HAYLAM- Alliances

The moon thrust its silver glow through the bay windows into the Hall of Council, outlining the sapphire and jasper colors that adorned the room and striking the feet of the armors and statues in the corner; armor that had once been worn by the former kings and knights, shadows of an era now past. The night had hours ago fallen upon the kingdom of Malderia, bringing with it a gloomy darkness that foreshadowed a terrible fate. 

Striding across the halls was the old herald dressed in his official red robe - a garment so long that it touched the floor like the tail feathers of a peacock - and wooden sandals on his feet. Just moments ago he had been woken up by a personal servant of the First Prince and instructed to get his ink and parchment, go to the Hall of Council and wait for the Seven Princes there. The old herald, Nathaniel, was anxious. He knew that this was a very urgent matter so he scurried along as quickly as he could.

When he arrived, two soldiers clad in fine silver armor were already waiting for him by the door. No words were said, only the sound of wood on wood as the two soldiers pulled away the logs that kept the huge double-doors secured. They pushed the doors open and they made a long, eerie creak and Nathaniel walked inside.

He waited patiently, dutifully a couple of paces behind the great round table at the center of the room. It was not long after that he heard the shuffling of many feet and the swishing of fabric and the clanging of moving armor and he knew the princes had arrived, escorted by soldiers.

Nathaniel touched his robe nervously then stood erect, his eyes trained at the door. When the first footsteps walked in he announced, ‘Welcome, the Seven Princes of Malderia, the sons of King Methuselah Alfreo!’

All seven princes walked into the Hall with Prince Uriel, the eldest, in the lead. They wore fox-fur coats that reached their calves, their faces stiffened by the night’s unforgiving weather. Only the Fifth Prince, Marteno, had strayed too far from the dress code; he entered the Hall wearing only his silk nightgown. He had been woken up in the middle of the night and had therefore not been spared enough time to prepare. His feet were bare, and he shivered from the neck down, for the night was perilously cold.

When they all claimed their seats at the stone table, the silver light of the moon exposed their fresh, young faces.

Uriel, the First Prince, began the meeting. ‘Brothers, I assume you all know why I called you here.’ His voice was deep.

The six princes first stared at each other then back at Uriel in a show of agreement.

Uriel clasped his empty hands over the stone table, the moon highlighting his knotted dark-red hair and his long and battered nose. He proceeded, ‘The War that our forefathers fought has now become ours to inherit. The same war that has been the end of kingdoms and Empires in times past. That very war has returned for yet another cycle.’ He stopped there to let them absorb the words.

‘That’s a military problem,’ Marteno, the Fifth Prince said offhandedly, ‘War is your and Mordecai’s problem. The rest of us have our own duties to be concerned about.’ When he saw that neither Uriel nor Mordecai had offered a response, Marteno, emboldened by the silence, continued, ‘My role is the church, in case you forgot. I make sure the people come to the temple and obey God’s laws and such. We have our own arses to worry about so don’t try to drag us into your…’

‘Marteno, this is no longer just a military problem,’ Uriel tried to reason with him, ‘when this war returns for its next cycle and we are found unprepared, our kingdom will be wiped off of the map. You think it will pass over you just because you’re hiding in a church?’

‘I didn’t say it would, Uriel, but all of us have our own responsibilities, as the throne demands. As our father’s memory demands!’ He was pointing at King Methuselah’s statue which was positioned at the back of the room. The statue stood in the corner a pallid grey. It was a gigantic piece of work in which King Methuselah rode on his stallion that stood on its hind legs, rearing up to charge into battle. ‘Don’t try to bring us into your mess because you failed to see this war coming,’ Marteno concluded.

‘As usual, you’re not listening, Marteno.’ It was Thyrene, The Fourth that had spoken this time. His wiry frame hung over the table like a crow as his restless eyes pitifully settled on Marteno’s careless posture. ‘This war will destroy us, wipe us out: every man, woman and child. Everything our forefathers fought for will be destroyed in the wake and rest of the sun. Uriel and Mordecai fulfilled their princely duties by informing us of the impending war. What we have to do now is prepare for it, together, as brothers.’

Marteno laughed mockingly at him. He swung his hands behind his chair and laid back casually into his seat, his fingers scratching his coarse chin, riddled by stubbles from last week’s shave, ‘How poetic, Thyrene,’ he said, ‘Did you rehearse that horseshit?’

Uriel intervened, ‘Look, brothers, by now all the other nations must be coming together to prepare for The War as we speak.’

‘Then what steps do you suggest we take, brother?’ Leo, the youngest, asked this time from the far end of the table in a much gentler, less provocative tone.

Mordecai answered for Uriel, ‘Since I’m in charge of half of the military - as our fellow brother, Marteno so bluntly put it - Uriel and I have decided to build an alliance.’

Ronad, the Sixth Prince leaned in, his bald head and anxious eyes also accentuated by the glow of the moon. He was sitting right beside Leo. ’An Alliance?’ Ronad inquired, he was hoping Mordecai would elucidate, ‘An alliance with whom? Besides the fishermen, we’re not exactly a favorite with anyone outside our kingdom, Mordecai.’

Mordecai briefly glanced at Uriel. He needed his consent for the next part. Uriel nodded and so Mordecai turned to his five brothers and told them, ‘The Seidonians.’

The whole table was in an uproar. All of them were trying to say something to Mordecai at the same time but the loudness of their voices swallowed each other up and it all came out foul and vulgar. Uriel and Mordecai had discussed this revelation beforehand and therefore had known that the news would not be met with open arms.

‘Are you two insane?!’ Marteno’s voice was the first to be heard when the commotion began to die down. ‘You want us to get in bed with those freaks of nature?!’ He immediately stood up and looked at the other four with furious eyes like they too had gone insane. He then said to Mordecai, ‘Please, tell us you’re joking, Mordecai. Uriel, you can’t be serious about this.’

‘For once I agree with Marteno,’ said Alphard, the Third Prince and the tallest of them all, ‘there is no way we’re building an alliance with those monsters.’

‘Then would you rather we build one with the Falconians then?’ Uriel challenged both Marteno and Alphard. His words were the water needed to quell the fire at the table. The noises still hovering around finally dissolved until they were all just looking at the table. ‘Answer me, Marteno…Alphie…’ Uriel pressed on, ‘…Do you prefer we fight beside the same people that killed our father?’