Interlude - An Unexpected Embassy

    Henry looked out from atop the great northern wall at the caravan of wagons waiting just past his gate. The line didn’t stretch far, but the fact that it was there at all was worrisome. It had been many years since Last Harbor had hosted an official embassy from the Kingdom of Shaderryn.

    Captain Bastin came up beside him and handed him a spyglass. He put it to his eye and studied the group stopped in front of their gatehouse. The tiny figures at the bottom of the bulwark loomed large in his vision.

    The group was made up primarily of porters and soldiers, all clad in smart, storm gray uniforms. Here and there, though, he could see the heavily armored knights of the Shaderryn Royal Guard. They stood out among the more common soldiery in their blued steel plate and wind-whipped pale green cloaks, each riding a warhorse seventeen hands high and similarly clad.

    “What do you make of it, Gabriel?” He asked, scrutinizing the people below. “Do you think it’s a coincidence?”

    “No sire, I don’t. If I were a betting man, I’d say the wall’s sprung a leak or two. Whatever emissary is waiting on you down there has no doubt come to confirm that the Host has been assembled.”

    Henry swung the glass over to the carriages, where the bulk of the knights were assembled. Each displayed the heraldry of the Shaderryn royal family – a silver leviathan set on a field of seafoam green, its jaws crushing a stylized black ship.

    “I suspect you’d win that bet. It was a fool’s hope they wouldn’t notice with the mess we were making on our way up the coast, I suppose. Nought for it now but to play the good host.”

    “As you say, Your Highness. I’ll inform the chamberlain to set a table, and the men to set a strict guard.”

    Gabriel was as good as his word, and by the time dusk fell on Last Harbor the castle’s great hall was filled with the smell of food and the sound of revelry.

    Sitting at the head of the hall, Henry leaned over to his neighbor. They both wore matching attire, but where his uniform was utilitarian beyond its gold braiding, her midnight blue dress was not. “How are you doing? Breathing alright?”

    The blonde woman shot him a glare and reached for a cup of wine. “If I had known wedding you would have me in a corset as often as I’ve been these last two years, I’d have fled across the wall.”

    “Well here’s your chance, dearest.” He teased. “Just convince the third prince over there to whisk you away to his palace.”

    He took in the sight of his wife. Her flaxen hair, normally loose around her shoulders, was braided into a crown around her head. As always he was struck by how it complemented the flecks of pale gold set deep in the green of her eyes.

    “It shouldn’t be very hard, you know, for a woman as breathtakingly beautiful as you.”

    The woman arched her brow. “Is that how I charmed you, my prince?” She leaned to meet him, whispering in his ear. “Or did you just marry me for my magic.”

    “Neither,” he quipped, smiling, “I married you because you were the only lady in the court who could fend off my mother’s constant pestering about grandchildren. Obviously.”

    “Hush,” she admonished playfully, “our guest of honor is on his way over. Blink twice if you need me to conjure up a bolt and shock him along.”

    The two sat back up in their seats as a man, around Henry’s age, wound his way through the feasting tables and towards them. Like the rest of the Shaderryn in attendance, he was clad in a long, blue-gray storm coat that was open to show a white undershirt. The fur that lined that coat and the subtly embroidered garment beneath marked him out among his peers as effectively – if not more so – as the heraldic badge upon his breast.

    A second person, their face and figure obscured by a deep hooded cloak, trailed closely behind him. They carried a small wooden chest in their hands, appearing to struggle slightly with its weight.

    The prince and his attendant approached the couple and bowed. The movement was practiced, but stiff.

    “Prince Henry, Princess Consort Charlotte, please allow me to express my thanks for allowing me to meet with you. My men and I are humbled at the generosity of your hearth.”

    “You are welcome, Prince Felix, both for the meeting and to the Empire of Fulgraine. I thank you in turn for the fine liquor you’ve shared from your homeland.” Henry indicated for a guard to offer the other prince a chair. “Please, sit with us, I’m sure we have much to discuss.”

    Felix took the chair, his attendant moving to stand behind him. “We do indeed, cousin. As I’m sure you have already heard through your own oracles, it is said that the island of Aiane is nearly ready to open itself to the world once more.”

    Henry nodded, “We have indeed heard rumblings of that, as well as other fantastical things.”

    “In fact,” Charlotte interjected, her voice light, “just the other day I heard a rumor that giants have been seen coming down from the mountains for the first time in years!”

    “Preposterous, my grandfather exterminated the last of them before abdicating the throne.” Felix said, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. “Unlike the ravings of a few milk addled goatherds, I assure you that the unveiling of Aiane is more than a rumor. Soon the land and its riches will be open for the taking. My father has sent me to negotiate an agreement with the Empress on his behalf.”

    “Ah, then I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor. My own late father’s stance on the island was firm, but perhaps you will find my mother more flexible.”

    “In that, I hope you can assist me.” Felix said, turning to take the box from his servant. “I have heard rumors of my own, ones that suggest you both had a difficult time in your latest voyage from Massey.”

    “Some minor delays.” Charlotte replied. “Nothing the fleet couldn’t handle.”

    “Of course,” Felix replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “but even small problems can be bothersome in large numbers. Which is why I’ve brought a gift beyond simple spirits.”

    He placed the box on the table and began to open it. Out of the corner of his eye, Henry could see his guards tense. As Felix raised the lid, Henry motioned for them to stand down.

    “Interesting.” He said, taken aback by the box’s contents. The chest was full of heavy copper nails, each glowing in the hall’s torchlight. “These nails will certainly come in handy as we make repairs to the fleet.”

    Luckily, Charlotte was there to cover for his confusion. “Such a sweet gift, your Highness! Each nail shall be a small piece of Shaderryn to accompany us on our expeditions, truly a symbol of the goodwill you seek to promote between our nations.”

    “Perhaps,” Felix allowed, “but their purpose is of a more practical nature. Each has been blessed by a priestess of Passei, a goddess I understand sees little worship in Fulgraine.”

    He pulled one of the nails out of the box, showing the fine engravings etched into the surface. Henry noted a wet, briny scent to the spikes, even though they were clearly bone dry.

    “Once your shipwrights pound these into the keels of your ships, the priestess that has accompanied me,” Felix continued, indicating his attendant, “can perform a ceremony to consecrate them against further… minor delays.”

     Henry schooled his expression before any mistrust could show on his face. “An even kinder gesture than anticipated, Felix, thank you. I will, of course, have to confer with our magical contingent to ensure that such an addition will not impede our existing wards.”

    Charlotte nodded in cautious agreement, “I will confer with my fellows in the morning, when they are not so deep in their cups.”

    “Of course,” Felix agreed, “a sensible precaution.” He closed the lid, locking the box. “If, however, they meet your expectations, I was hoping you might be inclined to provide me with a letter of endorsement to the Empress as a token of your appreciation.”

    “Perhaps.” Henry hedged. “For tonight, though, let us simply enjoy an old connection reforged.”

    He leaned back in his seat and picked up a cup of harsh Shaderryn drink. “Come cousin, tell me more of your homeland. I hunger for tales of the Ironshod Kingdom.”