Part 2

(date ref: july 10th vol 1)

KTARTH AND ARIA

Katarth paused in mid stride as the small door opened, Aria entered. Ktarth continued pacing

"I wish you'd stop that" she protested "you'll wear the rug out – I don't know if they'd give us another"

Ktarth hurumphed in response, and dropped, unceremoniously into the hard wooden chair. Their living space was cramped, barely a fifth of the size of Armand's own. It consisted of a single room, one door led out on to a disused corridor, there was a small south facing window, and a small fireplace which heated the room and provided light. Scattered about the room were their few possessions, and odds of furniture. A bed, two chairs, spare blankets, and some cooking utensils. On one wall their weapons were hung, these were their prized possessions.

Ktarth and Aria were not native to Carthia. They were barbarians from the north. It was normal, in their society, to cede battle to superior forces – this happened very rarely, the barbarians stood a foot or more taller than most other tribes of people, and they were strong and fierce with it. When, finally, Louie's massed army had overrun their peaceful (yet surprisingly well defended) village, Ktarth's chieftain had laid down his arms. Thusly the whole village became thralls to the commander of Louie's army, Sir Ethelridge. Bound by customs wrought in iron so long ago they pre-dated Carthia, the vanquished barbarians would remain unswervingly loyal to their new 'chieftain'

Ethelridge had long ago, delivered Ktarth and Aria to Louie as a gift. Technically the barbarians were already Louie's by right, but the kings magnanimity allowed the proud knight to show his loyalty by presenting them as a gift. Louie had been, rightfully, impressed by their fighting skills. Both were masters of the sword, and Aria was also a master archeress, who put all of Louie's own archers to shame.

Louie had given them a small yearly allowance – a generous gesture, as thralls they could demand nothing), the room which they still inhabited, and the task of organising internal security.

Even after the many years they still diligently did their task. They personally stood guard on the doors of the Great Hall, and took the personal safety of the royals very seriously. Still true to their heritage they refused Carthian dress and wore still their tunics and cloaks of bear skins.

The inhabitants of the Stronghold were so accustomed to the barbarians presence, and so unobtrusive was their vigil that they were barely noticed. Neither Ktarth nor Aria minded this, it meant that they were doing their job well. They honoured their gods and ancient customs by their actions, and so felt no shame.

Aria settled on the floor with some cold meat, she ate, while watching Ktarth, who had resumed his pacing.

"There is nothing you can do" she said

"There must be something!"

"It is not our place. They must follow their own path"

"How can they be so blind though?"

"Their ways are different to our own. You know that as well as i. Have more faith in the king and queen, they defeated us did they not? How many people can say that?"

"Aye" he sighed " you always were wiser than I"

The warrior stopped pacing, but a look of worry remained upon his brow.

In their homeland, steeped in religion and mysticism the chief druid would have diagnosed Armand days ago. Things stood out to the barbarians, things the southerners did not seem to know about. Despite the prince's act, the barbarian's saw right through him. They knew that the innocent boy side of him was being subtly eroded. To their way of thinking evil spirits were to blame, their druid would have performed a ceremony and all would be well. Carthia did not seem to have such a thing.

Despite Aria's calming words, she knew that only bad would come of this, the prince's night terrors were only the beginning. Glancing at her beloved, she saw that he knew it too.

Night came, the two barbarians lay holding each other. Though the evil which lurked in the castle could topple the world, and crush their adopted king, it could never touch the love they shared for each other.

INTRIGUE PART 2

(date ref: july 13th)

ALEXANDRA

The sun was near its zenith when the queen awoke, it's light streaming in, through the summer drapes the light was diffused and hazy. Alexandra looked tenderly upon Louie, he was still sleeping. Her king looked like a different man, in sleep contented and secure, far from his worldly troubles. The near permanent frown, arising from his genuine concern had melted away. Other lines, usually so evident seemed non existent. Lying there, looking at him, she thought she saw Louie as he had been well over thirty years ago – maybe longer.

Things were so different then, she had been but a young woman. Even the memory of her wedding, once so crystal clear, had begun to fade. Once recalled though it brought a flood of memories with it. Memories of the once warring continent, of hunger, poverty and death. Louie had eradicated as much of these as was humanly possible. With bravery, cunning and a lot of determination, Louie had led the world into a golden age. Things had been peaceful and prosperous for such a long time now. She, like so many others, had been so pampered and protected in the latter parts of their lives, no one thought ahead any more. Louie seemed immortal, almost god-like. He had, without a doubt, earned that respect with a lot of hard work. Countless times he had faced his own death and always walked away victorious. Of course in theory, everyone knew that one day Louie would die, and knew that Armand the heir would take his place – after all that was the point of heirs. But life seemed so stable, had been so stable. Louie's death was never something to plan for, it would always happen later. But neither of them were young any more.

The stresses of managing even a peaceful kingdom had begun to take their toll. At well over fifty, although still very healthy and active, how much longer could they go on? Mortality would soon be catching up with the both of them. Alexandra was not a morbid woman by nature, she had seen too much death to want to dwell on it, but she was practical.

One day though, in the distant future, Armand would carry the crown, if these dreams of his were a sign of mental instability, all would be lost. Armand was an only child, and at their age they had long since given up hoping for another.

(date ref: july 17th)

ARMAND

Castle life pottered along for the next few days. Everyone relaxed, the drowsy occupants of Carthia's Stronghold laconiously went about their norm. the prince too, seemed in fine spirits.

Armand moved about the castle with a kind of determination, a resoluteness that had been previously absent. The heir had always had the ability to captivate people, hold their attention, but now the effect was hypnotic Armand wandered the sprawling castle mainly in order to think, being a constant centre of attention interfered with his more private train of thought. He found also – perhaps, unconsciously like his father – that movement helped him think. Since finding the crown and the sword he had felt uneasy. at first he had tried to drown his trepidation in laudanum, but had found that unsatisfactory. In the past Armand had never taken an interest in physical activity- that is what thralls were for. But now the pangs in the very pit of his belly forced him to new alternatives. Unknowingly he was also exploring the keep, he had waved away the escort, no longer content to follow some servant to his destinations, he wanted, needed to be no longer dependant on any one. Each day he would set out along a new path, leaving the few familiar corridors behind.

His feet wandered of their own accord, pausing here and there, more often than not he would find himself in the oldest parts of the Stronghold, built before time. Some places, scattered throughout the continent, had legends that when the first Carthians arrived they stood already. The tribes adopted the relics and they became part of their heritage, the first towns had sprung up around these places, forming the basis for the new nation.

Armand, on his wanderings kept feeling that he was missing something vital about the Stronghold. It was on the third day that he finally had the revelation. He had paused in front of a blank wall. In this area the walls were carved from solid mountain rock, but here there was an almost invisible line running down the stone, another similar line ran parallel less than a metre away. Armand crouched on the dusty floor and felt around, brushing away the dirt, his fingertip caught a splinter. There was a semi-circular groove on the floor. His mind now fully intent upon the masonry, he realised what should have been obvious to the whole population. He stood, ignoring strained leg muscles, and began prodding at the stone. For a good hour he stood tapping and cursing, if anyone had seen him, they would have undoubtedly declared him insane, but eventually he was rewarded. A whole section of the wall swung outwards, revealing a dark cavity. It was just wide enough for a slender person to slip through sideways.

Armand was built like his mother, lacked the heavy muscles of his father, and so was able to slip in with only a little difficulty. He felt a little concerned about becoming trapped – in these abandoned halls far from his normal haunts, the chance of being rescued was realistically nil.

In the end he pushed on regardless, he would have to take the risk, if anyone else found out about this the hidden places would offer him no advantage. Once inside the gap he found there was plenty of room. The secret door swung shut of its own accord behind him, the audible click made Armand jump. The prince swung around, attempting to reopen the door – he had not thought to bring a taper through with him. The door stalwartly refused to open.

He felt round the compartment, in the now pitch blackness he feared the space to be isolated. Starving to death in a sealed room was not Armand's idea of a good joke, especially when it would be he who would be doing the dying.

Very, very gently a slight breath of air tugged at a wisp of his hair, it brought with it a faint promise of voices.

As swiftly as he dared (which was not very swiftly) he followed the promise. Hands outstretched, he walked on in blindness. A part of him, the part which was most familiar recoiled from what he was doing. The passage? Room? – he could not tell which was darker than any night. Centuries of disuse had deposited unrecognisable debris all over the floor, over which he frequently tripped. A distasteful smell emanated from all around, it was the smell of rot, death and long establishes mildew.

From faint whiff to full blown stench the smell escalated. Sheltered (as was fitting) from the smells of poverty, the prince's nose was highly sensitive to these disagreeable odours. A barely audible drip grew to a stream of filthy liquid as the prince continued. The foetid smell caused him to gag and choke, pressing a handkerchief to his mouth he managed to queasily continue.

The voices were still but echoes on the air, with each faltering step forward they grew more distinct. Gradually the air became cleaner. At one point he tripped up a flight of stairs, landing heavily and grazed his knee. Had there been any light he might have glared at the besmirched and bleeding knee. For the skin was broken, and royal blood was seeping down the leg of his trousers. But, as it was too dark to see anything, the prince picked himself up and climbed the stairs with little self-pity.

Ahead a chink of light. In the dark his pupils dilated to the maximum in their effort to catch any stray photons. Now through this chink poured enough light for him to see his surroundings clearly.

Behind him the solid stone staircase descended into a totalistic darkness. The walls here were of wooden beams. Small piles of dust had gathered wherever it could, and it looked disturbed by only the patter of mice and rats.

Until now his breath had been the most audible noise, as he scrutinised his surroundings a voice became clear. At first he jumped, the voice had sounded so close as to belong to someone else scuttling around in these passages. Wild eyed he looked around. Although as the prince he had the right to be anywhere in the Stronghold, to wander these forgotten halls, he did not want to be discovered here, these passages could be such an advantage. Neither did he want to be seen acting unusually, indeed Painton despaired every time he returned with even a spot of dirt on him.

Armand's logical mind reminded him that there had been no other foot prints in the dust – the voice was coming from the outside. He crept silently to the chink of light. He gasped, on the other side was none other than the throne room. An irrational fear of being discovered welled up, and went in the face of reason.

Armand settled down to watch the proceedings, a large gleeful grin on his face, his hurt knee forgotten. Probably the whole Stronghold would be riddled with these passages.

Spy-holes could be made into every room- no secret would be safe.

The hardest part would be to keep from laughing, his hungry eyes he devoured all that he saw.

(date ref: insert. Spiral 1 pg 11)

LEANDER

Leander wandered toward the Great Hall, finding it hard to contain his usual composure – his plans were coming along better than he had expected. He had lied when he told the prince that he had looked for Painton. It had been very fortuitous that the valet had not returned. He was still far from his goal of permanent employment with the prince, but sure that it would not be long. It was his brain rather than his stomach that drew him to the Great Hall, the cavernous place was the focal point of the Stronghold, and by default, the whole world. Surely an ambitious young man with his wits about him could glean some advantage – if not there then where?

The hall was, as he expected, full of life. Louie was in attendance, but there was no sign of the two other two royals.

So vast was the Great Hall, it's windows were a clear three stories off the ground, and necessitated that a large fire and numerous lanterns were kept constantly lit. Their flickering lights caused deep shadows around the hall, and it was in to one of these that Leander sank, in his black suit, with his knees drawn up to his chin the lad vanished. He was how ever able to see the thrones clearly while remaining unobserved, he hoped that something would brew.

Announced by trumpets, the queen entered, striding gracefully across the hall and sat next to Louie. Old though she was, the Carthian heroine still wore her beauty well. Her pace was slightly stiffened, but overall the years had been kind to her. Leander watched as she exchanged a few words with the king, but could not make out what they discussed. He did not have to wait long before events began, for Sir Ethelridge came hurrying across the room, an air of urgency about him.

"Sire" the knight bowed "as you know I left the Stronghold to investigate the reports of Surrendians entering Carthia"

"Yes – and?" prompted the queen, eager for news.

"Your highnesses, I met up with them on the other side of the forest, it is a message delegation as we expected, they claim that their ruler queen Anastasia sent them to convey her respects and good will to your family, and to the prince in particular"

"I'll be she did" Louie growled "When will they arrive?"

"This afternoon sire, they are but a few hours behind me – their horses are all but dead, quite literally" the monarchs nodded

"I wonder how they found out so quickly, someone must have sent messenger birds to them" the hall had grown quiet during their exchange, but now bustling began in earnest. No one wanted to miss the envoys arrival, it was the most exciting thing to happen in months, if not years

It was obvious to even Leander, who was not studied in court intrigue that the had come to assess the balance of power in the Stronghold. The stability, or otherwise, of Carthia affected Surrendia almost as much as it did Carthia. If the heir was ill enough to die, perhaps they would risk another attack. The Great Hall was steadily filling as the population of the Stronghold turned up to join the excited, expectant crowd.

Leander crept from his hiding place in the Great Hall, to the throne room. He paused at it's huge doors, Leander had never been inside, it was one of the few restricted places. Undeterred he threw the doors wide open as if he had official business in there. As he had expected the room was empty – his display of confidence wasted. Letting the doors close behind him he scoured the room, looking for a safe hiding place. The throne room was nowhere near the size of the Great Hall, though still an impressive size. It's interior was lavishly painted, and regularly repainted, dramatic murals of scenes from all over the kingdom adorned the walls and ceiling, the floor a rich mosaic depicted a map of Carthia sparing little detail. Unlike the Great Hall this room was well lit, sunlight flooded in through wide, but not long, windows. There were no shadows to hide in, and very little furniture, the only available hiding place seemed so obvious that he instantly rejected it. A second glance round the room, and the noise of approaching footsteps left him no choice. In each corner of the room, a tied drape was hung, clear from the ceiling to the floor, behind one of these drapes was his only answer.

The king called formal court once he realised just how many people wanted to eavesdrop. At least in the throne room only the upper class would be privy to the messengers information. All the keeps nobles trooped in, decked out in their finest jewels and clothes. Once they were all assembled – which did not take long, another moment's hesitation and Leander would have been discovered, Louie and Alexandra followed. The only person missing, and conspicuous by his absence, was the prince – the person who had caused this meeting in the first place. Cursing to himself, Leander wondered where Armand was, what important, and useful information had he missed? The outcome of this session would be all over the Stronghold in a matter of hours, but Armand's movements at this time would only be known by a select few.

Leander was not the only person to have noticed the prince's absence, cursing loudly Louie summoned Painton to the throne room. Armand's nervous valet quickly appeared, well out of his depth he hesitantly entered – it was probably the first time he had seen the interior of the throne room, and upon seeing the assembled nobility of the castle, and the formally dressed monarchs the man looked ready to bolt.

"Valet. Where is Armand? Did I not give instructions that he was to be here?" the king made little effort to disguise his anger. Trying not to laugh, Leander watched as Painton tried to find his voice Fear had unmanned him (if the effeminate man was ever 'manned' to begin with), he managed a jerky nod

"Well?" the king roared, his voice reaching out into the Great Hall. Shaking visibly Painton prostrated himself in front of the royals. Leander was amazed at the valets lack of composure, and was pleased to see a similar look of disgust on the king's own face. Louie started to rise, intending to give the servant a swift boot to get some answers out of the man, but Alexandra restrained him

"Louie, the poor man is terrified" she counselled. In her famous mother-to-all tone she spoke to Painton "did you tell Armand?"

"N ... no your grace"

"Why not?" Louie barked

"He has been gone since dawn. I laid out his formal attire, and have been awaiting his return"

"I see" the king was not impressed, but knew that Painton would not be lying – he was too frightened, and intimidated by the presence of so much nobility for that. "Go back to his quarters, when he deigns to show his face, do ask him to pop in, we do so enjoy his little visits!" with obvious relief the valet sprung up and raced from the room.

The king turned to his queen "I swear I'll get to the bottom of this – I don't care if he is the future of the kingdom" then he added even quieter "when I find that boy I'll beat an explanation out of him – I'll not have him disappearing for days on end ... it makes me look bad"

Alexandra offered a few words of comfort, patting his hand in a gentle effort to calm the enraged king, her mind was more occupied by the approaching Surrendians

The assembled nobles created a tense, nervous atmosphere – real formalities were unusual these days. In a silent consensus the nobles realised the need to close ranks, present a unified and above all relaxed façade to these outsiders. Fidgeting impatiently they waited. After what seemed like an eternity, a Carthian guard burst in

"Sire..." the man bowed "the Surrendians are here, they are passing through the outer gateway"

"Very good" apparently Louie could not think of anything better to say

"Your highness, they have attracted quite a following"

"Admit the envoy from Surrendia only" Alexandra said, she could well imagine the scene "the rest can wait"

"Preferably until I've abdicated" Louie quipped. The court laughed, dispelling some of their communal tension

"Aye sire" the guard bowed again and backed out. Once the door was firmly closed against prying eyes the king addressed the court

"Lords, Ladies, assembled peers. I will not belittle you, nor insult your intelligence. Many of you fought by my – " he smiled at Alexandra " by our side in the Great War. Shield to shield, and indeed sword to sword, out past Midian by the Great Way we all fought for our land, our kingdom. Surrendian bodies underfoot. It was not easy by far, we all lost loved ones, for five long winters we camped on that plain, for a while we thought we would never leave. This very keep grew hollow, wolves roamed the inner sanctums. We won though" he said this as if there could be some doubt on the matter "we won! Peace has been our reward, over thirty years of prosperity, and bounty" He paused, gathering his thoughts "it is no secret that Armand, my son, has been woefully ill recently – indeed even the Surrendians know, why else are they here! I smell treachery from these dogs. They hide their true intent behind a white flag-"

"Wouldn't be the first time someone muttered, Louie glared at the instantly abashed lord

"-we will greet them with all the hospitality of Carthia, but trust them never. It is clear to me that these Surrendian's hope to find the prince at death's door. They come sniffing about, looking for an opportunity, a sign of weakness. We will stand united once more against a common foe, and come away victorious as we did on that bloody battlefield. Armand is out hunting – he will be back by supper" the king glared around the room, daring anyone to suggest otherwise

Leander ached to move, but knew even the slightest motion would betray him. He grimaced, forcing his mind to ignore the painful pins and needles. Court had not been as interesting as he had hoped. Wishing he had followed Armand instead – at least he would be able to move his legs- he waited for the Surrendians.

(date ref: spiral 1 p g 21)

ARMAND

The prince had observed court with much delight – not at the proceedings, which were monotonous at best, with Louie droning on. He was glad that he had chosen not to go to court – then laughed at the irony. Armand was reluctant to end his game and return to the 'other side', he ought to hear first hand what the envoy said, but if he was to re-appear convincingly by supper he needed to return to his apartments.

looking back the way he had come, Armand decided to push on. He had gained a little sense of direction, and knew where his rooms were from the throne room.

Mentally he ticked off rooms and passages as he passed behind them. To his surprise he found the junction to his rooms right where it should be. Stood behind his main room, leaving the secret passages proved to be as vexing as entering them in the first place. It took long frustrating minutes to find a door. The doors seemed to be deliberately hidden on both sides. Armand felt sure that many a person must have died trapped on the wrong side of the castle. A small panel swung rewardingly open and Armand stepped in to his quarters. The door had barely closed when Painton hurried in. he shrieked with surprise. The valet looked decidedly unwell, Armand remembered the scene in the throne room

"Painton, good. I need to change" The prince ordered, ignoring the servants distress. Ever obedient Painton trotted after Armand. The prince observed that Painton had indeed lain out his clothes ready. Sweet steamy smells drifted in from his bathroom, the valet had anticipated his bedraggled state.

Annoyingly, the servant chattered as he worked, the sound of his effeminate voice grated on Armand's distracted nerves. He remembered the quiet efficiency of the servant lad from the previous night with a sigh.

Despite the chatter Painton did an exemplary job as usual, and Armand forgave the intrusion. By way of an apology (why he bothered though he did not really know) the prince shared some laudanum with Painton as he waited for the evening bells. When it did eventually sound, Armand had some difficulty organising his legs.

(date ref: july 30th spiral 1)

ALEXANDRA

The evening meal bell sounded just as the Surrendian envoy arrived, and so the court adjourned to the Great Hall. Alexandra stopped, watching the Surrendian's reaction with amusement. They had stopped, gawking up at the towering walls. Slowly they took in the rest of the hall, its vastness that she herself barely noticed overwhelming them. Gradually the rest of the court filtered in, everyone finding a seat. The Surrendians were honoured by a place near the royals. The ever present thralls swiftly appeared and began serving wines and ales.

Discretely Alexandra watched the envoy, trying to discern any ulterior motive. The men were obviously tired, they had made the journey in two days without fresh horses, hard going by any standards. Now they ate ravenously, the alcohol easing away numerous saddle sores. Despite their tiredness it was obvious they were ill at ease, far from their homeland. Even after all the bloodshed Alexandra did not hate the Surrendians. She understood the nature of politics, she had fought with Louie because she had to. These men were not the ones who had threatened their land, those men were all dead. It was obvious though they were here to appraise the situation, but that too was politics and to be expected.

The court, at home in the vastness quickly relaxed into it's normal rabble, conversations broke out in several places as the food was brought round. sat next to his queen, Louie drank fiercely and talked loudly, someone must have asked after Armand, she heard him irritably say "He'll be here shortly"

Unexpectedly the doors opened, revealing Armand. Alexandra's heart leaped, her son looked as flawless as ever. Despite seeing the boy on a daily basis, his beauty and charm still surprised her. Truly he could be a great leader – if only he would be a bit more serious. As he drew near she saw his cheeks were flushed, as if he had spent the day outdoors. She soon realised the truth. The queen half stood before she caught herself. Armand had been at the laudanum again. Worried he might actually fall over she instinctively wanted to help him. This would not be seemly though. She worried briefly about what he might say, how the drugs were affecting his mind. Armand stopped in front of Louie and herself, and bowed unsteadily, he seemed to have not noticed the Surrendian presence. When Armand addressed his father however, she knew his brain was still functioning, and still capable of scheming. The prince spoke to Louie respectfully, even humbly, with no trace of his disrespectful manners or foppish airs.

"sire, I must ask your forgiveness for my absenteeism from court this today. I admit to neglecting my duties, I took a horse and dogs out hunting" someone among the Surrendians spluttered into their wine "I found a stag early on, but he was a strong and capable beast, he lead me deeper and deeper into the forest, away from the main trails and into the secret places known only by the woodland beasts. I struck him with an arrow once, then lost sight of it, the dogs tracked him back towards the mountain from the blood dripping to the ground as he ran. Finally, hours later I had him cornered" By now Armand had captivated the rooms attention, his rich voice adding depth to his simple words. "By the cliffs we were, I aimed my last arrow straight at that stag, it took one long look at me, then it leaped off the cliff. Choosing to take his own life to be free, rather than be defeated" Again a Surrendian spluttered into his drink, the princes insult had not fallen on deaf ears. Alexandra was well pleased with her sons words.

A glance towards her husband showed Louie trying to hide the look of incredulousness creeping across his face. Superficially that short speech was the most polite thing that Armand had said to his father in a very long time. Now though Armand had stopped talking. The room awaiting Louie's response, Alexandra nudged him into action