"Your Majesty, forgive me, but why are you making so many concessions for your Eastern Concubines?" asked Lucas after Selene and Eloise had turned in for the night, "The Court will not look favourably upon it".

"No?" asked Peter, "Well, I can certainly see how the waste of food should be brought to our attention. We may not have the same beliefs as the Easterners, but if we were to share our left overs with those less fortunate rather than simply throwing it away, there are more benefits than simply gaining faith points with the Great Mother".

“Your Majesty?" asked Lucas.

"Think about it, how much less would we have to spend on food? What about the decrease in those who are starving on the streets of the capital? And if we can ease our demand for food we can earn more in trade," Peter stated, "They may be foreigners who have different beliefs to us, Lucas, but that does not mean we only have to see their customs the same way as they do. Perhaps they have plenty more customs that can be used to help improve the lives of our own people".

"I understand, Your Majesty," Lucas stated, "But despite the benefits I would still be cautious as to what you introduce and when. If your court interprets your new stance as being too influenced by the Easterners, they will rebel against you".

"It is not as if I have not dealt with such a thing before, Lucas," stated Peter, "Give them a shocking victory here or there and they're bound to shut up and do as they’re told".

Lucas sighed, "Forgive me for saying so sir, but whilst your victory was certainly shocking enough to placate them, it will not be enough to earn their complete trust".

Peter rolled his eyes, "I am well aware that the only reason they follow me now is because John placates them like a Saint. If he gave them reason to, they would overthrow me in an instant. But John will not give them a reason".

Lucas nodded, "I am glad the Prince has such faith and loyalty to you, Your Majesty, but he is a Prince of Wendolan. Not one of the East".

Peter read between the lines. John was working for the benefit of Wendolan, and if he was given reason to believe that Wendolan was not on Peter's priorities, he would rebel. Peter also knew that John wasn't stupid. He was willing to bet that John would actually more readily agree to the Eastern ideals than Peter did. John had always been more for words than he was for swords. Peter had used that to his full advantage.

He was also well aware at this point in time that Lucas was becoming a little too high and mighty in his new position as the King's attendant. Having the ear of the King would do that to a person. The first individual with which the King sought council, unintentionally or not, and the first one the King would listen to should a problem arise. Lucas had a powerful position, more so than even John. But it was becoming clear over the past week that whilst Lucas was a fine attendant amongst the Wendolan Court, he was not overly accepting of that which was foreign to him. He had held himself back from speaking of 'proper etiquette' on multiple occasions, but had been all too obvious in his displeasure of the Easterners and their customs.

"And you are an attendant of the Wendolan Court," Peter stated as he stood and turned to look at Lucas. Lucas looked at him in confusion.

"Of course, Your Majesty," said Lucas.

"And despite my ideas and less than advisable plans, you have never rebelled even before I became King," said Peter.

Lucas frowned gravely, as if surprised his loyalty was coming into question, "Of course not, Your Majesty".

Peter turned away, discarding his robe as he walked towards his bed, "In future then, Lucas, try not to ruin my negotiations with an upturned nose...or the Wendolan Court is where you will remain".

Peter looked back at Lucas who seemed surprised for a moment before he averted his eyes and bowed his head, "Yes, Your Majesty".

Peter looked at Lucas a moment longer, wondering if he had done the right thing by admonishing him, then the young King turned and climbed into his bed, "Do make sure my new Eastern Concubines are comfortable. I would hate for their families to hear that they were suppressed and ignored just because of they were born in another place on this continent".

"Yes, Your Majesty," stated Lucas as he doused the candles then left the tent.

***

It should not have been so difficult. All he had to do was take the sword from the stone. Yet every time he touched it, it would push him away. Always the same. Since he'd begun trying when he was six, he had never been able to take the sword as was his birthright.

Valhalla, the Sword of Victories. The very same sword that had been forged from the battlefields of the warring clans that had once split Wendolan a hundredfold. Excavor had gifted it to the victor, the first Wendolan King. It had only been seen a few times since, as it had a mystical habit of only falling into the hands of those who were worthy of it. Peter's Great Grandfather had been the last to wield it. As a descendant, it was Peter's birthright to wield the sword even if his father and grandfather had not. Peter had fought and won plenty of battles in his lifetime. Perhaps not those fought with a sword, but they were victories all the same. Now, his most obvious victory of all, taking control of the East, and he was ready to try again.

The sword would be his, this time.

The torches came alive, illuminating the stone and the sword within it that always seemed to taunt him.

"Still haven't given up?" asked the deep rumbling voice of Excavor, "Your father and grandfather took the throne and decided that was enough for them. It's usually enough for anyone who has been rejected as many times as you have. Yet here you are".

"The sword is mine," Peter insisted, "I will have it even if I must come here a thousand more times".

Peter stalked forward towards the sword.

"With the way you approach it, a thousand might be too optimistic".

Peter stumbled, shocked at the much lighter, and strangely familiar voice. The deep rumbling disapproval of his God echoed through the cave before the shadows seemed to converge beside Peter as he turned to look behind him where the other voice had originated. A figure stepped from the shadows to block his line of sight, dressed like a warrior through and through with skin as dark as night as he stalked over to the graceful and elegant figure of a woman. Peter barely caught a glimpse of her past the shadows of the man as the dark-skinned warrior spoke "I warned you not to come here again, Daughter of Leisha. Perhaps next time you will heed my warning”.

The dark figure drew the massive broadsword from his back and slashed down towards the woman. The woman barely moved, slipping to the side so that the broadsword passed behind her before she ducked as the man changed the direction of his swing.

Saorise Caramort stepped into Peter's field of view, her eyes barely glimpsing at him as she glared at the man covered in shadows.

"The fate of my people now rests in his hands. I will come as many times as is necessary to ensure he is as worthy as you think he is to be undertaking this trial," Saorise stated as she turned to look at him, her green eyes piercing, "I sense it will be a long while yet...if ever".

Then she stepped to the side, fading from view until she was no longer present. The shadowy man harrumphed in disapproval, then glimpsed over his shoulder at Peter. His eyes blazed like twin suns before he too faded away in the shadows, leaving only a warning.

"Try your luck, little Prince. It seems you'll be Kingship will be tested by not just your own people".