[Jewl]: 440.Unfinished Novels.Chapter1

Prince Rogin


Prince Rogin scarcely moved his hand to hide the grimace that spread across his
face as he tried his best to stifle a yawn. Lord Bens had been droning on about the price of grain in the north of the kingdom for close to an hour. It was near midday and the yawn was due to boredom rather than fatigue. His father had chosen today to listen to the supplications and complaints of the nobles. An odd choice, thought Rogin, as King Dagor usually heard the pleas on the day after the dark of the moon. Today was a full seven days earlier.
They sat in the smaller, more comfortable room in the palace in Port Avall that the king preferred for these meetings. It was far more comfortable and intimate than the Great Hall where most official functions took place. The king felt that his nobles would be more forthcoming were they closer to him. The Great Houses alone were afforded this courtesy.
Rogin was so bored he did not recall Lord Bens departing and Duke Salwer entering the room.
“Your Majesty, it may seem a small thing to you, but I assure you that the encroachment will continue until we force the issue,” said Duke Salwer. “For now, it is only fish they want. At least so it seems.” Salwer, a large man, was well past his prime and the years wore heavily on his face as well as his waist. He was dressed in the pale blues and sea-greens of the Great House Dornan. Dornan had held Cape Sunbirth, the easternmost point in the kingdom, for generations. His house had been aligned with the King’s since the realm was carved out of the land. Prince Rogin always noted with distaste the contrast of Dornan’s colors to the Black and Gold of his own that draped the room.
“The ships that are wandering into our waters are, without doubt, from Galospire. Since most of our war-fleet is deployed in the Southern sea, I do not have the resources to, uh, inquire firmly enough as to their intentions.They flee at the first sign
of our ships. And they flee rather quickly to be simple trawlers alone.”
The Prince perked up his ears. This was more interesting that the last dispute about grain prices.
King Dagor eyed the Duke carefully. Though trusted, the Duke could be exaggerating these stories of mysterious ships to simply gain more protection for his substantial fleet of fishing vessels. With no threat of war for generations from the realms to the north, Salwer had concentrated on building his ships for profit rather than protection. On the other hand, the threat could be real: Galospire had not had a delegation or presence in Jenecar for months. “How can you be certain they are from our neighbors to the north? If you cannot overtake one of their ships, how do we truly know?”
The duke’s eyes shifted from side to side while he decided how to answer. “Our agents have been sending information back to me from Royalston. Their information confirms the appearance of the strange ships.”
Dagor did not flinch. “I will speak with Lord Admiral Jenson as soon as he returns. He is due back in a fortnight. Is there anything else?”
“No, Your Majesty. I thank you for hearing for me.” The Duke bowed and swept out of the room with his squire in tow.
The king sat quietly for a moment before addressing his son. “What do you think, Rogin?” he asked, shifting his weight in his carved chair, his dark eyes alighting on the Prince.
Rogin had learned long ago that when his father asked him a question, the answer had better be well thought out if not necessarily correct. He was still uncomfortable under that confident, black gaze, however. The king’s eyes were so dark that they were impossible for the Prince to cipher, though Rogin prided himself on being able to read almost anyone else’s face. Another lesson from the king.
His father had ruled this land for 28 years and seen it through one rebellion, several years of famine, guild wars and the ever present skirmishes and threat of war on the western border with Bonnelin. For nearly a century, Bonnelin and Jenecar had been in a state of undeclared peace along the River Mortula, each peering suspiciously at the other over the expanse of water. Fortified ports had turned the riverbank on either side into sheer walls of rock and guarded piers. Each time a merchant ship entered the river from the sea bound for one harbor or another, to say nothing of a warship, tension rose on both sides. Nearly each day, alarm claxons boomed, fires were kindled for flame-arrows and flame-rafts, garrisons were deployed and officers paced nervously along the walls. On several occasions fighting erupted, ships were set ablaze and the countries were pushed to the brink of outright war, the hostilities only to be frantically quenched by fast-talking diplomats who assigned blame to some hot-headed officer. Many a good man had been executed as a cover for starting the violence of their own free will. In truth, no one could say which had been acting out of true duty and which craved the fight.