The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series (8 page)

“Oh, my apologies Ambassador.”
The man said, pulling up short. He was a tall man, over six feet, and in good shape. He had long black hair that hung past his shoulders and a well-trimmed beard. His clothes looked silky and luxurious. He had a rather sharp chin and thick bushy eyebrows, but it was eyes that caught Flare's attention, they looked dead. “I didn't realize that you were scheduled to be here tonight.” He glanced over at Flare, seeming disinterested. He was just starting to look away again, when his eyes widened and he quickly swept his gaze back. “And whom do we have the pleasure of meeting tonight.”

Henotairin squeezed past the man, “My apologies Angaria. I would love to stay and talk, but I do not want to keep the king waiting.”

Flare followed Henotairin past Angaria, and even though he didn't look back, he could still feel the eyes of the man following them.

He waited until they had turned a corner before speaking, “Henotairin, who was that, and why were you so rude to him?”

Henotairin slowed down and looked back as if he expected the man to be following them. “Sorry about that. You remember how I said some humans were evil? Well, Duke Angaria Wellis is a good example of that. I have never met such a cold and conniving person.” He shook his head, “Duke Angaria's great-grandfather committed high treason,
he
tried to usurp the throne for himself. The king at the time had him executed, and his head was hung from the wall of the city.” Henotairin stopped walking and turned, pointing his finger at Flare's chest. “The only reason that Angaria is alive today, is because his grandfather managed to escape.”

“Well, how is it that Angaria is a lord of Telur, then?” Flare asked.

Henotairin started walking again, and he answered quietly, “Angaria's father returned to Telur and begged King Darion's father for clemency. King Deratheel agreed and even reinstated him as a lord, although not with the power and importance that the Wellis family had once enjoyed.” He leaned in closer to Flare, “The other lords of Telur do not like the Wellis family and it is rumored that Angaria's father bought his way back into the nobility. The nobles liked them even less when King Darion appointed Angaria onto his council of Lords.”

They continued on down the hallway which curved to the left, past a couple of doorways. Flare was opening his mouth to ask about the council of Lords, when the hallway ended into a huge wooden door with two guards on either side. The guards were both young, but despite their youth, they had a commanding presence. They were wearing black plate armor, with the golden sun of Telur on their chest. Helmets hid most of their faces from view, but he could see blond hair poking out from under the right guard’s helmet. The guards were holding pikes at attention. Henotairin stopped, and turned towards Flare. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Flare managed to say. His heart was pounding, and he thought that he might get sick. He grinned at the thought of introducing himself to the king by fainting in his presence.

Henotairin smiled, and turned back to the guards. “Hello Nathaniel, we are here to see the king. I was told he would meet us here.”

Nathaniel, the young guard on the left, answered, “Yes sir, I was told to expect you. Unfortunately, the king has been detained. I was instructed to tell you that he will be along presently. You are welcome to go in and wait, if you like.”

“Thank you.”

The other young guard reached out and opened the door for them.

The room turned out to be a study. It had a warm feeling about it that just seemed to hang in the air. It had exquisite red mahogany paneling and trim, with book shelves that also appeared to be made of mahogany. The book shelves were packed full of books, some new and some so old that they looked like they would fall apart if they were touched. There was a large desk, made out of oak, against the opposite wall. A thick dark brown carpet covered the floor, and a small oval window was directly behind the desk. On the wall to the left, was as an unlit fireplace. There were four chairs arranged in a half circle facing the desk, apparently King Darion used the study as a meeting place often.

Henotairin walked forward and sat in the chair farthest to the left. Flare followed his lead and sat next to him. They sat there for a few minutes in silence, when Flare remembered the question that he had been about to ask in the hallway. “Henotairin, what is the council of Lords that you mentioned?”

Henotairin leaned back in his chair as he spoke, “The council of Lords is a group of seven lords that advise the king on kingdom matters. Each of the seven lords, or their representatives,
vote
on an issue, and the results are relayed to the king. The king then considers the opinion of the council before he makes his final decision.”

Flare found the discussion interesting. The elven king had no such formal council to advise him. “Are all the lords appointed by the king like Angaria was?” He asked.

“No.” Henotairin answered, “Some of the lords inherit a spot on the council as their birthright.” Seeing the look of confusion on Flare's face, he quickly explained, “In Telur, there are four great houses that are right below the king in power. House Efflen is led by Lord Roderick. He is called the champion of the sunset.” Henotairin smiled slightly at the lost look on Flare's face, “He is called the champion of the sunset, because he is lord of the territories to the west of Telur. And though there is a standing army that guards the borders, House Efflen is charged with protecting the people and areas under his charge. Lesser lords in the western area pledge their loyalty to him and he pledges his loyalty to King Darion. Ever since House Efflen has been given the west, the leader of the house has been called the champion of the sunset.”

“So Lord Roderick is permanently on the council of Lords?” Flare asked.

“Yes, as his son will be, although Lord Roderick rarely attends meetings in person. He appointed a representative who attends the meetings for him, as do most of the lords.

Flare nodded his head, “Well, while we wait, tell me more about the lords on the council.”

“All right.
The second of the four great houses is House Darkvale. House Darkvale is led by Lord Justin, and he is called the guardian of the north. Both house Darkvale and house Efflen have grown in power recently, due mainly to the lack of a threat from the west and north.”

“Aren't the elves viewed as a threat?” Flare quickly interjected.

“Yes, we are.” Henotairin answered, “But the elves do not raid across the border killing farmers and soldiers. Raiders have plagued the southern and eastern borders, and that has sapped the strength of two of the great houses. House Morningstar holds the eastern lands and is led by the Lady Julia, the protector of the east. Lady Julia is the steward until her son Geoffrey is old enough.”

Henotairin leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his legs, “House Steel holds the southern lands, and their lord is Cedric. He is called the lord of fire and vengeance. House Steel has always been warriors, perhaps because they have always had to fight the armies and raiders of the southern kingdoms.”

“Are they good people, or not?” Flare asked.

“They are good and bad, each in
his own
way. None of them are cruel, but they are hard, determined people. If you get in their way, they have no reluctance in squashing you.” Henotairin answered. “They have mastered the art of politics, and they do it well.”

Flare was enjoying the conversation, perhaps because it was helping to keep his mind off of the meeting with the king, but he also found it interesting. “Counting Angaria that brings the total to five. Who are the other two lords on the council?”

Henotairin smiled, enjoying having such an interested pupil. “General Allister Dunn was the sixth son born to Lord Dunn, a minor house that is pledged to House Morningstar. Being the sixth son, he joined the army of Telur and quickly rose in power. He has been the Captain General for a good ten years now, and the Captain General always has a place on the council. And since he is frequently in Telur, he will often attend meetings for himself.”

“The last member of the council is Arch-Bishop Rondrell Poole. The arch-bishop is the church's representative on the council.”
 
Henotairin paused, “I suppose that you are unaware of the Telurian people's following of Adel?”

“I know that most of the humans worship Adel, just like most of the elves worship Silverti.” Flare answered.

“Yes. But the
church
of
Adel
is very powerful, and will not tolerate any threat to its power. Other religions are not openly condoned. Oh, they are allowed to exist, but only as long as their followers are few.”

Flare opened his mouth to speak, when the door opened.

A human man stood in the doorway. The man possessed such a presence that Flare immediately knew it was the king. He was tall, over six feet with shoulder length black hair, and a neatly trimmed peppered beard. He was wearing a brown tunic that was belted at the waist, and loose fitting brown leggings.

Henotairin stood as King Darion entered, and Flare quickly followed his lead. The king stood in the doorway for just a second, scrutinizing Flare, before he entered the room. He wore a friendly smile. “Hello Henotairin, I didn’t know you were bringing anybody to this meeting. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” The king's voice was deep but friendly, reminding Flare of his grandfather's.

Henotairin quickly spoke up and answered, “King Darion, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Flaranthlas. He is a member of elven royalty, and ninth in line for the elven throne.”

Flare bowed to the king. The elves kept with tradition and manners, and he had been taught well.

Henotairin’s words hit the king like a slap. His eyes grew wide and his mouth was open for a few seconds in astonishment. He looked as if he was struck speechless, and Flare got the felling that this man wasn’t speechless very often. He quickly recovered from his surprise, and addressed Flare. “I apologize, but I never expected to have a member of elven royalty in my palace.”
 
He then spoke to Henotairin, “I wish I had been informed sooner of this visit, I would like to have prepared a more official reception.” The king's voice hinted at a mild rebuke.

“I apologize, your highness, but that is my fault.” Flare quickly interjected. He felt bad enough about using Henotairin, and he didn't want anymore trouble for him than was necessary. “The ambassador didn't know that I was coming.”

The king paused for a second, considering.
“Really?”
His eyes bored into Flare.

Flare was worried. He had come here under false pretenses, but he didn't want to introduce himself to the king by lying to him.

King Darion considered him, “I see. Well, what can I do for you?”

Flare looked at Henotairin, who was looking back at him. The little shrug that Henotairin gave him, told Flare that it was his turn to present his case. “Well sir, I am here to ask your permission to join the guardians.”

For the second time, King Darion was speechless. He looked first at Flare then at Henotairin, who simply shrugged back and smiled weakly. Finally King Darion managed to say, “I’m shocked that King Feilolas even considered it.” He walked around the desk and sat down. “Flare, why do you want to join the guardians? Surely you know that it would be a tough life.”

Flare felt queasy and a little weak in the knees, but he steeled himself, “Sir, I wish to be a warrior in a noble cause. The civilized world is protected by the guardians and I want to be one of them.” It was not quite true that the guardians served the world, they had at one time, but now the guardians were completely in the service of Telur.

The king nodded his head and considered Flare's words.
“A noble intention.”

Flare's hopes surged at the King's words, and once again he felt weak in the knees. He hoped he wasn't swaying.

The king took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, I cannot grant you access to the guardians.”

King Darion’s words hit him like a kick to the stomach, and he felt queasy again. He could feel the panic began to build. “Access to the guardians is not granted, it is earned. People compete against each other for the right to enter, and my recommendation means nothing if the person can not pass the physical part of the tests. There is a very good reason for this, and it is because the guardians have to be the best warriors and magicians possible.”

Flare had never heard any of this in the stories, and he felt his hopes sinking. What was he to do? He could not go back to Solistine in disgrace. No, he would rather die than to face the smug looks of the elven court. If he couldn't join the guardians, then he couldn't stay in Telur either. In all the many different ways he had imagined this, being rejected had not seriously occurred to him.

King Darion noticed the dejected look on Flare's face, “Now, I cannot grant you access to the guardians, but I can allow you to compete in the entrance tests, and as a matter of fact, quite a few foreign royalty serve in the guardians.”

At his words, hope blossomed anew in Flare.

The king smiled, reading Flare's every emotion, “The problem I see for you Flare, is that your elven blood, while increasing your speed, will probably make you weaker than some of those competing. If you like, I could have someone to assist you in preparing for the tests.”