Chapter 2

Valemonde

“ ... so pigheaded,” Isolde said, her nostrils flaring as she tried in vain to keep her temper in check. “Can’t you see we have to end this stupid war? How many more must die before you see reason?”

“Quiet, damn you,” her father said, massaging his temples. “I was having a peaceful evening before you stormed in here. Why must I deal with your constant nagging?”

“Because someone has to tell you when you’re wrong. You’ve surrounded yourself with sycophants and toadies who only tell you what you wish to hear.”

“You speak of matters beyond your understanding, child. Your naivety is showing.”

She knew she’d scored a mark, though, as his face reddened.

“Naive? Naive is believing this war ends in anything but disaster for our people!”

“Hold your tongue,” Baudric growled.

“I will not. I am not one of your stooges, who cower whenever you raise your voice. I know you think I’m a fool who knows nothing of the world, but I’ve actually spoken with our men, something I don’t think you’ve done in years. I listen to them. I observe. We are losing this war, Father! The Sidorians control nearly the entire northern coast and all our major shipping lanes.”

“A few temporary setbacks,” her father said, waving a hand.

She knew he didn’t believe that. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why he insisted on keeping up this front even with her. He was vain, but he’d never been shy to acknowledge mistakes when it was just the family. He always said it was valuable for them to learn.

And yet, lately, the more she’d pushed him, the more he’d tried to hide his failures from her, instead of admitting his mistakes. Her siblings had started to act the same, pushing her to the outside. She hated it, feeling like an outsider in her own family, but she couldn’t stop doing what she believed was right. Someone had to look after the common people.

“Temporary? Our supplies dwindle by the day. Ships from Werna must sail halfway around the continent and up the southern passage. Trips that once took weeks now take months. We’ve lost countless troops this last year, and the maw will claim even more before winter breaks. Come spring, the Sidorians will march down the Lysmir and lay siege to Valemonde itself. Can you not see the writing on the wall?”

“That will not happen,” he spat, standing up and slamming his fist on his desk. “Our people are far from defeated. You should be ashamed, spouting such defeatist nonsense.”

“Ashamed? For speaking the truth? It’s not what I’ve heard from our soldiers, or what your own generals whisper when they think no one’s listening.”

“Complaints and exaggerations, nothing more,” Baudric countered, but Isolde could see even he didn’t believe that. “We have an entire army in Talabot, and when the snows melt, they will deal with the Sidorians once and for all.”

Isolde snorted. “Like you said about our forces on the peninsula? Or in the Lysmir woods? Or the men at Barentez? The Sidorians crushed them all, Father. How many more must die before you see reason?”

“You speak of matters beyond your comprehension, girl. I’ve been emperor longer than you have been alive. You think gossip from frightened men gives you insight I lack?”

“It’s not just gossip, Father. It’s...”

“Enough!” Baudric roared, slamming his fist on the desk again. “I’ve had enough of this. Get out of my sight before I lose my temper.”

“Fine. I’m leaving for the front. Someone needs to show our soldiers they haven’t been forgotten.”

“You’ll do no such thing. The roads are far too dangerous.”

“Dangerous for me, but not for our men who die there every day?” Isolde countered. “Our family owes them more than empty words and broken promises.”

“I forbid it. You’ll stay here where it’s safe.”

“Safe? While our people starve from your war taxes? While villages go hungry because we can’t protect the supply lines?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Baudric spat. “You’re not going, and that’s final.”

“Someone from this family needs to witness what’s truly happening,” Isolde insisted. “To remind our soldiers why they fight.”

“I said no! By the ancients, girl, I’ll have you clapped in irons if that’s what it takes to keep you here.”

Isolde glared at her father, her brown eyes burning with defiance. Without another word, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Starhaven, Kingdom of Sidor

The Grand Hall was quite possibly the most magnificent building in the world, perhaps aside from the Hall of the Mystics where the Council of Elders who presided over the worship of the ancients resided. Massive stone pillars lined the room, their surface carved with swirling patterns intricate to a degree not possible since the fall of the ancients. The vaulted ceiling soared above the unnaturally perfect flooring colored by the light filtering through the high stained-glass windows.

A space used for coronations and stately funerals, for kingly audiences and world-altering diplomacy. To the general public, it probably seemed as if no one could enter its magnificent doors and be anything less than enthralled and euphoric.

‘Of course, the general public were generally idiots,’ Edmund thought.

Something that was being proven right before his eyes as he watched the new Council of Commoners begin their first meeting since the signing of the treaty that ended the Peasants’ Rebellion, as it was becoming known. Edmund had to hold back a sneer watching them, each one thinking he suddenly had been raised to the level of kings and nobles. It seemed as if not one of them was skilled enough in diplomacy or even basic negotiation to notice how precarious their position was, and that no piece of paper was a strong enough shield to guarantee their safety.

Edmund might have agreed to this arrangement for expediency, but it should have been evident from the sour expression on the king’s face, slumped in his chair, that he would rather hang them all than be here for a minute longer. It had taken every ounce of Edmund’s ability to convince Serwyn that, for now, his best choice was to play along. It wouldn’t take much for these fools to counter his hard work.

The men selected by their peers were a mixture of merchants, small landowners, and tradesmen. Well-to-do men, when compared to the average village peasant, but commoners all the same. Men who faced common challenges and understood little of the world.

As happens in bodies like this, coalitions of people with complementary interests had formed, and several had meetings prior to the first council to put together demands that they thought were the most important. The first hour of the meeting had mostly been squabbling among the councilors to determine which group would get to present their proposed laws and orders to the king.

An hour in which Serwyn stewed, becoming more and more agitated.

Finally, one of the men stepped forward, bowed low, and said, “Your Majesty, we come before you to present a proposal to reduce the taxes on grain. The current rates are crippling our farmers and leading to severe food shortages.”

“Why should I even...” Serwyn started to say, until Edmund gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Perhaps we should hear the full proposal, Your Majesty.”

Serwyn scowled, but at least stopped complaining. Edmund gestured for the man to continue.

“The tithe is so high that most cannot even sustain their families anymore, let alone have any to sell at market, which in turn is making it hard for tradesmen to have enough food. We are close to a real famine because of it. We ask that you lower the tithe from one-fourth to one-sixth, and request that you require the barons to do the same. With the crown and the barons together taking half of each farmer’s crops, not to mention what smaller local magistrates might take, the burden has just become too much.”

“We will take it under advisement and pass it to the Council of Nobles,” Edmund said.

“The Council of Nobles approved the current tax plans, you can’t...” the man said, until Edmund held up a hand, cutting him off.

“As per the Treaty of Starhaven which formed this body, all new laws now require the agreement of both councils in order to pass. This includes new and changed taxes. We made sure to make the provisions available to all of you prior to the start of this session and are simply abiding by the guidelines set down in it.”

The man grumbled, but there wasn’t much he could say. Edmund had made sure that if he had to agree to this foolish Council of Commoners, he had some protection from having them destroy the kingdom with incompetence.