Hector watched the carriage roll to a grinding halt in front of the courtyard inside the Castle gates. It was a craftsman's masterpiece, gilded gold trimmings over black painted wood with equally ornamented wheels, only brought down in grandeur by the white pigeon droppings that stood out in stark contrast to the black carriage. The coachman went down to open the door and she stepped out, Queen Lyssa of Raul.

Her hair was not pinned up as was fashion for women in court to do but hung freely, long black curls that were at the very least properly combed. Her complexion though absent of powdered makeup was clear of any blemishes that would mar her beauty. High cheekbones, a long bridged nose that did not hawk over but arched gracefully down, and vivid grey eyes despite their sparkle spoke of a cold calculating nature. She was bare of any jewelry to show for her wealth. A black form fitting dress from her chest down billowed as it lowered to her hips, allowing for swift mobility if needed.

Lyssa was a warrior Queen, having taken her kingdom through right of conquest during the Broken Rebellion, not a woman to be taken lightly. So his father had once told him. Diplomacy was the word to best describe the interactions between the mage kings and queens, and it was a delicate task. She leaned out from the carriage, the chest line of her dress angled dangerously low to reveal her accentuated cleavage. The coachman pointedly looked upwards as he held the door ajar. Hector smiled, tight lipped. He wringed his hands together behind. Calm yourself, she is baiting you. He chided himself. The fickle adolescent, caught in the spider’s web. So they call her. The Spider Queen indeed.

“I hope your ride here was pleasant, Queen Lyssa.” He beamed, extending his hand out, akin to the statue of his father. Her smile he saw no equal to.

“It was, my Prince.” His smile turned wooden soon as she said my. She continued, “I am sorry for your loss. Your father was a good man. The world is worse off for his death."

She leaned close to one ear. He stood still as stone. She whispered the words under her breath so faintly he wondered if he had scarcely heard it at all. "We will make the Natives pay, you and I, together.”

“Would you care to rest before we call the council meeting?”

She pulled back and smiled, unabashed. “Not at all, my prince. I would like to meet with my fellow monarchs as soon as you deem it.”

“Please then, allow me to escort you.”

He turned to lead her, but was surprised when the Queen stepped forward from behind to his right side with preternatural swiftness, latching an arm around his firmly. She smiled gleefully, amber light pulsing and spreading from her veins to her irises as the power coursed through her body, fading away as quickly as it had started. He was taken aback by the nonchalant manner in which she used her Gifts. He paused for an instant before stepping forward to the council room behind the throne. She would never have acted this way if father were here, he raged inside. Hector wondered how he would have handled her immodest behaviour.

She was a good head taller than him, a tall woman. He felt her bare arm wrapped around his was lean and corded with muscle. She could squash me like a fly if she wanted, Hector noted to himself. After all, he had not yet even ascended past his mortal span. His black boots clicked and clacked against the cold hard white marble floor, her black dress gliding across like a dark cloud.

They made their way through the throne room, shafts of sunlight penetrating through the haze of color from the looming stained glass windows at either side. The stained glass depicted the kings fighting their historic wars, mainly of King Celdan routing the Natives illustrated in bright colors of blue, green, brown, yellow, and red. The light painted the white floor with the reflections of muted color.

Two guards stood at attention at either side of the Council chamber door wielding wicked looking polearms. The doorstop was a gold plated head in the likeness of some fearsome beast found only in the Holy Land roaring with a glorious mane of hair, an equally golden ring entrapped in its bared jaws to which one guard rapped on the Roken wooden twin doors. The thick doors creaked open and closed by itself once they stepped inside. Though possessing the lesser traits of the Gifts not even the Crown Guard could open this door.

Roth and the monarchs stood up at Hector and Lyssa’s arrival.

“My liege. My Queen,” they said brokenly, nodding to each. Hector sat down at the end of the long table facing the Steward at the other side, the other monarchs sitting in between. There were six chairs in total, one of which lay empty. Queen Lyssa lazed on her chair beside the empty one, head supported on one arm, uncaring of the elder Queen Lillian's look of contempt at her callous disregard for regality.

Roth was the only one to remain standing, leaning his hands on the long table. His gaze was concentrated on the sizable map that lay unfurled, held down by paper weights at each corner of the Four Kingdoms. He raised his head to address them all, “Now that we are all here, I think it wise that I overtake the campaign on the siege of the Elder Tree. As general of the Hearth army I have the most experience dealing with the Natives.”

“Nonsense,” Lyssa scoffed. “Since when was the Heartlands invaded by the Natives?" She stood up and jabbed a finger at Roth. “All your campaigns were during the Broken Rebellion. And doing what? Bargaining with the commoners and hanging their leaders? My kingdom has acted as a buffer from the Natives at the benefit of you all for damned centuries, repelling each invasion. If anyone has the most experience here Steward, it would be I.”

“At least listen to what his plan is Lyssa,” King Jorgan admonished in his blustering breath. He was a man of greying black hair, a hooked nose over a beard and long hair fit for a dwarf. His kingdom Lyonia was, after all, closest to the Dwarven mountains. He had grown fat and weak from the accrued wealth their mountain allies had given to Lyonia, jewels they found deep in their mines that held no materialistic value to them.

Hector watched brooding. His father’s death seemed in vain for all of this. A power struggle over who would even lead the campaign would lead to no campaign at all.

"And how would you handle the advance of our combined armies upon the Elder Forest, my Queen?" Roth asked calmly.

Lyssa bared her teeth in a feral grin, "I would use the combined might of all our Gifted to march forth to the Elder Tree and strike down any in our path."

"Inconceivable," King Jorgan said, jowls quivering furiously.

"We do not know what magics the Natives have hidden in the Elder Forest," Roth spoke. "To use all our Gifted in this war would be to risk another rebellion with the people. Of that I can assure you, in my experience, will happen."

Queen Lyssa laughed, a harmonious sound despite its malevolence.

"The commoners will bow down at our feet as soon as we return. The final conquerors of this land, having exterminated the last of the Natives."

"Have you forgotten what happened to the forefathers of the late King? What will you do if you reach the Elder Tree? Have you thought of the consequences it would bring to this world?" Queen Lillian of Talibath was traditional in her way of thinking, always level headed and preferring not to stray away from the Ancient Law. The Laws of Governance, Order, and Balance as the forefathers had passed down to the generations of Gifted.

Lyssa lazily waved away her hand.

"The Ancient Laws worked when we were at the height of our power. When we were Gods."

"Don't lecture me Lyssa. You were not even a thought while I was quelling the start of the rebellion before your kingdom had even broken off from mine, all the while holding off the native races from our borders. We do not understand the importance of the Elder Tree if we want to preserve the balance of this world."

"Fires burn, and once there is nothing to burn exhausts itself. But after the fire is extinguished the charred remains of life sprouts anew, stronger than ever. The forest will endure. The Natives will not. They killed our King in the process of a peace treaty, and have not answered for their treachery. That is the purpose of this campaign. Does that solve your call for balance, my Queen?" Roth pointed to the map where the kingdom Raul was depicted with flowery text over an illustrated castle similar to Hearth.

"We marshal our forces here and act as if the forest is a wall. We lay siege with catapults made from their own trees, their ammunition dipped in oil and fire. This may take weeks, if not months. We smoke them out from the forest and wait, establishing supply lines from the Heartlands connecting to each kingdom until it reaches Raul. We will burn the entire forest if needed."

"Just how do you propose we cut the great trees for your catapults? It would take years," Lillian objected.

"With this."

Roth held out his hand to which a leather bound scroll case flew into his grasp. The case opened and the scroll unfurled itself over the map on the table, revealing painstakingly precise drawings of schematics.

“Tell us what we’re looking at here Roth,” Lillian said tiredly.

“This is a double edged saw. Approximately ten times the length of a man’s height. We will use our mages to power the saws and cut through the Great Trees of the Elder forest for construction of our catapults and ammunition while our forces stand guard.”

“Use the forest itself to fuel its own destruction?” Lyssa seemed pleased with the irony. “There are no mages strong enough to wield the saws as large as these. Unless you mean to use us to power the saws?”

“I would oversee the construction of the catapults with your help if you deem it, my Queen.”

“I accept, on the condition that I am in charge of our forces.” Roth nodded in agreement. Lyssa continued, “My kingdom may have broken from yours Lillian, but that has not stopped the Native invasions on my territory while you’ve benefited from my safekeeping over the century.”

“Ninety one years,” Lillian quipped. “While I’ve guarded this realm from all threats both inside and outside our borders for centuries.”

The Queen of Raul rolled her eyes.

“Well yes, you’re positively ancient. So close to your twilight years.” One side of her mouth lifted at the slightest smirk.

Lillian ignored her gibe and said, “I take it you’ve already made these saws. And that they’re already in Lyonia, ready for transport to Raul.”

It was no secret that King Jorgan was allied to Roth, having stopped an insurrection between an upstart mage who undoubtedly would have killed Jorgan if not for Roth’s interference one or two decades ago. The saws were certainly made in Lyonia, home to dwarven smiths. The dwarves, though primitive in their technology, were capable of works that no normal man could hope to make due to their preternatural strength.

Roth nodded, “It will take three days for the saws to reach Raul. I do not wish to rush you but I shall leave by this day, and plead you depart with haste, my Queen.”

“It took a week to reach the capital. I’ll arrive at my kingdom in a day.”

Roth was taken aback.

“Surely you do not mean to-”

“I can and I will. Come now, these are not the times of the Broken Empire. Besides, I welcome a challenge if it comes to it.” She bared her teeth in her feral grin, her eyes resting on Hector.

"At least allow me to assign an honor guard-"

Queen Lyssa flicked her hand away.

"I have my apprentice with me. She is all I need. This meeting is over. I’ll leave tomorrow. My prince, if you would allow me the honor of sparring with you in swordplay. It's been too long since I had any exercise."

"He is just a boy, my Queen," Roth said disparagingly. She tittered.

"A boy that's been trained in the way of the sword since he could walk. Unless you are not confident of his ability under your tutelage?"

Roth sat down, his clasped hands covering the lower half of his face as he stared at the Queen, green eyes glimmering fiercely.

"We still have yet to discuss other matters."

"Of which I am sure you will handle. The Prince needs to be tested, especially in these uncertain times."

Roth nodded to Hector, "You may stay if you wish, my liege. There are important matters concerning the Realm."

Hector stood up.

"She's right. I need to be tested, if I am to be King."

Lyssa smiled and tilted her head at Roth, who fumed as if he had just lost a very important game.

"Very well."

The Queen of Raul once again took Hector by the arm, and though he was escorting her he felt as if she was leading him.

“Won’t you need to change, my Queen?”

“Oh this? Not at all. Shall we meet in the Castle garden?”

“As you wish, my Queen. I'll have you shown to your room to prepare.”

***

The Castle garden was an open courtyard filled with flora and fauna found in and outside the Realm. Delicate colored orchids, carefully trimmed hedges, and exotic plants taken from Umbra and the distant Orient. A fountain lay at its center, water falling all around at three levels of descending size.

They tread on the flat stone path that lead to the fountain and faced each other. Whereas Hector had donned a leather vest the Queen wore her same clothing without the long skirt, revealing black pants and thigh high black leather boots shined to a luster. Hector held two one handed wooden swords compared to Lyssa’s metal swords, gleaming menacingly in the sunlight.

“Put those away, we're not play fighting. Do not worry, I will not use my Gifts.” Her tone was different from her playful candor, dismissive yet authoritative. She threw one sword to him, spinning in the air vertically to which he caught its hilt.

“Hmm,” she said, raising an eyebrow as if she were studying the quality of stock from a horse. He lifted the sword with both hands above his head, decided it was too heavy and lowered it, arms level to his chest. He already knew he was no match for her, both physically and martially. She was taller, had more reach and most importantly was a veteran of over a century of war. But he suspected he had the advantage of speed provided she did not use her Gifts.

“Accustomed to the style of the Orient I see. Disappointing. Go on.”

Hector stepped cautiously forward. Queen Lyssa remained standing, relaxed with her sword lowered. He took a small step forward to get within range. That little detail was all she needed to read his move and sidestepped away from his thrust, slapping the flat of her blade to his back while hooking the front of her foot to his ankle, causing him to fumble forward. He turned around to find her sword resting on his throat.

“Don’t hold back,” Lyssa whispered in his ear. Hector did not hear her. He had not seen the lone figure until the duel had met its swift end. She was leaning against the wall shrouded in its shade, arms crossed. The Queen looked back and smiled at Hector, withdrawing her sword and stepping back.

“Ah, you have not seen my apprentice? Terese come out.”

Terese stepped out into the light. She was slightly shorter than Hector, her body slim in her hooded black cloak. She was not considered a beautiful girl by highborn standards. No long neck or slender long nose. Her nose though long bridged snubbed out widely. Full lips set in a somber line. Her thin eyebrows tapered elegantly, dark brown near black as her hair set in a ponytail. Her eyes angled out slightly suggesting her blood Orient in origin, dark brown pools.

“Terese will spar with you.” Lyssa tossed her sword to the girl who deftly caught it. The Queen stepped back jubilantly, eyes darting between the two. Hector maintained the same caution as if he were still sparring with the Queen. She was after all her apprentice, and he fully expected the same skill. How old was she? She looked to be in her early twenties, but given that she was a mage she could be over fifty or so years old. Which meant possibly half a century honing her skill over him. He feinted, gauging her reaction, which was to simply change the side of her stance. Her sword lay lazily down in the same manner as her master.

She is leaving herself open, he thought. I could easily kill her by accident. Her sudden move cut through his thoughts, a perfect thrust that despite its speed held total control. He parried the blow to the side and she started her assault, a clash of metal that echoed in the courtyard. She’s fast, Hector panicked. Too fast. In a bid to stop the increasing speed of her strikes Hector swiped with his sword to which she dodged gracefully, swaying back her head. I could have killed her, Hector thought aghast.

“Don’t hold back, she is merely playing with you,” the Queen encouraged him. Emboldened by her words Hector lunged to change the momentum of the duel. Terese instead of parrying ducked and weaved outside his strikes, even flipping back acrobatically away from range. Could it be? Hector came to the realization. She fights like a sylvan. Upon his hesitation she sprung and renewed her attack, Hector struggling to block and parry until he was caught, Terese’s sword poised before his throat. Hector stood breathing hard, to which despite his efforts Terese remained stoic and controlled. He stared into her dark eyes and wondered what secrets they held.

“Excellent! Terese is not much older than you are, at the mortal age of twenty years. Despite her youth I’ve never seen a finer swordsman amongst her. You did well to spar as long as you did.” Lyssa slinked behind Hector, catching his eyes which rested on Terese.

“You like her,” the Queen breathed near Hector’s ear. He fought to not flinch at her sudden appearance behind him. She turned and circled round Terese, who stood still as a statue. Though her face was blank her eyebrow gave the slightest twitch upon meeting Hector’s stare, not escaping the notice of the Queen.

“And she likes you. I can tell,” She continued to croon. “Look at that. Young love.” Lyssa turned to Hector.

“My Prince, please allow me the honor of accepting a gift I have brought. I wish to give it to you in my chambers.”

Hector stood, unsure of how to politely decline.

As if she read his mind the Queen turned and said more strongly, “I insist. It would be quite rude to decline my gift, would you not say? It is of... exotic taste.” Lyssa turned away from Hector's view, smiling at her own wit.

He followed the Queen and looked back to see Terese silently following them, ten paces behind. The guest chambers were located close to the Castle Garden, each wing extending out from all three sides of the courtyard. Queen Lyssa’s quarters was located a short distance away. They walked into the shadow of her room, curtains carelessly drawn, suns’ light peeking out from its covers. Hector turned round to see Terese standing closing the door, the Queen whispering in her ear while smiling knowingly at him. Terese approached him, her gaze meeting Hector’s. Her face remained expressionless. He stood rooted to the spot, until she walked too close.

"What is the meaning of this?" Hector demanded. He took a small step back, and another step back until she pushed him onto the spacious four posted bed just behind. She unclipped her cloak and undressed, revealing a lean, lithe body, her pale pert breasts sloping down gently to her light brown nipples. She bent down to kiss Hector before he could utter another word, all the while unfastening his clothing.

The Queen sat down on a chair nearby. With a flick of her wrist she magicked a bottle of wine to float to the table beside her along with a glassed goblet. The bottle uncorked itself and floated up, angling to fill the glass half full. She sipped from her glass, watching. She set the goblet back onto the table.

“Like I said,” Lyssa murmured to herself with the faintest smirk. “It’s been too long.”

She rose and raised her arms as her clothes fell and stripped away from her body to join them.