Renata Rin stood around in the waiting area outside of her King’s audience room. There were many others waiting for an audience with the King; but none of them approached Commander Rin. She was in her late twenties, though her face hinted at someone who was older and wiser than her actual years. She wore her hair short, as short as the men on the king’s guard; but her figure was still that of a female. She had armor especially made to accommodate her ample bosom, and strong legs and hips. If a man were to look for very long at all, he might think that she wore armor for show, in some attempt to command respect; but those who knew better, would never question her authenticity. Her men looked to their feet, or tried to look through her face, none would be caught dead staring at her. Her deep blue tunic was emblazoned with the bright orange ‘Rising Phoenix’ of House Laima. She had been sold into their service when she was still a young girl of sixteen or so. Since then, she had bested both men and women to become the most feared of the king’s guard, and in times of war, the Kings own Supreme Commander.

She often would kill time by swinging her sword in left and right arcs around her, forming a web of razor-sharp steel; but not today. She was just bored. Looking out the window, she looked over the town that surrounded the castle. Clifftown was a bustling city, filled with merchants, workers, and of course the beggars, whores and bureaucrats. She loved that she was above them, above everyone but the King himself. Like the Gods, the power over life and death was in her hands. She was very judicious with her authority; but she knew, and everyone else knew, that she could strike down almost anyone in the Country of Inram without consequence.

King Laima had called her to appear before him, so here she was. Despite being her only superior, she found the man tedious and secretly disliked him very much. She grew up in the land, O’Bell, named after the ruling house, a country governed entirely by women. The women of O’Bell were tough as nails and despised anything that reeked of insecurity or weakness. The traits that all the O’Bell royalty had were ingrained in her. Renata had been trained by the most revered warriors in Kronos and had eventually surpassed them. She now found herself pledged to a King who would not know which end of a sword to strike with. When the inner doors finally opened, and the page waved for her to enter, she let out a great sigh, then with a soldier’s discipline, gathered herself and entered the chamber with no expression on her face.

Unlike many of the Kings in Kronos, King Laima was not at all ostentatious. His audience chamber was finely outfitted; but not overdone as was often the case. He had great wealth; everyone knew it, and he felt no need to display it. One place that he did spend his money, was in the use of spies. Only the King himself knew the extent of his spy network, his own country of Inram was heavily watched by those in his employ. He was not vain, he was not greedy, he was not inhumane in any way; but he was paranoid to the point of obsession. One might argue that it’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you; but he saw raised daggers behind every shadow, and smelled poison in every cup and every plate.

Renata marched the short distance from the door to the King’s throne. When she had reached the proper distance, she took a knee and bowed, waiting for his leave. When asked to rise, she stood again and looked up at her liege. He was a very plain man, without any distinguishing characteristics. He wore a greying beard in an unkempt fashion with his crown matting down what was undoubtedly, hair that had not been washed in weeks. His skin was pale and full of various types of blemishes, signs of man who rarely if ever allowed the sun on his face. He was overweight and just conveyed a ‘softness’ that turned most women off and did little to inspire the men around him.

“Thank you for coming at such short notice Commander Rin.”, he said over a map that was on the laid out on the table near his throne.

“I am always at your service, my Lord.”, she said routinely. “How may I serve you and the kingdom this day?”

He looked up from his maps and papers to look her in the eye. Deep down, he knew that he was blessed to have such a servant as the Commander. “I know that you don’t always agree with my suspicions...”, he let it hang in the air for a moment. Of course, she let it go and waited for him to continue. “This time, I have very reliable intelligence that there is a plot brewing in the kingdom.”, he looked worried at his own words, like someone else was saying them and he was hearing them for the first time. “The pretender has brought a new general into the fold, and there is strong evidence that they have sent for Legion mercenaries.”

“Are we declaring war on House Oren, my lord?”, she asked, knowing his answer already.

The King wrung his hands, began to sweat profusely. He was torn by the decision and afraid of the consequences. He made the mistake that he always made, and that was to let everyone witness his indecision. After long minutes of agonizing, “No, we can’t strike without proof of his intentions. The other great houses would see that as unwarranted aggression. Heaven knows what they would do!”

“I understand sire. I’ll take a squad of my best men, and we will look around for any signs of treachery. If we find someone that means harm to House Laima, we shall quietly remove those pieces from the board, as it were.”

He visibly calmed at her words. “Yes Commander, that is an excellent strategy. Please go with my blessings.”

Commander Renata Rin, at the head of a column of a dozen riders pulled into a small town that didn’t even have a name. Many such places existed, usually located along the main roads that connected the larger cities. Their purpose was to provide food, drink and sometimes shelter to travelers; they rarely if ever had industry that was not service based. They had travelled half the distance from Clifftown, where the King made his capital and Feld, where the upstart House Oren was centered. Dismounting, she handed her reigns to her second in command. “Get us rooms and see that the horses are stabled.”, she commanded. Drawing her long riding cloak about her, she walked into the tavern that anchored this end of town.

The heavy wooden door swung inward at her push. The inside was dimly lit, even though the sun was still bright outside. It was cooler inside and there was the smell of roasting meats and stale beers. Looking around, she found a table against the right wall, well-lit and not quite in the center of the room, so as not to attract too much attention. Even at this time of day, there were many people in the place, mostly men, the kind of man that often found excuses to stop working early and start drinking. Farmers were still in the fields toiling away while some of the men and a few of the women in the tavern were already too drunk to walk a straight line.

She took her seat with her back resting against the wall. She didn’t even have to signal for service. Her stoic expression got the bar maid to hop off her customer and scoot over to take the Lady’s order. She stood before this woman who was a mixture of masculine strength and feminine beauty, waiting for instruction. “Whiskey, and a beer.”, the Commander said evenly.

“Yes, Mistress. Would you be having a cut of meat and a potato or two?”, the girl asked.

“That sounds perfect. Thank you.”, Renata looked around the tavern as she always did. It was her habit to never be in a place without knowing where the doors were and what types of people were in attendance. In a dark corner opposite her, three men were in a heated conversation. She couldn’t quite make out what they were talking about; but even without being able to hear the words, it was entertaining. One of them was a black man who looked to be about thirty years of age. He was dressed as a Smith, and you could see the emblem of Hafza, the God of storms, fertility and known to a lesser degree as the God of Smiths. It was a common practice for trades people to wear the insignia of their patron God.

The other men were dressed alike. They wore simple white and grey robes with possibly a weeks’ worth of filth covering them. Their long hair was tucked under cloth caps, their beards were long and had finger bones woven into them. The black man was by comparison very calm; but it looked like the others were intent on provoking him. They were screaming at him, and he answered in hushed tones. Their arms were waving with the hysteria that they were no doubt overcome by. Soon, they could no longer control themselves and they were making enough noise to disturb everyone else in the establishment. The manager timidly worked his way to them, approaching as if they were carrying some communicable disease. He tapped the closest of the raving men on the shoulder and was rewarded with a backhand. The zealot hit him hard enough to draw blood and send the wounded manager to the floor. The other man began to grapple with the Smith, both men were trying to choke each other.

Renata had had enough. This was not her fight; but anything and everything in the country of Inram was her jurisdiction; after all, she represented the King. The zealot that knocked down the manager had now fished out a wicked steel knife from somewhere in the folds of his dirty vest. He had a hand full of the man’s hair and was ready to open his throat when Renata Rin’s appeared next to him. He looked up, his anger turning to shock, then back to anger.

“Get away woman! I will ‘have you’ when we are done with these unbelievers!”, he spat in her direction.

Renata kicked him in the testicles hard enough to fold him in half. She took his knife and hit him on the crown of the head so hard with the handle that he fell unconscious to the floor. She then turned to the ongoing struggle.

“In the name of King Laima, cease your fighting or I’ll have both of your heads on spikes before my dinner comes!”, her voice cut through the din like a knife through butter. Everyone in the place froze and looked in her direction. “You!”, she pointed at the other zealot. “Come here and explain yourself.”

The man’s face was a mask of rage and indignation, “Piss on you, woman! I am a man; you’ll not talk to me like a dog!” he broke from his engagement with the Smith and headed towards Renata. Before he could close the distance, she slowly pulled out her longsword that was always at her side beneath her stylish cape. The weapon was a real sword, a tool of battle and not a dull edged blade like those carried by most men these days. Everyone stared at the workmanship, and the fact that it was a weapon only carried by a true warrior.

The Smith looked relieved to be unhanded, his opponent looked at Renata like she was an abomination from the lower pits. His eyes bulged; he began to froth at the corners of his mouth. “How dare you hold a weapon! You’re a woman, less than a dog!”, he started walking towards her. “Any heathen woman who is not a follower of Quell, deserves only rape and death!”, he was spewing madly. “I’ll fuck you till your life’s blood runs and coats the ground with your shame!”, he lunged at her.

Renata never showed any fear or doubt about the outcome. Her sword swung in a tight arc that bit deeply in his throat and she just stood there and waited for him to realize that he was already dead. The madman fell to the ground at Renata’s feet. She wiped his blood off on his back, then returned her sword to its scabbard. Reaching down for the manager, she helped him up. “My men should be right outside your door, ask them to come in.”, she said returning to her seat. “Wench, where are my refreshments?” The barmaid came out of her daydream and ran into the back to fetch the food and drink. Renata turned to the Smith and waved him over to join her at her table.

The Smith was a large man, tall and built like the furnaces where he slaved away from dusk till dawn every day. The man would be imposing to most; but in light of the demonstration, he looked at Renata like ‘she’ was the giant. He sat across from her respectfully, waiting for her questions. She looked at him critically, though not unkindly.

“What was that all about, what is your name?”, she asked the Smith.

“Tomah, Mistress. I am a simple Smith on his way to Feld.”, he said afraid to meet her gaze.

Two large and heavily armed men walked in and stood just in front of their commander’s table. They saluted, their right fist on their breast, their heads bowed. “Commander.”, they stated simply.

“There is a body on the floor over there.”, she pointed to where the man that she had slain lay. “Take it out of here. I don’t care what you do with it. Then come back and arrest the other one.”

“Yes Commander!”, they almost shouted. In a second, they had dragged the man out and left only a pool of blood where he had been.

She looked at the Smith who in most circles would have been the most feared man in the room and now he just wanted to fade into the woodwork. Renata waved for him to sit opposite her. Just then the barmaid approached with the drinks and food. “Bring some for this law-abiding citizen as well. Put it on my bill.”, she ordered.

“You’re a member of the King’s guard?”, the manager butted in over the barmaid’s shoulder.

“I am Commander Rin, I’m the Master of the King’s guard.”, she said matter-of-factly.

“Thank you for saving my life Mistress!”, the manager bowed profusely. “You will never pay in this Tavern! Ever!”, he said. “Bring the Smith whatever he wants!”, he said fading into the background.

The Smith sat there looking relieved to be out of danger. Renata took her whiskey in a gulp, then followed it with a healthy drink from her beer. She looked at the man and decided that he was in no way culpable. “So, Tomah is it?”, he nodded. “Do you know those men and why they were trying to incite you into unlawful behavior?”, she reached for a chicken leg.

“I swear to you Mistress, I was minding my own business after a long day of travel. I was going to have a drink, some food, and then off to bed.”, he said as she tucked into her meal. “They saw my seal of Hafza and almost ran over to me.”, he stopped for effect. “They told me that Quell was the only true God, and that I was an infidel for praying to Hafza.”

She swallowed some food, then sipped her beer. “So, they were trying to convert you?”, she asked.

“I don’t think that they were really trying to convert me. I think that they are crazy and seeing my religious emblem sent them over the edge. When they came in, I think they were just looking for a reason to be offended. They saw that I don’t follow ‘their’ God and decided that it was enough reason to start a fight.”

She slowly chewed her food while staring at the man. Among her many talents, she had an infallible truth sense. She was very accurate at telling if she was hearing truth. His food came and he hungrily dug in. “That was odd.”, she said as he was feasting on the meal that she provided. “There are many Gods, and we of course do not worship all of them. I’ve heard only a little of this ‘Quell’, you said?”

He swallowed, then looked up, “I don’t know all too much Ma’am; but I’ve heard rumors of a growing faith far to the West of here. Unlike the true Gods, these people seek out the uneducated, the rejects of society.”, he stated. “Like the men that you bested, they believe that you are with them, or against them. If you’re against them, they have no problem murdering you.”

She thought for a long minute or so, “It saddens me to see this kind of cancer in my King’s realm.”, she was looking off in the distance, then she remembered something. “You’re travelling to Feld? Why are you going there?”, she asked.

Sensing a change in tone, he straightened up, dropping the hunk of meat that was in his large strong hand. “There has been a call out for many men-of-trades, especially smiths and others who make the tools of war.”, he looked at her for the first time. “I make swords and spear tips, though from what I saw, nothing to match the sword that you carry.”

“Who is calling for skilled men like yourself? It sounds like the drums of war are staring to beat.”

“I heard from a traveler near my town that men with skill would be paid handsomely for rushing to Feld and plying our trades. I have no disloyalty in my heart Mistress, my only loyalty is to our King.”, the man said with all the earnestness that he could muster.

She leaned forward till they were but inches apart. She looked the Smith directly in his eyes, “My king thinks that there are those who would plot against him. What have you heard?”, her tone left him no avenue for escape.

“For as long as I can remember…”, he looked fearful and unhappy. “Please don’t hold my words against me Mistress!”

“The only way you can incur my wrath is to hold out on me. Tell me everything, and I mean everything!”

“For as long as I can remember, people would laugh at the King. It’s not that they disliked him; but they think of him as a weak person, a man who would run from a fight.”, he looked up at Renata. Her lack of expression gave him enough confidence to go on. “Whenever there is a conflict of any sort, he chooses the path of least resistance. A true King, one that men will fear and will follow, cares only about the State, and what’s in the best interest of his subjects. The Laima family are known for caring only about themselves and overlooking insults that would cause any man,” He smiled at her nervously. “I mean any person, to go blind with anger.”

Renata took it all in, she had heard similar things over the years, but never so much in such a concise fashion. “Go on.”, she said.

“It’s well known, and has been since before I was born, that the Oren family thinks that they are a better choice to rule Inram. I have heard that the new head of their family, Rado Oren, thinks that now is the time to try and claim what they feel is their birthright.”

“And you are willing to support this traitor to your King?”, she demanded.

“All that I have said just now is speculation. Perhaps well founded, perhaps not. I’m a simple man, and I go where the work is.”

She thought for a minute, then turned to her dinner companion, “You will get the same terms if you go to Clifftown. I personally guarantee it. Tell your fellow artisans, that whatever House Oren offers, House Laima will match.”, she paused to make sure he understood. “and they will not be seen as traitors by their Lord and Master.”

The Smith looked at her, then nodded. “Yes Mistress. Tomorrow I travel to Clifftown, and you can be sure that I will make the finest weapons for our King, and his noble Commander. “