CoD - Chapter 2 - Nathaniel

Trumpets were sounding, not the same horns that Velomaw was hearing, these were blown by human lips and with the intent that everyone could hear them. Lord Nathaniel Greyson of Greystone Manor jumped awake, his wife moaned next to him before her own eyes fluttered open at the sounds.

“The King? Here? At this hour?” She questioned and very quickly moved from the bed, her and husband shuffled out of their bedclothes into attire to receive guests. The cockerel hadn’t even crowed and the sun was still below the horizon. Some of the servants were awake, but the trumpets had awoken the rest of them. People began to scurry around the manor to get candles and lamps lit. Nathaniel himself walked out of the manor entrance as the king and his entourage reached the main house. It was uncommon for the king to visit Greystone Manor, the lands with the title were not large, nor particularly wealthy. It had to be an emergency for the king himself to arrive.

King Gawen the Wild, did not like his nickname, but it was very apt. He was at the very least eccentric, doing things like arriving at a lowly lord’s home at an unreasonable hour rather than just having a summons sent and Nathaniel brought to the castle. Nathaniel knelt before the king on his horse. The horse was much more impressive than the king, thick necked, barrel chested, black as the night and a mane and tail that looked like something out of a fairy tale. The king was a scrawny man, made to look much larger by the armor he wore, but Nathaniel had met him without the armor. He was short, thin, a bowl cut of mousy brown hair, and a thick bushy mustache that hung down past his chin, if he had a chin. Accompanying the king were about a hundred soldiers in almost as impressive armor as the king, and almost as impressive horses.

“Good, you’re home,” Gawen greeted and indicated that he wanted down from his horse. Servants immediately moved to help support and guide him down as the armor weighed a great deal.

“For what reason do you grace us with your presence, Your Majesty?” Nathaniel asked standing and his wife joined him and curtsied to the king. Gawen nodded to her, but Nathaniel didn’t like how his eyes seemed to not waver from his wife’s bosom.

“Raiders have crossed our lands from the Iahian Empire, they traveled east, you haven’t seen any activity on your lands?” Gawen cut straight to the reason for his visit as the sky began to lighten and the cockerel crowed. Nathaniel felt it strange that once again Gawen was on his doorstep, with a hundred armored soldiers and asking about raiders. Nathaniel’s home was near the border between Iahia and Trolaria, but he was not the closest, nor was he part of the border patrol. This seemed very odd to him.

“No, sire, I’ve not seen anything unusual on my lands,” Nathaniel answered. Normally the border between the kingdoms was quiet to begin with, Iahia was nearly entirely desert, with a few scattered oases and what little grassland and forests they had were near the coasts. There were nomadic tribes that wandered mostly from oasis to oasis and warred with themselves more than Trolaria or Gurselia, but if they were attacked they banded very quickly under a single Sultan to defend themselves. Stories were heard of the Iahia coming into the green forests of Trolaria or Gurselia and poaching deer or boars but it was rare.

“Sultan Hasheed has died, and his son Iyaad has assumed control of the empire and I fear they are no longer content within their own borders,” Gawen stated and Nathaniel nodded, this was completely new to him. “If you attended court regularly you would know these things.”

“My deepest apologies, Your Majesty, I am expecting my next child and my wife has not been of the best health,” Nathaniel indicated his wife’s swollen belly and her pale pallor. Though she had dressed, and had quickly put up her hair, she did look like she was about to faint. Once again Nathaniel noticed that Gawen’s gaze did move past his wife’s breasts. 

“By all means, allow your wife to return to her rest,” Gawen said with a dismissive wave.

“Go back to bed, Fateena.” Nathaniel said to her and kissed the backs of her hands before she turned and went back into the manor. 

“Your wife is Iahian, is she not?” Nathaniel’s heart skipped a beat in his chest.

“Yes, Your Majesty, she was abandoned as a baby in the woods, my parents found her.”

“And yet she has a Iahain name.”

“There was a letter tucked into her swaddling clothes, it was signed Fateena el-Odeh,” Nathaniel explained, trying not to show unease. He did not like the sudden scrutiny of his wife, “My parents did not read Iahain and believed it was the name of the baby’s mother. They thought it fitting to give her a piece of her parents.”

“She was raised as an equal, not a servant,” Nathaniel did not like the disdain he heard in the king’s voice.

“My parents believed she was innocent, that the Kobblins had guided them to her,” Nathaniel did not want to gain Gawen’s disapproval, he had no desire to spend an eternity on the stocks or forgotten in a dungeon.

“Heh,” Gawen snorted at the mention of Kobblins, “Your family still worships them?”

“I wouldn’t call it worship, they merely believed,” Nathaniel was glad the topic had been moved off his wife, but it would seem that no matter what he was saying, it was the things Gawen didn’t want to hear. Gawen stepped forward, put an arm around Nathaniel’s shoulder and guided him back through the front door of Graystone manor.

“Tell me about Fateena,” Gawen began, and though Nathaniel wanted to ask how long Gawen was staying with them or any other topic than his pregnant wife, it would seem that Gawen would not relent, “Is it true what they say about Iahain women?” Gawen waggled his brows as he released Nathaniel and indicated that he wanted out of his armor. Servants arrived to unbuckle off the pieces of shaped and barbed metal. Nathaniel wondered how Gawen could even support the weight of it, the armor removed must have weighed as much as him. Nathaniel was broad shouldered, tall, muscular, with a mane of black hair, clean shaven, and would have borne the armor without breaking a sweat.

“No, what do they say about Iahain women?” Nathaniel asked not sure where this was going. His being a lowly lord quite often meant that he managed to stay out of Gawen’s way and unnoticed. He was also not the only one with an Iahain wife, Count Symons also had an Iahain wife, but she had been kidnapped in a raid upon an Iahain tribe some forty years ago. Symons' wife was more prisoner than wife, they had been legally wed, but she had continued to attempt to run away and was kept in chains.

“That you can fuck them anywhere,” Gawen replied with a wolfish grin that Nathaniel didn’t like.

“I am unaware of that attribute, Your Majesty, she was raised as a Trolarian,” Nathaniel defended his wife’s honor, “How long will you stay?” He quickly interjected, almost rudely, anything to get Gawen’s attention off of Fateena.

“Until the raiders are caught. They will need to cross Trolaria to return to Iahia.”

“Cross? Where did they go?” Nathaniel asked.

“According to my spies in Iahia, the new Sultan has discovered an old prophecy about dragons.” It was Nathaniel’s turn to scoff.

“There haven’t been dragons around in a long time, we’ve killed most of them, the rest have gone into hiding or escaped the lands.”

“Orleighia has a dragon, a big black one, they’re currently worshiping it,” they had walked from Nathaniel’s foyer into a dining hall where servants were scurrying to put out plates and platters of food.

“Orleighia has a black dragon?” Nathaniel asked, still incredulous, “A gold one maybe, a green is more likely, but they cannot have a black dragon, it would kill everyone.”

“The former king of Orleighia came to me, swearing that he was shown a black dragon sleeping in a cave behind some farmer’s vineyards, and the farmer considered it a pet, like you’d keep a guard dog.” Nathaniel’s laughter was loud and echoing in the large but empty dining hall. Gawen sat himself at the head of the table and indicated that Nathaniel took the chair on the right.

“How drunk was he?” Nathaniel asked, saw the stern look on Gawen’s face and immediately regretted the laughter. Gawen immediately began to spoon eggs and fruit onto his plate in front of him, grabbing a turkey leg and biting into it. Nathaniel was not entirely wealthy and the food before them would normally be something they served for dinner for the Kobblin Night Feast, when everyone in the manor was allowed to join in the meal together.

“News of the dragon has reached Iyaad, and he wants the dragon for himself,” Gawen said between bites and mostly with his mouth full.

“You cannot control a dragon, especially not a black dragon,” Nathaniel was not a dragon expert, but as a kid he’d been taught about dragons by his grandmother. Red dragons were bullies, greens were passionate about everything, blues were aristocrats, golds were wise and usually the leaders of the dragons and blacks were pure chaos, unpredictable and unable to be reasoned with.

“I want you to travel to Orleighia and find out how this farmer controls his dragon, hopefully you’ll reach him before the Iahians do, and report back to me. Can you imagine what Trolaria could do with a dragon?” Gawen ordered and Nathaniel attempted and failed not to let his jaw drop. Nathaniel was not a spy, not a soldier, not a diplomat, just a lord who maintained some land for the monarchy.

“When shall I leave, Your Majesty?” Nathaniel caught himself asking.

“Immediately!” Gawen slammed a fist down on the table, rattling cutlery.

“But Fateena is nearly ready to give birth,” Nathaniel suddenly regretted the words as Gawen’s eyes narrowed.

“Do not worry about your wife and unborn child, I’ll send for my finest physician to care for her,” the words were kindly but Gawen’s expression was one of contained rage.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Nathaniel said and stood before bowing and leaving Gawen to feast alone. Nathaniel seethed, but if he wanted to continue to be the lord of this manor, and wanted to continue his life with Fateena, he was forced to do Gawen’s bidding.