Richard Tuttle - Winged Warrior

“Your plan is brilliant,” Queen Alycia smiled at her husband.

“Brilliant from a logical standpoint,” conceded Garl, “but they are still not eligible for membership in the Society of Mages. They must become accomplished mages first. Then they can apply for membership.”

“But you are currently reorganizing the Society of Mages,” grinned Alycia. “What better time in history to initiate a new type of membership?”

“New type of membership?” frowned Garl.

“Precisely,” Avalar nodded vigorously. “Call it a junior membership if you will, but create a new level of membership for promising students. Propose the idea to the members of the Society of Mages as a way to cultivate future members. Do not mention the princesses by name, but make the proposal generic for all young mages who show exceptional promise.”

“Hmm,” murmured Garl as he rolled the idea around in his head. “Many of the members of the Society of Magic would love to have young students that they can strut before, but I fear that they would tire of the obligation to teach after a while.”

“Make the teaching part of it voluntary,” suggested the king. “Let the members strut and pump up their pride. I would wager that Alahara and Alastasia will convince enough of the mages to tutor them. You should not underestimate my daughters, Garl.”

“I do not underestimate them,” grinned Garl. “They think much like their father and have their mother’s beauty. I will propose your idea to the Society of Mages. I will set a small number for potential junior members, no more than six from the whole country. I will leave the nominating up to the members, so you may need to flex some muscle to get the princesses nominated.”

“I will not be obvious about promoting my daughters for membership,” promised the king, “but I will make sure that their names are on the tips of the tongues of some of your members.”

“Then we have a plan,” smiled Queen Alycia.

“We have a plan,” nodded Garl. “I will propose the junior memberships this afternoon.”

In southwestern Khadora along the Macara River, two rows of soldiers lined the long road leading to the Rican clan estate. The silver accents of their forest green uniforms glistened in the morning sunlight. Lord Padro, lord of the Rican clan, waited for his guests to arrive on the porch of the estate mansion. His mind wandered as he rehearsed the plan that he would present to the other lords.

Eventually, brilliant streaks of sunlight alerted the lord to movement near the road that ran past the estate. Lord Rican’s eyes rose to see the reflections from the polished pikes of the soldiers nearest the main road. The two rows of soldiers stiffened as a small army turned off the main road onto the smaller road leading to the mansion. Lord Rican nodded in confirmation as he recognized the blue and black colors of the Seth clan.

Turning to the marshal beside him, Lord Rican spoke, “Lord Sydar and the Seth have arrived. Make sure that their host squad is well prepared to accept them.”

“They are prepared,” assured Marshal Juan as he waved a signal to one of the squads stationed nearby.

Twenty Rican soldiers immediately straightened and moved to stand before the estate mansion. Their task would be to host the visiting delegation from the Seth clan. In peaceful times, this duty was considered an honor, but in Khadoran history, few times have ever been truly peaceful, and those few times seldom lasted long. The host soldiers were meant to ensure that the visiting soldiers were carefully watched during their brief stay.

Lord Padro looked up with surprise as he noticed a change of color near the main road. The blue and black uniforms suddenly gave way to uniforms of red and white.

“Lord Woroman and the Disina clan are here as well,” he stated to the marshal. “They must have traveled here together.”

“Does that surprise you?” asked Marshal Juan as he signaled the other host squad to get ready.

“In a way it does,” admitted the Rican lord. “Lord Sydar and Lord Woroman are neighbors, but they have never been particularly fond of each other. The fact that they are arriving together means that they have already discussed the reason for their trip here today.”

“And yet they still came,” remarked the marshal. “That bodes well for your plan.”

The Rican lord pondered silently for several moments before nodding, “It does indeed. If my plan did not have merit, neither one of them would have showed up. This will be an historic day.”

Within moments Lord Sydar reached the steps of the mansion. The host squad efficiently held the horses while the visitors dismounted. Lord Sydar climbed the steps of the mansion without an escort. Lord Rican smiled broadly at the gesture.

“Welcome to my home,” smiled Lord Padro. “I see that Lord Woroman is right behind you. Shall we wait for him?”

“We shall,” nodded Lord Sydar.

The Khadoran lords waited in silence as the first host squad ushered off the horses and escorted the Seth soldiers to an area where they could relax and eat. Rican servants hurried to groom and feed the horses and bring food and drink for the visiting soldiers.

By the time the Seth soldiers had left the steps of the mansion, Lord Woroman and his Disina escort had arrived. Their host squad also acted efficiently, and soon Lord Woroman had also climbed the small flight of steps without an escort. Lord Padro smiled and greeted the second lord and then led his two guests to the meeting room.

“I take it from your arrival together,” opened Lord Padro, “that you two have already discussed my proposal?”

“To some degree,” confirmed Lord Sydar. “While we concur that our new emperor is leading us down a dangerous path, we do not see the benefit of trying to fight him.”

“Yet you came anyway?” questioned Lord Padro.

“We will give you the opportunity to explain the benefits to us,” answered Lord Woroman.

“We agree that the Chula are our enemy,” interjected Lord Sydar. “You will get no argument from us about that, but to go against the emperor is extremely dangerous. It is said that he has unique ways of dealing with those who get in his way.”

“The point is, Lord Padro,” added Lord Woroman, “we are not prepared to stick our necks out for the chopping block.”

“Are you prepared to accept the Chula as your equals?” retorted Lord Padro. “Are you willing to bow before their radical god, Kaltara? Are you willing to cede land to the savages? Land that is rightfully yours to conquer?”

“If we were,” sighed Lord Sydar, “would we be here?”

“We are willing to listen to your plan, Lord Padro,” interjected Lord Woroman. “That is why we are here. Show us how we can fight these reforms, and you will have cohorts.”

“Provided that your plan does not cost us our lives or estates,” added Lord Sydar.

“Fair enough,” nodded Lord Padro. “Please, sit.”

The three lords sat at one end of the long table in the meeting room. Servants brought in refreshments, and the lords discussed trivial matters until the servants had left.

“Emperor Marak is well known for unique ways of quieting dissent,” Lord Padro began, “as one of you said earlier, but he is also determined to rule according to the law. I believe that is his weakness. As long as we stay within the bounds of the law, he will be frustrated in his attempts to squash our dissent.”

“What can we do in a legal sense?” asked Lord Sydar. “The emperor has made it law that the Chula are to be regarded as allies. He has made it law that our armies must report to Khadoratung for training. He has made it law that our estate borders are frozen in place. What is the sense of ruling a clan these days when all of the decisions are handed down by Khadoratung?”