Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
His gaze moved slowly over the six members of the King’s Council before settling briefly on Tavish.
“Be seated,” Tavish said.
No one spoke as the scrape of wooden chairs broke the silence.
Dravic remained standing.
“Along with your monthly reports, I want an accounting of Scotara’s readiness for war.”
The request drew no surprise. If anything, it seemed expected.
Lord Marshal Broccan was the first to rise.
“Our warriors continue their training through the winter, my king. The armories remain well supplied, and the blacksmiths work steadily. We can answer a call to arms, though I would welcome more recruits before spring planting begins.”
Dravic nodded once. “You believe war inevitable?”
Broccan did not hesitate.
“I do. Rumors of Warlord Tharne’s spy reaching Scotara’s shores have spread far beyond Caerith. Men speak of little else.”
Lord Garran leaned forward. “The rumors grow with every merchant ship that docks. Whether true or not matters little.” He paused briefly. “Trade from Drogath has all but ceased, though that surprises no one. More curious are the whispers coming from the east. Merchants speak of trouble brewing on the Isle of Morra Mist, though no one can tell me what troubles Queen Eudora’s kingdom. I have heard no reliable word, only whispers.”
Dravic gave a slight nod. “Then until whispers become truth, our concern remains Scotara.”
Lord Cormac rose next. “While Lord Garran hears whispers from beyond our shores, I hear them from within Scotara. The regional lords tell me the same fear spreads from village to village.”
“And what question is that?” Dravic asked.
“If magic joins Warlord Tharne…” Cormac paused briefly. “…how does Scotara hope to stand against it?”
A silence settled over the chamber.
It was Elder Mairi who finally broke it.
“The same question is asked throughout Leighfeld. Healers hear many worries while tending to the sick. Parents fear for their children. Farmers fear abandoning their fields. Some wonder if Driochmor itself will side with Tharne.”
Ronan’s chair scraped softly across the stone as he stood.
“Fear has always painted Driochmor darker than truth.”
Several eyes turned toward him.
“The Hunters have guarded its borders for generations,” Ronan continued. “Magic alone is not the enemy. It is the one who wields it that determines whether it serves darkness or light.”
Broccan folded his arms. “A comforting thought, if true.”
“It is true,” Ronan answered evenly. “Though whether those within Driochmor can keep Warlord Tharne from corrupting others… that I cannot say.”
Edwin, who had remained quietly listening until now, finally spoke. “Whatever the outcome, war will drain the treasury. Supplies, horses, weapons, provisions for villages should they fall… all must be accounted for. A kingdom does not survive on courage alone.”
Dravic let the discussion fade into silence.
His gaze traveled slowly around the chamber.
Every man and woman seated there had spoken honestly.
Yet each had spoken from reports, from messages, and from what others had seen. Very little had come from their own eyes.
He found himself wondering how much of Scotara he truly knew anymore. Not the kingdom spread across parchment, but the kingdom beyond these castle walls.
The people who would soon be asked to fight for their kin… and their king.
The meeting continued for some time after that. Reports were heard, questions answered, decisions made. Some matters were settled. Others were left pending until more information could be gathered. And a few remained unanswered, for they were questions only time itself could answer.
One by one, the members of the King’s Council took their leave until only Tavish remained.
Tavish waited, knowing the king had not lingered without reason.
Dravic remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the great doors that had just closed behind the last council member.
“I once saw Scotara with my own eyes,” he said at last. “Not through reports or through messengers. It would be good to hear what my people say when they do not think their king is listening.”
Tavish looked alarmed. “You do not think to make such a journey now.”
Dravic glared at him. “Do you think me a fool?” He did not give Tavish a chance to answer. “Winter has barely begun yet has made itself known with an early snowfall. More of Warlord Tharne’s spies could already be hidden among us. What greater prize could they hope for than the King of Scotara making himself vulnerable? That would leave Tharne to march on a kingdom left leaderless.”
“When the time is right such a journey can be arranged,” Tavish said, sensing it was important to the king.
“Aye, it could very well prove a necessity,” Dravic said, looking past Tavish, his thoughts suddenly focused elsewhere.
Tavish understood the king’s thoughts. Following a victorious war, it would be necessary for the king to journey through Scotara and see what was left in its wake to the land and to the people.
“Adira is at Feena’s healing cottage. Send a warrior to return her to the castle,” Dravic ordered, and when Tavish looked ready to respond with something other than a simple ‘Aye,’ he warned, “Not another word about Adira. I will do as I please with her.”