Saorise stood tall, dressed in the colours of change. Beige leggings and long-sleeve top beneath a sunset orange long-skirt and vest. A long, shear coat embroidered with the autumn tree of Leisha was something that her father had insisted that she wear. It was usually something used only during festivals or esteemed Eastern ceremonies.

“You’ll be the Representative of the East. You should wear it for our people as much as for yourself,” Nathan had stated when he’d brought it to her.

Her hair was braided in a singular long run down her back, her earrings made from petrified acorns. No red in her outfit, lest she offend the Wendolans and their tendency to wear such a colour in death. She had no doubt that a few Easterners would wear it just to indicate how the day was that of the East’s death, just to spite the Wendolans one last time before they had to officially call themselves as such.

“Are you his bride or his councilwoman?” Lyle had jabbed unhappily when they’d met to greet the Wendolan Party on the Dathow Han docks. The Amarn would not be needed today. Not when the two nations would become one.

Nathan and Isaac had both sighed in disappointment.

“You’re going to miss her, we get it,” Isaac scolded his younger brother, “Try not to get on her bad side before she does leave, or I doubt she’ll welcome you when you visit”.

Lyle shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Saorise had given a smile, rare these days, and had come and hugged her younger brother from behind, “I’m not leaving just yet. And any man I marry shall not even think of looking at another woman whilst with me, let alone marrying her. He already has two willing women from the East, that will do him, especially considering those he is likely to pick up in his future unification campaigns”.

Lyle had looked simultaneously appeased and disgusted after that.

“His prowess cannot be that remarkable,” Lyle had mumbled.

The Caramorts had laughed at that. None of them actually believed the young King would have his Harem all at once. Unless one was blessed by the Goddess of Lust, nobody could handle so many bed partners at the one time.

Jokes aside though, the man was to be their King. Such jokes would be best kept in the safety of the home rather than in public, and even then, one had to be sure the walls did not have ears. That would be her reality now, wouldn’t it? Forever paranoid that her treacherous thoughts were overheard whilst she slept. Or that her Eastern blood would be too Eastern for her own children. That they would seek to be Eastern again and be resolved to war thanks to their Wendolan upbringing.

Unity. Saorise remembered her vow to the Eastern Nobles. She would strive for Unity in her duties, for she knew there would be few, if any others, that would.

Two boats came into view. The first carried Peter, his closest advisors, and his two Eastern wives-to-be. Both women appeared unharmed and in as high a spirits as could be expected from an Eastern woman.

They each wore colours of autumn like their Eastern brethren, but the one that surprised Saorise the most was Peter.

Though most of his clothing was black, the royal colour, he wore a jacket that was the same amber as his eyes. Saorise did not have to even glance behind her to sense the shift in attitudes. The whispers that carried themselves to the back of the Eastern Army.

He wears a coat in a colour of Autumn. He seeks the peace in this change.

Peter stepped off the boat, turning to help both Eloise and Selene onto the dock as well before he walked to stand before Saorise, seeing as she was first and foremost to greet him.

“I take it I am looking at my new Representative of the East?” asked Peter.

Saorise bowed her head, curtsying politely, “If you will allow it, Your Majesty”.

Peter waited until Saorise’s green gaze met his amber eyes before he smiled and nodded, “It is not an unwelcome choice by my view. The Wendolan Court on the other hand…well, you have handled these negotiations so elegantly, Lady Caramort, that I’m sure they will be no problem for you”.

Saorise did not deign to reply, stepping to the side, “Please, the Accords have been prepared”.

Peter stepped past her, Saorise falling into step to his right. As they walked from the docks, the crowd that had gathered from the East separated from them, spreading leaves of autumn on the ground as they did.

“You have spared no effort in preparations, Lady Caramort,” Peter remarked, “There appear to be more people here than the Festival…”

“They came from far and wide, all to witness the signing of the Accords, and to gaze upon the man they will soon call King,” Saorise stated.

“All?” asked Peter.

Saorise dipped her head, “I will not lie, they do not all embrace the change with open arms. But they will accept it as Leisha teaches”.

“Yes, Lady Ridgelam has been kind enough to educate me over the past several days,” Peter replied.

“Then you are a lucky man indeed, Your Majesty, to receive such guidance from one of our brightest,” said Saorise.

Peter glanced at Saorise, then turned to Eloise who walked hand-in-hand with Selene several steps behind them.

“Brightest?” asked Peter, “I knew she was intelligent, but…”

“But you did not expect such praise to be placed on the shoulders of a woman?” asked Saorise.

Peter scoffed to himself, “I know it sounds ridiculous just hearing it. I’ve been here for some time, yet I still cannot see”.

“Then, as my last advise from someone not yet posted in your court, and still a free woman, I will tell you this,” Saorise spoke in a tone that only Peter could hear, “Do not look with eyes only for your crown and for your conquests, or you will miss out on seeing what matters, and what will help you if only you gave it enough attention”.

Peter did not respond, his eyes coming to rest upon a space that had been cleared. He was sure that mere days ago, when he had visited for the Festival, this area had been dense forest. Now, it was cleared, the ground smoothed and huge pieces of white stone laid out to create the foundations of what would no doubt be a grand mansion. And there, in the centre, facing the steps which sat directly before Peter, was the huge, thick trunk of a tree, jutting out from between the stones, it’s branches and leaves cut away, and a throne carved in its place. Peter walked up the stone steps, through what would be grand doorways in the future, then stepped past a long stone table to the throne. It’s back was carved to look like the Eastern tree, but in the centre, along the back with the blade facing down, was the Wendolan Sword.

Peter reached out, touching it. It was so lifelike. So exact that even the symbol on his throne in Wesenhall seemed like a cheap replica.

Peter turned back to Saorise, who stood at the stone table where the Accords were laid out, all others stood back from her, watching him and waiting.

“Your Eastern Seat,” Saorise explained, “It will be an effort to build it before the Winter Ice and Snow damages it, but should all go well, by this time next year you will have an honorary seat here for you and your Bloodline”.

Peter looked around at the foundations in amazement, “You built this in three days?”

Saorise swept her hands out to the people, “We are, from the moment these papers are signed, one people. A unified nation under one King. If we are to be unified as such, we should do so with pride and dignity. A change, once it occurs, must be embraced, or it will leave us with nowhere to place our feet”.