wanted to?’ said Alavor, ‘why in the red hell would we want to go south? North is where we belong and so is where we will stay’
‘Do you think we will ever take it back?’ asked Nithron, ‘you know? Reclaim the Clanlands’. Alavor was silent in thought.
‘I can’t see it happening’ he replied honestly ‘Not with Broderick at least, too tied down with family’
‘Peter?’ asked Nithron quietly, leaning back in the chair. It took a moment for Alavor to understand what the advisor was asking.
‘Oh, perhaps’ he began. ‘Who knows, maybe one day Peter will take back the Clanlands. I can’t see it happening. To do so he would need all three clans to unite, and although they swore their allegiance to the throne here’ he continued, beckoning at the throne ‘It takes more than an oath to make them march together, they need a good purpose. A common cause if you will’
‘And what might that be?’ Nithron asked. ‘The Great War wasn’t exactly the best of causes’
‘the Great War was different, nobody had a choice. The southerners needed…’ Alavor laughed bleakly ‘“needed” more land. Yet the truth is they just wanted rid of us. We are a thorn in their side. We always have been’ he stopped remembering the tales of the Great War. Alavor smiled at his ancestors. ‘We gave them such a kicking they wouldn’t think of coming north for another era’
‘or two’ added Nithron. Alavor finished his wine and stood up.
‘Enjoy the rest of your day’. He then walked out of the hall. His footsteps echoing. The two men at the door, dressed in light leather and chain armour with black under tunics and weathered cloaks swung open the doors and sir Alavor walked out into the courtyard. There were many men there, and women but no children. The gate to the city from the castle courtyard was open and many horse and carts were being towed to and from.
Two high stone bricked towers guarded each side of the gate and flying on top of each were flags. Green and white with the brown bear paw in the middle. It was then Alavor noticed something was wrong. Inconspicuously men were arming themselves in the corner and bringing themselves onto horses. Grabbing spears and making for the back gate of the castle. Alavor counted fifteen men on horseback in their travel gear. Leather, black brown and dark green. Hoods up and covering their mouths. Bows across their back, swords at the side and spears in their hand. Alavor quickened his pace and ran over to a large man who appeared to be speaking to a troubled lady. It was Hevel.
‘Darator!’ said Alavor approaching hastily. ‘What is going on?’
‘Ah, sir Alavor. I was wondering where you were. We got a tip off on a Clanlands raiding party coming down from the north, should be passing by the hunting grounds about now’ Darator was the captain of the watchman. A royal position yet not within the royal family. He served as military leader and protector of Broderick, yet he rarely did so by leave of his king. Broderick often refused bodyguards when in his own lands. Alavor was about to turn away when he stopped dead in his tracks.
‘What did you say?’ he said instantly, snapping around at the man with a fiery ambition. ‘What did you say?’ Darator was taken aback.
‘The raiding party is at the hunting grounds? …’ he said slowly, standing up straight. Hevel caught on quicker than Darator and put a hand over her mouth. Alavor spoke silently trying not to catch the ears of the passers-by and to raise an alarm.
‘The king and the boys are there you fool’ he said quickly, mere inches away from Darator’s face. That now edged hard as steel in solemn fear. Darator said nothing else. He pushed past Alavor and ran to his horse. Mounting he charged full speed past all his riders to the front of the line. Urging them into a charge as well. The secret back gate swung open and they raced down the edge of the hill, now with a much sterner ambition.
Alavor took Hevel by the arm and began leading her into the castle. ‘Come, my lady’ he said ‘Don’t you worry, everything’s going to be okay. Your boys are great fighters’ Hevel could hear no more and ran by herself into the hall, making for Lira’s room. Alavor stood outside the hall in the cold air in deadly suspense, he could take no more. He mounted the nearest horse he could find and galloped fast as he could out the closing gate to follow the riders.