22nd November 1102

“Good Lord, what a mangled bunch of subjects I have. No don’t get up.”

Though Eallair was laughing when he said it, in truth he did not find it a very funny joke. His men, his friends had brushed a little to close to the creaking path of death and it made him distinctly uncomfortable. Especially since all the while he had been snug and safe in his castle, while his cousin, the Duke went out and did his dirty work for him.

Of course, he would have gone if his cousin had let him. Eallair was no coward. But Lochan had stated it blunt and simple, “If you die what will become of your people? You are their only hope.”

The thing was, Eallair had spent many hours thinking exactly what would happen if he were to perish by some unfortunate circumstance. He had a son, an heir and plenty of brave men, men better than he who would willingly die to protect the line of Branwhuld. He had a compotent cousin who would nimbly step into the role of protector and do a better job as Regent than he ever could. Sometimes he wondered…

“Oi, don’t be calling me mangled Your majesty,” Garrick drawled, “I’m healing. He’s the one who’s freshly mangled. Focus your attention on his floppy arm.”

Lochan squinted over at him with his good eye.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I where you. I wouldn’t call that healing. I would call it scabbing. Not a particularly attractive feature,” he retorted, “Wouldn’t you say Your Highness.”

“Oh for goodness sake, stop your highness and majestying me. You know how I hate it. You both look a complete mess and I wouldn’t go near either of you with a ten foot pole.”

“Ah, but Lochan can’t do this,” Garrick replied with a grin, stretching his arm languorously, “Gosh it feels good to work out those kinks. It was getting a little cramped with all this sitting around.”

“You ninny it’s the other arm.”

“And of course I can do that,” Lochan attempted to stretch out his injured arm, “Ow.”

“See… there, I’m doing it. Stretching and so forth.”

“I bet you can’t do this though,” Eallair crowed cheerfully, raising his arms above his head and waving them wildly in the air.

“There’s the spirit lad,” Garrick guffawed, “Now add some leg movement and you’ve almost got a perfect imitation of that belly dancing lass they brought in from the South. Come on Lochan, your turn.”

Eallair lowered his arms abruptly, gazing in worry at his cousin, “Don’t really do that Lochan. I was just joking.”

“And you better get your feet of the seat Garrick or Maddy will have your hide.”

“And there is nothing more frightening than invoking the wrath of a red haired woman. I…,” Garrick froze mid-sentence, his face contorting in grief.

Eallair stared over at Lochan helplessly as Garrick shuffled over and slumped against the cushions, his legs sprawled.

“I hate to be the serious one, but we really do have important matters to discuss,” Lochan intoned.

Of course, what an easy way to turn an awkward conversation. Why was it that Eallair, a King, could never think of the right thing to say at the right time. Sometimes he did indeed think of the right thing but it was always long after the time and too late to do anything about. But some of the things he would have said would have been very clever.

“What are we going to do about the situation?” Lochan turned and asked him pointedly.

“Which situation in particular where you thinking of?” Eallair replied, hoping that Lochan would take up the lead in the conversation.

“They have not found him yet.”

“Could he really have gotten far. Didn’t you say he wouldn’t be able to travel during the day? I mean, surely he could not have gone far.”

“We can’t underestimate this creature Eallair. He could be anywhere. Already several nights have gone by.”

“Are you really sure we can afford to waste this much manpower on hunting him? Winter is fast approaching and there is a lot of work still to be done. If all the harvest is not stored away we’ll lose many more to starvation than we would to the possibility that he is still out there somewhere,” Garrick said levelly.

“That’s a good point Garrick, we are running so short of people and there is so much still to be done,” Eallair added.

“And what if that creature kills again which he surely will,” Lochan interjected vehemently, “Your wife Garrick. He almost killed your wife. Hurt her, made her bleed. I would think you would have more to say about the matter than I.”

“I don’t like what you are implying Lochan. Of course I care about my wife, I just have a responsibility to the people as well. I know how to separate the two.”

“Gentleman, let us not quarrel. Tell me Lochan, what have they done with the body?”

“She will be buried two days hence. The stonemason is at this very moment working on her tombstone.”

Garrick snorted, “Do you really think she deserves a decent burial. In the churchyard? After what she’s done?”

“She was a good woman. Should she really be punished because some evil creature inhabited her body?” Lochan snapped.

Garrick went quiet again, but thankfully at that very moment there was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” Eallair called out in relief.

“Sir Arwaduhn your majesty,” his steward announced.

He rose hastily to his feet, though he knew he need not. It felt odd however, having this man look down on him. He already felt as though most people did.

“Your majesty, I’ve just come to give latest report.”

“Proceed.”

Eallair knew that Garrick and Lochan were listening. It gave him a great deal of comfort to know that they would not hesitate to give him their opinion, that they would argue over it and debate until at last the best course of action was agreed upon.

His eyes were drawn to the scar that sliced neatly across Cordell’s face. Was he the only one on this damn island without any scars.

“The patrols have looked everywhere within one days walk Your Highness. Unless he has some other talent we are not aware of he is not in the vicinity“.

That was strange. Though he wore it every day Eallair’s wedding ring was suddenly uncomfortable on his finger. He tried stretching out the finger, then bending it to separate the skin momentarily from the metal. That wouldn’t do. He twisted it experimentally. Still not right. He pulled it out as far as his knuckle and then jammed it back to the base. No good.

He realised the room had gone silent. Cordell was waiting for him to say something. He had nothing to say.

“Uh, Your highness. I need to know. Shall we send out some scouting parties further. The weather is taking a turn for the worse so if we are going to take that course of action we will need to do it soon.”

“Yes, yes. Good point. How about you let me think on that for a moment and I’ll have the steward come and fetch you. Perhaps you should go and find something to eat. Yes, good, go down to the kitchen and I’ll send the steward down momentarily.”

“Your majesty,” Cordell bowed shortly and left the room.

Eallair turned to gaze out the window. Outside the weather was grim, rain pouring down the hastily thatched rooves. They had survived one winter. They could do it again.

Behind him Lochan and Garrick began to argue over what to do.

Arwaduhn, Murchadh, Tadhgar, The Royal Family