It went further than that, though. Prince Carpos had foolishly tried to seize Notos for himself with the aid of nearly half the Senate. They thought they could blame Rowland for everything that had happened the previous year, but by defeating the Gorgon's Darklander horde, he was all the more praised as a hero and so the Zephyrian prince's bid to usurp the throne failed before it even started.

Rowland should not have handed Carpos over to Simona. She was too blindly wroth over the Prince's clumsy attempt to have Rowland killed. Even intending to draw out his suffering, she ended up killing him in five days' time. It would have been better to ransom him to the Zephyrians to face their justice, but Scipio's advice was not always heeded.

As Scipio watched Rowland and his lieutenants carousing about the rough-hewn table before the throne, he worried about the future of Notos. Rowland was at a critical juncture. He could lead the nation to a new future of honor and dignity, taking the old kingdom's legacy and surpassing it, or he could let himself be nothing more than a petty warlord and usher in an age of barbarity and savagery. From the beginning, Scipio sought to guide the rebellion, but now it might be out of his hands.

He was watching Simona pour wine for Randwulf, marveling that a creature so old and powerful would serve a human with such dedication, but a woman was a woman no matter the race. Perhaps it was a credit to Rowland that he did not put her away despite the rumors spread by his enemies to sully his name. Then again, her constant presence by his side would not benefit his political aspirations.

His thoughts on the future of Rowland and Notos were disturbed by a servant entering the throne room. He hurried to Rowland and bowed, saying, "A herald from Zephyr, sir."

The servant ignored Baderic and asked Rowland, "Shall I admit him, sir?"

Scipio deemed it wise to step in and said, "You may want to hear what he has to say."

The servant bowed again and went back to the door to admit the Zephyrian herald. He was a military man, unarmed and without armor as a herald must be, who moved stiffly as if he was half made of stone. His curt half-bow was also stiff.

Makkaros, one of the more vulgar of Rowland's lieutenants, scoffed at this, throwing his goblet at the herald and shouting, "Zephyr can reconcile with my arse!"

This earned him guffaws and roars of assent. Rowland seemed to approve of the sentiment, but Scipio knew that it was foolish to brush away a proffered olive branch so unthinkingly. He quietly approached Rowland and said to him, "Captain Rowland, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Although he looked somewhat annoyed by the interruption, he nodded to Scipio and then told his men, "Step outside."

Crude though they were, Rowland's men were obedient to their captain's orders. They left their food and their drink—though few of them grabbed serving wenches—and exited the room. That left Rowland, Simona, Scipio and the Zephyrian herald.

Once the herald was escorted out of the room and it was just the two of them, Rowland leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

Scipio knew he had to choose his words carefully. At very least, Rowland could be counted on to lend an ear to his counsel, but as he got more and more of a taste for power, there was a danger that the captain's ear would turn deaf to him.

Rowland was not unschooled and though he at times made himself appear little more than a brigand, he was after all the heir to a proud line of the old Notian Equestrians.

Scipio recalled the great knot of serpents from the Darklands that came from the sea to work woe on Iakobin and Maranthe. They seemed intent on moving westward.

Rowland took a draught from his cup.

Returning to the subject, Scipio said, "At very least, by hearing them out, you will know what they want and can use it to your advantage."

Rowland sat there swishing around the dregs in the bottom of his cup for a moment before finally saying, "Very well, old man, I'll treat with the girl. Get a scribe in here."

Scipio called in a servant to summon a scribe. The scribe was brought in with servants carrying his little desk and chair. Once he had all the tools of his trade at the ready, Rowland told Scipio, "I'll let you handle the pretty words, old man. If this princess wants to treat with us, she has to come here herself. Not with any 600 men like that bastard Carpos. Her old man seemed to like one hundred. Used it for all the garrisons. That's how many she can bring. I don't want her in the capital either. The less Notian soil darkened by Zephyrian shadows, the better. Kalonis will do. We can meet in the praetorium. No more than ten people inside. No more than four bodyguards. We'll play nice and make the rule apply to both sides."

Scipio then dictated the letter in more diplomatic language than the captain himself would use but without sounding too solicitous. Only a few lines needed to be modified to meet with Rowland's approval. If Scipio did not know Rowland as well as he did, a great deal of parchment might have been wasted on rewrites.

Rowland took the pen and scrawled out a signature, took up a taper from the table to melt the sealing wax and then stamped it with his signet.

Of course a Xotika like Simona could hear through a closed door and so she brought the herald back into the room before one of the servants could go fetch them.

Once the herald got closer, Rowland extended the letter and told him, "We'll treat with your Princess. The time of the meeting will be four months from now, no sooner, no later. The details are in this letter."

The herald accepted the letter with both hands, bowing as he did.

The herald bowed again and left.

While Simona was pouring more wine into Rowland's cup, Scipio told him, "We must work on your social graces if we are to be treating with royalty in four months' time."

Cocksure as ever, Rowland simply grinned and raised his cup.

As Rowland drained his cup, Scipio knew that little could be farther from the truth, but it was not prudent to give word to all thoughts.