I'm dedicating this particular chapter to WolfMane. A new reader to E & D who has so far delivered some very insightful comments on my creation. I gather that Wolf is here on Wattpad mainly to read, but has recently been bitten by the writing bug and has started posting one of their own creations, a story called Imagine Breaker. Check it out if you get the chance, and give it your support.

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The mood in the great-hall that night was as cheerless as it had been since Sladin's last rising. The Order was still in mourning. On the wall above the hall's top tier hung the white banner of Jacob Chapter, with its spreading cherossa tree. The image of Lord Morath's dead steed still curled about its roots, but the chair of the Grand-commander on the dais beneath stood empty. Flanking the great banner, and spreading around the curve of the great-hall, hung the arms of the Order's remaining five Chapters, adding a little sombre colour to the dull grey metal of its walls.

The musician's galleries opposite the hall's sloping tiers were empty, and the room's rippling glow-lights were dimmed. The sombreness of the room would have been alleviated by the presence of the ladies, with their bright dresses and their finery, but they were still banished to their solarium. The emptiness in the hall was compounded further by the absence of the knights of Vikas Chapter.

The pages passed quietly among the half empty tables, their trays heaped with fresh roasted slabs of meat and vegetables. They also carried jugs filled with ale and hive wine, though the knights in the hall drank of them sparingly, even those among the lowest tiers whose antics in the hall were normally more raucous.

Yet there was hidden mirth in the room.

Pride-commander Kralaford could feel it as he passed along the tiers and up the stairs of the hall. Few knights dared to meet his gaze. Most of those who did were forcefully formal in their greetings, but others had trouble hiding their amusement.

Only Commander Bevrik dared to make no attempt at hiding his. Sir Kralaford reached the top tier of the hall and drew his sword to salute the empty chair that stood there. When he turned to take his seat at the long table, he found Asquith's Pride-commander grinning broadly at him. Sir Bevrik was dressed in his best finery, and even though its colour was appropriately subdued, there were still fine details picked out in blue thread among the darkness, and all his buttons and buckles were polished bright. His pale hair, as always, was immaculate, his beard neatly trimmed.

"Greetings, Commander. How is your recalcitrant son?"

"Typically unrepentant," Sir Kralaford grunted. Sir Bevrik chuckled as he took the high backed chair beside him. "I am glad my fellow knights find my son's idiocy so amusing."

A page appeared beside Sir Kralaford's chair and began to heap fillets of grilled karabok onto his plate.

"I am amused, my friend, it is true, but I am also quite perplexed. I do not understand how our beloved, cantankerous High Madriel-master could have allowed such a thing to happen."

Sir Kralaford frowned.

"The choice was against his will. Enough!"

This last was to the page, who quickly hurried away.

"Not many young squires are brave enough, or possibly stupid enough, to defy Sprak."

"There is at least one that is."

Sir Bevrik grinned and took a drink from his glass of hive wine.

"It is at times like these that I am thankful I only have daughters."

"Daughters are no less troublesome."

Sir Bevrik grinned again.

"Anyway, there is something here that may divert you from your troubles. Commander Zembulla!"

He called down the table to where Sir Zembulla loomed in his high backed seat, attacking a mound of karabok meat. The Pride-commander of Dolphus Chapter had the build of a juddra, and his skin was a deep brown, the colour of dried beam tree wood, for he belonged to the ancient family of Xafanni.

"Do you have Commander Galder's report?"

Sir Zembulla took the hand-ledger that had been sitting beside his plate. He tossed it along the table and it slid to a halt beside Sir Bevrik's tall glass.

"Have you taken the time to read it?"

Sir Zembulla laughed a deep resonant laugh.

"The Commander's worries can wait," he said when the rumble of his laughter had died. He speared another thick chunk of meat on his fork.

Sir Bevrik picked up the small ledger and pushed away his plate.

"Pride-commander Galder has taken no time in sending us his assessment of the situation on our northern border, and along with it, a request for us to send reinforcements from our own Chapters."

Sir Zembulla snorted derisively, then recommenced his attack on his supper.

"Commander Galder's scouts have been as diligent in their reconnaissance and analysis as always," Sir Bevrik continued. "It seems that the Order of the Heights have reinforced their camps on the north bank of the Rhebus."

"Significantly?" asked Sir Kralaford.

"Five more sections of troops at Eifel Peak, and three in the west near the Force road."

"And Lord Taine?"

"His banner has not been seen. Commander Raxus commands the western camp and Commander Fidious commands the camp at Eifel. Two more packs of javac arrived there yesterday."

"War engines?" asked Sir Zembulla, chewing a mouthful of food.

"Some personnel catapults, but no siege engines."

"They are not planning an attack then."

Sir Bevrik shook his head at Sir Zembulla's bluntness, then raised an eyebrow at Sir Kralaford.

"What are your thoughts, Commander?" he asked as he placed the ledger neatly in front of him. "You are more familiar with Lord Taine's mind than anyone else here."

"I believe Lord Taine is merely being prudent in assembling his armies. His positions are clearly defensive. The Force Road is the road to Halsbaad, and would be our obvious first point of attack. The camp at Eifel is guarding their flank from attack where it is not protected by the Rhebus. Lord Taine merely reinforces in response to our own act of reinforcement, just as Sir Galder reinforces in response to his. I would not be foolish enough to underestimate Lord Taine, but I see no sense in provoking him into war by sending further troops north."

"Then it is settled," said Sir Zembulla, signalling for a passing page to refill his cup. "Commander Galder is on his own."

"Still," said Sir Bevrik, tapping his fingers on the ledger's cover. "That is quite an alarming amount of troops to have sitting on our border."

"My concern," said Sir Kralaford. "Is that with our armies in such close proximity, soon someone will slip and we will have a skirmish that will become a battle, and with Commander Galder in charge you know how things will end."

"But how do we defuse the situation? He cannot be ordered to withdraw his troops."

"I will tell you what you can do," said Sir Zembulla, and then took a long drink from his freshly filled cup, once he was sure he had their attention. "You can stop discussing matters as though the command of this Order was yours. You can leave Galder to his squabble at the border and I will deal with him when the Tourney comes. After that, I will resolve our problems with Lord Taine."

Sir Bevrik raised an immaculate eyebrow.

"You make it sound so simple, Commander. And the outcome of the Tourney so certain."

Sir Zembulla turned his dark eyes on Sir Bevrik, who met the stare with his obligatory look of calm amusement.

"There is not a knight here who can beat me. You know it, I know it. Even our good friend Commander Kralaford knows it."

The huge knight pointed over Sir Bevrik's shoulder with his knife, but Sir Kralaford ignored the gesture.

Sir Bevrik looked at the knife and then up at Sir Zembulla's wide grin.

"That is an easy thing to say with Commander Galder so far away."

Sir Zembulla gave his deep laugh once more.

"You are a funny man, Commander Bevrik. I only wish your skills in the jousting ring matched your wit, then even you might have the possibility to provide a challenge."

"I may surprise you yet, Commander."

Sir Bevrik smiled broadly and leant back in his chair. Sir Zembulla replied by giving another resonant laugh, then returned his attention to the meat still stacked on his plate.

* * * * *

After the meal, Commander Kralaford went with Commander Bevrik to the fortress' northern battlements, where the warm air carried the evening scent of the plains. The fortress was quiet. The central courtyard was empty and the barrack blocks lay in the silence of the middle watch. In the Workshops of the Engineers, the tools would have been put away, the forges shut down, and the evening meals would be cooking on the cooling cickracol.

The Khensis moon was bright in the east, though every night it continued its descent closer to the horizon. By the end of second summer, it would be gone. The cold nights of the fallows would pass without its presence in the sky, until it appeared once more on the western horizon to mark the beginning of a new year. The Sladin moon was already climbing to its height, hidden periodically by thin streams of cloud creeping from the north, while Taqi, its smaller companion, was racing its quick path close to the horizon. The moons were alone in the blackness of the sky. Not even the distant glimmer of an Oracle light could be seen in the bowl of darkness above the fortress.

Quiet lay over the plains as well, broken only occasionally by the clicking of insects and the squeals of small creatures hunting each other in its long grasses, or by the deep growl of a stirring madriel out in the great-bailey. A distant rumble rolled down from the northern mountains, where thick banks of grey clouds were gathering. In less than a week they would sweep down over the plains, bringing the rains, and a temporary relief from the heat.

"Are you certain it is wise for us to put all of our faith in that man?" asked Sir Bevrik as the two knights stopped on an empty stretch of the battlements.

"No," replied Sir Kralaford. "I am still in two minds."

Sir Bevrik leant against one of the battlement's tall wedge merlons and folded his arms, his brow furrowed.

"But is it reason that unsettles your decision, or your own pride that sways you?"

"I fear it is a fight between the two."

Sir Bevrik nodded.

"I share your dilemma."

"I have listened to Commander Unsaethel's arguments and am in agreement with them, but it still pains me to make such a decision."

"I believe he is correct in his evaluation that peace negotiations after the Tourney will go easier if we are united behind one man. Lord Taine will take advantage of any weakness he sees in our command, but I cannot help thinking that we are putting the Order's unity above the need to prevent Commander Galder's rise. The man must be stopped. There is no simpler truth than that."

Sir Kralaford did not reply immediately. Instead, he stood staring at the Taqi moon as it slid slowly behind the low clouds that boiled on the northern horizon.

"You still think he is mad," he said eventually.

"I think Commander Galder's hatred has taken his mind beyond reason."

Sir Kralaford nodded grimly.

"To lose those we love is no easy thing."

"The loss of his sons does not give him adequate reason. Many of those close to us died at Wessvall. I lost a brother, and your own wife lost her father, but it does not make us crave the sort of revenge that Sir Galder seeks."

"If he keeps aggravating events at our border, then his chance for revenge will come soon, and we will be forced to fight a war without leadership. That is the issue at present which gives me the greatest concern."

"The man cannot be ordered to return to Klinberg, and he will not pull his troops back of his own free will. Apart from denying him reinforcements, there is little else we can do."

Sir Kralaford straightened up and looked at his fellow Pride-commander.

"There is one possibility, and if I have the cooperation of yourself and Commander Unsaethel, I believe it will have a good chance of succeeding."

Sir Bevrik raised an eyebrow.

"What are you thinking?"

"We must appeal to Commander Galder's sense of duty."

"Duty?" said Sir Bevrik.

"His duty to the Order and the people it protects, but we will have to speak to him in person and in the presence of the Councillors if we wish to have a chance of success."

"Well I am sure he will be returning to the fortress soon enough. Once he knows that we will be sending him no reinforcements, he will be back down here faster than the rains."

"Then we had better be prepared for him. Let us go and wake Commander Unsaethel from his slumber."

* * *

The two knights moved off down the battlements. As the sound of their footsteps faded, something moved within the shadow of one of its tall merlons. It stretched itself from its hiding place beside the metal shutter that blocked the battlement's crennel, no more than a hint of shape within the darkness, and moved across the fire-step to slip over its edge and into the fortress. Two more shapes followed, as silent as the first.

The soldier who walked by a few seconds later, after resuming his patrol of the battlements, had no notion as he passed that an old familiar terror had returned to Klinberg.