Chapter Two
“AND THEN WE MUST ADDRESS the upcoming port renovation proposal for the Knight’s Way quay.
As his Majesty knows, due to the burden of upkeep of various shipping lanes through the Galesdi Gulf that we’ve had open claim to in previous reigns, we are now forced to begin negotiations anew with the Sandrayan heads of state and sea in order to facilitate the queen’s dreams of a joint port of call for both the Melowynn navy and the Sandrayan fleet. ”
Standing behind King Aelir during this tedious meeting of the treasurers for the vills of Melowynn, I could hear the snore of Grand Advisor Umeris floating softly to the domed ceiling of the king’s lower meeting chamber.
A particularly robust snort brought the current speaker—the overseer of the vills that the Mossbells’ relatives now oversaw—up short.
The thin elf clad in the blue of the Mossbell clan stared at me as if I could do something.
Granted, I was the captain of the king’s guard but shaking the grandsire of the king awake was not my jurisdiction.
Standing comfortably with my hand resting on the hilt of my sword, I noted that Aelir reached over to jostle his ancient grandfather.
Umeris sniffled, coughed out an expletive, and then drifted back to sleep.
I lowered my head to avoid letting those gathered here see me smiling.
Many questioned me how I could stand being privy to so many boring meetings.
I would shrug and say it was my duty, which it was as the king was to be guarded all the time save for his trips to the garderobe or his bedchambers at night, but there were numerous moments of humor in these stuffy gatherings.
Umeris has been providing most of those over the past several months.
It was bittersweet as the old elf was failing rapidly but still held onto his dagger-sharp tongue.
Aelir was known to mention, out of hearing range of his grandfather’s pointed ears, that Umeris enjoyed being crass and being able to blame it on his advanced age and infirmities.
“Apologies for my grandfather. The tonics he takes for his worsening podagra leave him quite slumberous. Someone summon Jaska to escort my grandfather to his rooms,” Aelir said.
I moved to do as bid even if my name had not been used.
Stepping away from the high-backed trio of chairs at the large oval table, I made my way to the closed double doors of light buffed wood, opened one a crack, and met the curious gaze of one of the two royal guards stationed outside the meeting chamber.
“Please find Jaska in the gardens and inform him that he is required in the king’s lower chamber to attend to Grand Advisor Umeris.
He will need the wheeled chair,” I told my man, who nodded once then set off, white and blue armor of the royal guard clattering as he made his way down the airy corridor.
With so many dignitaries in attendance, we were required to be in full plate.
It was hot, heavy, and generally uncomfortable, but it was the standard put into place many eons ago.
The king would probably make a ruling about it, but he had more important things on his platter to deal with, such as this meeting of clearly unhappy elites two days before the Sandrayan envoy was to arrive at our gates.
I slipped back inside—or slipped as well as a man grown in full plate armor could slip, which was not at all—and gave the weary king a nod.
Then I took my place behind Aelir, eyes touching on the gathered elves.
All had long hair, fancy robes, and tight lips.
Few of the elite elves were behind this plan of the queens and the rest of the royals to go into a partnership with the Sandrayans.
They distrusted the elves of the isles, and the elves of the isles distrusted us.
Much like the animosity between us and the wood elves.
We’d distanced ourselves from our brothers and sisters so deeply that it felt as if we lived on differing worlds.
Yet we were all on one island. More or less.
“As you all know, this project is not only going to open up ports of call in the Black Sands, but it will also allow their ships to enter our ports without paying hefty port fees. That issue has been holding back the opening of our shipping lanes for centuries. Signing this deal into agreement will prove that we’re serious about our desire to forge a new friendship, a deeper bond, with our kin that fled the mainland so long ago.
Only good can come from being open to our brothers and sisters to the west,” Aelir stated, his voice modulated, cool yet firm, his tenure on the throne already adding poise and dignity to a man who already possessed a noble soul.
I always stood straighter when I listened to our king speaking. This was no exception.
“But, Your Majesty, the port fees that we take in make up a large part of the income for the crown,” another vill’s overseer, a portly man with earrings that trailed up to the tip of his ear, said as he stood up to make his point.
Umeris snored on. “If we give up that substantial form of income, we’ll have to raise taxes to cover the loss. ”
“We will not raise taxes,” Aelir stated as he sat forward to place his elbows on the table.
Fylson followed suit, the older elf showing his support of his king in a silent yet loud manner.
“The monies we’re saving from not having to house and feed four different menageries will easily cover the port fees that we’ll be losing.
There is also a new logging camp that is being discussed for the future.
If we can save coin transporting lumber from the Glotte and Verboten woodlands using the Vilhall and other rivers and tributaries that run through Melowynn, that will be added to the coffers. ”
“Yes, Your Majesty, but driving logs downriver is slower than moving them across land.” A woman from Renedith, the daughter of the late overseer Jassin, spoke up. “That will impede the building of new houses for the peasants.”
“True, it is slower, but it’s much cheaper.
One large barge can carry the same amount as several carts pulled by a plow horse, goat, or oxen.
Also, the costs of maintaining the roads that are perpetually torn asunder by hooves are exorbitant.
Maintaining the waterways would fall to those who live where the rivers flow, a shared cost that lowers our expenditures. ”
“So the dwarves are willing to cough up their precious gems and ores for upkeep of the waterways that flow from Mother Moth into our lands?” an older elf in dark red with a large nose asked.
“I’ve not known a dwarf to part with anything of great value for any reason. Notoriously tightfisted the whole lot.”
Several people chuckled and nodded at the unfounded slur. Aelir got to his feet, gold hair sliding over his shoulders to land on the seat he just vacated.
“That is enough. We are not here to poke fun at our neighbors.” The king glanced around the assemblage that had fallen quiet.
“This meeting has come to an end as I have other things that need my attention before the day ends. Return to your vills and inform the people there that the new port agreements and the addition of new ships to our weakened naval fleet will make Melowynn safer and stronger for generations to come. Those of you who have returned your invitations to the fete in three sun’s time are welcome to stay here in Avolire.
Those who are not attending the event may leave now with the throne’s good wishes and safe travels under the eyes of Ihdos. ”
I made my way to the doors to open them wide for the peerage as they filed out.
Rumblings about wood elves, dwarves, and foolish young kings could be heard.
After the last noble elf was out, I saw Jaska, the large guard who tended to Umeris Stillcloud, pushing a wheeled chair down the now-empty corridor.
The crash of waves floated upward to us, the Silvura Sea choppy today as winds blew in from the southeast.
Jaska was a tall man, hired several years ago, who possessed both military training as well as some basic healing skills.
A lean elf with broad shoulders and a genteel manner, he not only protected the grand advisor but also dispensed his healing draughts when needed.
He was a kind man with the strength needed to lift and move an invalid, along with the patience required to not allow Umeris to upset him with his verbal attacks.
A hacking bark broke the air. We knew that sound well.
Umeris was having an upheaval, his lungs filling with fluid that he had to cough up.
We hurried around the table to where the elderly elf sat wide-eyed, his silver hair puddled in his lap, bloody spittle on his hands and chin.
Aelir kneeled beside his grandfather, rubbing the old man’s bony shoulder, as Umeris struggled to breathe.
Jaska handed the old man a cloth to cough into and reached into the small potions bag attached to the wheeled chair to remove a sleeping draught.
“Here, Grand Advisor, sip this. It will ease the constriction in your chest,” Jaska gently said, holding a small blue bottle to the old man’s pale lips.
Umeris swallowed loudly, his eyes watering, his fingers now gripping his grandson’s forearm.
Aelir said not a word of protest, just took the edge of his grandfather’s soiled robe to dab at his chin. “That’s good. Things will ease soon.”
“I’m so sorry, Aelir…” Umeris whispered and slowly nodded off, his fingers a band around his grandson’s arm. Jaska opened the skeletal fingers, allowing Aelir to stand. The king rubbed his arm and tucked a thin blanket that had been over his grandfather’s lap around the old elf’s rounded shoulders.