Kalas and so many of the other Ursal noblemen, but he had found no answers. He wished that he had been there on that fateful day, to witness the events. Perhaps then he might be more willing to embrace this young king and the promises the other nobles were whispering. Perhaps then he might be able to place Prince Midalis in a different light. Perhaps then... Bretherford looked over at the small table set beside his bed, at the nearly empty bottle and the glass beside it.
He brought that glass in close, swirling it around, getting lost in the golden tan liquid.
Then he swallowed the whiskey in one gulp and moved to pour another, but a knock on his door stopped him short.
"What'd'ye want?" the tired man called.
How he changed his tone and his demeanor when the door pushed open and King Aydrian walked in! "My King," Bretherford blurted before he could even consider the words.
He scrambled about and ran a hand through his thin hair. "I am not ready to receive - "
"Be at ease, my good duke," said Aydrian, and he stepped in and closed the door behind him. "I desire no protocol here. I have come to ask a favor."
Bretherford stared at him dumbfounded. The king of Honce-the-Bear asking a favor? "This has all come so quickly," Aydrian remarked, and he saw himself to a chair across from Bretherford's bed, and waved for Bretherford to remain seated when the man finally composed himself enough to try to stand and salute.
"You know that Abbot Olin has departed for Entel?" Aydrian asked.
"I suspect that he is well on his way, yes."
"Do you know where he will go from there?"
"Jacintha," said Bretherford, and Aydrian nodded.
"This is a dangerous mission," said the young king. "The Behrenese are not to be taken lightly. They present potentially formidable opposition, though I know that Honce-the-Bear will never again see as clear an opportunity as we have right now to strengthen our ties to our southern neighbor."
To conquer her, you mean, Bretherford thought, but he kept his face expressionless.
"Abbot Olin has a great fleet at his command, but he must coordinate its movements with the movements of a land army, as well," Aydrian explained.
"It will be a daunting task, I fear, and with my attention now so obviously needed along the Masur Delaval, Abbot Olin will find little support from Ursal."
Duke Bretherford couldn't help but narrow his eyes with suspicion.
"Of course, the fleet at Abbot Olin's command is not - how shall I say this delicately? - conventional."
"Pirates and vagabonds," Bretherford dared to say. "The same dogs I have chased along the southern stretches of our coastline for years."
"Better to harness the dogs, eh?" Aydrian asked.
Bretherford was hardly convinced of that, and so he didn't reply.
"Better if I could spare the Ursal fleet, I agree," Aydrian remarked.
"But Palmaris may not be so welcoming, and then there is the not-so- little matter of St.-Mere-Abelle, and Pireth Tulme, Pireth Dancard, and Pireth Vanguard after that."
"It is ambitious," Bretherford remarked, hoping that the sarcasm in his voice would not be so evident as to have Aydrian execute him.
"It is necessary," Aydrian corrected. "As is our pursuit of the heart of Behren, at this time. And it is attainable - all of it! But I fear that I may have distributed the able leaders at my command errantly here - of course, I had little knowledge of the dukes and commanders before decisions had to be made."
"You wish me to sail to Entel?" Bretherford asked skeptically.
"I cannot spare the ships it would require for you to safely make such a journey," Aydrian explained. "I wish you to ride to Entel."
"To what end?" Bretherford asked, and he rose from the bed, holding his arms out wide. "If the fleet remains on the Masur Delaval, then what am I to do..."
"Abbot Olin has warships of his own," Aydrian explained. "I need you there, my good duke. I need you to go and join with Abbot Olin, to take command of his seagoing operations. The delicacy of this situation cannot be overstated, and as such, I need the most experienced commanders I can find supporting Abbot Olin."
Duke Bretherford could hardly spit out a response. King Aydrian was saying it so cleverly, but what he was really doing here was placing Bretherford out of the main picture and off to the side.
"My King," the duke finally replied, "you speak of Abbot Olin's fleet, but in truth they are but a ragtag group of