PROLOGUE
Soon after Father's death we discovered the latest, and worst, of King Galdran's acts: He was going to betray our Covenant with the mysterious and magical Hill Folk in order to harvest and sell the fabulous colorwood trees, which grow nowhere else in the world. The forests have been home to the Hill Folk since long before humans settled in Remalna. The Covenant made with the Hill Folk centuries before our time guaranteed that so long as we left the forests--common trees as well as our fabulous colorwoods--uncut, they would give us magical Fire Sticks each fall, which burned warmly until at least midsummer.
So, untrained and ill prepared, Branaric and I commenced our revolt.
It was a disaster.
Oh, we were successful enough at first, when the huge army the King sent against us was led by his cowardly, bullying cousin Baron Debegri. But when the Marquis of Shevraeth--son of the Prince and Princess of Renselaeus--replaced Debegri, we lost ground steadily. I stumbled into a steel trap our side had set out in a desperate attempt to slow up Shevraeth's army, was caught, and was taken by the Marquis to the capital, where the King condemned me to death without permitting me to speak a word in my defense.
But I escaped--with help--and limped my way back toward home, chased by two armies. Both Branaric and I nearly got killed before we found out that some of King Galdran's Court aristocrats--led by the Marquis of Shevraeth--had actually been working to get rid of the King without launching civil war.
King Galdran and Baron Debegri forced us into a final battle, in which they were killed. After that Branaric rode with the Marquis and his allies to the royal palace Athanarel in Remalna-city, the capital, and I retreated home. As a reward for our aid, Shevraeth--who was favored to become the new king--turned over Galdran's personal fortune to Branaric and me.
That much, I know, is in the records.
What the scribes don't tell, because they don't know, is exactly how--and why--I subsequently got mixed up again in royal affairs.
It began with a letter from the Marquise of Merindar--sister of the late King Galdran.
Soon after Father's death we discovered the latest, and worst, of King Galdran's acts: He was going to betray our Covenant with the mysterious and magical Hill Folk in order to harvest and sell the fabulous colorwood trees, which grow nowhere else in the world. The forests have been home to the Hill Folk since long before humans settled in Remalna. The Covenant made with the Hill Folk centuries before our time guaranteed that so long as we left the forests--common trees as well as our fabulous colorwoods--uncut, they would give us magical Fire Sticks each fall, which burned warmly until at least midsummer.
So, untrained and ill prepared, Branaric and I commenced our revolt.
It was a disaster.
Oh, we were successful enough at first, when the huge army the King sent against us was led by his cowardly, bullying cousin Baron Debegri. But when the Marquis of Shevraeth--son of the Prince and Princess of Renselaeus--replaced Debegri, we lost ground steadily. I stumbled into a steel trap our side had set out in a desperate attempt to slow up Shevraeth's army, was caught, and was taken by the Marquis to the capital, where the King condemned me to death without permitting me to speak a word in my defense.
But I escaped--with help--and limped my way back toward home, chased by two armies. Both Branaric and I nearly got killed before we found out that some of King Galdran's Court aristocrats--led by the Marquis of Shevraeth--had actually been working to get rid of the King without launching civil war.
King Galdran and Baron Debegri forced us into a final battle, in which they were killed. After that Branaric rode with the Marquis and his allies to the royal palace Athanarel in Remalna-city, the capital, and I retreated home. As a reward for our aid, Shevraeth--who was favored to become the new king--turned over Galdran's personal fortune to Branaric and me.
That much, I know, is in the records.
What the scribes don't tell, because they don't know, is exactly how--and why--I subsequently got mixed up again in royal affairs.
It began with a letter from the Marquise of Merindar--sister of the late King Galdran.
( Sherwood Smith )
[ Court Duel ]
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