A week earlier. Sarsan Strait.

"Again!"

"Hyah!"

Amidst his sweating and panting, Azumi Velandis lunged forward, his steel sword held in a straight thrust. Vlos, being shorter, ducked below it and glided in, but by then Azu was ready to parry it, his weapon now held downwards. With his other free hand he pushed his adversary gently back, with an open palm.

"Ahh..."

The princeling staggered back three steps, but used his wings to hover briefly, thus regaining balance.

"Not too shabby, Azu. You've pretty much improved... if only in swordplay. Certainly getting closer to step in your father's shiny boots." Vlos chuckled, looked at his usual instructor, perceived her smiling nod, and sheathed the weapon. "Let's call it a day, shall we?"

"As you wish, Prince Vlos."

"Prince, eh..." Vlos went for the ship's railing and slowly caressed it as he gazed at the distant horizon and the sunny azure sky. "I don't know if I'd still be allowed to retain that title, where we're headed."

"Nothing against it, sir," Senna joined. "Kid or not, you are the son to the late monarch. None could dispute that. The real question is, would you still wear it?"

The young Lion exhaled. "Come to think of it, it's just a title, empty without solid proofs. Hardly had I ever thought to personally lead men before that engagement, either."

"About that..."

Tuvka Point, due west of Arenda, had managed to resist Vlos' main force for two straight days. On the third, due to the fact that the city itself had been besieged from the south by forces marching from Ardis and Tosca Point, their resistance gave way.

Mayor Varastra had in the meantime been executed by his own men and his body then presented to the victors. Vlos ruled for a proper burial, and for the rest of that day--in fulfillment of his mother's promise--he had been taken to see for himself the plots of land that she used to tend, and the house (now belonging to another family) in which she had lived for the best part of her youth.

The boy had even taken the trouble to dress in a common peasant's clothes to his size and tried his hands at plowing--to which he gave up after two spirited hours. The head of the new occupant family had laughed, offered to show him how it was done, and Vlos--his feet and legs brown with dust and mud almost to the knees--had looked on with avid interest, going to rest an hour later at the nearest inn with callused hands and contented exhaustion.

During the second day after his triumphant march to his House's ancestral seat, Vlos had been heartily welcomed at its citadel and toured around the rooms, passages, kitchens and towers. He stopped for a brief archery practice, as his father might well have done once.

***

"Say, Sen," the young Lion inquired at present, "how did you feel when you first heard of me personally leading the troops, I wonder?"

"Why, sir, of course I was astounded... and curious. Hardly ever crossed my mind that the men would so promptly see to your directions."

"I heard Yasnar say that to Mom too, when she pleaded for direct military support," he laughed. "How I'd like to see his face now."

Senna couldn't help smiling as well.

"He's doing his last share of responsibility, no doubt, sir, by seeing to Balaras' rebuilding. For all his faults he's done more than us combined to keep things running."

"I believe so. That reminds me, it's about time for him to be replaced, right? Have you given any thoughts on the ideal successor?"

"I would most likely recommend a certain Rahman, sir. He has reputation for fair and just rule..."

"There you are," another voice joined.

"My lady." Senna inclined her head.

"Nice to see you too, Mom."

Alista Hospodia smiled back as her jet-black hair fluttered in the wind and her equally black dress swept the planks. "Long have we waited for this moment, my dears. Been enjoying the view, hmm?"

"As can be seen, my Lady Hospodia."

"I might no longer be, Vlos. We are making our way back to Elbar, yes, and that also means your uncle had gone through brilliant conquests; of which we could only speak about, now. Through these, a spouse might eventually come. She will be your new Lady Hospodia."

"What would that make you, then?"

Lista raised her eyebrows while pursing the lips. "Who knows. He might allow us to stay in the city or see to our decent living somewhere else."

"Wait... are you telling me that he'd sit my dad's throne just like that? I have the claim too, you know!"

Lista, still smiling, shook her head slowly.

"Recall, son, that he had shown more proof than you. You only went through one engagement and could be regarded as fortunate to be alive; he had survived two major ones before you were capable even of talking... and so much more."

"But that's just... not fair. My dad was the one getting killed..."

"And you had cried for him," Lista cut in, "as you had cried for Urdin when we heard that he had been taken down around Estreon. Remember? Back then, when he was most probably ill, your only wish was for him to revive and get back safely. Now he's back, are you going to wish ill for him?"

"I..."

"You will have your time, by the Infinite One's Grace," Lista declared. "Until then, learn how to keep things running in a House, from him whom you love and who loves you."

***

Thus was the first case of Hospodian succession solved at the highest level.

Confronted with the problem of Elbar's repopulation, the new Lord Hospodia welcomed various families from the eastern and western parts of his new domains. In six sols following his consolidation of power, Elbar's population count had risen from less than twenty thousand to slightly over sixty thousand, and still growing. Land and sea trade was revived, roads repaired, their safety seen to. The regular army, with mubarizuns at its core, gradually grew to the strength of fifty thousand men, not counting possible conscripts in times of crisis. As a first test, Urdin had sent them to occupy the contested lands to the west of Capricorn and Virgo Points, which they successfully assimilated.

In two years, at the time of the birth of Urdin's first heir--whom he decided to name 'Mustafa'--Hospodia had grown to be one of the most prosperous and recognized powerhouses on the Vikrish mainland. Bordering it, aside from the rapidly-crumbling Skandian Empire, were various other powerhouses with their own unique characteristics, visions, and sets of alliances and grievances.

(Present Hospodian political situation)