Chapter 19

Construction on the palace at Iordantan had been completed seven years after the conclusion of the great war; a mere nineteen years had the sprawling carpentered masterpiece stood among the trees, in contrast with the three hundred years of its predecessor at Uru-Hai. Seventeen great lords and ladies had seated themselves on the dais of the Uru-Hai palace, all of them bearing the name Lei. One of the oldest surviving great houses, its famed green banners had flown, unchanged in pattern or symbol, since the ancient lord Jion Lei received his charter from the Consul Hai; when his great-grandson, Iosoan I, built the Uru-Hai palace, the green banners followed, flying from every tower and turret. And as the old palace aged and settled into the wooded hillside, the banners became a symbol of freedom and peace.

It was during the great war that the same banners of green, so steeped in the tradition of old, took on a new, more menacing air. Uru-Hai was overrun by a war-party from the Hai Krun; the palace was destroyed and the great lord Iordan III killed. It was then that the young heir, still calling himself a prince, marshaled the forces of his father's army and began his march of destruction. Blinded by rage and untempered by age, the prince Iosoan was merciless in battle, and flew the green banner proudly over field after field stained in red. The symbol of peace became one of power. Iosoan drove the enemy from his borders: the Hai Krun, the Hai Mahlner, the Hai Rengiln, the marsh-dwellers and the ice-fishers of the North; the enemy withdrew and still he pursued.

The prince invaded the grassland Hai Krun, punishing the retreating army with each step until he had taken the stone palace at Levinigh. As fighting raged among the houses all across both continents, all eyes turned to the Hai Krun as prince Iordan gathered all the blood-red dragon banners and burned them; he destroyed the stores of military uniforms and weapons, and dismantled the armories and guard posts. After capturing and executing the great lord Lein Krun and his children, Iosoan flew his own green banner over the Levinigh palace and claimed the fief for himself. It was, perhaps, the act of an enraged youth seeking revenge, but it was also the only act capable of shaking many of the other great lords from their blood-lust.

While most of the great houses battled one another, the lords Rau Menadin and Iordan Lei formed one of the few alliances; Iosoan honored and supported the alliance when he came to power, and the combined forces of sea and forest were able to end the fighting as abruptly as it had begun. The young prince named Levinigh as his capitol and declared himself as lord Iosoan Lei IV; he announced that the fate of the Hai Krun would befall any house that did not at once offer their unconditional surrender. And angered as they were by the demand, the other great lords knew Iosoan was perfectly capable of following through with his threat, and found they had no choice but to comply: no army in the North could match the military might of the forest army; no army from the South could hope to attack without facing destruction from beneath the waves of the Menadin Sea. As it turned out, there was no need for retaliation, since Iosoan was not interested in continuing his conquest. Army after army returned home and disbanded; the time of peace began.

So Iosoan, fourth of his name, married the princess Psiolia Menadin, assembled his court, appointed his first senator, and settled in to rule as one of the youngest great lords in recorded history. But Iosoan was a man of the forest, and the stone palace was not pleasing. In the second year of his rule, he founded a city and ordered the construction of a new palace, meant to be the new capitol of his fief. And in that same year, Psiolia bore the great lord an heir. Iosoan named his new capitol and his new son both in honor of his father: one day Iordan IV would sit as great lord of the Hai Lei in a beautiful new palace in the city of Iordantan.

Five years later, the great lord, who had come to be admired by many of the Hai Krun's people for his fairness and decency, moved his court and his family out of the grasslands and back into the forest, to the newly completed palace. And as he did, Iosoan made a move which would forever secure his legacy as a peacemaker despite his still-recent aggressions: he surrendered Levinigh. Though perfectly within his right to appoint a regional governor to rule the land as part of his own, he completely withdrew his forces from the occupied fief. He gave the dragon-ring, the symbol of Hai Krun power, to the next link in the ring's natural chain of succession; cousin of the former great lord, the young Darrak Krun accepted the ring as a gift and took the throne at Levinigh. Red banners of the Hai Krun emerged again as a sovereign great house, and green banners over the Hai Lei once again proclaimed peace and prosperity for all to see.

It is interesting to note that, while custom and culture shaped the palaces of Uru-Hai and Levinigh, time had a much more profound effect. Levinigh was a recent construction by comparison, following more than two hundred years after its forest counterpart, was hewn from great blocks of granite and ghalohite as a symbol of ultimate power. Both impressive and oppressive, the architecture of the Theosi Period followed the minds of the architects, course and square, cut at sharp angles, heavy. Though most lords who bore the name Krun may have been predisposed to hold Theosi principles, its evidence in the palace came about as a result of the time period and not the men. Most great houses chartered during this period are capitol-ed by palaces of similar design; even throughout the forest realm of the Hai Lei there still remain a few constructions Theosi origin, though they appear vastly misplaced among the trees.

Similarly, the Uru-Hai palace reflected the mindset of the Anglini Period, with high, sweeping ceilings, open spaces, and arched windows. The palace was a marvel of its time, laced with ornate decorations, beautifully carved from oak and ebony with a skill long forgotten. Yet it was also somewhat compact, built as a single structure with many levels, rooftops, balconies, and towers. Architects of the period were rightly proud of their work, and wished always for it to be seen; the builders cleared many hecters of virgin forest around the new palace so that its turrets could be unmistakably recognized from many leagues' distance. As times changed, the forest was allowed to return; later, it was cleared again to grow an orchard. By the time the palace was destroyed during the great war, the city of Uru-Hai had taken deep root on the gentle hills all around, and a thriving community of farmers and woodsmiths called the place their home. Still, through all the period changes, remodeling, and rebuilding of the aging palace, it remained a cultural icon and a reminder of a long distant past.

The Uru-Hai palace had one feature which did not belong to the Anglini Period: the great hall. Most palaces built before and since have more than one hall meant for different purposes. A great lord might use one hall to receive commoners who sought an audience, another to greet visiting dignitaries, another to dine with guests, still another to hold official ceremonies. However, some past insight caused Iosoan I to design his palace with many smaller halls, but only one great hall that would serve many different purposes at once. While the use of only one hall might prove a hassle to the servants constantly cleaning and rearranging the furniture, it also lent a sense of openness and unity to the palace unrivaled by any other. Commoners knew they shared the same space with royalty; they knew they were not kept cordoned off and swept away from palace activities. From the beginning, lords of the Hai Lei had ruled their subjects primarily as an arbitrator, not a dictator, and the resulting prosperity from such freedom was more than sufficient to prove the wisdom of the first Iosoan. Even through the more oppressive periods in history, the great hall always served as a reminder, if subtle, of these principles.

So when Iosoan IV commissioned the construction of his new palace he insisted that it contain only one great hall. The palace at Iordantan was larger and more sprawling than its predecessor. Built as a complex of many inter-connected buildings, its many turrets pointed skyward among the undisturbed branches of secondary forest. Iosoan asked the woodsmiths to reproduce the decorative artwork of old, and they responded by relearning the ancient craft and infusing the new palace with intricate woodwork of the highest quality. The central building in the palace was the largest, and the most reminiscent of the old Uru-Hai palace with its many thatched rooftops; it was this central building that housed the great hall. Vaulted ceilings and high windows an ever-present theme, dark rafters laced the top of the hall and torches lined the walls.

So, twenty-six years after the great war, at the conclusion of a bloody conflict with a renewed Hai Krun enemy, the trappings of the great hall were busily being changed to prepare for the coming banquette. Three long tables filled the open space below the dais and countless servant girls were busy bringing chair after chair into the large room. Green banners hung from the dark rafters, torches blazed brightly in the early twilight, and already, the smells of baking bread and roasting venison drifted lazily on the air. In one corner, a small platform was raised for the musicians to play while food was served.

In all the bustle throughout the palace, two young servant girls were notably absent.

Iordan laid himself gingerly back on the softness of his bed; for the first time in more days than he could recall, he felt the weight lifted from his feet, his back straightened against the mattress. In the flickering warmth of candlelight, his blue eyes followed the motions of his chamber servants, Mia and Mikka, as they finished cleaning the bath and disposing of the tattered green uniform. The pair had leaped upon him when he entered the room, shocked at the sight he presented. They had at once stripped and bathed him, washing away days of caked mud and splattered blood; horrified at the sight of his bandaged shoulder, they immediately cleaned and re-wrapped the injury with fresh cloth. Then, as the prince watched them, refreshingly clean and weary from his journey, the young servants climbed into the bed beside him; as the girls approached his nude form, he felt his energy begin to return.

"No, my lord. Just lie there," said the twelve year old Mikka with a hand against Iordan's uninjured shoulder. Still clothed, Mikka pressed her small body against the much larger body of the prince and cradled his head in her arms.

"You need your rest before the banquette tonight," agreed the eleven year old Mia, as she kneeled beside the prince's outstretched thigh.

"Just lie there," repeated Mikka as she stroked a small hand through the prince's wild mane of silver-blonde hair.

Iordan sighed as the young Mikka's lips touched his forehead. He turned his face up, lifted his head from the pillow, and met the lips with his own; the lips were soft and inviting as he kissed them; the small tongue that slipped from between them flicked against his own in a long-familiar dance of passion and pleasure. Still, there was another image in his mind, an image that drifted forward every time he closed his eyes. The prince kissed the young girl with his mouth, but his thoughts were on another.

"Just lie back and relax," purred Mikka through the kiss.

Then, the prince felt the warm fingers brush his knee. He let out another sigh as Mia's small hand ran the length of his leg; he felt his penis rise to full erection in the rapidly cooling air. The sigh turned into a groan as the hand left his thigh and the fingers wrapped around his penis in a gentle embrace. With small strokes, the blood began to boil beneath his skin. He tried to press the kiss further with Mikka, but she pulled her face back; all the prince could do was pant into the open mouth that hung just out of reach.

"Just relax," Mikka repeated again. She brushed a stray lock of silver hair away from the prince's strong face. "Let Mia do the work."

And at the words of one girl, the other lowered her open mouth to the shaft grasped between her fingers, and took much of the length inside. Iordan, his breath caught in his chest, tried to watch the small head bob in rhythm with the suction he felt, but a finger under his chin lifted his face upward again. As the kiss resumed, his thoughts again drifted to the mysterious dark-haired woman.

"You like her, don't you?" asked Mikka.

"Who?" Iordan managed.

"The woman. The one with the dark hair."

The prince lay stunned, fighting off the approaching orgasm. How had she known? Her words had been a mirror of his own thoughts.

"You thought I couldn't tell?" said Mikka. She smiled, whispered, "My lord, I can tell every about you."

After a moment, the prince returned the smile, and the kiss continued. And again, in his mind, the dark-haired woman was in the bed beside him.

"Pretend she's here," whispered Mikka, again echoing the prince's thoughts. "Pretend Mia's her. Pretend it's Anna sucking you right now."

Iordan groaned at the words; indeed, he felt the orgasm nearing with every passing second.

"You're almost there," said Mikka - it was not phrased as a question, but the prince nodded anyway - "Good. Do it for me. Do it to her. Cum down her throat."

And the prince was happy to comply with the whispered encouragements. He pressed his mouth against Mikka's, lifted his hips off the mattress, and ejaculated thick ropes into Mia's. When he had at last finished and the young girl had swallowed his hot semen, Iordan fell back onto the bed, his energy beginning to fade once more. The flash of that strikingly black hair and those brown eyes in his mind haunted him, left him wanting more. Yet he cradled the two blonde servant girls in his arms as his heart slowed and his breathing returned to normal.

"My lord," said Mia, "we can't let you fall asleep. The banquette will be starting soon."

"She's right," said Mikka, already rising from the bed. "It's time to get you ready."

Life filled the hall.

The tables, laid with cloths and covered with platters and steaming dishes, were filled on all sides by smiling faces. Officers of the Hai Lei royal army sat with their wives and children; officers of the Hai Menadin army sat with freed slaves who had once been farmers' daughters. Ministers, advisers, and commoners alike pulled their chairs in closer to the tables as course after course was revealed by smiling servant girls with small feet. Daran Gholla sat beside two former slaves named Leah and Sira; he admired the way their faces beamed at the goings on in the great hall. Two men in heavy bandages recognized one another from boyhood; Fen Galo greeted Damon Hayaln, neither of them able to stand but for a few moments, and the men introduced their nervous wives. Dale Orman called Kudo Milan over to his table, and the un-uniformed captains lifted a toast to those fallen in battle.

At the head of the center table sat the great lord Iosoan; the prince sat to his left, the princess to his right, and the dark-haired ambassador beside the princess. Hours before, the ambassador had disappeared with the princess into her chambers to prepare for the banquette; the women had emerged into the great hall arm in arm and promptly stolen the powers of speech of every man in the room; the ancient royal title 'miliana' fit each of the pair perfectly as they almost seemed to float above the floor on wings. The pair of brown eyes danced as breast of guinea hen and fresh stems of buttered lilato filled her plate and aged falla-root wine splashed in her goblet; the eyes saw the silver-blonde princess already drunk, the merry laughing of the great lord, and the nervous habits of a prince who would do anything to avoid making eye contact.

"You sure can pack it away," laughed Iosoan, "for such a little girl."

Anna swallowed a large mouthful of peppered venison with a gulp of wine, said: "I can't help it! This is the first thing I've eaten all day. I hardly had anything yesterday either."

"You sound like those damned mountain people," said the great lord. "Always eating, always eating. Eat three or four times every day, they do."

"Really?" asked Jaide thickly.

"That sounds more like what I used to do back home," said Anna.

"I didn't know they did that up there with the eating," said Jaide. A hiccup. To Anna she continued, "I though it was you who was a weird girl."

"Jaide, honey," said Iosoan, smiling. "Please don't show off your ignorance in front of our guests. Just because you don't want to take the time to learn about..."

"Daddy!" complained Jaide, struggling to look her father in the eye. "Stop making fun of me! I didn't know! I think we only eat one time."

Iosoan leaned toward Anna and whispered conspiratorially, "It appears you can hold your wine much better than my daughter," drawing a laugh from Anna and a playful slap from the princess.

"It did confuse me when I first got here, why I hardly ever get hungry," said Anna.

"It's the air pressure," said Iosoan. "Makes the body more efficient, so we eat less often." He gestured around the large room and continued, "You're hungry after only a day; most of the men in this room went the last five or six days without food."

"Six days?"