Even with advanced warning, the reception back on top of the plateau was entirely expected.

"I can't say this doesn't make me uneasy, Jack," said Abigail with arms crossed as she watched a good portion of the Muthada separate into their own camp on the other side of the plateau. The majority of the women went about setting up their tents, a surprisingly easy task for how complex they looked. It enabled them to pack up and move within a few moment's notice and also easily explained how the Numratha were able to get out ahead of them before they reached their camp several days ago.

"It makes me a little nervous as well," said Jack with a comforting hand on her back. "However, they've shown their worth so far. They fought back the attacking clan of Cethusa warriors, and they've obeyed every order I've given."

"And what if that's part of the plan?" she asked. Her expression turned to worry. "Perhaps this is a trick?"

"Greg suggested the same thing," said Jack. "Yet, they have brought their entire clan with them. The majority are innocents. I hardly doubt if they were up to no good they would've brought their families with them."

Abigail's mouth twitched. "Still though. I don't like it."

"We'll keep them separated, Abigail. For now, I'm posting warriors on both entrances to the plateau to join the guard of marines. With our reinforcements, we're now up to a hundred and twenty-eight men, more warriors than the entire Muthada. If they tried anything, the marines are under strict orders not to hold back to secure the integrity of our group."

Abigail nodded slowly, saying no more. It was obvious by the look on her face she wasn't entirely convinced, not that Jack blamed her. Asking her to now trust an enemy who had so recently been trying to kill them was a tall order. Their good behavior was the only shred of trust Jack was willing to grant them, and so far, they hadn't disappointed him.

It was even rather curious to watch them as they erected a new camp at the top of the plateau, reminding Jack that they were still humans too. He watched an oblivious husband and wife bicker over something in their native tongue while a small mass of children ran about between their legs, playing their own version of tag. A small part of him inside was thankful they hadn't had to kill them all. Perhaps there was hope yet for the Andalucian clans?

Even still, what was left of the Muthada was still haunted by the specter of slavery. As normal signs of humanity filled the camp, the dark side of bondage took over in the background as slaves rushed about doing the most menial of tasks, all marked by the small metal clasp around their neck that indicated their position at the bottom of Andalucian society.

"Terrible, isn't it? The slaves, I mean," said a feminine voice to his side.

Jack looked over to see Vera watching him, her gaze alternating between two nearby slaves who were hauling possessions for one of the Muthada families.

"It is," agreed Jack. "Just when I was starting to think the Andalucians may not be so different from us, I get a reminder of their societies' plight. It really is awful to watch."

"It's even more awful to experience it firsthand," said Vera quietly.

Jack wrapped an arm protectively around her shoulder. "Are you holding up okay? I realize it must be a lot to ask of you to have them so close to us now."

Vera shook her head. "I've put it behind me. Some reminders of that experience get to me at times, but I've moved on. It's a life I wouldn't wish on anyone."

"And yet it seems to have persisted here of all places," said Jack. "I don't know how or why but the longer we stay here on this wretched island, the more I can understand the misery here. Even if there was no slavery, it would still be terrible here."

"The only constant in Andalucia is warfare, Jack. The clans are always fighting each other. If it wasn't you right now, it would be someone else."

"That's of little comfort at the moment," said Jack with a slight chuckle. "Especially as I find myself a clan chief seemingly at the drop of a hat."

"Or the drop of the last chief," teased Vera. "Even still, it's not something to take much pride in. It's a legacy of shame more than anything."

"All the more reason for us to finish our mission and get out of here," said Jack. "I never asked to be chief of the Muthada. I think it may give us an opportunity to learn more about them and perhaps find a way out of our current predicament, but beyond that, I don't see much value. They can pick a new chief when I'm gone."

Vera shook her head. "I don't think it works like that, Jack. From what I remember when I was here, your chiefdom survives as long as you do. As long as you're alive, these people will consider you their leader."

"It's a lot to digest right now," said Jack with total honesty. "I'm sure half the group thinks I'm nuts for letting them up here. Not that I trust them fully either, but if there's a way we can use this to our advantage, I'm going to take it."

"I trust you," said Vera quietly as her eyes sought his. "You've never led me astray in the entire time that I've known you."

"All two months at that?" he teased.

Vera started to giggle. "Still. There's something inside me that tells me I can trust you. That I should trust you. As someone who usually goes by her gut feeling, I'm going to continue to listen to my instincts."

"I hope for both of our sakes then that your trust in me is justified," said Jack with a laugh.

She squeezed him tight. "Me too!"

As Vera slipped away, Jack spotted Abel on his way back to the new camp from his position on the front line. Since it was close to midday, his headgear covered a good portion of his face, and Jack could only tell it was him by recognizing his earlier clothing. He studied the Andalucian warrior for a few moments before he decided to walk over. Abel had dark-olive colored skin and brown eyes, carrying lighter features than most of the Muthada. As soon as he saw Jack approaching, he sunk to the ground in a kneel.

"Greetings, clan chief," said Abel in a formal tone.

"Abel, please rise," said Jack while waving at the man. "Do you always greet your chiefs in such a manner?"

Abel used a hand to push off the ground. "It is Andalucian custom, clan chief. We treat our chiefs with the utmost respect by showing our deference."

"It seems I have much to learn about your culture," said Jack. "Do you mind if I walk with you for a bit?"

Abel shook his head. "I'd be honored, clan chief. I was just about to go back to my tent to get more water." He waved a small container in front of him, completely empty of its contents.

"Abel, I'll be frank with you. I don't have much experience with your lands or with your people. I still have many questions, and unfortunately, this isn't the best learning environment for that."

"It's been noticed already," said Abel with a small smile. "There have been many within the Muthada who are eager to know more about their new clan chief."

"As I am eager to find out about them. For that reason, I'd like to ask your help in that matter."

"My help? In what regard?"

"In teaching me about your people and your ways. I'm not sure how long we'll be in your country, but I do think it's important that I reach a level of understanding with your people. Would you be my teacher in that regard?" asked Jack.

Abel nodded eagerly. "It would be my privilege, clan chief. Wow," he said while holding a hand to his breast.

"What is the matter?"

"I'm just not used to having such exultation as I feel right now," he said with a smile. "Adulis and I didn't see eye to eye much. He was still family, but more distant in relation, and there had been some bad blood between my father and his. That didn't put me very close to his inner circle so this is quite the change in position for me."

"For not being too trusted by him, you seemed well familiar with the battlefield when we engaged the Cethusa. Your men seemed to trust you."

"I have trained as a warrior all my life, clan chief," said Abel. "There aren't many others in the entire Muthada that are a better shot than I. Even though Adulis didn't like me, it didn't mean I don't command a certain degree of respect in wartime."

"So you're something like a general to the clan?" asked Jack.

Abel winced. "General? No. I know that of which you speak, but the only generals in Andalucia are the clan chiefs. Clan chiefs have the power of life and death over their clan so there's not much room for any additional forms of authority such as a general."

"What about Bathal? He seemed to have some authority over who met with Adulis when I first entered your camp."

"True," said Abel with a nod of his head. "But Bathal was first cousin to Adulis and granted extra privileges for his competency. He only carried out the will of the clan chief. You can say that being in the inner circle of a clan chief is one of the greatest positions in the entire clan, but even then, you are still nothing more than an advisor."

"It all seems so centralized. The power, that is. We have a similar form of government where we are from," said Jack. "However, our emperor does allow independent decision-making amongst other branches of the government."

Abel shook his head. "That is not the case here. The clan chief's words are law. The only one who can overrule a clan chief is the high clan king."

"The high clan king. Tell me more about him, will you? Where is he for one?"

"The high clan king is the formal ruler of all of Andalucia," said Abel. "It is largely a nominal role, formulated by the strongest clan chief in the entire land. He rules the oasis stronghold city of Septhada, which is a distance away to the east."

"Does that mean his is the strongest clan in Andalucia?" asked Jack.

Abel shook his head. "No, he has no clan formally. When a man becomes high clan king, that is his identity. He no longer belongs to his former clan, and that clan will then pick a new clan chief. The only army that the high clan king has is that of the Sciavo. The slave hunters. An elite soldiery that answers only to him. The high clan king is elected to his position from the clan kings themselves. Only the strongest gets the position."

"Who is the current high clan king?"

Abel pursed his lips. "A terrifying man named Vertulis. He was formerly of the Burlada clan on the eastern reaches of Andalucia. He is a great warrior."

"As great as he is, could he command all the clan chiefs to act as one? To form a unified force for all of Andalucia?"

"That is a sensitive subject," said Abel quietly. "The high clan king is a position of utmost respect in our society, but the king doesn't have much real power. The real power operators are the clan chiefs. There are some clans that have five times the warriors of the Sciavo. While the high clan king is nominally the head of society, realistically he doesn't wield that much direct authority. He can give decrees and orders to the clan chiefs, but they aren't risking much by not following them."

"So he's just a figurehead?" asked Jack.

Abel shook his head. "Yes and no. It depends on the man. Ambitious clan chiefs can take over the kingship and rule with terror for the rest of their lives. Others choose to live a life of opulence in Septhada and leave the clan chiefs to their own dealings. It just matters who occupies the throne."

"And this Vertulis? What is he like?"

Abel turned to look at him. "He is a very active king. He is not one to be crossed. I would be careful about provoking him because he is very willing to use the Sciavo to attain his goals. Even his ties with his former clan are strong, and the Burlada are very deadly."

They came to a solid-looking tent and Abel soon picked up the flap, gesturing for Jack to go inside. Ducking his head, Jack slipped across the threshold, taking hold of the small one-room dwelling that appeared very simplistic for its purpose. Inside were three people. One, an adult woman in her mid-twenties with lustrous, long dark hair. The second was a middle-aged woman wearing the metal clasp of the slave. The last was a small girl, no more than five.

At the sight of Jack, all three of them prostrated themselves against the ground. Jack shot a look over to Abel who quickly bid them to rise to their feet.

"Clan chief, this is my family," said Abel as he helped them all rise as one. "My wife, Nia, and my daughter, Yula."

"Prayers for your good fortune, clan chief," said Nia politely as she bowed her head.

"Thank you for allowing me into your home, Nia," said Jack with a warm smile. He then bent at the knee to look at Yula. "And it's nice to meet you too, little one." Yula smiled shyly before running behind the legs of her father.

Abel chuckled and mussed her hair before moving over to the middle-aged slave. "This is Bithra, our slave. She's been serving our home for ten years."

Bithra remained on her knees, not daring to make eye contact with Jack. It was a pitiful sight, and it said much about the status of slaves in Andalucian society. As a response, Jack sunk to his, forcing Bithra to look at him. It caused a gasp from Abel's wife at seeing a clan chief behave in such a manner to a slave, but Jack wanted to prove a point.

"Very nice to meet you as well, Bithra," said Jack slowly, causing the old woman to turn red with embarrassment. "Thank you for the warm welcome."

She turned away but not before beaming with a smile as her eyes turned misty. As Jack stood up again, he found a look of concern on Abel's face as well as discontent on Nia's.

"Clan chief, it is not wise to treat slaves with such a measure of respect," said Abel while shaking his head. "Slaves tend to act out when they think they have too much value. It's better not to treat them as people."

A look of momentary anger crossed Jack's face before he settled on mild consternation. "Of all the things I find foreign about your land, there is none more so than your treatment of other people. Of slavery."

Abel bowed his head. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, clan chief. But this is the way it is, and the way it's always been. Andalucian society revolves around slavery. Slaves are vital members, picking our crops and working in the mines. But no one goes into slavery willingly. Rebellions are common. Clans end up dealing with slave rebellions almost as often as they go about fighting each other. The only proper way to deal with slavery is with a firm, unflinching hand."

Jack shook his head. "That's something I find despicable, Abel. We will have more to talk about soon with this issue. Do you treat former slaves in such a manner?"

Abel gave him a confused look. "Former slaves?"

"Yes, one's that have been set free or purchased their freedom in some form?"

Able looked away. "There is no such thing in Andalucia. Once you become a slave, you will always be one. Only death can free someone of slavery."

Jack resisted the urge to curse, especially around the little girl who was now galloping freely around the tent. "We will talk about this more later, Abel."

The man bowed his head. "Of course, clan chief." Abel then went about refilling his water container from stores within the tent, only signaling to the door when he was finished.

Jack then turned to look at Nia. "Thank you for letting me into your home." He smiled at Bithra and offered a small wave to Yula before he and Abel exited the dwelling.

"Abel, you've given me much to think about," said Jack finally once they had some privacy. "I'd like to continue these talks if you're willing."

"Of course, clan chief. I'll do all that you require of me. It will be my honor."

"Tonight, I want you to come seek me out as the sun sets. I want to know all that you know about this land so we can come up with our best course of action."

Abel gave him a toothy grin. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay up for a long time if you want to know all that I do."

"As long as we have the time," said Jack with a deep breath. "And I thank you now for your time."

"I'm at your service at all times, clan chief. We all are," said Abel while circling his finger around the camp. "The Muthada live for their chief, and we'll follow you until your end or ours. This I can promise you."

"I appreciate that, Abel. We'll talk again soon."

Abel bowed one more time before heading back to the eastern slope to resume his guard. Jack took a deep breath as he walked over to the northern slope and looked out to the camp of the nearby Cethusa clan. The land of Andalucia was complicated beyond any doubt. The more he learned from Abel only seemed to confirm that simple fact. Yet, it was for a good purpose that he must learn all he could. The fate of all those innocents depended on him. The fate of Kat especially depended on him. He just hoped wherever she was, she was safe. After seeing more of the way slaves were treated here, it didn't fill him with much hope.

*****

"So tell me about the city of Methusa? What clan does that belong to?" Jack asked as the evening sun hung low in the western sky. It was a few short hours later, and Jack ate a quick dinner while Abel answered questions about his land. Beside them sat Greg, Abigail, and Vera, all listening rather intently. Vera seemed to be the one that was least trusting of Abel, although given her own personal experience, that could be understood.

Abel started to shake his head. "No one. Methusa is an open city. It's run by the Sciavo, primarily because it's the first port of entry for any foreign slaves. Clan chiefs have tried to take it over before, but usually it results in action by the high clan king or other clan chiefs. So now, most clan chiefs ignore it. They buy their slaves from there, but otherwise they leave it be."

Before Jack could ask another question, the sounds of gunfire were heard from the eastern slope. All of them except Vera were on their feet at once, drawing their primary weapons as they rushed forward to see what was causing all the action. It was only once they were about twenty yards from the front that Jack heard the sounds of gunfire coming from the western slope as well.

"It's another full attack," he yelled out while looking over to Greg. "I want you and Abel to guard the eastern slope. Abigail and I will take the western! Good luck to both of you!"

The two men nodded and went to war as one team, despite the difference in their fighting styles. Jack gave one last glance over to the eastern slope, watching the marines fire their rifles as the Muthada set about with the steady twang of their bows.

As Jack and Abigail ran to the western slope, they found a chaotic scene as once again another clan tried to push their way up to slope. This happened to be Captain Bucknell's position, the marine soon nodding to Jack as he crouched behind the same covering rock.

"It looks like they're trying one more time before nightfall," said Bucknell as he got off a few more bursts. "It looks like another clan has taken the place of the Muthada!"

Jack looked out beyond the slope to the position previously occupied by his newly allied clan. Out on the plain, a new camp had taken form, and they were once more surrounded by four clans.

"We'll just have to show them the same courtesy as we've shown the other clans," said Jack before getting off a few shots of his own.

The attack started to get hotter the longer it went on. Droves of Andalucian warriors tried their way up the slope, mostly repeating the same tired tactics of the Muthada the day before. However, they adapted more quickly, most of them figuring out that if they took shelter as they rushed up the hill, they'd have a greater chance of reaching the top. For that reason, they'd rush up a few places and then hid behind the rocks to catch their breath before popping up for a quick shot of their bow. They would then repeat this cycle until they reached the top of the slope or they were picked off.

Even with the extra marines and the Muthada, it was a near run battle. Jack hated to think about it, but if this same attack occurred the day before, they would surely have been overrun. To make matters worse, they seemed to coordinate their attacks. Instead of all of them rushing up at the same time, many would hang back to offer covering fire for their comrades rushing up the slope.

It was a deadly combination as Jack found himself having to take cover from arrows fired at the base of the slope while other warriors started to slip past the top. It got so bad that several of the Muthada up front started hand-to-hand combat with those other warriors reaching the top, trying to buy time for the marines to destroy the attackers.

"These sons of bitches don't know when to stop, do they?" yelled out Bucknell before pushing above the rocks to get off a few more bursts. It was the last thing he ever said. In the next moment, he fell to the ground, an arrow penetrating all the way through his mouth and sticking out a good several inches out the back of his skull. He died instantly.

He wasn't the only casualty of the attack. Several more marines were killed or wounded as well as another handful of Muthada before the remaining attackers were beaten off the slope. They retreated quickly back down, disappearing as quickly as the attack had begun. They left behind total carnage, a mass of dead bodies, and a weak chorus of wounded men.

As Jack counted the dead and set about getting relief for the front line marines, Greg came running up to his side. He had blood along his hip and mostly down his leg. It caused Jack a moment of alarm until the man started to shake his head.

"Not mine," he said while pointing to his hip. "I've got a few casualties up front. How was it back here?"

"About the same except for him," said Jack, pointing down to the deceased Bucknell. "We're going to need a new captain for this company."

"Shit," swore Greg before kneeling down near Bucknell. He swallowed hard as he had a private moment with the man before raising back up on his feet. "Lt. Bridge! Lt. Bridge, over here at once!"

Jack recognized the man who started to make his way over to them, knowing him to be in charge of the second platoon in Bucknell's company. Bill Bridge was a good marine, and he was about to find himself in charge.

"I'm here, sir," said Bridge as soon as he came up to Greg, offering a parade ground salute.

Greg pointed down to Bucknell. "Bridge, there's no easy way to say this but you're in charge of Company B now."

Bridge looked down at Bucknell and gawked for a moment before getting himself under control. "Understood, sir. I'll do my best."

"I know you will, Bridge. Consider this a battlefield commission to captain. We'll get you a new bar for your uniform when we get back to the ship. Now take over here."

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" said the now Captain Bridge as he soon rushed away to give orders to his new company.

Greg looked down at the body of one of the attacking Andalucian warriors and gave it a stiff kick. "These bastards don't know when to give up, do they?"

Jack shook his head. "They're fighters. I'll give them that much. It makes me nervous to think about what would have happened if this very attack came yesterday. We might not be standing here if that's the case."

Greg took a deep sigh. There was quiet for a moment before he turned to lock his gaze on Jack. "We need to get off this plateau. Otherwise, they're going to continue to whittle us down until there's nothing left."

Jack nodded but remained silent. The two of them walked back toward the center of the plateau where Abel could be found dragging a wounded Muthada warrior back to the safety of their tents. Depositing the man with two slaves, Abel wiped the sweat off his brow and looked back to Jack.

"Four less warriors on the eastern slope, clan chief."

"You've lost a lot of men in the last few days, Abel," said Jack quietly.

Abel shrugged his shoulders. "It is the Andalucian way," he said stoically.

"Abel, we really need to get off this plateau. I don't think we can continue to hold out here if these attacks don't stop."

Abel started to nod. "No. They'll keep wearing us down until they overrun us."

"Is there anything we're missing about the terrain? We seem to be surrounded. Even now your old camp has been reoccupied by another clan. Everywhere I look, there's a force blocking the way. We need to get off this plateau. If we stay here, we die."

Abel took a deep breath. "There is a way that we could go. A way off the plateau if that's what you're seeking."

"And go where?" asked Jack. "Back to the coast or further inland?"

Abel shrugged. "Depends on where you want to go."

"There is someone we need to rescue in the camp of the Numratha. Someone important to us," said Jack. "If we can find a way to their camp to make a raid, we can then head to the coast."

"The Numratha, eh?" Abel rubbed his chin. "That will be tricky. But there is a path that can get you over there."

"How? Show me."

Abel sunk to his knees and used his finger to draw a circle in the sand below. "This is the plateau where we are." He made two notches—one on the eastern end and one on the western. "These are the two slopes that exit off the plateau."

Abel then drew four circles in the main cardinal directions surrounding the camp. "Here's the camps of all the other surrounding clans. They choke off most of the exits from this mountain but there is one small path. It's probably not guarded because they won't expect you to know about it. But it loops around the north side of the plateau, below the northern clan camp and between the mountain to the other side." Abel then drew a line in the sand from the western slope of the plateau all the way around the north side until it landed close to the eastern side, closest to the camp of the Numratha.

"That would be near ideal for us to launch a raid on the Numratha," said Jack quietly. "How big is this path?"

"That's another small problem," said Abel with a grimace. "It's a rocky, jagged path. The southern face of it is sheer. The northern face goes straight up to the plain that houses the other clan. If they find us, they wouldn't have to shoot at us. They'd just have to roll rocks down on our heads, and that would be the end of all of us."

"Would they be able to see us though?" asked Greg. "How secluded is this path?"

Abel shook his head back and forth. "They might in broad daylight. Even in the night, they might see the lights of the fire as you go through the path. It's extremely risky."

"But it's also a chance for us," said Jack. "Can we see the path from the plateau?"

"Quite possibly," said Abel. "Come with me."

Abel led them through the Muthada camp until they emerged on the northern end of the plateau. Out in the distance, they could see the Andalucian camp out on the northern plain, with a steep, jagged valley separating them now.

Armed with the foreknowledge of the path, Jack looked deep into the valley to determine if he could make out the path that Abel described.

"You can see it right there, only barely," said Abel as he pointed it out. Sure enough, an extremely narrow path followed the course of a sheer rock wall. It sounded much better than it actually looked. The path was only about three feet at its widest. One wrong step would send them careening into the valley's floor far below.

Greg let out a low whistle. "That looks particularly nasty, Abel."

"It may be the only chance we have. Especially if you want to get a surprise attack on the Numratha," said Abel.

"I do," confirmed Jack before looking at both men. "And I want to do it when they least expect us. When they won't be able to see us coming."

Greg gave him a confused look. "What do you mean, Jack?"

Jack looked one more time out at the valley below them. "We're going to attempt to cross it tonight to attack them first thing in the morning."

*****

Back at the palace in the capital city of Sorella, Heron walked out to his balcony and took a deep sigh. The sun was setting for the day, and the clamor of the midafternoon streets was starting to die down finally. Heron watched as the sun slipped beneath a low-lying bank of clouds, turning his orange-shrouded city much darker in a matter of seconds.

It was a lonely post but it was still a routine that he did almost every evening going back as long as he could remember. Heron enjoyed watching the sun set on his kingdom but so did the queen at one time as well. Niamh used to say that the sunset always looked the same no matter where you were in the world. She would be one to know, having spent most of her early life in Picardy. It had almost been a ritual for her—greeting the sun when it rose and saying goodnight when it set. She had even talked her husband into observing the seemingly foolish routine, but the older that Heron got, the more he respected it.

It was the reason now why he decided to keep it. With Niamh long since departed from this world, it was one small piece of their life together that he could keep. One memory of the thousands that made him forget that he could no longer hear her voice, taste her lips, or experience her touch. It could be extremely lonely at times, and it was a part of him that he kept locked deep inside. It was a face that he was even reluctant to show to Elektra, even though she would understand just as much as anyone.

"You would love the woman she's become, you know," he whispered quietly. "She looks every bit like you did at that age and just as tough. She's the splitting image of her mother."

Like usual, his words went unanswered. Heron let out another sigh about his quiet burden before looking back over to his bed. It seemed so large in comparison now, especially without Niamh to warm it. It was big enough when it was just the two of them, and now it seemed impossibly gigantic for just him. It was these quiet moments that made him miss her the most. Even time couldn't dim the pain, no matter how much he might wish for it. He never wanted her memory gone, just the sting of her loss to diminish with each passing year. Even that seemed to be too much to ask.

There was a soft knock at the door to his chambers. Before Heron could answer, Nikias stuck his head inside the door. "Your Majesty, may I have a moment?"

Heron nodded and waved him inside. "Of course, Nikias. I need someone in here to distract me right now."

Nikias gave him a confused look before he looked out to the balcony and the setting sun. Recognition dawned on his face. "It's that time, I'm sorry, I can come back—"

"Nonsense," said Heron firmly. "Just an old man and his memories. Come in. What's the latest news?"

Nikias looked like he was about to step out but thought better of it. Instead, he walked in gingerly while carrying a stack of notes along his side. "I just thought to catch you up on a few matters you had me working on."

"Let's hear it. What's the first?"

Nikias cleared his throat before pulling the first message up. "The repairs to our defensive wall are nearly complete. Just this afternoon, I inspected a patch near the northern terminus that had almost been completely demolished during the fight, and you wouldn't even recognize it right now, sire. The masonry was done extremely well, and it looks sturdier than before. I daresay that should anyone get the foolish notion to attack us again, they'll pay dearly in the attempt."

"That is great news, Nikias. I'm sure many will sleep more soundly knowing that wall is strong again. Myself included," added Heron.

"I thought you would like that bit of news the most, which is why I made it first," said Nikias as he filed to the next piece. "In terms of the army, just about eighty percent has been demobilized and returned to their former professions. Most have returned to their farms, and I'll update you more on that in a bit. There are several regiments of guards that are posted here in the capital and in several smaller cities all around the island. Most of the activity in the interior with your brother's former soldiers has been cleared up as well. Robberies and deaths are down substantially."

"Good to know," said Heron. "You were able to get a quick jump on that. I didn't think you'd be able to get that situation under control so quickly."

Nikias grinned. "It wasn't too bad once we could redirect what men were left to fight brigands instead of other soldiers. Plus many of the discharged soldiers returning to their farms to find them crawling with bandits took justice into their own hands. Otherwise, I have the army situated in the coastal towns and prepared to act should we see any activity coming in from the sea."

"What about our navy? How goes plans with Andros and his attempted conversions?" asked Heron.

"So far so good," started Nikias. "For one, we actually have a navy again, which we couldn't say for some time. The four ships we've recovered from your brother are operational once more, with the flagship, Hera, in the lead."

"Great name for a warship," muttered Heron quietly with a grin on his face.

Nikias smiled too. "I'm very inclined to agree with that! Anyway, we've sent the ships out for basic trials to make sure they were seaworthy, and the results have been fantastic. None of them need major work and they should serve us quite well in the coming days."

"Good to hear but they won't be worth much to us if the Swabians decide to get aggressive," said Heron. "What about the new designs?"

"I spoke with Andros this morning as he worked on the all-metal ship with the blueprints we got from Jack. With the design nearly complete, he's started to actually build one to the old Javan specifications, although he did say it could take some time before it's even ready to float into the harbor. More to come on that, I'm sure, but he's making a good amount of progress on it."

"Speaking of Jack, what have you heard about him lately? Anything good?" asked Heron. "Are they still near Andalucia?"

Nikias pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders. "We're not sure at this time, sire. The last transmission that we received from him was that they were going to mount a rescue mission for the crew of the Swordfish that was taken by the Andalucians, including Kat and Vera. They were personally off the coast of the island but that was nearly a week ago."

"Hmm, I hope they're doing all right," said Heron. "This part of the world has been very tumultuous in recent years. With our war, the Swabians' naked aggression, and now the Andalucians attacking innocent trade ships just for slaves, I haven't heard of this much action in a very long time."

"It is a bit peculiar, sire," agreed Nikias. "But since you brought up the Swabians, let me tell you about what happened there this afternoon. I had a conversation with the Swabian envoy that just landed two days ago."

Heron gave him a disgusted look. The special envoy from the Swabian Empire was a slimy individual without much in the way of civility. Having already amassed a reputation in the matter of hours, he had proclaimed to know nothing about the treasury debacle as well as denying any culpability with Daimanos for seizing the throne of Sorella. Heron knew the man's real purpose was to feel out if they were planning any reprisals against the Swabians, and in that regard, he was determined to give the man nothing to work with.

"And what did he have to say?" Heron asked finally.

"The envoy once again denied any role with the treasury, however he did say something that I've found very interesting concerning this Lord Avila character."

"Interesting? I take it that it had something to do with his reputation?"

Nikias nodded. "Precisely. I don't think he meant to say anything, but rather it just sort of slipped out. You saw him—he's not a very good diplomat. But he did mention that Lord Avila has been acting awfully independent as of late. It seems the Swabian emperor hasn't had much luck in trying to control him."

"This is very interesting. I'm surprised he let something like that slip."

"As was I," said Nikias. "It's almost impossible to get a Swabian to talk about their own power politics but it gives us a good picture of the situation over there. It also confirms much of what we already suspected. These actions may not have been sanctioned by the emperor and may be this Avila figure working alone. I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing for us."

Heron pursed his lips. "It could go either way to be honest. If he's acting independently, he won't have the full force of the empire behind him. But it may allow him to do things that the empire can't be caught doing. It's a gray area for sure."

"It's good for us to know either way, and I'll be sure to keep an eye on this envoy," said Nikias. "I think we have a right to be suspicious of all of them. Even without this Lord Avila, we know the Swabians have the ability to act treacherously."

"Agreed, no reason to give them a foothold, whether the emperor or a lord," said Heron. "What's next?"

Nikias flipped to the next report. "The economy report. I saved the best news for last."

"That sounds promising," said Heron with a chuckle.

"It is, sire. Already we are starting to see our farmland start to flourish once more. As you know, a good portion of our most fertile land was left unused during the war, but thankfully Daimanos had enough sense not to destroy it. I've had reports that many of the first waves of soldiers who were released back to their homes already have crops growing once again. While it will be some time until it can be harvested, our food woes should disappear here shortly."

"That would be much welcomed indeed," said Heron with some excitement. "Even with the war being over, the people are still looking much too thin. This is terrific news."

"Not to mention, we've had another arrival of a trade ship, which was able to unload a variety of goods not seen in Sorella in ages. With the traders coming back, our economy can start getting back on its feet."

"That's the prime thing that I worry about, Nikias. Getting us strong again to resist what's ahead of us. The world is too volatile right now. We need to be ready for whatever is coming, whether it'll involve us or not. Better to be too prepared than to not be prepared at all. The last war taught us that."

"I think we'll be just fine, sire. And I hope once this business with the Andalucians is over with Jack, we can figure out what's going on in Picardy and forge a strong enough alliance to resist whatever trouble the Swabians can get into."

"That's my hope too, Nikias," said Heron as the door to the royal chambers opened once more. This new inhabitant didn't knock meaning it could only be one person who dared to barge into the king's private quarters. Heron's daughter Elektra entered the room, carefully eyeing both her father and her fiance with a look of questioning amusement.

"Why do you two look like you're up to something?" she asked as she strode into the chambers.

Heron started to chuckle. "We could ask you the same thing seeing as you just stomped your way into my room!"

Elektra raised an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest. "I was looking for my fiance, and one of the chambermaids said that he was in here with you." She walked the short distance over to Nikias and carefully brushed his hair out of his eyes. "We need to talk more about the engagement parade when you have time, love."

"Engagement parade?" asked Heron. "Does that mean you've decided to go through with my suggestion?" He beamed with pride at the thought of having a large celebration for the announcement of their impending nuptials. An event that all of Sorella would have reason to celebrate.

Elektra nodded her head with excitement. "After I gave it some thought, I think it will be a wonderful idea. And what better way for us to open a new era in Sorella by starting off with a royal wedding!"

Heron chuckled. "My thoughts exactly. So tell me everything. What do you have planned? What do you want to do? When do you want to have it?"

Elektra started to giggle. "Slow down, Papa. I figured we could start planning this in the coming days, especially now that my obligations to the army are winding down, thanks in part to you." She raised an eyebrow, giving him a suspicious look.

"What?" asked Heron innocently. "With the army demobilizing, you're just not needed as much anymore."

"Right," she said with a knowing look. "Anyway, I figured we could have this parade in a couple weeks' time, to coincide with the Festival of Juna."

"The goddess of fertility, a most appropriate time for the announcement of a wedding," said Heron. "I daresay you two aren't trying to tell me something, hmm?"

The two of them went red in the face, confirming a suspicion he'd had only recently.

Elektra recovered first. "In due time, Papa, you'll get your wish. You'll get your grandchildren but only after we're married first."

"That would be simply delightful," said Heron as he clapped his hands together. "This palace is too big for too few people. We need the sounds and laughter of little feet echoing throughout the halls." "I don't think we'll have any problem in that regard," said Nikias, as he shot a look of amusement over to his bride-to-be. Elektra's face turned redder.

"What else do you have for plans? Anything yet?" asked Heron.

Elektra shook her head. "Not much else than that right now. That's why I want to steal Nikias from you, if you don't mind? There's much that we need to talk about still, and he's always been a good option as my primary sounding board."

"Oh, all right, I suppose," said Heron with a flicker of his wrist. "Nikias, did you have any other reports that we needed to discuss?"

Before Nikias could answer, Elektra began to drag him by the wrist, preventing any further serious discussion. He started to laugh before he responded, "We hit all the major topics. The rest of these reports I'll leave on your desk."

"Fine by me. Enjoy, you two lovebirds," said Heron with a laugh.

"Come, future husband of mine," said Elektra as she dragged a laughing Nikias out of the room. "We have much to discuss!"

The king was still grinning as they left the room, the door closing behind them and once more leaving him with his thoughts. It brought him boundless joy to see the way they acted around each other. At first, he'd been surprised to find out they wanted to marry, and he even wondered what kind of marriage they would have, never having seen much in the way of passion or even simple affection towards one another.

However, the last few weeks seemed to have really changed that. It was most noticeable with Elektra and the way she seemed to attach herself to Nikias' hip. Where you could find one, you could also usually find the other, and she'd been very vocal recently about her affections for the man, words that warmed the old king's heart to no end.

All he really wanted was for his daughter to find happiness and to start a family of her own. Not only to continue the family, but because he knew she would find the most joy in her life through doing so. Elektra had been like a different person since she told him about the engagement, a softer and brighter version that brought excitement to his heart at seeing their impending union.

It also reminded him of Niamh and how she'd acted when they first got married. Heron chuckled as he remembered the look on his own face that quite matched that of Nikias as he was pulled from the royal chambers. The women of his line could be feisty—well-tempered but feisty indeed.

The king walked a short distance from his window to a small table near the door of his chambers, where he'd left a plate of food from earlier. It had been a meager dinner mostly comprised of fruit, and he'd eagerly finished off every fresh piece he could get his hands on. However, finding the plate void of any of the grapes that he so liked, Heron frowned and found himself determined to get more.

He left his own chambers and headed to the very bottom of the palace where he could find the kitchens. At this time of night, most of the cooks would have cleaned up and left, ensuring that he should have a degree of privacy as he raided his own stores.

Smiling to himself in a sneaky way at seeing the lights off in the kitchens, Heron snuck in and prepared to find where they kept the produce. However, he was suddenly distracted by the sounds of sobs. Somewhere in the darkened room, someone was crying.

The sounds were enough to shock him, even if only briefly, and he soon stumbled backward and stubbed his foot against a hard surface. The effect rattled a nearby cupboard, and his wince of pain alerted the other person in the kitchen.

"Who's there?" asked a woman's voice.

"Just my clumsy, old self," said Heron with a chuckle as he lit one of the lamps closest to the cupboard. The soft light filled the room, revealing the identity of the weeper immediately.

It was Melora.

One of the women that he'd brought back to his palace from his brother's harem, the woman had spent the better part of a month with him already, trying to adjust herself to reentering society. Not that Heron looked forward to that day. Melora was a lovely woman, as kind and friendly as she was beautiful. Tonight she looked especially so, although Heron couldn't tell if it was just the soft light that seemed to highlight her features a little more than usual or whether she was always that breathtaking.

Melora wiped a tear from her cheek and started to stand. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I wasn't stealing or anything in here, I just thought I could have a moment to myself."

Heron reached out his hands and lowered them repeatedly. "No, no, please sit. What's troubling you, Melora? Is something wrong? Is anyone bothering you?"

She shook her head and sat back down. "Nothing at all, Your Majesty. Everyone here has been wonderful. Your servants are most kind, as are you, and of course the rest of the girls are lovely as well."

Heron sat down beside her. "I feel like there's a but coming," he said with a gentle smile.

Melora smiled briefly. "Sometimes, I just get lonely is all," she whispered quietly.

"I can understand that better than most," said Heron. "What seems to cause that for you?"

"I just miss my old life sometimes. The one I had before Daimanos," said Melora quietly.

"You know, the more I think about it, the more I realize I don't know much about you from before we met, Melora. Just about nothing at all. What do you miss?"

Melora took a deep breath. "I miss my husband the most sometimes. Even though he's been dead for over a year, I can never forget him. The way he used to be. We didn't have much time together. Three years when I think back upon it. But he was a good man, a decent man who was taken too young."

"I'm sorry, Melora," said Heron. "I didn't realize you'd been married."

"It's not something I talk about much. I don't think even some of the other girls know to be quite honest. This whole time I spent with Daimanos I tried to separate as much as possible from my old life. The old me was disgusted at whoring. To find myself reduced to it is a grand fate of irony."

"It was only a temporary condition, Melora. It's over and you don't ever have to go back to that life."

Melora sniffed and wiped her cheek. "I know, Your Majesty, it's just that sometimes I wonder if I can ever truly go back. Sometimes I wonder what my husband would've thought if he'd seen what became of me after his passing. Whether he would be upset with me."

"I truly doubt that," said Heron consolingly. "It wasn't your choice to go into the harem."

Melora shook her head. "But the result is still the same."

Heron remained quiet for some time while she processed her emotions. Her feelings at that moment weren't all too far from the ones he'd experienced just a short time earlier.

"You know, my wife has passed on as well too, right?" said Heron which caused her to look over to watch him. "I miss her terribly. I was just thinking about her earlier this evening. How much I wished she was still around to see our daughter get married."

"I bet she would have loved that."

"Oh, she would. Especially with the kind of child that Elektra was. Always more of a tomboy than her sister, we thought she might be the last to get married, if at all! But she's blossomed into a lovely, young woman. Just like her mother at that age. How much I wish she could see her now."

"How long has your wife been gone?"

"A number of years now. I stopped counting after enough time."

Melora nodded her head slowly. "Does it ever get easier?"

"I wish I could say it did, but I'm afraid I'd be lying to you, Melora," said Heron with an honest but sad smile.

Melora puffed out her cheeks and let out a deep breath. "At least I can take comfort that someone knows what I'm going through."

"More than you know, Melora. More than you know."

"Will you tell me about her one day? About your queen?"

Heron smiled. "As long as you promise to tell me about your husband at the same time."

She giggled. "Bargain struck, Your Majesty."

"Please, for the sake of this conversation, call me Heron. We know enough about each other now that titles are a bit much, right?"

"If you say so . . . Heron," said Melora with a pause.

"Now that is one thing that will get easier with time, Melora," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

She giggled again. "I'll take your word for it . . . Heron."

"Now, come with me. There's no sense in you being alone in the kitchens with your thoughts. If you help me, we can locate some more fresh grapes, and we can spend some time talking together instead of being lonely with our thoughts. That is, if you don't mind spending time with a talkative old man?"

Melora shook her head quickly. "I'd be delighted to do so. And you're not an old man, Heron. You're one of the most kindly souls I've ever met. I'd love to spend the evening talking with you."

Heron pushed off from the table and grabbed a bowl to fill with his choice of produce. After finding the grapes and picking off an extra stem for Melora, he extended his elbow as his own silent form of invitation. She took it willingly, and together they headed to his study to pass the time with words and memories of times long since past.