A Fray of Four Fiefs

Artwork by Winston Coady

Chapter One: Where Five Paths Meet

In many a corner could be found the King Alfon Alderstar of the Four Fiefs of Athemor: perhaps pondering wisely upon the seat of his throne, or orating a powerful speech from atop the Royal Rostrum of Cliffenheim; feasting in great halls laden with goblets of mead, conceivably, or gazing upon the four realms he had so nobly made one. Though, in the winter following this unification of the Kingdom of Athemor, the elf could be found only poring feverishly over heaps of old scrolls.

It was the eve during which Alfon would reveal his discoveries, though to only the most trusted souls he knew—and in the kingdom’s most protected, most abundant center of literature. First came his queen, Embla, through the doors of the Crestwood Royal Library—where it seemed even the books and scrolls bowed to her in honor of the library’s very namesake: Queen Embla Crestwood and her father, Fraxinus. These two nobles had been the first humans ever to shelter an elf in Cliffenheim—secretly—when Alfon Alderstar arrived in the city as a spy traveling between Cliffenheim and his elven homeland of Súnimanta. This was before he, along with the siblings Odin and Hilda Wrenstone—the library’s next visitors—had met by chance in the ancient shrine of Tamikúmu long ago and discovered the treachery of Cliffenheim’s former Berg dynasty.

And this eve, striding shoulder-to-shoulder through the library, Alfon’s two most devoted advisors now rushed merrily into their gracious lord’s embrace. Both Odin and Hilda, of course, were dying to know: “How are the little angels?”

“Such joys!” Embla cheered. “I can see already a royal future for the tots!”

“Mere inches from the throne!” the king chuckled. “Where are Little Alfon and Alfwyn now?”

“I sent my father to give them a bath.”

“Splendid. Then, we await one last visitor.”

Hardly had he spoken when through the doors came a tall, nobly-dressed young man smiling at them with a narrow mouth beneath sharp cheekbones and eyes that seemed to express more than he said. All four bowed at his arrival, and thus spoke Alfon: “Greetings, Prince Inwid Ofurling, son of Duke Vassal-lord Felsen, heir of Ofurburnin and the Duchy of Ostenfeud! Much have we all to discuss during this hour, though perhaps for Your Highness I may bear the most important message of all!”

There was intrigue in the eyes of Embla and the Wrenstones, though—as Alfon noticed—a puzzled expression as well. Clearing his throat, the king announced: “I suppose you three wish for an explanation as to why His Highness has graced us so with a visit!”

Artwork by Winston Coady

Chapter Two: A Five-Thousand-Coin Order

“Ever since the day when archaeologists began marching into the ancient halls of Tamikúmu,” Alfon explained, “Prince Inwid Ofurling has managed the temple’s excavation with precision that could open new doors for the future of the Four Fiefs.” The elf’s voice echoed across stonemasoned walls and between rows of book-laden shelves immeasurable in both height and vastness. “His noble leadership and frequent meetings with me have led to discoveries of ancient Kananti literature that may prove to be more influential than Jasifi’s Scroll itself.”

An awed silence fell over them all. There was a glint in the listeners’ eyes akin to the shimmer of a jewel.

“Jasifi’s Scroll,” Embla uttered under her breath. “The scroll that toppled a dynasty. Brought death to a tyrant, and peace to a kingdom. The scroll that named you king of Cliffenheim.”

Alfon smiled. “To unearth buried wisdom and elven prophecies… we could heal the enmity that remains in Athemor. We could expose this fiend they call the Rallier… this terrorist who led the raid on Eselenor that fateful night months ago. That night when the last lord of the Iselon dynasty was assassinated, and when…” His voice faltered. A tear could be seen sliding from the elf’s eye. “When they took my sister’s life as well.”

The story was known already to them all. Alfon’s nephew, Keloras, had washed up at dawn on the banks of the Athemor River near Cliffenheim. Embla, walking along the bank as if led by fate, had drawn him out of the water. Shivering, half-drowned, grief-stricken, nearly unconscious… all the young elf could utter was: “My mother’s gone.”

“No,” Embla had told him, “she’s still with you, Keloras, still a part of everything she passed on to you. And still there is no shortage of those who care deeply for you.”

“A son you shall be to me,” Alfon had declared upon the eve of that day. “A third child of mine. And I shall be your father. The bond between us shall be far stronger than any mere uncle-nephew relationship.”

“Súnimanta was in ruins after that night,” Inwid murmured. “Leaderless, wary of men, famished… until you made that dying kingdom a fief, led from thence by none other than Lord Keloras. And it wasn’t long before all four lands became one. Cliffenheim, Súnimanta, the Northlands… and, finally, the Ostenfeud.”

“Why, Inwid,” Hilda Wrenstone inquired, “did Ofurburnin pass its territory so readily beneath Cliffenheim’s crown?”

A silence followed for the next moment. Then: “I never quite understood my father’s decision. Perhaps he feared a kingdom once held by man was stumbling too quickly into elven control, and wished to become one with the rule of Athemor. Or perhaps there’s more to it than he’s made plain.”

“Alfon,” spoke Odin Wrenstone, “what think you of these tidings I’ve heard tell, these news of the Súnimanti’s urge to reclaim their homeland?”

“A fine question,” the king replied, “and one that demands faster restoration of Tamikúmu. What will happen when an influx of elves is crammed into the forest of Kananta, where every footstep will leave a mark on the already fragile land?” Alfon cleared his throat. “I’ve made up my mind to grant five thousand golden coins towards the haste of the Ofurburnish excavation.”

The king’s gaze passed from the appalled Wrenstones and Embla to the beaming prince. As Inwid rose from his seat, an uncontainable ecstasy seemed to twist his smile like a river’s bend. “My gracious lord, Your Majesty’s generosity will not be in vain.”

Alfon rose slowly to his feet, smiling at the prince. “Meeting dismissed!” His booming voice echoed across the chamber.

Stay tuned for more of the story…