The Story Unfolding

After the saltwater immersion was attempted King Hydralad became less respondent and even weaker as I feared.
I was on the verge of yielding to the overwhelming fact that we had failed and the death of the Isoloyian king was sure to follow.

A day passed in this grieving conviction, where he laid seemingly at the very gates of eternity that were ever opening wider to receive him.

So silent were the halls of the Agmar castle that I believed I could feel the fingers and breath of death, preying upon us in search of the wounded Vez-Dûns.
But when the soft rays of the summer sun shed itself over the morning dew, and I looked in upon Hyndralad the next morning, I was surprised to see that contrary to the lifeless coma he had been entrapped in, his eyes were open, and upon greeting him found him alert enough to answer me.

His physician spoke the words that I had so been longing to hear: the king had traveled through the worst of it, and we could now expect his recovery.
I let out a breath.
Such a weight left me as though I had been holding my breath the entire duration.
Thank You, Lord!
And I raced to wake Lennox.

From there the king of Isoloyia's recovery took flight like a caged bird with it's first chance at freedom.
The fire returned to his eye's and color was restored to his death-like complexion.
Being blessed with a strong constitution, it did not take long before he was able to leave his room, and many days passed in which we kept Hyndralad company as he rested in the shade of Agmar's palace garden.

We as in Countess Meredith, Adam Saft and some of Agmar's nobles and myself but not Lennox.
He remained withdrawn and his mood dark and brooding, though I knew he must have long been released of a much stronger stress than the one I endured while the victim lay sick.

No, it was something else that bothered him now.
And once my mind had been cleared of anxiety, I remembered what I still needed explained.
I found him back in the library, slumped in a high-backed chair and looking up at seemingly nothing.

“It took you longer than I expected, sister,” said he, as I approached.
“I suppose you will want a full explanation of Edward's death...death, that word has haunted my thoughts for too long.”
The last part he muttered more to himself than to me.

I took a seat opposite him, noticing as he turned to me the even darker circles around his eyes – hollow eyes with only weariness to set them apart from a carven, inanimate statue.
Why, he did not look much better than Hyndralad in his wounded state!

“The astrologers separated Edward, Hyndralad and I from the rest of our men, the night of our raid, and we barricaded ourselves into one of the underground chambers to protect ourselves.
“The astrologers were relentless and banged against the door with a battering ram. It would not be too long before they would breach it so we were left with no choice but to fight as best we could once they entered.
“With only three against a whole number of men, we all knew our chances of survival were slim. Hyndralad and I were prepared for this but our young cousin, with the pounding at the door filling his ears, became frantic and searched desperately for an alternative.
“He picked up an astrologer scroll of spells that lay on the floor and said that we should use it against them. I tried to convince him not to, saying that it was evil and that it were better to die than sell our soul to the devil, but Edward was determined.”

Lennox paused, and his eyes returned to the ceiling, idly.
“Despite Hyndralad and I arguing with him, he opened the scroll and began to read. I wrestled him for control of the scroll, and as his hand waved about trying to keep it out of my reach Hyndralad snatched it and threw it into the burning fire of the brazier that hung to the side of the room.
“Edward exploded and drew his sword, but as he was not as experienced as I, it did not take long to disarm him. He stood, huffing and puffing and red with fury at being beaten, until his eyes darted to the floor.
“Before I could foresee his intentions, he picked up a fallen astrologer shuriken and flung it into Hyndralad's chest – the same poisoned blade that nearly took his life.
“I forgot to mention that there was a chasm at the very back of the cave, dropping hundreds of feet into a rocky river.”

He paused for a moment, blinking several times as if to remove the memories replaying, for I know not how many times, in his mind.
“Wounding Hyndralad in this treacherous manner enraged me beyond self-control, and I lifted and dangled him over the chasm. Such were the wickedness of my thoughts streaking through my mind at that moment, that I contemplated dropping him. But I realized before it was too late that I was not any better than he – I was letting anger take control of me.
“Hyndralad groaned on the floor behind me, and I set Edward down forcefully and ran to his side. He was bleeding tremendously. I started to tend to him when I heard a sliding and crashing sound.
“I saw a glimpse of our cousin as the ground gave way beneath his feet and he fell to his doom...”
His voice trailed off, and I wiped the tears forming in my eyes.

“Oh, Lennox!”
He laid his head in his right hand, a pitiful hunkered form of a man, and exhaled long and wearily.
“That is not all, though. When I relayed the news of his son's death to Uncle Reycko I am afraid some harsh words were spoken on both sides which resulted in him forbidding me ever to enter Fyros and myself by giving the command for Lord Carvin to withdraw any protection from his kingdom.”

Forbidding his own nephew was so very severe as was the measures Lennox took in retaliation that it grieved my heart that their relationship was so delicate and rocky.
He was our only uncle yet past actions had severed any good feelings and cultivated bitterness in my brother.
True, I was hurt, but the actions had not affected me as acutely as it had Lennox.

“Go ahead and rebuke me with your harshest words. Or better yet I will present my face for you to strike – it will be nothing I do not deserve.”

Yes, he was partly to blame for Edward's death, but I would not punish him; it was not my responsibility and he was punishing himself enough I could plainly see.
Punishment when self-inflicted was the cruelest form of all for a penitent person, and he was tearing himself apart.

I dropped to my knees beside his chair and clasped his left hand with mine.
“Edward was not innocent. He was responsible for his actions as you were for yours, and you cannot blame yourself for what happened.”
I looked up at him. “There is a time when you need to let it go and move on.”


-Emerald de Gavrilla
 Queen of Krespania

The Fist of Mortality

We gained the harbor of Uelar as swiftly as the wind permitted, and with the assistance of horses, arrived at the castle in the manner of a torrential tempest.
Their legs were not spared as neither the sails of my beloved vessel, The Golden Dawn, were in voyaging here.

Once inside the dim, musty yet familiar stronghold that I had called home for so many years, I sought where they had laid the king of Isoloyia in his weakened state.
I followed the servant to the imposing wood doors that lead to a guest chamber, and for the first time in almost a week I paused and my heart ceased it's gallop.

For many had been the images I had drawn up of the scene behind those closed doors, the last being the worst of them all.
Hyndralad de Gundalia was rapidly failing from the poison inside him, and since the remedy had not been produced it was inevitable that he should decline in health to a frightening degree.
I hesitated because I feared what I would see.

“Courage.” I murmured to myself or rather prayed for and took hold of the door handle.
The portal slid open noiselessly, and I stepped in.
Heavy, dark drapes covered all windows and blocked any light from entering.
A few candles burned, creating a haze in the stagnant air and curious shadows on the walls and ceiling.

And if the smoke was not enough to suffocate me the silence that overshadowed the chamber was.
Passing the two guards I approached the Vez-Dûn physician standing by his king's bed.
“How is his condition?”
The physician gave a shake of the head.
“Is the king sleeping?”
I now looked closely at the man in the bed who's eyelids were shut and appearance as pale and waxy as the candles lighting the room.
Hyndralad's expression was marked with pain that should not accompany restful slumber.
Before he could respond the eyelids flickered open, and the pupils that once were burning gold now gazed at me in a dull bronze shade.

“The queen of Krespania in Agmar?”
I forced a smile and a cheeriness that had not occupied my demeanor for a while.
“I heard you were ill and came to see if I could help your recovery in any way.”
“I am not...worthy of such.. a service from Your Majesty; You should not spend your time in vain.” His voice was faint and slow, and I was struck by the difference in the Isoloyian king.
Once strong now weak, once dominating now dependent on others, once prideful and now humbled.
It would be more becoming if it did not serve as a painful reminder of his precarious position.

I laid a hand over his in a comforting gesture.
“We always take care of our friends.”
Hyndralad's mouth stretched into a slight smile, and he closed his eyes again.
My heart squeezed fearfully as I watched his chest rise and fall in shallow breaths before departing the room.
The meeting did not leave me hopeful but more depressed and determined to return to searching.

I found the books already delivered to the Agmar library and Lennox and Adam Saft, his steward, by a table mounted high with scrolls and volumes of all sizes.
With the situation as it were the subject of our cousin evaded my mind, and after a short introduction with my brother, who looked as haggard and exhausted as I felt, we begun our search together.

Two whole days we pored over books until our backs ached, our eyes blurred and our fingers were worn down.
Adam Saft, Countess Meredith de Barra and several of Lennox's servants took part with as much vigor as their rulers put forth.
It was the second day at noon, and we were on all sides of the table when a servant called out tentatively, “Your Imperial Majesty, could this be it?”
All heads jerked to face the man, and I followed Lennox as he raced around the table.

“The symptoms are the same...” He scrutinized the page closely.
“And the solution?”
“Saltwater.”
Saltwater? Could this be true?
Saltwater! They had sailed with the victim for weeks on the very thing that could save him.
“It says to immerse the wounded in it and the poison will relinquish it's hold.”

I cringed at the thought of pouring saltwater on any cut or gash; The pain would be excruciating.
“But he cannot survive that – he is already too weak!”
“Either we try this where there is a chance of his survival or we leave him to die by the slow poisoning.”
“But what if the remedy is not the correct one?”
Lennox's face was grim. “I do not see any alternative.”

Nor could I, and I gave my consent for what could be Hyndralad's death sentence.
The command to bring buckets of saltwater from the harbor was put into action, and the servants scurried to the soundless rhythm of urgency.

As for me, I collapsed instantly in a chair along with Meredith and some of the others, too tired to move or speak.
And that brings us to this very moment, a few hours later.
I found the anxiety too much, and after relaxing some, have decided to write this account only to keep my mind from idle musings.

I hope we shall see results soon, and I pray they are favorable…


-Emerald de Gavrillac
  Queen of Krespania