Hapem
He sat in the cushioned chair, watching Margh and Arthur discuss. The topic was heating quickly and inevitably. Hapem knew an argument was brewing. They two had been discussing strategy changes since Taperend had died. As his opinion had not been asked, he had just listened and learned. Margh yelled, “Why are you so adamant about staying where we are? We can easily march out now and take over Dupark and then Napemol, securing the entire middle of Cobardon for Rulerstead and…” His father interjected, “And you would be dead. Dupark and Napemol both currently house dragons. Also–” Margh interrupted, “Dragons are no big deal. They are but slaves who have long since receded to humanity’s might. And, rumours say that Robert had killed a dragon before he died.” Hapem coughed. No one had yet such boldly, and directly put Robert’s death before Arthur. He could see Arthur’s hand clench into fists under the map table. Arthur spoke with a voice that edged on unleashing rage, “Do not interrupt me again. And wrong. Robert and Alicia had slain the dragon. Robert and Alicia, two of the finest warriors in all of Cobardon, aware of the fact that Niuba and his blessing, death, loomed overhead. And don’t you dare think you are any match for Robert. And your plan is an ignorant blunder as you will find Dupark and, surprisingly, Napemol’s army crawling up the Mirzec Forest.” Margh was stupid, but not so stupid as to not notice the sudden change in tone. He spoke defensively, “I don’t think that I am better than or equal in skill to Robert, yet. But we will have an army against those dragons.” Hapem knew how to retort to that: dragons have huge egos, so they do not fight as defensively against few people but against armies, they fly above the clouds and dip down like hawks to melt the armies with their fiery breath and then hid again behind the shelter of clouds. Arthur didn’t offer that reason however, his mind most probably clouded with fuming anger. His father said, “Dupark has the largest dragon ever known in written history. You force me to besmirch my son’s death – the dragon Robert faced was but a child.” Margh was too irritated by now and he shot a poisoned volley of pointy words, “You mean the death you could have totally avoided. Or the fact that you are currently siding with my brother’s murderers.”
Hapem saw Arthur’s jaw clench. Arthur opened his mouth then immediately snapped them shut. Only one word echoed through the room with icy bitterness – ‘leave’! Margh got up, not at all ashamed, and slowly walked out. Hapem followed Margh a breath later.
Once they were far away from the room, he gripped Margh’s hand and spun his brother around. He said, “You should apologise to father.” Margh tilted his head and asked maliciously, “And why should I? I said nothing wrong, younger brother.” Margh stressed on younger, telling Hapem that it wasn’t his place to correct an elder. Hapem felt an internal conflict rise within – a sane part of him wanted to deny him as he knew why Arthur was doing what he was doing, but there was a sadder, darker part of him, a part he had never felt before yet now every day he felt that part grow bigger and bigger, lending him a pearl of uncanny wisdom and knowledge he hadn’t known he had never learnt; the brooding part wanted to crazily agree to Margh. He didn’t know where that part had come from.
Using all of his will, he said, “It was not father’s fault. He had no choice. Come to my room, I will explain the reason to you over there. But you dare not let it out.” Margh exclaimed loudly, “Father explained himself to you, younger brother, and to me, he said, ‘I will tell you when you grow older’.” Hapem opened his mouth to explain his brother but before he could speak Margh had stormed away. He felt a realisation creep in him – he had strangely felt anger upon being called younger – maybe it was because know he thought he was wiser than Margh. Though that would be narcissism to think I am smarter than Margh, he mused with a smile, amused by the fact that he still thought he was wiser than Margh. That is one emotion I won't be able to shrug away for my entire life. Margh is one day going to become Lord of Lopelanzec. Raguela please make him more mature by then, he pleaded to the goddess.
With that, he headed to the library to think about the fact that Napemol and Dupark’s armies were in Mirzec Forest. It meant a siege was coming soon, mostly in 3-4 days.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arthur
He had given the order to hoard food and livestock a week ago; he had also commanded everyone who had land or residence out of the city walls to enter the city and he had provided free boarding for them. People had responded quite efficiently and quickly to his orders and now Lopelanzec’s doors were closed and barred with the people safe inside. He was prepared for three months of siege, hoping help would arrive until then.
Arthur stood on his fortress’s terrace with both hands on a metallic railing. His cloak snapped in the wind as he spotted a large shadow cast on clouds and land and then disappear. The dragon(s) had arrived; however, he was yet unsure of the number. He looked out – only today had the armies of Napemol and Lopelanzec had arrived. Behind him, he knew, one noble from each noble house in Lopelanzec had arrived and they stood, arrayed as a ring with Arthur at the hem.
His unbidden mind fluttered to his son’s death. Grieving time was over, he reminded himself. Sons will be born and will die, and anyway, he still had Margh and Hapem. He dismissed all the fawning courtiers to have his own counsel as they all slowly made their way out of the single door that led to the terrace. Many last stands had been held there.
A war was waging. The Dupark had turned treacherous and brought down Taperend yet somehow won Napemol’s armies; the Eye had looked over the issue, ignoring intently. Morningstar had just begun forming their host with slouchy bannermen. He didn’t even hope for Seachurner’s support. Fort Wingbearer had started the rebel and had crowned Orwen as king. Our own king cannot even mount a horse, he hopelessly pondered. They and the Valley were the only ones to act breakneck and remain staunch allies to Rulerstead.
There came a scream and then the horn sounded 4 times — An arbitrator. Arthur commanded to let them in and he with a few other guards met them at the castle gates. In came a strange contingent — a harper, a timid man with an intimidating crossbow, a beaming senile and a conceited man hidden in a black cloak with red trimmings. Dupark colours, he thought viciously. The concealed man moved forward cautiously. A voice boomed from within the clock, "Come forward" and his finger pointed at Arthur. Arthur sceptically trotted forward on his horse and humbly inquired, "Who are you, who speaks with such valour?"
The figure leaned forward from his horse and whispered in his ear, "You know me!" In a flutter of an eye, the figure drew behind and threw away his cloak. The face both underneath enlightened and surprised Arthur. "I bring you, Arthur, the Dupark and Napemol armies," Taperend gleefully announced, ushering himself into Arthur's embrace. Arthur's face paled, his voice quavered, and he stumbled for words, "Brother-in-law… Taperend how is this possible?" He nuzzled back Taperend and touched Taperend’s chin. His hand didn't pass through it. Not a ghost, Arthur determined, colour returning to his face.
“How fare my nephews,” Taperend inquired cherubically. “Well,” Arthur muttered. Taperend stretched his arms and yawned then breathed out with satisfaction as his stomach bulged out and pressured the horse’s neck. Taperend comically shook his head, his smooth, brownish-golden hair jiggling waywardly. He made a show of his activities and then finally said with a laugh, “It seems I need sleep. I have spent countless hours of night unravelling the secrets of the multiverse, dissecting every inch and peeking under every rug to find the missing pieces to complete my ultimate knowledge.” Arthur was unsure whether it was a joke or if Taperend was serious so, he spoke nothing. Taperend saw it and said with a laugh, “Does my blathering weary your mind numb to see the wisdom I impart sitting upon the most uncomfortable of the seats? Let me rest the cold rooms upon those hard, stone-like mattresses that every soul in Cobardon yearns to rest upon. So much fun!” This time Arthur knew it was intended as a joke. Sarcasm! That was Taperend’s expertise, wasn’t it? He gestured to the city’s gates, which creaked as the barring was lifted. Arthur himself trotted his horse in another direction, towards a half-man-wide, camouflaged door that was on the north side of the city so anyone from Dupark or Napemol would not see the entrance. He smiled to himself as he remembered Taperend’s feigning idiosyncrasies. My brother-in-law has not changed a bit, he mused, as nostalgia filled his mind.
No foolish Arthur don’t let your shields down, he screamed at himself. He crushed his delight born from seeing Taperend – though Taperend was his brother-in-law, he knew from experience that Taperend could not be trusted, not at all in such uncertain times. Taperend may work for me or against me yet I will never know, Arthur thought, so it’s best to assume the worst. Oh Taperend, he mused with relief, you may be sly and devious but in those qualities, you can’t best fate itself. The tables shall turn in any instant, yet you may have no control over it because such is fate with its unconjecturable manoeuvres. The thought somewhat gave him peace – he knew that however cunning all his friends and foes were nothing put pawns to fate’s will, they all were equal, every person, in fate’s eyes.
Raguela, he prayed, at least let one member of my family live and I shall be your immortal slave. He heard no reply. Good! In his thoughts he had prayed for the worst punishment – undying slavery – it was best that the goddesses had ignored it, but she had heard it. He was sure that the goddesses had heard his plea and yet decided to not cease upon such an opportunity to inflict torture and pain on mortal souls. He wondered upon that, maybe Raguela is the kindest immortal, by giving her ignorance she gave me her kindness.
ns 15.158.61.55da2
