King Leothan and Queen Lacurnia were in the palace banqueting hall, sitting at opposite ends of a long table stacked with food and exotic delicacies from across the known world. Also at the table were a dozen ambassadors and their spouses, all chatting animatedly with their neighbours and with whoever was sitting opposite them. Serving maids went from one to another, refilling wine glasses and carrying away empty plates, and the large open space that filled the rest of the room was occupied by a troup of acrobats doing cartwheels and balancing on top of each other while the guests applauded loudly. A large fire crackled in the grate behind the acrobats, stoked and tended by two men in soot-stained uniforms, and the occasional drop of hot wax fell from the dozens of candles burning in the large, ornate chandelier that hung over the centre of the room.

     We should get them replaced by electric candles, thought the King as he saw one of the acrobats slip and almost lose his balance of a patch of solidified wax that had formed under one particularly drippy candle. The royal palace really should be at the forefront of scientific progress, to set an example to the rest of the kingdom, and to show the world that Helberion is a world power, to be taken seriously. He found himself looking at the Kelvon ambassador, the representative of the most powerful human nation in the world. He knew that the palace of Emperor Tyron was lit throughout with electricity. Not just the imperial residence and the administrative areas, but the kitchens and the servants quarters too. Even the stables, if the stories were to be believed. What must he be thinking, the King thought dismally, to see the royal palace of Helberion still lit with candles?

     There were so many other priorities, though. How could he justify spending money on what was basically his own vanity when there were hospitals and schools out there so badly in need of more funding? And then there was the army, of course. As the situation with Carrow continued to worsen, he had no choice but to give more money and resources to the armed forces, to build up their preparations for the war that was beginning to seem inevitable. It had already meant having to delay work on the Seaton canal, which meant that hundreds of engineers and labourers were looking for other work, and the redevelopment of the Highton area of Castapol had also had to be put on hold. Maybe I should just press all the navvies into the army, he thought whimsically. Put them in uniform, arm them and send them to the western border to await the invasion. His mood darkened as he realised that he might have to actually do just that, in which case, if, by some miracle, they managed to win the war, they'd have no skilled engineers with which to rebuild the country.

     His gaze returned to the Kelvon ambassador. Arwin Tsocco. So much depended on that man. Fear of Kelvon sanctions and reprisals was the only thing holding Carrow back. They couldn’t be seen as the aggressors. Kelvon had a great deal at stake in this part of the world. A war would cost them dearly in exports and reduced world influence. If Carrow just invaded, Kelvon would likely enter the war on Helberion's side. What Carrow needed was an excuse to declare war. Something that Kelvon couldn't argue with, and the cancelling of the royal marriage had gone a long way towards securing that. The King knew that the Carrow Ambassador to Kelvon was telling everyone who'd listen that King Leothan had poisoned his own daughter in order to prevent the wedding, because he wanted a war, and the fact that Helberion had used military force fifty years before to help the Tweenlands to defect from Carrow and join Helberion made the accusation almost plausible.

     Helberion's own ambassador to Kelvon was busy telling their own version of things, of course, and sensible people with common sense knew who to believe, but political expediency pulled in all directions, and there were people in Kelvon who would profit from a war. They were adding their voices to the Carrow version of events, and Helberion agents in the Empire were reporting back that Emperor Tyron was gradually being swayed by them. Fortunately, the Emperor still seemed to be listening to Arwin Tsocco’s periodic reports back to his own country, and so King Leothan had made it his business to ensure that the Ambassador told the Emperor what the King wanted him to tell him. That Helberion was desperate to avoid a war, and that Carrow wanted to seize back the lands they had lost fifty years before.

     Some of the Ambassador’s favourite foods had been discretely added to the banquet, therefore. Not too many, or it would have been too obvious what they were trying to do, but every course contained something that the King knew the ambassador liked, and the King was pleased to see him tucking in with gusto. He was currently holding a thick slice of spiced Harrol sausage in one hand and using it to emphasise a point he was making to the Aragon ambassador; a massively moustached man with a bulbous red nose. Both men then burst out in laughter while Lon-Fidell, the Carrow Ambassador, watched with a scowl.

     A messenger entered the room and walked across to where the King was sitting. “Your pardon, Majesty,” he said, bending low so that he would be heard by the King alone. “Field Marshall Banwell sends word of an incident in Grantley. A troop of Carrow foot soldiers crossed the border, attacked the Grantley garrison and then withdrew when our men counterattacked. We pursued them back to the border, but failed to prevent them from returning to their own country.”

     The King nodded. “Send this message back,” he said. “My standing orders remain unchanged. On no account is any Helberion soldier to set foot on Carrow land.”

     The messenger nodded and withdrew. The King took a moment to curse under his breath, then returned his attention to his guests. Carrow was trying to lure his men into crossing the border, of course. Then they could claim that Helberion was invading them and declare war with righteous indignation, and Kelvon would be able to do nothing but sit back and watch. It was the fifth time they'd tried it in the past month. Each time they sent a larger force, killed more of his men, then retreated slowly back across the border, hoping that the enraged Helborion soldiers would follow them. So far his men had had the discipline to resist the temptation, but what about next time?

     Across the table, he saw Lon-Fidell smirking at him, and the King turned his gaze away with an effort. The Carrow ambassador, enjoying his hospitality while taking amusement from the deaths of his men. If only there'd been some way to exclude him from the ambassadorial banquet! He longed to have the man thrown in the dungeons. It would be so good to see him dragged out of the room by the palace guards. That would be playing right into his hands, though. Carrow would make sure that the whole world knew about it, and when they invaded Helberion Emperor Tyron would be more likely to believe whatever justification they gave for it.

     No, if Carrow wanted him to react, then the way to beat them was to not react. To just pretend that the incident hadn't happened. Sooner or later the Carrow troops raiding across the border would make a mistake. His men would capture them, and then they'd have prisoners to parade before the assembled ambassadors. He smiled across at Lon-Fidell, therefore, and was greatly pleased to see the smirk replaced by a scowl of anger. The King pointedly ignored him after that and turned his attention back to Arwin Tsocco, who was busy sharing an amusing anecdote with Winn Teenol, the wife of the ambassador from Alaria. When Arwin saw that the King was listening he turned to nod at him, then began the anecdote from the beginning, including his host in the joke.

     The King laughed politely when he got to the punchline. “Very amusing, ambassador,” he said. “Now I remember why we always invite you to state banquets.”

     “There are plenty of other stories I could tell, but not in front of the ladies, perhaps,” replied Arwin Tsocco with a broad wink to Winn Teenol, who pretended to look shocked. “Perhaps when we are alone, eh, your Majesty?”

     “I have a few of my own that I dare say would shock even you,” replied the King.

     “Oho! Is that a challenge, your Majesty? Perhaps we should place a small wager upon it. The one who tells the most scandalous, or humorous, or both, story gets a three pawn advantage at our next game of Glory. Only true stories, mind. Anyone who tells a whopper forfeits the wager.”

     “You are on, my friend,” replied the King. “Unfortunately, I won't be able to use my best stories because they're about you.”

     Laughter erupted around the table. “I am glad and relieved to see the two of you in such high spirits,” said Jack Dabra, the Starlan ambassador.

     “Relieved?” said Arwin Tsocco. “Why relieved, my friend?”

     “Why, because of all the rumours, of course. Baseless, undoubtedly, but the rumour is that Helberion is trying to move into the Empire's weapons markets.”

     “Baseless, indeed,” said the King, with a sideways glance at the Kelvon ambassador, whose face was carefully neutral. “We and Kelvon are partners in the arms and machinery business. We benefit immensely from the friendship and support of the Empire. It would be foolish of us to endanger that.”

     “Of course,” said Jack Dabra. “But Kelvon arms manufacturing facilities have been suffering a number of unfortunate mishaps lately.”

     “Nothing more than accidents,” replied Arwin Tsocco. “Such incidents are inevitable when handling explosives and hazardous chemicals. We have never suspected foul play from our Helberion friends.”

     He took hold of his wine glass and raised it to the King, who raised his own in return, but the King thought there was just the trace of a frown on the ambassador's face. He looked over at Lon-Fidell, who was trying to look disinterested in the conversation. Starla was almost a vassal state of Carrow, and its ambassador was no doubt playing a part that had been written for him by King Nilon. Arwin Tsocco knew that as well as he did, and the frown disappeared from his face as he passed some more friendly words with Winn Teenol. Mud sticks, though, as the saying went, and there had to be some small part of his mind that wondered whether the rumours were true. And in the mind of the Emperor as well. One more thing to worry about...

     At the other end of the table Queen Lacurnia picked at her food while Lady Dimitriss, the wife of the Tench ambassador, prattled endlessly about her children, seemingly blind to the effect the subject was having upon her. “Little Anthony said his first words yesterday,” she said excitedly. “I was feeding him, trying to get him to eat his mice, only the finest white mice of course. Especially bred in the mansion for the children. I feel so sorry for the common folk who have to catch all kinds of dirty rats for their children. Did I mention that everyone in Tench is raised from cats?”

     “Only about a thousand times,” said Lady Dwen, the Gildon ambassador. The only female ambassador present today, although there were plenty of other countries represented by women. None of them important enough to be invited to this banquet, though.

     Lady Dimitriss gave a shrill laugh that had the same effect on the Queen as fingernails on a blackboard. “Oh how you do exaggerate! What was I saying? Oh yes, he said his first words yesterday. He was playing with his dinner, chasing the poor mouse all over the room. Oh how we laughed! The maids like to place bets on how long he'll play before finally eating it. Sometimes it's hours. I don’t normally approve of gambling as you know, but it wasn't for money, just a bit of fun, and whoever wins gets the rest of the day off. I think it's good for morale, keeps the staff entertained...”

     “And how are things in Tench at the moment, Alburnia?” asked the Queen, and Leothan heard an almost desperate tone to her voice. She was trying not to think of her own daughter, he knew, in case the need to be with her overrode her duties as hostess. The urge to run from the room must be almost overwhelming, he knew, and he longed for something to say that would comfort her.

     The Queen pulled herself together with a splendid effort, though, that made the King's heart go out to her. “Is the weather clement at this time of year?” she asked.

     “The weather?” said Lady Dimitriss, her face creased up in confusion as if the Queen had asked her a difficult mathematical problem. “Well, yes, yes, the weather is probably nice there,” she replied tentatively, as if worried it might not be the right answer. “It's been some years since we were last there, of course. Little Anthony was still almost pure cat the last time we were there. It is strange to think that he might be declared fully human before he gets his first glimpse of his homeland. We were thinking of training him in the ways of diplomacy, you know. He might be the Tench ambassador to Helberion one day. Imagine that! I still can't believe how fast he's changing. The parent bond particularly strong in our family, of course. I sometimes wonder if we might be part wizard. Anyway, he was playing with his mouse and just as he...”

     “I'm sorry, Alburnia,” said the Queen with a fixed smile on her face. “I've just remembered something I've got to ask Lady Dwen.” She put a gentle hand on the woman's sleeve as a gesture of apology, then turned to face the female ambassador. A panicked look flashed across her face, though, and Leothan realised that, in her desperate haste to end her conversation with Lady Dimitriss she didn't have any idea what to say to the Ambassador.

     He opened his mouth to say something, but Lady Dwen had also guessed the reason for her distress and came to her rescue. “His Majesty hopes that the Queen’s gentle manner might persuade us to reconsider the matter of trade tariffs,” she said to Lady Dimitriss in a mock whisper that had to pass right in front of the Queen to reach its target. “She doesn't realise that I take such matters seriously, though, and that I am immune to such underhand tactics.”

     Leothan felt a warmth of gratitude wash over him that was echoed on the face if the Queen as she turned to the Gildon ambassador. “Then I shall have to be especially charming and persuasive,” she said. “By the time I’m finished, you'll be begging us to sell you all our food and wool.”

     “Machine parts,” said Lady Dwen with a smile. “Your country furnishes us with machine parts and fuel oil, especially since the supplies from Kelvon have dried up. We have plenty of food of our own.”

     Lady Dimitriss laughed again, the Queen ignored her. “I can be very persuasive!” she said, and this time Lady Dwen laughed. She had a much more pleasant laugh, full of genuine warmth and amusement, and the Queen smiled with genuine pleasure. Leothan found himself liking her immensely, and his wife clearly shared the feeling. He wondered whether the two women could be friends. The Queen desperately needed a friend. A real friend. He knew that she was emotionally fragile at the moment. Sometimes it was clearly taking everything she had just to hold herself together. The King gave her as much time as he could, but he had the whole kingdom to worry about. The maids and handmaidens were too deferential, and even if they hadn’t been it wouldn't have been right for the Queen to cultivate friendships with the hired staff. Not even Matron Darniss, the head of the household staff. Lady Dwen, though, was a full ambassador. A woman of status and dignity. She had a high enough status in society that the Queen could be friends with her without causing a public scandal.

     “Tell me about your Helberion foods, then,” Lady Dwen said. She looked up and down the table. “Very little here seems to come from your own country. Why do you not feed us your excellent Helberion cuisine?”

     “Because we keep the best for ourselves,” replied the Queen, and the smile on her face looked unnatural after having been absent for so long. “We're selfish like that. Very rarely, though, we allow the occasional very special foreigner to sample it.” She winced visibly at Lady Dimitriss's shrill laugh, but when the King looked around the woman was talking to the Kelvon ambassador, no doubt treating him to an interminable description of her son's feeding habits.

     “Could I persuade you to accept an invitation to a private dinner one day?” asked the Queen. “Just you, me and our husbands.” She gave the King an uncertain glance, clearly wondering how her husband would react to her making such an invitation of her own initiative. If Helberion was thought to be showing special friendship to Gildonia, that might cause problems with other countries whose friendship and cooperation they were trying to win. Private dinners between Kings and ambassadors weren't that uncommon, though, and the King made a note to issue similar invitations to other ambassadors in an attempt to balance things out. He gave her a reassuring smile, therefore, and was pleased to see her smile with relief. She needed a friend so badly!

     “We'd be delighted,” Lady Dwen replied with a broad smile. “Soon, I hope. We would consider it a high honour.” Then she leaned towards her so that she could speak without anyone else at the table being able to overhear, but Leothan was skilled at reading lips. “My dear, you mustn't worry. Brigadier Weyland James visited our country once, before I took my current post here. I had a chance to get to know him a little, but even in that brief time he made a great impression on me. If anyone can find a cure for Princess Ardria, he can. You must be strong until then. Be strong for her.”

     Queen Lacurnia nodded, beaming with infinite gratitude, and Leothan almost expected her to hug the other woman. He felt like hugging her himself. What would his other guests think of that, he wondered, stifling a smile. The Queen was also struggling to conceal the depth of her feelings, he saw, She had to appear strong in front of the other ambassadors. Particularly in front of the hateful Lon-Fidell. “Then it's decided,” she said. “I look forward for the chance to get to know you better.”

☆☆☆

     Lon-Fidell's scowl deepened at this display of friendship between the two women. It wasn't that he had any particular reason to wish unhappiness on the Queen, but the general popularity that the Helberion royal family enjoyed, in their own country and abroad, meant that any move that Carrow made against their country would almost certainly be opposed by the Kelvon Empire. The rest of the human world would insist upon it, and Kelvon wasn't so overwhelmingly powerful that they could ignore them. Still, things were beginning to move. Slowly, it was true, but King Nilon’s strategies were beginning to pay off.

     He wondered whether they dared push things along a little. Dangerous, but then their whole campaign against Helberion was dangerous. Perhaps just a little push. A tiny nudge in the right direction to sow a little more doubt in the minds of the Empire, and the great thing about tiny doubts were that they had a tendency to grow with great speed, given the right encouragement.

     He nodded to himself. Yes, a tiny nudge. He would arrange a meeting with Mandeville. His agents would have to be given new instructions. His agent in the palace, in particular. He, or she, would have the most delicate job, but Mandeville had spoken of him, or her, in the most glowing terms during their most recent meetings. If he was right about him, he would be up to the assignment, and the friendship between Helberion and the Empire would be dealt another blow.

     He picked up his wine glass and took a long, delicious drink from it, then smiled across at the King, who smiled back diplomatically. It took every ounce of his self control not to laugh.