Chapter 4

Roland stayed in his room and thought. Should he trust this duke who was a mage? What of Gorman? The betrayal hurt him the most. His trusted mentor and friend. Withholding teaching! Roland sighed. He would let the duke make the judgment. If he did not like the judgment, then he could plan accordingly. He didn't know what he would do, but there had to be something!

At the palace in Frontek, the king was having a discussion with his advisors. The storm was finally showing signs of breaking. His people were in need of help, particularly the poor.

King Frontek ordered that when the weather permitted, the southern storehouses should be opened, and grain given to all who needed it. It would be some time before the roads were passable. His people would need the grain to survive.

King Frontek was dreading the arrival of Duke Taft. Duke Taft's line went back as far, and even farther than did the king's. It was the Taft's who had originally settled this area. It had been a bone of contention between the two families for almost two hundred years. It did not help that the current Duke Taft was the son of the very first Duke Taft. Damned magic users, and their long lives!

The only thing keeping Duke Taft from attacking King Frontek was the Taft's sense of honor. While King Frontek was not personally afraid of Taft; he knew that politically, Duke Taft had strong supporters.

A little over two hundred years ago, the then Duke Taft had responded to old King Brennen's call to arms. All had responded. Everyone, with the exception of King Frontek's ancestors, had marched south to the old king's aid. King Frontek's ancestor had been charged with keeping this area safe.

The old king and his friends had been slaughtered. When a suitable period of mourning had gone by, the then Lord Frontek, had proclaimed himself king. Slowly, over the years, the Kings Frontek had expanded the old kingdom into todays.

Unfortunately, the old Duke Taft had survived. He had been wounded, and when he came back to find that Frontek had usurped his place, he was very angry. However, the country was healing. Taft agreed that he and his family would support the newly proclaimed king, with provisions.

The Taft lands would never be taxed by the Frontek kings. The Tafts would always have final say on the council, in the event the council deadlocked. With those provisions signed and in his pocket, Duke Taft turned to his ancestral lands to the south. He started them on their way to what they were now.

"Do we have enough members of the council present to call a meeting?" asked the king as he paced his private chambers.

"No, your majesty. Only three of the council made it in, before the worst of the snow blocked the roads," answered his chamberlain.

Sighing, the king clasped his hands behind his back, and peered out a frosted window.

"Are you sure that the snow is stopping? It appears to me to still be as strong as ever," the king asked.

"The wizard's guild has assured us that this storm is almost ended. You were right in thinking it was sent by the northerners. By the time it arrived, almost all trace of magic was gone.

"Guildmaster Owens said the northerners started this storm far out at sea, collecting moisture for this blizzard. By the time it arrived, most of the magic controlling and guiding it was gone. It took three weather masters to gain even that much information," answered the chamberlain.

Nodding, the king responded, "Well, in this one way am I glad that Taft comes. Perhaps he can deal with these damned northerners. He was ever the kingdoms staunchest defender," the king said, smiling.

"Berandal, I am sorry for your son. I understand his anger. I promise you, I have not made any decision as of this time. I, too, was shocked when I heard what had happened. I do understand the guild's reasoning at the time, but that time has gone by," the duke told Berandal in a sad voice.

"I told my son that I would support whatever choice he made, your grace. He is young and has the idealism of youth. A few more years of life will see him grow in his understanding that all is not simply black and white. I fear we are treading here, into shades of gray. Those can be hard to discern on occasion," Berandal said heavily.

"You surprise me! That was a very astute observation for... sorry. I was about to say for one of your station. Forgive me," the duke said, then bowed to Berandal.

"No offense taken. You know nothing of my past, except that my son stumbled onto a fortune. For all you knew, I was the unlettered country bumpkin you assumed me to be," Berandal said with a chuckle.

Duke Taft guffawed loudly. "I assure you, I will never think that again! Well struck, Sir!" the duke said, and then was off into gales of laughter again.

They had just calmed down, and Berandal was getting them both another mug of spiced wine, when Roland entered. He went straight to the duke, and bowed jerkily.

"I will let you make judgment. I hope I have not betrayed myself in choosing you, your grace," Roland said in a still angry voice.

Duke Taft eyed Roland for a moment. Roland became uncomfortable under that gaze.

"I understand your anger. However you misplace it. Now then, if you will give me a moment, I will summon Gorman. We will soon have this matter resolved," the duke said.

He then went silent as he mentally summoned the wizard. The wizard appeared with a crack of displaced air, as he teleported into the room. He bowed to everyone, and asked what was wished of him.

"Roland has asked me to adjudge this matter for him. Be it known that my word is binding to all. Do you understand, Gorman?" the duke asked in a voice that seemed to hold a quiet, yet none-the-less potent, power.

"I do, and I accept," Gorman said, bowing again.

"Do you agree to accept my judgment and agree to its binding?" the duke asked of Roland in that same 'voice of power'.

Roland, feeling the power crackle, answered with a strangled, "Yes."

"Then here is my judgment. The guild was at first within their rights to treat with young Roland cautiously. However, it had been demonstrated with time and with spells, that he is not a danger, nor is his mind still host to anything other than his own thoughts and self. He is not possessed.