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It had been twenty years since the task of rebuilding Orishelm and restoring the kingdom of Arahir had begun and as Lorial Illochir gazed at the city that so many people had worked to remake anew, it was not without some pride. Looking at many of the shimmering white buildings, she recognized in them the work of her husband Derin, the master craftsman who had left Valahir to lend his skills to the monumental task. And she herself had not been idle during the years of its reconstruction either.
Today of all days though, the city looked splendid. The sun was high above the mountain vale, its light splashing over the eternally snow capped peaks of the mountains that cradled the city and reflecting off the glistening water of the Avahast River as it flowed through the vale on its course to Ensildahir and the Sea of Illimar. The entire scene looked exactly as she had imagined the original city when Lord Keld had first described it to her.
Then, Orishelm had been a city that lived only in memories, utterly destroyed by the Angdar. Now, twenty–four years after the fall of the city that Kelahil the Wolf–Hearted had founded, the new Orishelm was flourishing and Lorial had seen every step of its rise from the foundations of the old city. She had been there when the first brick in the new foundations had been laid and she was still there now. And she was there to stay.
She had seen the lands of Khalahi in the south, with its vast open expanses, and of course the great trading cities of Ensari, Kalishar and Cirreone still impressed her to this day, long after she had first laid eyes on them. However, the blood of the Eirahir, the people of the north, was strong in her veins and when she finally set foot in the vale where the old city had stood and where the new city would be built in its place, Lorial knew that at long last she had found her home.
She turned away from the scene through the window and looked back at her family. There was her husband Derin, who even though he had recently passed his fiftieth year was still a man of strength and vigor. Her gaze then fell over her son, who she had named Ishtvan in honor of her friend who had also borne that name. He was fifteen now and definitely taller than she’d been at that age. There was also her daughter Zecelia beside him, a few years younger than Ishtvan but Lorial knew that she would grow up all too soon as well. Finally, there was her brother–in–law Talon and it was because of Talon that they were all together right then.
“It really is a beautiful morning,” Lorial said, sitting down, “isn’t it?” She turned to her children. “Ishtvan, if you and Zecelia would like to be outside, you don’t have to stay here. Father and I just want to say goodbye to your uncle before he goes.”
“I know,” Ishtvan replied. “But we’d like to say goodbye too.” He looked at his uncle. “That is unless I can go with you too, Uncle Talon.”
Talon shrugged. “I can’t see why not but it would depend on what your parents have to say. Derin?”
“We do have things to do here too though, Ishtvan,” Derin reminded his son, though not unkindly. “And I’ll be going to the southern villages in two days. Actually, I thought you might like to help me with one of the village halls. We’ve been planning the construction of it for months.”
“I could come with you, Father,” Zecelia chimed in.
Derin shook his head. “No, dear. It’s near that old highway to the east and there were Angdar on it three weeks ago.”
“And Lord Keld killed them,” his daughter said, beaming with delight.
Derin shook his head and gave Lorial a wry look. “I think my brother’s a bad influence on our daughter. It seems unnatural for a girl of her age to be so interested in border skirmishes, or to delight in anyone killing anything. No matter what they are.”
“They were Angdar,” Zecelia reasoned. “Mother hates Angdar.”
“Well, I don’t think anyone’s particularly fond of them,” Derin told her. “But it’s wrong to delight in killing. Surely, if you’ve paid attention to anything your mother’s told you, you’d know that.”
“She doesn’t mean anything by it,” Talon said, coming to his niece’s defence.
Derin shrugged. “No, I suppose not.”
Lorial ruffled her daughter’s hair and gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Okay, Zecelia. Settle down.” She turned to her son. “Ishtvan, why don’t you go with Father to the village? It’d be good for you. I know how well you’ve been doing in sword training with Uncle Talon and if that’s what you’d like to do when you’re older, then of course you can do it. But right now, your father would like you to help him with this village hall and it would really mean a lot to him if you did. And it would mean a lot to me too.”
Talon put a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Go with your father, Ishtvan. You’ve been to Arvenreign recently enough, with both Lady Kaolin and Keld too, I should add.”
“I like the journey there,” Ishtvan said.
“It is something,” Talon agreed. “But once we get there, there won’t be much to occupy a young man like yourself. Keld’s just going to be talking to King Kaodas about more joint outposts between our two cities.”
“It could be instructive to observe that,” Ishtvan tried.
“If we were welcome to, sure,” Talon said. “However, I doubt the entire entourage will be invited along to the discussions.”
Ishtvan smiled. “But surely you’d be permitted, Uncle.”
Talon returned the smile. “Maybe, Ishtvan.”
Yes, Lorial thought to herself, Talon would be permitted. Keld was watching over him, she knew, and it wasn’t because he was her brother–in–law. It was rather that Keld saw something of himself in the younger man. And he was definitely grooming him for something. That was obvious to her at any rate, even if Talon wasn’t aware of it.
Ishtvan would be no doubt be permitted as well, Lorial knew, since he was her son. However, if she wanted him to go south with his father to work on that village hall, then she wasn’t going to tell him that.
“I’ll tell you what, Ishtvan,” she said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. “If you go with your father this time, I’ll make sure you get a chance to go on the next expedition north. And who knows? If you get back before your Uncle Talon does, maybe you and I can put in some sword training.”
“It’s kind of you to offer but I’d rather train with Uncle Talon if it’s all the same.”
“Now, now, Ishtvan,” Talon told his nephew. “Your mother’s a very good sword fighter. You could learn a lot from her.”
Ishtvan smiled, a little sheepishly. “I know that, Uncle Talon. But you’re not as strict.”
The adults in the room chuckled.
“So that’s what you meant,” Lorial said. “Oh well. Up to you then.”
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Lord Keld Vascakyle looked at his reflection in the polished metal on the desk in front of him. He was not the man he used to be, he knew. His sixty years had left their marks. The hardening of the lines on his face. The graying of his hair. However, he’d seen men who had looked much older at the same age, so he couldn’t complain. He smiled at his reflection and imagined that the man he saw was smiling back of his own accord.
As he adjusted his tunic, making sure the emblem of the great northern eagle wasn’t hidden in creases, he glanced at his wife. Lady Kaolin, the leader of the people of Arahir. Maybe it was because she was of noble lineage but she still looked as strong and as regal as she had always done. Also, even though she was only five years younger than he was, she was still beautiful. She showed the maturity that she had developed over the years of course. Her beauty wasn’t quite what it had been in her youth, but for Keld, it was as though the years had refined her. Her hair was still like auburn silk, she had retained the fullness of her lips, the softness of her features and her large eyes that were so expressive and deep were still as beautiful as he remembered them when she had been a very young woman.
King Aurth had suggested that they marry and that then Arahir would have a leader of noble lineage, since Keld hadn’t wanted to govern it himself. Keld remembered how reluctant he had been at the time. He’d thought he had nothing to offer a woman like Kaolin but she, and her father, had seen something in him that he hadn’t. And now, years into his marriage, he was glad they had.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Kaolin asked him, reaching her arms around him and smiling.
“I was just thinking about us,” Keld told her. “Well, thinking about you really.”
She kissed him and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s very sweet of you.” Then she stepped back and gave him an appraising glance. “Now, let’s see.” She didn’t ask him for his opinion on his attire, not because she didn’t consider it important but because she knew he didn’t have one.
“Just like a lord,” she said.
Keld smiled at their little private joke. He had never really taken to his new title but he didn’t mind Kaolin reminding him of it.
Once again, he found himself thinking about how much she meant to him, how much the last few years had meant. He had lost many companions in the fall of Orishelm. His brother had been killed by marauding Angdar while riding for aid and he knew his father had fallen in the battle. There were many years he could never share with them. And recently, both his mother and Kaolin’s parents had passed away too.
However, while life had been taking from him with one hand, it had been giving with the other. His country was reborn and with the chance to start again, it could be a more wonderful place than anyone had ever imagined. While the work was still ongoing even now, people were happy and it seemed that his dream for the future of the land was one that many around him shared. And he had a loving wife, and while she had experienced her own share of hardship when Valahir had been held under siege by the Angdar in her younger years, she carried strength and hope wherever she went. She was the ideal leader for the people, he knew, and they all loved her.
Finally, there was their son, Kelahil, named after the founder of the original Orishelm. That had been Kaolin’s idea and Keld thought it was rather fitting. At the ripe old age of ten, he wasn’t likely to become a great leader of men any time soon but it was nice to think that when the time came for him to claim his inheritance, the first lord of the new Arahir to be born after the reconstruction would share the name of the original founder.
Keld felt a tightening in his throat as the emotions flowed through him. He had a family, and after all the loss, all the years of loneliness, he was living out the autumn years of his life with companions by his side.
He finished getting ready, while Kaolin looked over some documents on her desk. “Keld, this site here...”
Keld came over and saw that she had unrolled a map. “Yes?”
“If we could start another township nearby,” she explained, pointing to an area near the point she had been looking at, “a town that could produce enough not only to be self–sufficient but to provide supplies for our soldiers... If we could do that, we could move that outpost farther east where it would do more good. What do you think?”
Keld shrugged. “You’d know better than I would. But it would depend on how fertile that land there was.”
“It’s been sometime since I last saw the area,” Kaolin admitted. “But it seemed fertile enough then.”
“Perhaps your brother may know,” Keld said.
Kaolin smiled, although there was a little sadness in her eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”
Keld gave her a tender kiss. “I’m going to miss you too. But don’t worry. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“You’re not going to go riding in the wilderness with that brother of mine then?”
Keld grinned. “Unlikely. I’d be more likely to try my hand at reaching the peak of Ismene Langvari.”
This was the greatest of the peaks in the Eles’mae mountains that fanned out from the vale of Orishelm, dwindling in the forests to the east and rising to pierce the skies themselves in the west.
“Don’t even joke about that,” Kaolin said. “We’ve already lost a few silly young men this year. I have half a mind to forbid any more foolhardy attempts.” Then she sighed. “But I suppose you can’t stop idiots being idiots, can you?”
“No,” Keld agreed. “But you should be grateful that they’re few and far between.”
“True.”
“Anyway,” Keld told her, “I only meant that I can’t ride anywhere near well enough to keep up with your brother.”
“Not many can,” Kaolin said with a shake of her head. “He’s always been amazing with horses. Ever since he was a small child.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Keld replied. He walked over to the wall where their swords were hanging in their scabbards. He always felt a little strange taking his down. After the liberation of Valahir and the defeat of Marshal Artaeis’ forces in the east, he had hoped he would never have to use it again. However, there were still stray Angdar and bandits and the need for at least a little vigilance was an ongoing necessity.
Sometimes, he thought that of the two threats, the bandits were the worse. Nobody liked the Angdar, but they were simply doing what they had always done. They’d been trained to kill, raised that way from their cradles. The creatures didn’t know any other way of living. If anything, Keld pitied them. However, the bandits were something else entirely. When people all over the Greater Realms were working together to make a better future for everyone who dwelled there, it disgusted him that there were some who would take advantage of the situation to raid recovering communities, to rob and murder for their own selfish ends.
He lifted his sword from its place on the wall and slid it into the scabbard onto his belt. Then he stepped back and adjusted his attire one last time. “Well. I suppose I’d better go and assemble my traveling companions.”
“All right,” Kaolin replied, taking his hand in her own. “But come and say goodbye to Kelahil first.”