new king was aided in his ascent by your own Abbot Olin," Jilseponie confirmed. Then she paused and took a deep breath. "And by Marcalo De'Unnero."
"Curse the name!" Bishop Braumin cried, and Master Viscenti stood there trembling, wincing repeatedly with his nervous tic.
"How has this happened?" asked Braumin, and he moved away from Jilseponie, stalking across the room. "How did this come about without warning? A young man, unheard of, suddenly proclaimed king? There is no sense in this! What claim might Aydrian Boudabras hold to the throne of Honce-the-Bear?"
"He is my son," Jilseponie said quietly, though if she had shouted it, if she had brought in a thousand people to shout it, it would not have struck Bishop Braumin and Master Viscenti any more profoundly.
"Your son?" Viscenti echoed incredulously.
"He is but a child?" Abbot Braumin asked. "You bore King Danube a babe? Why did we not - "
"He is a young man," Jilseponie corrected. "The son of Jilseponie and Elbryan."
Both monks stood dumbfounded, Viscenti shaking his head and Braumin just staring at Jilseponie, trying to find some reason in this unbelievable turn.
"How is that possible?" the bishop of Palmaris finally managed to ask.
"The child I thought lost on the field outside of this very city was not lost," Jilseponie explained. "He was taken away and raised in secret by..."
She paused and shook her head.
"And now corrupted by De'Unnero and Olin, to the doom of us all,"
reasoned Viscenti.
"So it may prove," Bishop Braumin answered, when it was apparent that Jilseponie would not. "And Duke Kalas and the armies have thrown in with this phony king? It seems impossible! What of Prince Midalis? Surely he will not stand idly by while this pretender to the throne dismantles his brother's kingdom, and the Abellican Church, as well!"
"Prince Midalis may go against him, but he will not win," Jilseponie said, her voice becoming little more than a whisper.
"Many will rally to him!" Viscenti declared, and he shook his fist in the air. "The throne of Honce-the-Bear is not one simply to be stolen, nor is the Abellican Church a willing victim of such treachery! Abbot Olin will be thrown out in disgrace! And Marcalo De'Unnero - we should have burned that fool at the stake years ago. I can hardly believe that he is even still alive! Like the demon dactyl, he is! Unending evil!"
"Surely Aydrian's claim to the throne is tenuous, at best," Bishop Braumin reasoned, all the while patting the master's hands to try to calm the volatile Viscenti, who had not been well of late and had been warned by the healers to try to remain calm - something that was surely against the man's instincts! "His claim is enough so that the general populace will accept him," said Jilseponie. "It is enough so that the nobles who were not in Danube's favor at the end have the excuse to embrace him. Aydrian came to Ursal with an army at the ready, and once the throne was taken, he only added to that army with Danube's own soldiers." She looked at Bishop Braumin with sincere sympathy, and slowly shook her head. "He has Ursal, and will sweep through Palmaris, long before Prince Midalis can organize and offer any aid to you, should you choose to oppose Aydrian. Of that much I am sure. And allies will not be easily found, especially here in the southwestern reaches of Honce-the-Bear, so dominated by Ursal and the corrupt dukes. The common folk will welcome Aydrian because to do otherwise would mean doing battle against him, and that, they have not the power to do."
"The Church will not succumb to the threats of a usurper and his treacherous cronies!" Bishop Braumin declared. "Palmaris will offer resistance to this King Aydrian, and St. Precious will never open her doors to him, or for Marcalo De'Unnero and the traitor, Abbot Olin."
"You would pit your city against the legions of Ursal?" Jilseponie quietly asked, and her words stole more than a little of Braumin's bluster. Palmaris was no minor city, and its garrison was strong and deep and well seasoned. But they would be no match for the Allheart Knights and the thousands of soldiers of Ursal.
"For the city, I... I do not know," Braumin admitted, but the helpless shake of his head didn't last for long and the fires quickly returned to his dark eyes. "But on my life, I vow that neither Aydrian nor the cursed De'Unnero will enter this abbey, unless they are dragged