The Unexpected Heir: A Tale of Alus (10 page)

More days would pass, but few sights as interesting as the dolferim would appear until they sighted land that was the southwestern coast of Sileoth. It made the trip become rather monotonous and made Annalicia wish that she could have passed up the need to go to the distant nation for this tournament. She didn't have that option thanks to the wizard's council and the king as well from what Anna had heard from the queen's mouth at her send off.

Sileoth was just the halfway point, and the Sea Dragon continued to sail onward.

Chapter 5- Fires in the Night

Philip stepped back looking at the smoking ruin of what had once been two warehouses. The fire had been so intense and out of control that the flames had leaped to the nearby dock, though by that point sailors had hurried to snuff out potential danger to their ships. It was beyond their capabilities to stop the warehouses from burning down, however, and only the arrival of a team of wizards stopped the fires from spreading to any other buildings.

The Master of Coin had woken to a beating on the gates of his home. Guards had answered the call, but the man's half elf ears had been acute enough to alert him before they could wake his wife. She had slept sound even after her husband had hurried quietly down the steps to their home's entryway.

While they hadn't been warehouses for their family business, the two buildings affected did belong to the king. One was nearly empty, but the second had been filled with flammable materials waiting to be shipped. It would cost the king's business thousands of gold coins, but the five men killed in the fire could never be replaced.

Families had already been notified and wives held crying children trying to be strong knowing that their husbands were gone, even as they watched the fire fighters working to secure the area.

"Master Eremia," one of his personal guards addressed him as he returned from a closer examination of the burned out buildings, "both warehouses are a complete loss. There is nothing more that we can do here now that the fires have been put out by the wizards."

Philip wondered how far the fires would have spread without the wizards to contain them with their magic. A fire brigade had appeared and dozens of men had been using portable pump carts to bring water directly from the sea. Even with four pumps supplying water to eight hoses, they had been unable to restrain the fire by themselves.

"Has the king sent anyone else out to check on the fire, Narden?"

"Not that I've seen, sir," the guard replied looking to the five other men at Philip's side or behind him. They hadn't seen any other official from the king aside from the Master of Coin and Philip guessed that he had become the one who must bring word of the loss to Orlaan.

The wizards and soldiers who had been sent to fight the fire stood nearby drinking water. Even fighting the flames from a distance like the wizards had, the smoke and use of magic had drained the men enough to require liquids to soothe their throats. Black soot smudged faces and clothing letting him know that the blaze had been dangerous enough even for them.

"I think the wizards can supervise the remaining work. We had better head to the castle and let the king know what happened here," Philip stated and started to turn towards the horses that they had tied off nearly a block away. Prudence had made them leave the animals far enough away to be safe. Horses feared fire and this blaze would have certainly been enough to kick in their instincts to flee.

The trip to the king's castle took time and left the half elf lord mostly to his own thoughts. He was no expert on fire, though there would be those sent by Orlaan later to try and discover what had started the conflagration; but it was likely arson. It also wasn't first of the week, which lent towards his suspicion of foul play. Three fires in total had happened and all were confined to buildings owned by the king's interests.

Running a country was an expensive business and not all was set upon the shoulders of the king's people. Taxes were still collected, but King Orlaan owned many buildings and businesses in the city. Some were under Philip's guidance; and as the king's Master of Coin, he was one of the men who would have to figure out how this would impact his liege and how to repair the damage, if he could.

When his small party arrived at the gates of the wall surrounding the castle, guards were on high alert. The other fires had seemed like a coincidence perhaps, but so many had the makings of an attack. If the king's interests were being targeted, they could believe that Orlaan's home could possibly be attacked as well. Only vigilance would keep such a thing from happening, so Philip had to bear with their attention as soon as his horsemen were in sight.

Being the Master of Coin, the soldiers didn't leave him waiting outside for long. He was regular enough in his visits that most men knew his face. A special medallion worn around his neck also told of his office and dedication to the king. Even so, his men were made to wait in the first courtyard while Philip followed an officer surrounded by four royal guards to a room believed safe near the heart of his castle.

The sight of King Orlaan wearing a long coat to cover the clothes he had been sleeping in before he had been interrupted by runners warning of the fire as he spoke with several members of his circle of advisors met Philip's eyes as he passed through a pair of newly opened doors. A large meeting room sometimes used to meet with other countries' dignitaries had grand numerous paintings hung on the four walls. Blue and silver draperies broke up the brick walls hanging from rods placed near the height of the ceiling falling to just inches above the floor. The gray stone of the walls was mirrored in the tiles making up the floor of the chamber. A long, dark brown, table surrounded by a dozen chairs occupied the center of the room, but only one man had chosen to sit in the face of this crisis. Whether they could guess at what had happened or word had reached them, they had allowed themselves different levels of nervousness compounded by his arrival.

"Marq Philip," the king addressed the man by his title as well as his name, "what is the news from the docks?"

Married to a marquess, the king's niece, Philip had entered a world very different from the one he had been born into in Eirdhen. His mother's people were elves and descendants of a people from another world. The doors to the "Old World", as they called it, had been closed as far as he knew since the first fall of the emperor, also known as the Dark One.

The elves had come to this world and adapted as best they could and several towns weaved into the forests of Eirdhen had sprung up quickly. His people did their best to work with the land and trees. They tried to avoid harming the forest while making their homes, though there was bound to be some disruption when so many people needed to live there. Philip was from the second generation born in Alus, and some of the first elves remained alive to teach their beliefs, though many of the first refugees had since passed away. The elves had long lives, longer than humans by hundreds of years, but they bore children much slower as well.

Being born to an elf woman and immortal, human father; no one could guess what that would mean for one like him. He wasn't alone. Philip was the third son and fourth child of Darius and Electra. Other elves had met and married humans from their surroundings also. Such assimilation wasn't common yet, but the pure blood of his ancestors was mixing with the inhabitants of the new world enough to wonder what changes each side would bring to the other over time.

"Two of your warehouses burnt down and there is minor damage to the docks nearby. I would have to look at the secondary ledgers to guess how much of your shipments were lost. We are just lucky that two of your ships cleared out the second warehouse almost completely a few days ago."

He paused and the king didn't say anything, though his brow furrowed and his eyes started to frown. Philip finished with the property loss and went to the more personal, "Five men, guards and workers both, died in the fires. It was too intense to find out if they were killed by the fires or by someone else. My guess is that they tried to fight the fires and were caught inside before they realized it."

A mix of emotions flit across the king's face, none of them included anything pleasant and Orlaan's words following his debriefing showed both sorrow and disgust among other things. "By your comment, I take it that you don't think that this was an accident, Philip."

Wincing at the accusation as the eyes of the other men in attendance all seemed to be deciding the worth of his opinion in the matter, Philip replied, "I am no expert in such things; but when three fires have occurred on the west side of the city in such a short time, among your assets in particular besides, I am left wondering if it is a coincidence or something else, your highness. Again I only have the instincts of a merchant, so perhaps the wizards and inspectors will see something differently."

"In other words, you don't want to be the one causing an alarm, if this could actually be natural accidents," Orlaan stated. His eyes didn't appear to approve of the opinion and he added, "Three fires to my properties don't seem random, especially given the short time period. The bigger question would be who is starting them and why?"

"If we need to start looking at someone who would target you, my lord, I think we need go no further than those malicious Brothers of the Blood," an older looking man dressed in official looking robes stated with a frown. His gray hair and wrinkled face would have made most believe that he was older than the king, though he was not.

"High Chancellor Berivan, we can't just go accusing them of such crimes without any proof," Orlaan said waving off the man's words carefully.

The only armored occupant of the circle folded his arms and frowned. "We can't keep ignoring them, your highness. Berivan is right. We can start by looking at them. Ever since they arrived, it seems like they have been calling for your removal. Maybe we should send a few soldiers to speak with some of these brothers to find out what they might have to do with the attacks."

Orlaan held his hands up before him as if to ward off the man's words. "Commander Ilius, the brotherhood has been in Malaiy for some time. Only recently have they started this strange obsession with deposing me. It isn't a popular opinion with the people luckily, but we can't go out arresting or harassing them. If we do, certainly that will make us look like we fear them and give them something to point at to polarize the citizens of Yalan.

"I am their king; but without the people's support, it would be hard to hold any control of the country."

The king's eyes glanced to Philip who had remained silent during the exchange. The Marq watched and listened, but kept his counsel to himself as did the last lord.

Quiet throughout the whole briefing, the last man had light brown hair and green eyes that seemed to scrutinize everything. No judgment could be seen in his eyes, but that didn't mean he wasn't analyzing everything.

"Lord Denefar, what have your men discovered about the brotherhood that we don't already know? Do you think that they could be behind this as well?" the king asked of the lord.

Even though he had been asked directly, the man with the lightest skin color except for Philip remained silent a moment. Whether he gathered his thoughts or chose to wait for the drama of making a king hang on his words, Denefar didn't reveal much beyond the question posed to him.

"The Brothers are certainly the most vocal antagonists that you seem to face, at least within Yalan. They have always seemed to be pacifists in their attitude towards others, though they don't agree with how you lead evidently.

"I have sent for more information from the kings of other nations dealing with them. Many have had the brotherhood inside their borders for centuries. The only time that we know of where they interfered in a country's governing was when they helped force a break of Alwere from Enswere, but that was generations ago. If the other kings have seen similar attacks, my messengers should return shortly to tell us more; but it takes time to travel and work to uncover such things.

"Most kings seem to want to sweep any such inconveniences under the carpet when they can."

Orlaan sighed and finished, "So your spies have brought you nothing?"

"Not exactly nothing," the lord countered and explained, "We do know that all the local temples seem to defer to one man, a Brother Caldrefan. If his opinion of you has been set, then getting him to change the set of his mind would be the quickest way to defuse the current push of his preachers in the streets, my king."

Looking like he still wasn't satisfied with the man's answer, Orlaan turned to Philip in the hopes of something more concrete. "What have you heard, Philip? As a man of business, maybe you can see something that we do not."

Put on the spot, the Master of Coin didn't show any discomfort and answered, "The economy isn't the strongest that it has been, but neither is it unusually harsh. There are jobs for those seeking them, though maybe not everyone makes as much as they want or need. Still that is the way of things, the making of money ebbs and flows, even for countries and kings.

"With the brotherhood making noise, maybe there are more that might listen to the message that want to do more to change that fact. Perhaps Lord Denefar knows whether the temples have seen more traffic. If too many people are flocking to hear this Brother Caldrefan's teachings, then we might be correct in thinking that these fires had something to do with him or his people."

Before King Orlaan could do more than look at the lord, Denefar responded, "There is more than one temple in Malaiy, but other than the main one where this Caldrefan lives and works, there doesn't seem to be any other central places to pray or worship. In fact, worship might be too strong a word from what my men tell me. People come to pray and speak to the brothers about their hardships. Some wind up sleeping at the temple in secondary rooms for the homeless, but my men haven't witnessed the kind of religious fervor some of the other gods' sects have demanded."

"That is probably because it is relatively new," Chancellor Berivan interrupted dismissing the lord's logic. "This Sordrian they call upon wasn't even a god. He was just some demented immortal that people believe was killed by Darius or one of the other immortals. Maybe Marq Philip would know more about him, but whatever else, these people are being delusional if they think praying to Sordrian will change anything."

Philip replied, "The power of prayer doesn't always need the gods. If the brothers speak to their followers and in turn they share their worries with them, then the Brothers of the Blood might use their resources to help them. That could be construed as the god helping them, of course, but the point of the argument is whether their followers believe that this Sordrian does answer their prayers."

The gray haired chancellor frowned and held up his hand countering, "Let's stop splitting hairs, Philip. These people aren't following a true god, so where is the power in this religion? It is the brothers who tell them what to do or who to blame.

"Even if this Caldrefan isn't guiding them specifically, someone may have decided to set these fires in Sordrian's name or the brothers."

King Orlaan sighed loudly and the other men looked to their lord in response. Starting to shake his head, he said, "Berivan, send word to Duchess Pherena and her children. Inquire as to whether they have been seeing this kind of disruption in the southwest as well. Also give her warning to watch out for it. They border Tseult and, while we have had decent relations with them for years, I wouldn't put it past King Tylus to seed our land with these brothers to advance an agenda of his own.

"Duke Esteran lives in eastern Yalan and may already have seen some of what is going on," he said glancing towards Philip in particular. The Duke was his father-in-law, though the king's brother was as likely to communicate with Orlaan as he was his son-in-law; Philip thought. "Alert him none the less. His son, Marq Itan may need a stronger warning with Solan being so close to northern Tseult."

Lapsing into more of a musing than official orders, Chancellor Berivan wrote the names down. He could pen a proper message before having the king sign his name to it. As chancellor, the man was the hub for communication with the entire kingdom, even if those mentioned were all related to Orlaan, he would be the one to field any messages from the others in turn.

"Should I alert the other forts and cities guarding the border, your highness?" Berivan asked as the king lapsed into thought.

Wincing at the man's question, Orlaan replied, "I suppose that we should. Try not to make the warning too strong. We don't want them glaring at our neighbors inviting them to invade because we are accusing them of causing this disturbance."

He let out a frustrated sigh and added, "Denefar do what you can to check the network of temples these brothers have around the country. Even if they aren't the cause of these fires, if they keep trying to incite an insurrection we may have to deal with them in one way or another. I can't allow them to throw the city or country into revolt."

While his voice wasn't raised in anger, Philip could hear it in the phrasing of his words.

"Thank you, gentlemen," the king said in dismissal, but before they all could leave Orlaan made a minute shake of his head making eye contact with the man married to his niece.

Waiting for the others to leave, which drew a couple backwards glances from the men leaving to do what they could, the king held his tongue as did Philip. It was interesting that Orlaan's private words would be for the only man not born within Malaiy, Philip thought, even though this was also his uncle by marriage.

With the doors closed behind them, Orlaan moved to the table and poured a glass of wine from a decanter chilling in a bucket of ice. Inside the cool stone of the castle, it wasn't as necessary as it would be in full summer; but a cooling drink was as refreshing as the taste of alcohol on his tongue. A second glass was poured for his nephew and Orlaan slid the second glass towards the man.

Taking the wine, Philip took a sip before any words were spoken. He could tell that it was a quality of wine that few could afford beyond the nobles of the country. Such riches might be part of why the message of the brothers worked so well among the poor of Malaiy, the man considered as he waited for the king to speak.

"Alexander was just here to see Annalicia off, wasn't he?"

The question of his son surprised Philip, but he replied, "Yes, your majesty, he was here just a couple weeks ago. Annalicia is going to represent our wizards and country in Southwall."

A slight smile at the thoughts engendered by the marq's words; caused Orlaan to speak off topic even further. "That daughter of yours is supposed to be quite something. I would have stepped in to keep her safe, if you or Serafene had requested it. It is a long way to Southwall."

"My daughter can take care of herself as can my son," Philip added drawing his king's thoughts back to the first question.

"Ah, yes, Count Alexander, did it come up; you know, these Brothers of the Blood?"

Philip nodded. "We spoke of them while he was here. Alex said that he would look to see if Patris had drawn any of the brothers to his city."

"Good, then he is already aware and forewarned."

The marq hated to contradict his king, but he reminded the man, "We are only guessing that they may be to blame for the fires, my lord."

"Don't kid yourself, Philip. They spread their discontent every day. Whether they are behind the fires directly or not, the brothers are an obvious threat. We let them set up their temples because they have been helpful to the people and we have no right to crush their religious beliefs, whether we agree with them or not.

"When they were just a force helping out or giving people hope, I didn't need to worry. Now they are becoming a greater nuisance and keep trying to cause a revolt with their words."

"But you told the others that you can't go after them without it appearing to be you against the church," Philip said quoting the king's words back to him in his abridged way.

That drew another nod from Orlaan whose eyes met his nephew's with a questioning look of his own. "This Sordrian that they follow; your father knew him?"

After a second's thought, Philip shrugged. "I am not certain. My father doesn't necessarily share every story of the things that he has done in his life. He is nearly seven centuries old. There isn't enough time in a normal person's life to cover everything anyway," he finished with a laugh.

A smile touched the king's lips, but not his eyes. "He never mentioned him to you? I would have to look up the exact story, but even in Malaiy we know of Sordrian, the immortal who worked to break up Enswere for whatever reason he and his followers chose. Wasn't that the start of this brotherhood we are dealing with now?"

"I could send a letter requesting whatever information he might have about Sordrian to Eirdhen; but I doubt that he will be at the wizards' school thanks to this tournament in Southwall," Philip answered thinking that his father wouldn't be left out of such an invitation. Being an immortal, he might not choose to fight in a wizard's duel tournament; but most wizards would hope to see him come to watch it, even if he had nothing else invested in it.

"I would appreciate it if you could ask him even so. Perhaps you can send another ship to Southwall with a message and catch him before the tournament is over. You can also send word to Enchwold, even if he isn't there for when he returns.

"If it is a matter of cost, take it from the treasury, Philip. I don't expect you to waste the time of multiple ships or messengers for nothing."

Waving off the offer of money, even if he was a merchant, the marq replied, "The money isn't an issue, sire; but I can't guarantee that we will hear from my father anytime soon even if we do catch him. Distance takes time to cover and having him return the message will double that at least."

Shrugging, Orlaan countered, "Even so, if the high wizard can enlighten us as to what we might be dealing with, even if it has been a couple hundred years since he might have seen this god of the brothers; it might give us somewhere to go. If Sordrian was just a man, even an immortal one, it gives us the ability to poke holes in their belief in him at least.

"If it takes time, that's what it takes; but we can still benefit from his knowledge."

Wanting to sigh, Philip controlled his breathing and nodded. "I will see what I can do. Perhaps I can arrange a secondary shipment to the north to pay for a ship's time anyway. I will make sure that it doesn't waste time on the way to Hala, and will do my best, sire."

With business out of the way, Orlaan's shoulders seemed to relax before his eyes and the king pulled out a chair to sit. Philip followed suit still holding the glass of wine which had been barely touched.

"So how is Alexander doing in Patris? Has he started making a family with that pretty wife of his yet?" the king's interest began sounding like just another curious uncle.

Much of the wine had been drunk by the time Philip rose to leave. Sunrise was beginning by the time he returned home and found his wife, Serafene, waiting for him looking slightly worried. He smiled and explained what had happened during the night over breakfast, even as he thought of what else he could do to help the king and his adopted country.

Chapter 6- Questions in a Temple

It was mid morning when the soldiers dressed in blue and white walked into the temple of Sordrian. A building appropriated only a few years ago, the brothers had turned a large warehouse into something quite different. It had high ceilings, but they hadn't been upgraded beyond the basic repairs. One could look up and see heavy wood cross members and thick beams crisscrossed overhead holding up the tons of roofing material. It hadn't leaked even in the face of the storms blown in from Talmoth Sea to the west or the Glacian Ocean to the north since it had been repaired, however.

Unlike the plain wood above, the floor of the main sanctuary had been reset with square stone. It was broken up into different patterns, but most of the tiles were tan in color; while the secondary color of dark brown made shapes in the aisles between the pews stained a similar color. All were polished, buffed to shine by the brothers and waxed as part of their chores.