Attention! this is a club submission






He was called king by some, called dead by most others. The rightful heir who abandoned his throne to chase a wild hope, a hope so thin, so faint, most thought it only a legend. But the hope, the dream was still there, kept alive by millennia’s old memory and determination worthy of a bard’s song. He worked, he waited, and his kingdom grew. It grew to protect the ones who would not see, who could not see. His domain stretched from the deepest mines of Camar to the highest peaks of Lodan’s Wall. But not a single ruler in between knew of his invisible kingdom.

Except one.



The gentle whisper of wind crawled along the castle corridors, stirring the tapestries adorning the walls and the skirts of the maids who busied from room to room. The capital never seemed to quiet this time of year, especially in days such as this. Whispers of the Fellowship, terrorists, and nightmarish creatures were never gone from the lips of the common people, and recent travelers, envoys of peace from Taribre, spreading rumors of madness overtaking some of their tribes did not make calming the masses any easier.

The wind brushed the cheek of a woman, young in years but having wisdom of the old thrust upon her. She sighed and rested her elbow on the balcony outside her room. Blue eyes scanned the landscape, not sure where they would settle. With this view, she could see most of the castle grounds and out into the city. Merchants and travelers would be coming in from the Road in droves at this time of the day, selling wars and telling stories. Maybe one of them would be the Camaran blacksmith General Zayin needed badly enough to send a whole regiment out to haul him to Arvila.

Along the wall, guards marched back and forth in a never-ending cycle, though she spotted a few sitting out of the way, probably playing cards or halfstone, and smiled to herself. The security had always been heavy, too much so in her opinion. There may be dangers outside, in the far East, the North, but not in Rodylia. Never in her land. Though called the Pacifist Queen by a good number of the lords, they could not deny that the whole nation benefited by not engaging in yet another war, war that was more tradition than anything else. A war that had been fought continuously for generations, ever since the merging of Galium and Rodylia had left Taribre without a sparring partner. It would end with her reign. She had promised the people that much.

A soft sound from behind, boots on the tile floor, brought her out of the daydream. She frowned to herself at the disturbance but did not take her eyes from the wall. “The envoys were not supposed to want an official audience for another hour,” she said. “Tell them to be patient, Benn. Waiting another half hour won’t rekindle the flames.”

A small chuckle met her ears. “Well, that wasn’t the kind of greeting I was expecting.”

Her heart caught in her throat. That voice… It couldn’t be. For the last eleven years he had been… “Al,” she breathed.

His eyes, mirrors of her own but for the tempered stubbornness, met hers. A prick of a smile rose in his lips. “Nice to see you too, sister.”

Forgetting her station, her age, her dress, she embraced him, laughing and crying. He returned the affection but muttered pleas to quiet after a few seconds.

She brushed a stray hair out of her eyes and bit her lip, having her first lucid thoughts since he had arrived, her brother. “How did you get through?” she wondered aloud. “The guards… the city… even the maids. Someone should have—”

“You of all people should know, Lin,” he said, still with a pleased smile. “The passageways. Just because I’ve left the palace doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten when we were kids. The one in Lord Dene’s room is still there, though I’d imagine the old man’s dead by this point.”

She smirked, remerging the day the lord found the two crawling out of his closet. How many years ago was that now? “He’s still alive. The gods must love him, or maybe hate him.” Her eyes softened. “Why, Al? Why risk it?”

He looked over her shoulder, perhaps to the same wall she had been watching a few moments ago. “As much as I hate to say it, business. Lin, there isn’t much time left.”

“I can’t believe you,” she hissed. He had risked capture not to see her, to greet his sister whom he had all but ignored all these years, but to further his plan, a plan the drifted far too close to anarchy for her liking. “You come all this way to beg me to give up the only chance of peace Rodylia’s had for over one hundred years? You know me better than that. You know I’m not going to consort with you, the you I ignore, that I try to ignore. The sacrifices I’ve made, that the nation’s made, for your idiotic wild-oats chase, you can’t imagine. Al, if you weren’t my brother, if I didn’t love you enough to give up the life I dreamed of, I would turn you in right now.” Her brother knew that tone well. It was the hard, strict voice drilled into her by tutors when she was young. She used it only on him, and only once before.

Her brother nodded. “I’m sorry. I had a feeling… But, I’d hoped you’d changed your mind. I don’t want to do this, Rosalind.”

“Nor do I,” she whispered. “Aldric, please leave.”

He turned his back but stopped before reaching the room’s threshold. “I hope we meet under friendlier terms someday.” After pulling up the hood of his cloak, he was gone, as quickly as he came.

His sister watched the space for a long while, her fists clenched, half wishing he would come again, wishing that he had never met that man, the man who hides his face from the world. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she answered, “As do I.”