The Fall to Power Read Free Page A

pushing his long, braided hair out of his handsome face so as to not get it in his beverage. “The lands there are fertile, the people happy. I rather enjoyed my stay!”
    It was unsurprising to the King that Bavard should have been there recently; his duty as general of the King’s armies involved him travelling from town to town, inspecting the training of the troops, ensuring that they be ready should they be levied to support the core of Clansmen in the event they march to war. It was also unsurprising that the handsome warrior should have had a good time there; for a general, there was rarely a serious bone in his body.
    The same could not be said for the maidens of whichever town he happened to be visiting at the time…
    “Hmph. They have too easy a time of it, if you ask me.”
    A gruff, bellowing voice now, from the other end of the table.
    The King frowned.
    “Why do you say that, Kurnos?”
    The rotund, bearded Master of the Hunt slammed his stone tankard to the table, nearly shattering it, for though he had an appearance of someone older and out of shape compared to the rest of the council, his barrel-chested frame belied the might of his seasoned limbs. Here was a true descendant of the Barbarian Clans of old.
    “When the Hunt rides the land,” he spat, “the villages of his land are invariably empty. Always a market on in the Pen, a festival, a feast, a re-enactment. There is never any sport to be had in Tulador lands…”
    “Aww…” cooed Bavard. “The Lord spoils your fun? It’s almost as though he doesn’t want his villagers plundered and captured at random…”
    The two, the fresh-faced, flippant General and the rudd y, grizzled Huntsman, descended into good-natured squabbling as they were so often wont to do and the King smiled, despite himself, even as he mulled things over.
    That Arbistrath would forewarn his people of the impending Hunts w as both admirable and a concern, for though it spoke volumes of the haughty man’s loyalty to his people that he wanted them to be safe from Kurnos’ predations, the Hunt was there for a reason.
    It was decades now, nearly a century, even, since the Barbarian King had risen to power, vanquishing his mortal predecessor and establishing his rule with an iron fist, and as such, far-flung towns would sometimes forget his might, his generosity with his gifts of learning and protection. Taxes would sometimes come in late, or worse, not at all.
    The monthly Hunts led by Kurnos, with his ruthless henchmen and packs of baying hounds, served as a reminder to the provinces that they were not Kingdoms in their own right and that they still had a duty to their distant ruler.
    The Seeress caught his attention, her cool blue eyes seeing in his the reason for his quiet contemplation.
    “You wish me to summon my girls, scry his lands?”
    He thought for a moment, before nodding.
    “Yes, but not now, tomorrow. Tonight, my dear, we enjoy ourselves, have fun.”
    She smiled, raising her fine, crystal goblet of wine.
    “Then to fun, my King!”
     
    ***
     
    The night was drawing on yet the party still in full-swing, the stone walls of the Great Hall echoing to the sounds of merriment and cheer, as the King rose from the table and turned to the council.
                  “I wish you good night, my friends.”
                  Groans from the gathered lieutenants, Bavard in particular.
                  “Stay awhile, my king! The night is yet young and if we don’t drink what’s left then this fat tub of lard is gonna have it all!” He thumbed over his shoulder to the swaying Huntmaster to his side who’d obviously not heard him.
                  “Eh, what?”
                  The King smiled, but shook his head.
                  “I’m afraid not, my friends; I need to walk, clear my head.”
                  The council nodded, understanding, for their King’s senses were a level