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Prologue
BY ORDER OF HIS MAJESTY KING UHTRIC ARDEN-DRACA
Gods-sworn sovereign and ruler of Khaim and the Isles ofMhrydain, His Holy Majesty, Gods-blessed descendant of the Saviour KingAdair
The wickedness of sorcery must come to an end.
The blood of the Sundering shall be bled clean from ourshores.
The dark magics of the so-called princes of the Denelands arehereby forbidden, on pain of death.
If you suspect sorcery, alert the crownsworn at once.
Peace will reign.
Royal decree across the Isles of Mhrydain, Year 613 A.S.
†
Khaim, Year 713 A.S.
The Council fell deathly silent as the prince entered, purposefully late.
Murmurs spread as he strode down the central aisle, boots echoing on the stone. Past rows of filled benches, through jagged coloured light streaming from high stained-glass windows, depicting stylised renditions of Khaimlicorderandhonour. To his vacant seat atop the dais at the end of the chamber.
All eyes on him, he sat, folding one long leg smoothly over the other. ‘Please, do not stop on my account.’
The Speaker cleared their throat and continued. ‘Unless there are any other motions—’
‘If I may.’
The Speaker acknowledged the prince with a reverent bow.
‘I would motion that the Court of the Council in the Dominion and Principality of the Denelands, and the Marches of the Same, henceforth meets in session in Eascild, where I intend to move my holdings.’
There was stunned silence in the wake of the prince’s words.
‘Majesty,’ one of the four Justices began, ‘Eascild… is in the Denelands.’
‘In Cyngalon, yes.’
The name evoked winces, even grimaces. Some intakes of breath.
Cyngalon.The lands across the Splintered Sea now more commonly known as the Denelands, annexed to Khaim at the end of a long and bloody conquest that had lasted generations. The lands whose laws the Council currently presided over.
‘Majesty, certainly it is impractical to move the Council in its entirety? Many have their holdings here in Khaim. It would be a monumental undertaking.’
‘Your concern is noted. As stated, I will be moving my holdings to Eascild forthwith. Those Justices who are unable or unwilling to resettle have the option to nominate myself or another representative to speak for them, until such time as they can make the journey.’
The Justice scoffed and searched their peers for mirrored incredulity. Found none.
It unfurled before all four of them, then. The subterfuge. The trap.
Everyone else already knew what was happening, only they did not.
‘Majesty,’ another tried, ‘the issues this Council discusses are very much Khaimlic.’