The Autumn Isles controlled all passing into Torgain, Rowanok and through the Western sea. They did this by having a gigantic gorge named the Farandor running through the whole country, the only way to cross from Torgain to Rowanok and vice versa was to use one of the nine bridges of Farandor spread out along the gorge. The gorge itself ran into the sea and had enough span for ten ships to sail comfortably beside each other. Dondoras guarded its coast aggressively, denying sailors passage. And further beyond Dondoras was Corsair territory which no-one lived to tell of. so, every sailor wishing to pass had to pay a tariff to sail through Farandor gorge, which made the Autumn Isles an extremely wealthy land with deep connections to other countries. Eight of the bridges of Farandor had their own Liege Lord commanding them. The ninth in the centre was the largest and hosted the monarchs of the Autumn Isles.

Castle Chryseum was a massive edifice of shining white marble, it was built into the bridge itself and had been the home of countless Kings and Queens of the Autumn Isles. It was built with eight magnificent towers. the silent tower was the traditional tower of the king's and queens. The whispering tower was kept empty for guests. The lord's tower hosted the council chambers and lodgings for any lords of the Autumn Isles. The radiant tower was the chambers for the children or heir to the Autumn Isles. The pale tower was the prisoners tower. The moon tower was the armoury, so named because of the way the moon shone on the stone walls at night. The water tower housed the food stores and the largest, the knight's tower contained the dining hall.

King Nuron was currently waiting at the entrance hall of the knight's tower, it contained three floors, the entrance hall, the kitchens and at the top the dining hall. He watched as Lukurn and Silva walked arm-in-arm up the wide, velvet-carpeted stairs to the dining hall. It had been one week since Randor Elwood and his daughter arrived at Castle Chryseum, one week of carefully laid planning masked by polite indifference. Randor and Lukurn had just concluded a three-day hunt in Horoth woods, the fruits of their labour were to be served at the dinner tonight. It had been a casually suggested occasion but one meticulously planned by Nuron and Randor to bring their heirs together. Nuron didn't enjoy manipulating his son but it was for the good of Autumn Isles and anyway, Silva Elwood wasn't a terribly bad trap to be drawn into.

Nuron was currently waiting on the arrival of Lady Frera of Dawnbridge. She had lost her husband to a well-placed arrow from the Cranak corsair uprising thirty years ago and had been one of many suitors that consistently pressed Nuron for his marriage. But however beautiful the bride and however tempting the dowry, Nuron was stubborn over his widower status and refused every offer he had been given. A similarity shared by Randor who had lost his own wife to a forest fire long ago. Nuron composed himself as Lady Frera entered, "My lady, how beautiful you look tonight. That gown outshines the stars themselves." He said graciously, offering his arm. She accepted it with a dazzling smile and proceeded to walk up the lush green carpeted stairs. "My king, I must say, you're much too charming to stay bereaved forever." She gave a flirtatious smile. He smiled also and inclined his head

"It is kind of you to say so my lady," They reached the gilded timber doors, thrown open to receive the diners. Four long tables were spread out in parallel rows, richly decorated coverings held dishes of every sort. The ceiling was a myriad of scripted gold, labradorite and crystal, garnet crusted lanterns threw patterned light across the room. The fifth table at the end of the hall was draped in a shimmering turquoise shroud and hosted Nuron, Randor, Lukurn, Silva and two of the visiting lords. Nuron lowered himself into his wood carved throne at the centre of the table and surveyed the diners with tired, wary eyes. Randor was on his left and Lukurn was on his right as befitting his status as heir. Nuron was glad that Randor was between him and Lady Frera. While Nuron had been a widower for fifty years he grew tired of constantly being on guard to elude the less-than-subtle hints visiting suitors had bombarded him with.

The dinner comprised of eight courses, four of which were supplied by the recent hunt. Lukurn was talking animatedly to Princess Silva, a vivid re-enactment of the hunt which surprisingly Silva could converse easily about. They seemed to be getting on well, a genius stroke of Randor's was to initiate a hunt. It gave a perfect opportunity for Silva, an avid hunter herself, and Lukurn to discover a way to spend time together. Nuron fingered his jewelled chalice thoughtfully, staring into the gently bubbling golden liquid inside. It was a new arrival, from Harrwin docks, they called it 'The Gold Delight'. A trading ship from the south of Dondoras had brought ten kegs, one each for the liege lords of the Farandor and two for the king. A strange tasting liquid, tart and sweet enough to be a delicacy for children but strong enough that four chalices could get the grimmest Euralias roaring drunk. The sparkling texture was also peculiar, to imbue a liquid with such gurgling had never been done before. Nuron knew for a fact that Lord Nyrid of the seventh bridge of Farandor had offered his weight in gold to the brewer who knew the secret to the succulent mystery.

He was disturbed from his pondering by Randor rising out of his seat and gently pinging his spoon against his own chalice of 'The Gold Delight'. His normally cloudy, vacant eyes were crinkled in a smile, the coloured lantern light reflected in their depths. "I must make a toast, to house Solis! May they rule the Autumn Isles for generations to come!" The guests nodded and clapped politely, "And to house Elwood! May we and house Solis be united as allies for all time!" This received a more enthusiastic clap. "Thank you." Randor said before sitting back down. Was he drunk? Nuron thought as he watched Randor laughing with Lady Frera, a glazed happiness in his eyes. Lukurn and Silva exchanged politely bemused expressions before returning to their hotly debated topic of how best to kill a Duskgrazer.

Nuron was growing tired of the constant chatter and the tinted lights were, not for the first time, making his eyes drowsy. He stood up, excusing himself and thanking Randor for the speech. He made his way down the stairs where he passed Lord Pendish, who wished him a goodnight which Nuron returned as courteously as befitted him. The cool breeze and dull evening light was a blessing after the dining hall. As he made his way along the close-cut paving slabs Nuron stopped at the statue in the middle of the square. It depicted Yronwyn, the god of nature and the Euralias most revered deity. The statue showed him raising his long staff and birthing the wind, an impressive edifice that was built so any wind made a whistling noise through the carefully made cracks and lines in the staff. Nuron sighed as he beheld the golden figure. Nature was always changing, as were the portrayals of Yronwyn. His counsellors had been advising him for years to change the statue to fit the people's whims but Nuron would not alter his father's favourite work.

He made his way back up the silent tower, the dusk light flashing on the convoluted marble steps. His servants had lit the candles in his bedchamber, the large hearth too. They must stop that, Nuron thought as he undressed, light is all I require this time of year, not warmth. His bed greeted him like a long-lost friend, embracing him in dreamless soundless sleep. The silent tower had earned its name well.

I need to ban that damned liquid, was Nuron's only thought in the early hours of morning. One more sip and I would have confessed love for Lady Frera, demanded war with Rowanok and started a drunken brawl. As soon as we find the secret for that bubbling poison I'll burn the recipe and outlaw it. He clutched his throbbing head, his gummy eyes blinked feverishly against the rays of the bright dawn. And while I'm at it, I need to ban: feasts, the sun, mornings, drink, lovers and every damn keg of wine! It was not normal for Nuron to be so bitter on a fine morning, but it was not normal for two chalices of wine to be so, destructive. The pounding of his head however, did not excuse him to lie in the silent tower like a moping child. He dressed and washed his face with a dash of rosewater left in a bowl on his side table. Clad in a robe of blue silk with his golden crown nestled in his brown hair, he felt better, complete, a ruler. He made his way back to the dining hall. Now the lanterns were dimmed and the windows thrown open, bathing the room in a rosy glow. He took his seat beside Silva; Randor and Lukurn had not arrived. "Did you sleep well my lady?" He asked, helping himself to an array of fruit laid before him. She smiled wryly, "I believe I will not wish to try this 'Gold Delight' again."

"I may join you, my head still aches, though I only imbibed two chalices."

"Two too many." Randor said, seating himself by his daughter. He looked seriously at Nuron, "I hope I did not... embarrass myself last night." He said the words carefully, Nuron knew his anxiety over public opinion. "Do not worry my lord, a few drunken toasts will not have you banished from my halls. Though I did leave early, I cannot speak for what you may have done after." Nuron replied with a carefree tone.

"Relax father, nothing was amiss." Silva added.

"Prince Lukurn?" Randor asked, looking pointedly at Nuron.

"I do not know." Nuron answered truthfully. The diners from last night steadily drifted in to break their fast, some wore pained expressions that spoke volumes of what they had been drinking the night before. "My King," It was a bedraggled Euralias that spoke, Nuron didn't not recognise him from the night before. The elf was almost bent with exhaustion and his scraggily brown hair covered the insignia sewn into his jacket. "Yes?" Nuron replied, it was obvious enough that he was addressing him, not King Randor. "Your Grace, I have ridden day and night from Fort Harrwin. Queen Serein has entered the Farandor. She and her barge will arrive within the fortnight." He spoke in short, gasping sentences. Nuron smiled and motioned at one of his stewards, "Yaran, see that-" he looked pointedly at the messenger

"Farav, your grace."

"See that Farav is given food, drink and a room. It has been a long journey." His steward nodded and motioned at Farav to follow him, which he did; slowly. "So many visitors," Nuron mused, he snapped his fingers at one of the many servants. "Inform our cooks we will require a feast."

"If it please your grace." The young servant squeaked "When will the feast be?"

"Hopefully, a fortnight."

"Of course, your grace." The boy hurried off. Nuron finished eating and excused himself for a walk, Randor followed. "So, it begins." He said.

"Yes." Nuron sat at a small table set in the centre of the flamboyantly garlanded gardens. Randor lowered himself opposite, looking intently at Nuron. "We must be careful, one misstep-."

"I know." Nuron answered,

"You don't sound very wary." Randor's voice had an edge.

"I have been sitting on my crystal seat for far too long, entertaining guests and drinking wine. The dance we must do will be perilous. But it will be worth it, in the end." Nuron waved at a passing servant, "Water, for me and King Randor."

"As you wish, Your graces." The Euralias nodded at both of them before walking away.

"Water?" Randor asked sceptically "I believe it's the first time I've seen you drink something other than wine."

"Times change, as we know all too well." Nuron watched Randor's expression, it stayed blank. "My king," Nuron looked up. It was Harnen, an Euralias of almost nine-hundred years of age, old by most standards; he served at Castle Chryseum as a healer and advisor. His voice trembled and it was evident he had rushed there in great agitation. "It's Prince Lukurn sire, he has succumbed to illness." Nuron stood up at once, he grimaced at Randor "Do not worry, hurry to him." Randor said. Nuron followed Harnen, his azure cloak swishing behind him. Randor stayed the chair by the table and accepted a crystal chalice filled with water, the servant looked nervously at Nuron's empty seat before walking off. Randor sipped at the water and couldn't help smiling. Not long left, not long at all. He drained it and carelessly dropped it on the floor, the glass crunched under his feet. So beautiful, so dainty, yet so delicate. An iron chalice would have been more durable but everything can be crushed, Randor thought to himself as he left the garden. All it ever took was time, and he had plenty.

Author's note:

How did you like this chapter? Starting to gather... Suspicions? Please vote if you enjoyed it and want to have more! I'm currently releasing a chapter a day while I am ahead but that'll most likely change later on.