Tale of Four

Amru sat atop his horse on a sand hill and looked down at his men, the chase of the valley forces halted by the reality of their condition. He would have loved to chase them, push them to the Desert Gate. Make them hunker down, believing they were safe, only to continue facing attacks and a siege. But he knew better. His men needed rest. He needed to rest. He had done what was necessary, chasing those who fled and killing those who remained behind. He had salvaged a battle, and what came next was rest.

Petting his exhausted steed’s neck, he jumped off, hearing it collapse, and held the Carter banner high for all those below to see. The Desert lord and soldiers looked up to see Amru, his face covered by the cloth mask, satined with blood and sand. His eyes were hard, having lost the hesitation they had before his father’s death. Before them all didn’t stand the heir ordered to stay in the back and learn from battle, but their new leader and Lord who led the counterattack.

Amru watched as a group of men stepped out of the larger group. They were tired, some injured, but they did what they knew they had to do. One held a banner of a rainbow carp on a blue background. Another with a golden field with a red sun. Another with a grey tower popping out of a brown book. Another, a green snake coiled around a heart. Amru looked down at the men, the few major lord of the desert or their representatives who marched with his father.

One by one, they dragged themselves forward and looked up at Amru before falling to their knees, their banners falling with them. "We swear." The one holding the rainbow carp banner spoke, "We swear loyalty to the Traveller’s chosen. To the ruler of Kript. To the ruler of the Desert. To Lord Amru Carter. From this day until our last." Lord Carp said, his words repeated by the others. The soldiers, feeling the moment, fell to their knees, looking up at Amru, repeating the oath back to him.

Amru nodded and grabbed the shepherd sword recovered from his father, feeling the weight the thin blade carried and nodded. "You honour me." Amru replied and looked around, "Rise. All rise. We are all brothers of the sand, and I shall not have you kneel." One by one, men rose and looked up at Amru as he pulled the shepherd sword from its scabbard. The thin blade reflected the moonlight, and Amru took a deep breath.

"I will carry the will of my father, the will of the Traveller and the will of the Desert. Our vengeance does not stop." Pacing back and forth, the upper half of his body bounced as he felt his blood burning, his voice growing louder with each cry. "Death to the false king. Death to the invader of our home. Their bodies shall feed our sands. I will burn Epton. I will burn Helios. All who declared for the false king shall fall to our fury, and he will join them in the pits of hell." Amru came to a stop, his chest still bouncing with heavy breaths. Stabbing the Carter banner in the ground, he smiled, "May the sands engulf them."

"ALL HAIL LORD CARTER!" A cry rang out from a random soilder, the exhaustion he should have felt missing in his cry. Lifitng his sword, others carried the cry until it echoed across the dunes, lifitng their blades up in support. Amru held his sword up in reply to their cry.

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Samuel sat with eyes closed within the Desert Gate, hearing the report of the battle from a tired scout. Grinding his teeth, he took a deep breath and slammed his fist into the table. "Order the retreat. Leave a token force to protect those who return. Once they do, march back to Seven Spire." Samuel coldly said, not allowing room to counter.

"My Lord. What of Lord Bunker and the Waterway siege?" A man asked, and Samuel stayed silent. Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath.

"Send word to lord Bunker. Let him judge." Samuel replied and stood up, not wishing to remain any longer, knowing the Desert would soon arrive.

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Oliver leaned against a small box, cleaning his blade. Around him, Henry and Clifford silently carried out their own maintenance, enjoying the silence as Jeremy leaned against Oliver, sleeping, twitching occasionally. The flap of the tent opened, and Louis walked in with a grave expression. Before they could jump up and bow, he waved them down and took a seat at the head.

"What I am about to say must not be said until officially announced. Am I clear?" The three paused and looked at one another, wondering what caused such a serious attitude shift in their lord. Nodding, Louis took a deep breath. "We are retreating."

"My Lord..." Henry said in utter confusion, but Louis lifted his hand and stopped him before he could say more.

"Lord Alkaris is dead." His voice was quiet. The world seemed to come to a standstill hearing that, and for a while, Oliver couldn’t move.

’Dead? Lord Alkaris?’ He couldn’t believe it. He had seen the man and what kind of monster he was. If Oliver didn’t know better, he would think Louis was playing a sick joke on them. ’How could anyone kill him?’ The thought terrified him, and Oliver took a few shallow breaths as Louis let the words sit.

"Lord Bunker has received word and is calling for a retreat. It is under the guise of new informaiton received of a massive assault from the forest, but soon the truth will become clear. All of you must understand what this means. The war has changed." Louis rubbed his face and sighed.

"My Lord." Oliver spoke up, "Do we know... How? I mean, Surly Lord Alkaris didn’t fall from assassination or the like?"

"In battle. Lord Alkaris, Roderick Lazwell and a few other commanders fell. Samuel Goat survived and is leading the retreat to Seven Spire." Louis bitterly smiled, "There is good news if it is true. Lord Alkaris slew Lord Carter in battle with him. The Desert won’t attack so quickly because of it." Louis stood up. "Do what you will with this information, but we are retreating. Make sure you are prepared." Louis left, leaving the three to look at one another in shock. For hours, they were silent and unmoving.

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Hector sat at the head of a grand table, at the highest point within the Flower Palace. Looking out the window, he saw the high walls surrounding his Palace, each one covered in vines filled with fruits and flowers. Within the walls, large gardens full of flowers spread like a sea, occasionally broken up by stone paths or streams of water filled with fish, swans and ducks. The doors opened, but Hector didn’t look away straight away, enjoying the sight of his garden as members of his family walked in one by one.

Sandra took the lead and sat by his right side. Next, Lady Seaworth took his left hand, lovingly holding it and smiling deeply, her orange hair reflecting in the sunlight as her hazelnut eyes stared into his. Next was Christian, accompanied by the smell of nature, followed by Mara, a shy girl with thin glasses, who tried to hide her face with her long green hair. Next was Silvia, proudly holding her head high, showing off her beautiful looks. Finally, Carla, the plumpest of Hector’s daughters, still as beautiful as her parents, wearing her green hair in a crown braid.

Once the legitimate Clovers took their seats, the bastard children of age sat. Gerald, Ander and Gloria, a woman with looks that rivalled Silvia’s near-transcendent beauty, only noticeable as a bastard by the white streaks in her green hair, inherited from her mother. They all wore green and brown outfits, each with golden clovers attached to a vine woven through it.

Hector finally turned to them when the last one entered and watched his children, nieces and nephews with a thin smile, basking in the sight. He saw the spiteful gaze Gloria shot Silvia and chuckled. He saw Ander looking at Christian with a kind smile. He saw Silvia looking at Sandra with a sly smile that was begging her to cause mischief after the meeting was over.

Looking at Christian, Hector’s smile grew. The handsome boy, his perfect heir, sat with a friendly smile, happily looking at his cousins, full and half-siblings, enjoying how they spoke to one another with their gazes alone. His green hair and eyes, greener than Hector’s own, looked as if the earth had taken the form of a person; his skin was blemish-free and tanned after his journey across the land, and his sharp features were perfectly suited to his soft gaze and smile.

"Everybody," Hector spoke, getting their attention, and placed a letter on the table. On it was the seal of a star and the seal of a chameleon. "Prince Brandon has sent me some news." Leaning forward, he happily chuckled and peeked at Sandra with his eyes, seeing her worry. "Two weeks ago, Lord Alkairs and Lord Carter battled. Both fell in battle." The happy atmosphere vanished in an instant. Hector and Christian were the only ones unaffected, his heir hiding whatever thoughts he may have behind his smile. "This war has already claimed two Great Lords, and so far I have stayed neutral. However, the odds have shifted. The Waterway siege has been abandoned, and the Valley has retreated back to their home."

Hector smoothly said, gauging the reactions of his kin. Most sat with horrid looks on their faces, realising how the war was different to others. Christian soft smile didn’t change again, and Ander quickly collected himself, looking to Hector with a stern gaze, ready to do as he was ordered.

"After much deliberation, I have made a decision. We do not support Brandon’s claim, nor Anton’s. But your brothers, your cousins, claim the throne." Some raised an eyebrow, wondering what Hector meant, whilst those who knew George’s father nodded. "I have sent my terms to Brandon, and he agreed. George Stem will henceforth be known as George Cosmaton, Son of Cillian Cosmaton, and heir to the Ivory Throne. The Clover house will march in support of the rightful king."

"Father," Gerald said in horror, not realising his mistake at being so informal. "My lord. You can’t be serious. My uncle sits on the King’s council. I have... You know I have wished to marry the Princess. Wh..." Hector raised a hand to stop his nephew from saying anything more.

"My will is final, Gerald. Yes, Lord Doyle sits on the King’s council, but what is that compared to Clover blood on the throne? As for your desire." Hector leaned against his hand and looked away. "Forgive me, my boy. You are dear to me, but I can’t allow this opportunity to be swayed by your feelings."

"Uncle, please." Gerald desperately said, "If we wish for Clover blood on the throne, we can kill Prince Elias and make the princess the King’s heir. My child and hers will inherit. Surely the King won’t turn down your offer for an alliance."

"My will has been made clear, Gerald. We are supporting the claim of a living child, not a fantasy." Hector’s tone turned firm as he stared deep into his eyes. "Am I clear?" Gerald ground his teeth and sat down. Hector sighed at his action but said nothing and looked to Sandra, who smiled sweetly and nodded.

Looking back up, Hector let out a deep breath. "Patients, my family. Never before have we had a chance to place Clover blood on the throne as we do now. Our ambitions. Our Legacy doesn’t end with the war, and Prince Brandon sitting atop the throne. Harvest always comes. We sow the seeds, yes, but we must nurture and protect them so they grow strong. Do not assume we win just becuase George will be king. We must make sure that the throne can’t exist without us."

Hector looked at them all and interlocked his fingers, resting them on his stomach. Leaning back, he looked up at the Clover banner hanging from the ceiling. "Call the banners Christian. We march for Brandon."

End of Arc Five, Part 1- A Knight in War

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