Forging Alliances

“I will hear no more of this!” His eyes narrowed upon the Lord of the midderlands.
A half cocked grin cracked the calculating face of Lord Durreck, he eyed the southern Lord curiously, though his face showed nothing of his curiosity. He went to speak, then something happened that does not happen very often; he was interrupted.
“You talk of treason against our King! This conversation shall be the last of it.” Lord Vernus met Farran Durrecks eye, and he did not waver or blink.
Farran was momentarily taken aback, though he did not show it. Not many men in the past had so openly spoken against him. In the dim candle light of the solar Farran’s face gave nothing away. Then he spoke;
“Lord Vernus, I will kill her if you do not rise with me.”
Querrick Vernus let out a choked whimper, his eyes lost their confidence and his gaze fell to the floor. He opened his mouth to protest but could not find the words. After a silence, still looking at the flag stone flooring, he finally managed some words.
“What about your son? He would never allow you to, to kill her.”
Farran was not sure whether Querrick had asked a question or not, but he responded anyway, and crushed all hope Lord Querrick had of avoiding this corner he found himself pushed in to.
“My son will do his duty to his father and his house, he has no love for your daughter.”
Querrick stood motionless, seemingly transfixed with the rushes on the floor. Farran stood opposite him, a table with a map of Esoris stood between them.
After a long pause Querrick lifted his head, he met Farran’s eye once more. Querrick’s chest began to swell, defiance and anger swept through him.
“I am Querrick Vernus, Lord of Anvilport, protector of the southernlands.” His voice rose, “The land that I govern is fertile with the bodies of Many a Carnaraine, bodies that I sent asunder with my own hand. I could cut you down now and end your treason. I am a man to be feared, not a man to be held ransom by another!”
Farran never took his eyes off Querrick, he rounded the table and came face to face with the suddenly defiant Lord of Anvilport. They were of a similar height, neither were tall men. Querrick was the broader of the two, the more natural knight. Farran stood a hair’s breadth from him and stared him in the eye. He waited for Querrick to show a sign of weakness, that this bravado was false, he was becoming uncomfortable. Finally his gaze, just for a second, flickered to the floor. That was the sign Farran had been waiting for, a sign that he was not as confident as he seemed.
Farran pounced. He slammed his fist in to the gut of Querrick and doubled him over, then brought a fist down on the back of his neck. Querrick fell across the table, then sunk to the floor.
“You will be the Lord of nothing.” Spat Farran, “If you do not support me. You think you are the only ally I have? If you do not rise with me, when the crown is mine I will head south and I will destroy you, your family and your city.”

Forging Alliances


Joined October 2010

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A short extract from a book I am planning, criticism and feedback welcome.

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  • highbeam
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