There was no welcoming party for Cerdor, Lydær, and their company as they rode through the gates of Ankylos. The watchmen seemed to pay them little mind, save a few icy stares. Their Casadian “guides” that had accompanied them from Secara led them through a tunnel which emerged in the midst of a mass of smithies. Everywhere they looked, furnaces and anvils were worked by an army of smiths. The smell of coal, iron, and sweat filled the air. Racks of spears and swords were quickly filled and loaded on to carts. Cerdor was filled with a nervous awe; he had only seen such industry in forges used to arm the Halig Frecan.
At last they emerged from the crowd of laborers onto a quieter street. The city was bustling with activity as merchants and citizens went to and fro. Many gave him sideways stares and his hand slipped subconsciously from his reins to the hilt of his sword. After what seemed like an eternity of winding through the city, they began to ride up onto the hill in the center of town. As they crested the hill, Cerdor was presented with a sight that did little to comfort him. Hundreds of men were spread out on the grounds before him. He could see blocks of soldiers moving in formation, men fighting in rings with sword and spear, and the constant thud of arrows hitting targets complemented the cacophony of ringing steel. Cerdor urged his horse to pick up its pace. The message was clear.
They arrived at the base of the Tower of Dawn and dismounted. The tower cast a great shadow over them, blocking out the late morning sun. Cerdor passed the reins to one of his guards and strode up the steps of the tower beside his brother. One of the tower guard greeted them at the arched entrance and led them inside. After climbing a series of winding staircases, they were brought before the Guardian in a small meeting room.
“I hope your travels were uneventful.” Cerydon set aside a book he had been reading.
“They were, but for a short rainstorm.” Cerdor answered as the twins settled into seats opposite the Guardian.
“I assume you have brought a copy of the treaty with you?” Cerydon extended an expectant hand.
“Of course.” Cerdor fished the scroll out of a leather satchel and handed it to the Guardian. Cerydon read the words carefully and then set it aside.
“I cannot sign this. To sign a treaty of understanding, the Ealdorman and I must have an understanding. And I am afraid we do not.” Cerydon stood and turned to look out a window.
“Care to elaborate?” Lydær responded tersely after a short silence.
“The Ealdorman has killed his own people, attacked foreign vessels, blockaded ports, and sown chaos throughout the empire. These acts cannot continue.” Cerydon turned to face the pair again.
“It is not for Casadia to dictate the actions of Östlaed.” Cerdor answered.
“No, nor would I presume to. But as a realm of the empire, Östlaed is bound to its laws. Should the Ealdorman continue down this path, there will be consequences.”
“You threaten our people?!?” Lydær stood, incensed.
“I do not threaten you. It is Östlaed that threatens us and our brethren throughout the empire. There must be change within Östlaed, or we will have no choice but to assess this threat.” Cerydon answered sternly.
“No army can match the Halig Frecan.” Lydær exclaimed boldly.
“True, perhaps no single army is likely to defeat such a force. Yet they will not be fighting one army, but many. A half dozen realms are poised to join together to restore peace to the empire. This is the common understanding the Ealdorman and I must have. If he does not relent, he must understand that it will be his doom.” Cerydon withdrew a piece of parchment from a drawer and handed it to Cerdor, “The new terms of the treaty.”
“You are asking him to rescind all of his declarations over the past few years.” Cerdor finished reading its contents, “He will never agree to this.”
“So I fear. It is not my desire to wage war, but if the Ealdorman does not agree to these terms, it will be inevitable. I pray for all our sakes you might speak some sense to him before it is too late.” Cerydon gestured towards the door, “Time is short. You had best hurry.”
_________________ Guardian of Casadia Master of the Slayers Guild Minister of Hermertian History
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