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For a man who found killing easy, his eyes were remarkably soft. They were auburn and filled with the embers of the forge, hands as stained as parchment with ink, of the countless documents he had read, of the East Kingdoms terms to marriage. The second he met them and the seeing the many scars on his arms, Arlo thought the man must have killed at least once. His eyes were unfairly brutal and balanced, someone he needed on his Court. The one now, the Court of the Wish and Bell sung danced like vultures, crying over his head.

On Arlo's left, Farewell sneered, said: "Your Grace, it is a mistake to not marry the princess of the East Kingdom. The East Kingdom holds one hundred million of stock in the trade, and even more in fertile soil and clear water to drink from. They have abundance in the seas and abundance in the earth. There is no justice in letting our people die."

"Do you think of me as a fool, sucking from the bottle of some poor mother?" Arlo's voice barked a shallow tenor, his olive eyes sweeping around the table, to the crowd surrounding them. Farewell was a well-known right hand, a cane to his wooden leg of inexperience. His jaw flexed once, his shouldered weakened against an invisible weight: "Women and others among the crowd, the east Kingdom offers us benefit, but how long will this benefit continue, when our kingdom surrenders its pride and bones of those lost in the war, for a temporary gain?"

All around him, Arlo saw the town square mumbling between each other, casting glares, fanning themselves in the sun. Some sulked back to the market to the north. Arlo looked for loyalty in his crowd and found little.

"There is no justice!" Someone from the crowd yelled.

"Justice? Who has asked for it now?" Arlo's Court replied in answer, a bell whispering in the distance for the afternoon church. The square neared decertation. Arlo carefully sweeping his brow as he locked eyes with the speaker. On his left, Farewell coiled a fist beneath the table

"Do not let him answer, he has interrupted—"

"Have you learned nothing, Sire?" He shifted in his seat, the black wreathing like the night before dawn, "This heat is taking your mind. For ten years, we have held these meetings though rain, snow, sleet, and when our salt filled lakes had no water to give, nor our crops when the King of the Iron spike to the far East had war. This is a peaceful meeting. There will be no conflict spawned of your opinions."

"This sounds as if you intend to abandon this kingdom, because you lack the spine to help any of us. If Gvir never attacked, we would be much better off!"

Arlo stood, and uttered, only looking to the man, "My parents' death was a tragedy to us all, to this kingdom, to this town and to you. Gvir, the Dragon of the Northern Star heavens, had used fire and brutality, and cheap schemes with the Dark King. But we are not as weak."

"We are dying, and you do not care."

Yes, Arlo thought. We are dying, but he is wrong. Marrying the bride to the East would lose everything, our culture, our market—all. We would be no more than beggars in the road, depurate for food. A loveless marriage would give them no better of a position, either. He loved no one, but only his kingdom and brothers.

"There is nothing left," Someone hissed, "The patriarchy
has died with him...The Dark King is still here...another victim of the war."
             "Do our Grace think of it unwise to marry, now?" Farewell asked.

Before Arlo could answer, there came a call from the back of the crowd, towards the blacksmith's simmering in the sun. He found the stranger, not much older than him standing among the cobblestone square, his black hair slicked with sweat. "This is what we talk of? We are Bell sung! Survived wars before, evil rulers of old, dragons. We know of the Tree Witch and live, lived. We can live again if we give him time, we all want our concerns heard."

He is my age, gods if I knew what to do! The man thought. If they lose faith, all is sealed regardless. If they all lose faith now or later, we must first wait for him to hear what I have to say. His heart and arms are open to us now, we must take it.

Silence. Arlo's eyes shifted with a new light, kindled by the words.

"I promise you, to this kingdom, that better things will come, but not by this marriage."

"Sire." Another member of the table began, "You have seen the dissent of the crowd. I trust you listen to them regardless, if not us. Why do you defy our cries, our warnings? You understand the circumstances, you must marry her!"

"I do not believe in a loveless marriage, nor selling our souls to some brief wealth."

"This wealth spans generations, and your kingdoms needs come first."

"I am putting them first, as I have always." Arlo hissed between a smile, "I would have never thought of you to be the coward, too afraid to take risks for the greater world."

I cannot marry, I wont. I know of better, more honest ways to get what we need, and it does not need to be by marriage to a kingdom, selling our markets and our ports. My father warned me of this.

He remembered his father, sitting in the old fir chair, groaning as he sat. Listen, you have been raised to be aware of threats? Then keep your gaze closest to those in your shadow. This court sends assassins to you and to me, and your Court looks to mask your kindness with selfishness, but your court must never break apart in war. If it were to, it is like using sand for bricks. Your kingdom will seep through your hands.

Arlo nodded to himself, "We have discussed reworking the ships to the Dark King's kingdom earlier this hour. I would like to suggest that rather than demanding for it, we ask for their soil. It is cheaper and provides sustenance for the winter. We can build farming outposts, deacidify our water."

The stranger tilted his head, it would be expensive...

"We can barely keep to our taxes; how much can you demand of us?"

"It would be funded from our own treasury. Our kingdom has paid enough."

"Your Grace, that is not our custom."

"Customed be damned, they need food." Arlo's voice floated like silk in the wind, before easing back into his seat.

There, we can see his kindness. The stranger thought, as the hot irons danced in his hands, between the forger and withered in the water bucker.

"I will not deny there has been suffering, even so that my own court and I have been distributing food. But the East Kingdom has wealth because it worked to become wealthy, despite living next to a salty sea, and muscles as their main diet. We must do the same, find a source of power."

"And what of the Tree Witch?" A man far to Arlo's right asked.

"The Tree Witch will be found. She will pay for her war crimes in assisting the Dark King, if the rumours are true." And the Dragons must not know about this. They do not have a bond with her, but they would hate to lose that power, her magic.

"Farewell, we should hear more of the publics concern. We have spoken enough of problems they already know of common knowledge issues."

"Sire, but your fealty to the East Kingdom—"

"The answer is no, but before we continue circling in our cycle of thoughts, lets here a real-world experience. After all, gold does not make for good scripture."

Farewells ears bloomed pink, as the Court slowly murmurs of dissent were smothered by the bang of the hammer in the forgery, the market livening to the afternoon rush.

He is like his father. What a shame I must do away with him. But his blood may haunt my dreams... Farewell pondered; his eyes glued to the horizon.

Arlo tilted his head, "Farewell, do you agree with our Court that this is our next course of action?"

"Yes" His deep tenor rumbled.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Auxory, this period will behave as such: you will state your primary concern, regardless of if it has been repeated before, in a clockwise fashion. You may not interrupt, or you will be prevented from continuing your visit here. If you require a translator, we have many available, and you are free to speak in your native language. Do not be afraid to say anything that may offend me, I am a cocky royal, after all."

A shy chuckle went through the crowd. The Stranger grinned, as his mentor's eyes drew up from his work. Smart one, make the crowd not end on a bad note, ease the tension. The stranger thought, he's not just making it clear he hears them, but that he is with them.

Before Arlo could ask the Court to stand before the podium resting before their table, Farewell casted a piercing glance. Arlo smiled and nodded in return, thinking He is not hiding his anger anymore, what a surprise from him. I suppose the act is getting weary against his soul, pretending to be an ally. He thinks of me a fool if he thinks the time for him to act will not end.

The customary call of the house echoed through the courtyard, above the crowd arguing for who to speak first. "The Pendragon-Onyx Court rises for its people and will listen above all storms. Here, we listen."

The crowd became an explosion of wildfire, the guards arming themselves as Arlo hand gave a subtle signal without a thought. How long can they keep protecting me from this wildfire? It will be a coup by them if I do not marry, and even if I do, the Court will still wreak havoc without me there. They will kill my brothers, too.

Arlo looked to the stranger again, the forgery in the far corner and its booming sound. His attention never drifted for more than a moment, but the echoes were church bells in his ears, hearing them collide with the concerns, the weeping, the pain of the crowd.

He wanted a new path. Anything to ease their pain, but why must it be at the cost of our kingdom? I do this for them, only them, ever them. What other ways of the world should there be, when money is so naturally between our spines and commands us like slaves?

"I work in my farms, and I marry for the money we need. Why cannot you, to give another heir? To obtain wealth like the court has been claiming, your Grace. We should not be victims of your arrogance!"

The words skimmed over his head. He glanced between the mentor and his apprentice, as an idea began to brew in his mind. Farewell glanced between his Court and the guards, his eyes growing wide.

What is he thinking now, that soaked dog! His hands did not stop shaking at his sides. Cold dread struck his lungs at the thought of his blood over his hands, the son he never bore but always seen in Arlo.

"Many of you among the crowd, and in my own court, seek marriage as the only option. However, I have heard every side to this issue, and attempted to discuss other ways, and other avenues. I understand some of you look for an heir to the throne, so that they may take my place and be manipulated by your actions, or rather to keep me from my place, from my people."

Farewell's face was stone, but his anger shuddered underneath. What to the Dragons Teeth is he doing, calling out false accusations!

"You have not seen what occurs in the palace, nor our most private discussions. I see no use in discussing this further. Which, I propose a compromise. One of you, in our time of need, will be selected as an 'heir' of sorts. Stranger, the forgery's apprentice, should be it."

Before he could register what was said, the crowds' feet stomped against the cobble stone as some ran to guard, roars escaping them. In the next moment a wall formed between Arlo and his people, the Court just as venomous behind him.

The stranger chuckled, his eyes wide with disbelief as he watched the squeeze between two guards and roll from their grip. He is mad, this is surely a joke of his, for that arrogant Court. Watch, and the next morning, he will make more silly rules, to keep us entertained in our last moments...

The crowd clamoured to Arlo as the Stranger ducked behind the forgery oven and into the back alleyway. Let me show him what it is like when one knows to control their anger, and the consequences of ripping someone from their home.

His mentors' eyes were glassy as he watched the stranger walk away. He dusted his hands, his arms reveling many scars that he could not remember, "I'll be back before dinner, don't worry for me. Arlo is a Mad King, but not a vengeful one. It is his court we should all worry for, rather than blame the king himself."

"You go to him?" The mentor rumbled.

"I may not have memory of my old life, but I remember the mistakes of others. I want to teach him a lesson, rather than bicker. He is looking for an ally, and though I respect him only for perseverance, he is still as young as I. I think I may have done the same, with that old coup as a right-hand man."

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