There was a knocking on the door as a man in the livery of the king’s steward entered the door. Jorrin blew out the candle flame on the stand. It was a finely wrought piece that mimicked a wyvern breathing flame. Embellished in bronze and dimpled with emeralds, it had cost him much. The encircling wyvern stitched on to the boy’s breast stood out defiantly on his black robes.

Bowing to Jorrin, he placed a scroll into his hand. The seal on the scroll was a diminutive wyvern in turquoise not gold. So this message was from the queen and not the king. Jorrin dismissed the boy with a wave of his hand but to his surprise the boy did not go.

“I am to await your reply, your eminence.” With a scowl, Jorrin broke the seal and read, then reread. ’Jorrin, I wish to discuss a matter of the upmost importance. Come to my chambers at once.’

“Let her Grace know that I will come as soon as I am dressed.” The boy bowed, leaving the room. Jorrin didn’t understand what the queen could want from him. Perhaps it was about the ruckus that happened the other night. Assassins it was said to come for the King who had gotten more than they had bargained for. Putting on his red robes of office, he left the room with two of the Burned Men trailing him.

The Burned men wore their black helms with an embellished red skull on the front. Their black and red armour spoke of the intense training that they had done in order to be the elite religious guards. The sound of steel and boots rang behind Jorrin as he approached the corridor to the queen’s chambers. Two guards bearing half plate, half mail with shield embellished with a turquoise wyvern inlaid into bronze. Their hands were at the scimitars, the weapon of choice of the wyvern’s fangs. They motioned for Jorrin to enter but they barred the way of his guards.

His  Burned Men put their hands to their hilts, motioning for them to stop, Jorrin entered the room. The Queen turned her gaze to meet him, her fiery, auburn hair blazing as the light touched it. She wore a dress with bronze pauldrons connecting to a fine web of emerald dyed lace that faded into transparency as it fell to her feet. She looked right into his eyes as she walked towards him with those swaying, Jorrin noticed how closely the dress clung to her, how transparent the dress became as it traced her form.

Jorrin cleared his throat; he turned from her and readjusted his robes. When he turned, the queen was perfectly poised; she showed no sign of emotion. Her eyes that had been so full of tension were now calm and cold. She pointed to a scroll that rested on her table. Jorrin read the scroll with startlement.

“Fellow brothers of the realm, It is with the greatest grief that I tell you my liege lords, Trystan and Merrin of the house Lothdale, rulers of Seaward have been murdered under a banner of peace. Usteon, the regent of the realm, killed our liege when he promised him peace under the Wyvern Flame. Dansen, Lord of Craghall, was seen to kill the Duchess and the babe she bore, the Crown Prince. In memoriam of the Falcon lord, I beg of you Brothers, answer this summons, and answer my pleading with the raising of men and arms. Let the Wyvern feel the steel that flows within the men of Isladoone. Your Faithful Brother, Harold Perelle “My lady this is treason by the Perelles.”

Jorrin was in disbelief, how could the Perelles think that they could rally a decimated force that had been put to the sword by the king? Only his foolish godson would have done something like that. Edmund Blackwood craved a throne that wasn’t his and Amiranthe. Precious Amiranthe, Jorrin hoped that she was well.

“I would not call it treason but I would call it whispers, he thinks that he can rally an army. He is foolish. No what I worry is whether your godson will add his voice to theirs. There are still too many that remember Usteon’s brother, Edmund’s father on the throne. I have worked too hard to have this destroyed.”

Jorrin nodded, Edmund’s voice would add power to whichever king they chose to rival Usteon’s crown. Perhaps Edmund would be the better king; Usteon has drowned Isladoone in a tide of blood. Jorrin’s focus was brought back to the queen as she told him the harsh reality of the situation.

“Either Edmund bends the knee or he will be denounced a traitor, Blackwood will be burnt to the ground.” Amiranthe, Amiranthe lives at Blackwood. If he could not save Edmund, he would save Amiranthe.

“Let me talk to them, let me persuade them, my queen.” The Queen turned away and took out a box out of a wardrobe. Placing it on the table she drew out an embellished scabbard in the style of the Jhin. A sabre of glistening steel, a Dao, reflected light from the windows. Jorrin hissed, he had hated those blasted weapons anything related to the Jhin.

“What has this got to do with me?”

“I know that you hate the Jhin, I am hoping that it will drive you to fulfil the task I am going to set you.”

“I hate the Jhin, yes because of what they did to Glynna but it is time that the bloodshed stopped. I am becoming an old man, I no longer have the taste for it.”

“A pity, but that does not change your task. I am sending you to Huedar as an ambassador, I need those Shatterers on our side if this comes to war. A Jhin delegate is said to be coming to court, Eshara something. A mirror mage I am told.”

“Shatterers are dangerous and allowing Huedarins into the country will encourage the Jhin to attack us. Or worse they may ally themselves with our enemy.”

The queen looked him in the eye. She sat down on the desk and began to scribe a letter. “It is a risk I must take, Cardinal, for good or ill.”

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