The city of High Raena was magnificent. Its grand archways and weaving cobblestone alleyways were lined with murals, and echoed with the telltale signs of drums, harps, and flutes. The grandiose architecture called to Farek, the masterful music warmed his soul, and the eloquent voices of skilled poets tempted him to put aside his quest—if only for a night—to enjoy the vibrant culture of a city of the arts.
Sadly, Lord Gallendris was here on official duty only. He spent his time in High Raena limiting his exploration to the Joyous Court itself. The eponymous castle that housed His Highness and his favoured artisans was a tribute to an old golden age of architecture and was sharply refreshing in comparison to the mossy, rain-tormented stone towers of Var Nordos. Still, Farek prioritized meeting everyone he could and learning what he could of the Court’s patrons—not admiring this place that was starkly not his home.
It took an irksome lapse of time—nearly two weeks—to organize a meeting between the still-present Archpriests and the relevant staff of the Joyous King’s Court.
To Farek’s pleasant surprise, King Fareon himself attended the meeting—along with the Royal Consort, a woman named Zeleya who was garbed only in scanty lace. His Highness, Farek had learned, was by reputation a cheerful and humorous man. He was as witty and intelligent as he was amiable, though. His policies and leadership rivaled his emphasis on rewarding merit and high society. He rewarded his favour with titles and positions on his Court—a fancy word for the unending party that filled his castle and his sizeable girth. A man of 67, King Fareon was loved by his people unanimously and Farek had been unable to dig up even a mention of a secret about the man. Nonetheless, Farek raised an eyebrow when he saw the Consort—a woman in her early thirties.
King Fareon was accompanied by Military Minister Welrek—a fit soldier around Farek’s age—and Intrigue Minister Nolarim—a man with ashen skin and wiry grey hair. As they entered a circular meeting room, the Raenan representatives were received by bows from Lord Gallendris, Lord Sha, Ambassador Tolia, and the Archpriests from Saanazar—Hartho of the Sage’s Creed and Par of the Cardinal Creed.
His Highness spoke first, once they were all seated. His voice was thick and deep, due to his many years of considerable size: “I am truly honoured to have so many distinguished guests in my city. I only wish the circumstances were less dire. Though our alliance appears strong, I believe we should strike first, before our enemy prepares for a mainland assault.”
“The honour is mine, Your Highness. Thank you for welcoming us into your city,” Farek said. Relieved to finally hear someone voice his own desires, he joined his voice to the King’s. “I couldn’t agree with you more on striking first—they’ve done too much already.”
Of course, Sha and Tolia gave Farek confused glances. He was undermining them, in a way, due to his excitement to take the fight to these ominous enemies. Sha chose his words carefully so as not to contradict Farek. “The Empire of Noress has not expressed this sentiment yet. Our discussions and the belief of the Grey Brethren is to prepare every necessary defence before any conflict occurs.”
Hartho was quick to disagree more directly. “We cannot be certain that the bandit armies even intend to attack the mainland, but attacking first would certainly draw their ire.”
“Apologies,” Farek offered. “I only meant it in enthusiasm at the prospect of acting quickly with our preparations.”
But Archpriest Par was less sure of his comrade’s point. “Lord Gallendris raises a valid point,” the younger priest said. “With assassinations and attacks in our cities, things have been moving too slowly so far.”
The gaunt spymaster in King Fareon’s service frowned. “I expected otherwise. Certainly, the Atmos Septi seek to destroy these wicked southerners to cleanse Gethra for the Sky God.”
“Of course,” Archpriest Hartho said, his balding head shaking as he spoke. “But Atmos’ will cannot be done if our armies are spread thin or defeated. With caution and patience, we will complete his holy commands.”
At that, Nolarim leaned back in his chair, displeased.
Farek delicately invited a clearer direction. “If I may ask,” he began, “how would you approach these options, Your Highness?”
King Fareon sighed. “I put my trust in my advisors and ministers,” he responded. Beneath the table, he seemed to be resting his hand on his mistress’ thigh. “They council me to take pre-emptive action. Men and women are dying in Starath and Bellasa as we speak, unless you have brought more recent tidings.”
“None, I’m afraid,” Lord Sha confirmed.
Farek rubbed his moustache. He knew there were grains of truth in both arguments. Though he suspected their adversary was Tarro, the magician he had angered at the House of Kiaraka, he had no proof—nor did anyone know what the bandit army’s goals were. Did they mean to take the Great Isle only? Or would they attack the Continent, too?
For a moment, the various delegates in the round room were plagued with contrary thoughts. Farek took a small sip of the wine they had provided and—Gods, that’s a good vintage, he thought. He forced himself to put down the glass. He needed his focus. “Have your sources learned anything new?” he asked.
Master Nolarim shook his head gravely. “We discussed information with the Archpriests last week. Unfortunately, everything we know was already known by them.”
“There’s never anything new….” Farek clenched his fists. “We can’t wait for them to attack without knowing anything. We would be woefully unprepared. But committed to a full-scale attack would draw immediate retaliation. What if we tried to compromise with a smaller, insight-seeking raid? We combine a few of ships from each ally and engage in a smaller attack, not with the purpose of breaking a siege, but to learn everything we can of the corsairs we encounter.”
To Farek’s credit, even Lord Sha nodded in agreement. “If we learn enough to make a proper attempt, we should then hurry to break the hold of these brigand armies from one of the cities they lay siege against.”
“I agree,” Archpriest Par said. “People are suffering grave injustices at the hands of this warlord—we should know his motives in the very least.”
The Joyous King patted the table with his visible hand. “I trust you can work out the details—as much as is necessary at this juncture. Nolarim, we’ve already discussed what we can contribute to an allied force.”
“As you say, Your Highness,” the greying Minister responded.
Lord Sha and Ambassador Tolia glanced at one another with raised eyebrows as King Fareon rose to his feet. It was surprising to Farek that he could walk comfortably with one arm around Consort Zeleya, but the two left together. The Archpriests and Raenan Ministers seemed unsurprised by the early departure.
The agreement had happened quickly, but the subsequent discussion lasted much longer. A secondary meeting was planned, this time near Sheld or even Rockfall Point. Military officers from each major ally would be present to orchestrate the details of their attack. Farek and his comrades decided to later seek a magician that could teleport news of this plan to Noress-That-Was. They would advise Matriarch Valakono to respond to Ith if she needed to apprise Farek of any differing orders; the delegation from Var Nordos would otherwise continue their quest for allies.
In Ith, after a major river voyage, Farek and his colleagues would seek allies from the Advisory and from the Crimson Highway. Ith was said to be the largest city in the Known World. If only Farek had time to tour the places he visited. Instead, he felt only torn that he could not hurry home to join the exploratory attack or protect his sisters. He mulled these thoughts over as he allowed himself a little more of the Joyous King’s fine wine.