The lands of Raul were made up of flat open plains with meandering roads connecting to the neighbouring kingdoms. Rolling hills as far as the eye could see made Hector wish to look at just one tree. The biggest settlements outside Raul were plaintive dreary hamlets made up of stone from the nearby rocky crags, its residents pausing to stare at the rare occurence of travelers.

“Why would someone wish to live here?” Hector asked, more of a statement than a question.

Captain Baric looked at the onlookers with wary pity, haggard looking folk, their eyes sunken with hunger.

“Some come to escape their past lives. Others simply seek peace. Almost all never come here of their own accord.”

A barren land bereft of joy and prosper, Hector thought. Home to the Spider Queen. He had tried not to dwell on their last encounter. It brought him shame, deeper still a panicked lust. What would his father have done in his place? He was a man of control and conviction, stern as the stone that now immortalized him. But the Queen was capable of things with the Gifts he had not thought possible. He had learned much that day. Hector struggled to not let his mind wander.

“What was it like, Baric, when you ascended?”

The captain squinted, always looking out from the window for any possible danger lurking just out of his sight.

“I was sparring with a mage, who had passed his mortal span by just two years. He was a cruel man, as young nobles usually are, though I was no better man myself. He often used his Gifts to injure several of us at a time during his training. I remember him saying that the only use for a commoner was to serve the line of the mythic. The suns were at their highest that day. I felt it, like hot water running down your spine and tingling your mind. Your blood, coursing with power, brimming with it. There is no other sensation like it. I killed that young mage, and I cannot say I did it without accident. His father demanded my execution, but King Darion instead inducted me into his Circle.”

“You make it sound as if this power is a villainous seduction.”

“As you have heard already, men with great power tend to turn savage from it. No man should hold such power, least of all us. These were the words of your father, my liege. I did not understand it, until the end of the Reunification. When I was young I was small, scrawny by even mortal standards. I had learned to submit to the whims of the larger boys, and during that time knew what it was like to be weak and helpless, asking for mercy. None came, until my father beat them away with a stick. I learned the value of this power, and seek to honor our oaths as mages and protect our people from men who think they are larger than themselves. Nothing is more vile than a man who has never learned defeat.”

"And we are the people wielding the stick," Hector said. "But must I know defeat to learn from it?"

"You were kept in the Royal Palace so that you would not meet a premature death from such defeat. Forgive me, my liege, if I speak bluntly, but you cannot face this world until you ascend. Even then, you will not be ready. There are mages who have lived for centuries, honing their skill over death.”

“One such as Queen Lyssa?” The Spider Queen. Father told me not to trust her, and yet I’ve been caught entangled in her web. Or bed, to put it quite simply.

The Crown Guard paused.

“It is alright, Baric. Please, speak honestly."

"Although she yielded and swore fealty after the Broken Rebellion, your father was never able to fully rein in her rule. She broke your father's wishes to leave the natives' lands alone. But since her raids the natives have not tread on human soil during her reign, and her people love her as a result. Raul has only known hardship and war, and the Queen has done her part to ease both, though I suspect unintentionally. She is fickle in nature, but hides a deep cunning. She would not have been able to survive Queen Lillian were it not so."

“How did people come to call her the Spider Queen?”

“Originally, she was named so by Queen Lillian’s court for hanging her foes with the grip of her Gift before she had her way with them.”

Hector grimaced, for he knew the captain was leaving details of their demise out.

Baric continued, “Her kingdom was the first to sentence death of hanging one by their feet, so that they may die slowly while their blood pooled down to their heads. I am told it is a humane end.” Though Baric’s mouth set curtly downward suggested otherwise. “Thus her people dub her the Spider Queen, merciful and just to her people, yet as equally cruel and merciless to her foes.”

Hector looked outside and spotted Raul from below the sloping hills, half as vast as the capital but with the addition of two more walls surrounding the smaller city.

“We’re here,” Hector said. After a week’s journey he was glad to reach civilization. Upon reaching Raul's gates they were stopped by its guardsmen.

"My liege, please wait here," Baric donned his helmet and stepped outside. Hector heard his muted cry through the carriage doors, "Allow us entrance, by order of the Monarchy!"

The captain returned and the driver whipped the horses forward. The fortifications of Raul was impressive indeed, turrets and stoned walls holding its many sentries that manned its ramparts. Three gates opened and three portcullises were raised, spiked menacingly at the bottom. The city within was akin to the farming towns Hector passed outside the capital. None of the peaked roofs were tiled, thatched or the rarer logged buildings sprung up from the earth, as wildly placed and plentiful as weeds.

The stone road continued in a straight line to Raul’s Royal Castle. It towered over the diminutive houses of timber and straw. What was most peculiar was the open squared wooden building attached to the stone work, which was dwarfed in turn not by height but its broadness, spanning the castle thrice over.

“What is that giant courtyard used for?” Hector wondered aloud.

“That is the Arena.”

“The Arena?”

“It is entertainment for the people, and mages alike. Humans are made to kill each other for sport,” Baric said with distaste. “Queen Lyssa raids the native lands to bring back prisoners of war and all manner of its monstrous creatures, forcing them as executioners for criminals, before they are killed themselves by a mage’s hand. I’ve seen it for myself, even Queen Lyssa would take part in it.”

“Why would she do such a thing?” Hector asked, aghast.

“The Queen claims that it is to learn of the natives’ tactics. Your father wished to end this barbarism but could not due to the insurmountable support of the people. Raul has tasted blood for too long, and now they thirst for it.”

“The bloody kingdom indeed,” Hector murmured. The caravan of carriages continued past to the castle entrance, its roken gate barring entry. The line of guards were not common folk, mages themselves darkly gothic armored in bright red plumage of the Queen's Guard.

"I am afraid they must ask of your identity my liege," Baric informed Hector.

"Yes, of course." Hector produced a small flat chest underneath his seat. Within was an unadorned golden circlet, glimmering in its simple form. The Crown Prince raised the circlet above his head where it rested at his temples, showing his station.

Hector exited the carriage alongside his Crown Guard, forming a line behind him. Baric stood beside the prince, eyes squinted underneath his open helm. The dark sentinels remained impassive in their gilded visors shaped as an eagle’s head. Their polearms though ornate still shined with sharp edged practicality.

“Here stands before you a prince of the Monarchy,” Baric announced. “Crown Prince Hector, son of King Alexander of the Empire of the Riordan line, and heir to the High Throne! Grant us audience with the Queen.”

“We have not received any word from the Oracles of the Crown Prince journeying to Raul,” a man's voice muffled flippantly within his eagle’s visor. “If you truly are Crown Guard, then you will have no trouble opening this gate. Take out the bar, but do not open the gate!”

The Queen’s Guard marched at their captain's signal to the sides of the gate before turning forward, backs facing the wall. Baric beckoned six of his fellow guards, who stepped forward. Matured roken wood was much denser than normal wood, heavier than any mortal man could hope to handle. Its hinges were specially made by the dwarves, renowned for their closely guarded metal workings. The gate was not dissimilar to the Council doors, undoubtedly at least half his arm in thickness.

Three Crown Guards at each side placed their gauntleted hands on the furrowed textured wood. Amber light shone from their visorless helms as they channeled their power. They pushed forward, step by step the gate steadily opened with a mighty creaking groan. The mages turned to Hector, light fading from their eyes. The Queen’s Guard knelt on one knee, halberds propped to their shoulders.

“Forgive me, my liege,” their captain spoke. “We were not told of your coming.”

“It is fair. I would have been doubtful in your place as well. It was my decision not to have the Oracles relay my journey. Please, send word to your Queen of my arrival.”

The armored guard scuffled back up to his feet.

“It shall be done at once, my liege.”

***

Hector gazed at the Gilded Throne. There it stood leading up to the steps silhouetted in the shadowed hall, its form spreading out from the seated chair to touch the ceiling, defying the laws of force. Whereas the High Throne was geometrically patterned across white marble, the Gilded Throne's designs flowed across its stained black roken wood base, a spiral pattern of inlaid gold that glimmered in the gloom. Fleeting forms of wolves and eagles were placed symmetrically within its intricate patterning.

A line of lanterns hung to both sides of the long hall, each a glowing refuge from the darkness. The Crown Guard barring Baric stood beside each lantern, armor illuminated in the lights' warmth.

Hector turned to face the approaching figures that grew closer. Queen Lyssa downed her hood, her pale face outlined in the orange light, Terese at her right side, Roth to her left. The Crown Steward looked upon Hector with cold disapproval.

“You should not be here Hector. You only bring yourself in harm’s way.”

“Should not is different from cannot,” the Queen smirked. “He is not a boy after all, to bend to your will, Steward. I am gladdened by your presence, my Prince. It does put a spur in things, doesn’t it?”

“It was not my wish to alarm you. I know you would have advised me to stay in the capital, Roth. But I wish to see the siege, at once.”

“My liege, it is imperative your safety-”

“Is not your concern,” Queen Lyssa flicked her hand in Roth’s direction, to which the Crown Steward stared daggers back at her. “The Prince wishes to witness the siege. I shall escort him myself.”

Baric stepped forward. “You go too far to presume the Crown Prince’s judgment. We shall escort him, together.”

Hector raised his hand to the captain.

“You may make sure there are clear skies, Queen Lyssa. I would understand if you do not want to be encumbered in a carriage.”

The Queen flashed a smile, unperturbed.

“It is true, my Prince. I enjoy the freedom flight brings. I shall be sure to survey the ground so your journey remains undisturbed.”

Her bright red cloak swept past as she strode back from whence she came, ever shadowed by her apprentice. Roth remained in the throne room, brow furrowed, mouth set in a frown.

“I take it you will not let me accompany you.”

“That is correct. Unfortunately it would be cramped in the rather small carriages I journeyed in.”

“It was foolish of you to come here. A Prince not yet ascended cannot be put in harm’s way, especially in times of war.”

“Perhaps, but a King must know how to act in times of war.”

“I shall send word to allow you entry past the long wall. I shall wait at the Royal Pavilion, a white tent on the other side.”

“I may be unaware of what lies outside the Royal Castle, but you made sure to tutor me in military structure.”

“I tutored you in mind so that you would not get yourself killed playing war. This is no game.”

“I never treated it as such.”

Roth turned to exit, pausing.

“We shall see.”

“The Crown Steward still views you as a boy,” Baric said when Roth left. “He does not see that your father taught you well, and you have grown with the proper mindset of a King. For you wish to follow your father’s path, not that which the Steward has chosen for you.”

“Steward Roth seeks to control this war. It is my fault, I have given him sway over my decisions for far too long I fear. Now, let us see what I have begun.”

Hector peered out from the carriage, looking upwards past the farms and the grey line of the Long Wall to the Green Pass, and towering over it all the Elder Tree. There were no paintings of it in the Royal Castle, shunned from the Empire’s history. Hector could only discern its form through descriptions he found from dusty tomes in the Royal Library. When he caught a glimpse before the carriage turned round the path it burned into his mind, no words could hope to describe the scale of its size. Its branches reached the clouds and onwards.

We seek to burn down that? Hector agreed with Freia’s words, he wasn’t sure if it was possible. Can man battle such a creation and raze it from the heavens? Who are we to try and bring down such majesty.

They reached the Royal Pavilion without stopping, Hector approached the white tent, two lines of Lyssa and Roth’s Circle standing guard. Hector’s Crown Guard in turn joined their ranks, Baric following him into the white tent. A man wearing the dark red uniform of General stood with Lyssa, Terese, and Roth. He bowed humbly, the others nodding in acknowledgement.

“What is your name, General?”

“It is Martin, my liege. It is an honor to serve the Riordan line.”

“How goes the siege, General Martin?”

“Let me show you, we have already started just a few days past.”

Martin swept past the covers of the tent and walked towards the line of defense that made up the perimeter connecting to the Long Wall, a wide half circle of stakes and trenches with even a makeshift palisade and wood gate, opening at their approach.

Giant chunks of lumber pulled by teams of oxen idled on the scorched earth. Miles upon miles of charred husks of wood littered the landscape, dry blackened chalky ash covering the cracked ground. Is this how I shall be remembered? Hector thought grimly. King Hector, having not even ascended, burner of forests and life? Will they honor my memory with a torch in hand, kneeling before his Steward’s so called guidance?

A five score line of soldiers waited, a wall of bodies standing guard behind a row of massive trebuchets. Only two of which were constructed, the rest being assembled by teams of mages directed by another team of engineers. Immense blocks of lumber were sheared and cut by saws that moved at the mages’ command. Carpenters climbed with ladders to work on the still sizable pieces of wood.

The pair of finished trebuchets stood over three hundred feet high, its metal wheels in diameter to the height of two tall men, buried into the ground by its sheer weight. The machines of war were a combination of wood, metal, and knotted rope twined thicker than a muscled man’s arm pulled by mages glowing with their strength. Dozens of mages willed great chunks of lumber coated in pitch and lighted afire onto the metal bowled holders nearly twice the size of one of its wheels, slinged with heavy rope joined to the extending arm of the catapult.

“Release!” A cry was heard, followed by the heave and hos of teams of twenty or so mages at each catapult, eyes searing with power as they pulled down with all their supernatural strength. The arms of the trebuchets launched forward, flinging their salvo of lighted lumber towards the Green Pass. It sailed past in the air, blazing in the darkened cloudy sky.

The massive projectile crashed and snapped past branches thick as oak tree trunks, ricocheting down with showers of broken wood while spreading fire to the leafed canopy, already a column of smoke obscuring the vast Elder Tree. The flames fed upon the countless leaves, igniting a fire that trickled down to the thick bark. The fire covered the mighty trees, bathed in its inferno. The blaze reached past the tree tops, snaking skyward to threaten the distant Elder Tree’s form.

“The forest’s forefront has been covered in pitch and oil,” General Martin explained. “It is a lengthy process, and we will soon run out of supplies.”

“The forest will fuel its own destruction,” Roth calmly said. “We have more than enough lumber to create enough pitch.”

“Yes, well, now that you have seen the siege my Prince, are you not famished and weary? Surely you must rest and recover from your long journey,” the Queen smiled, her voice a warm caress. “The siege will continue, with or without your presence.”

Hector struggled to keep a passive face and neutral tone.

“I must admit, it has been some time since me and my guard have had a hot meal.”

“Excellent! I shall show you what Raul hospitality has to offer.”