"Go to Entel, Abbot Olin. Speak with the pirate fleet we used to secure Entel from Danube. Duke Bretherford will support you with several warships. Gather enough of an army together, not to crush Behren, but to convince those scrambling for power there that you are the necessary alternative to the chaos that now grips their land. Our coffers are deep with gemstones."
Before De'Unnero could argue further, which he obviously meant to do, Abbot Olin voiced his intrigue. "Could this be possible?" he asked, his eyes verily glowing.
Aydrian and everyone else spent a few moments studying the man. It was no secret in Honce-the-Bear that Abbot Olin of St. Bondabruce in Entel favored Behren, perhaps even over Honce-the-Bear. The reason this senior Abellican abbot had been defeated by Fio Bou-raiy in the last election for Father Abbot of the Church was his close association with Chezru Chieftain Yakim Douan and the Behrenese people. To the Abellicans, Olin had always been a bit too comfortable with the southern kingdom.
And now here was Aydrian, hinting that the southern kingdom might be his.
"More than possible, it is likely," Aydrian assured the eager man.
"Understand, Abbot Olin, that you will come to Jacintha as a friend, and more than that, as a savior. The Yatol priests will follow you because you will bring them the security they have lost with the downfall of the Chezru Chieftain and the chaos it has created among the flock. And because you will pay them - they are a greedy lot!"
"Not all will abandon the way of Chezru," Abbot Olin warned.
"But enough will to marginalize the others, and you will have enough power at your disposal to... well, to dispose of those who prove most troublesome. I expect that Jacintha will be yours, my friend Abbot Olin, and very quickly. And from there, I have no doubt that you will spread your influence and spiritual kingdom, and my secular kingdom, in rapid manner."
Aydrian looked away from Olin, to the others. De'Unnero was staring at him blankly, trying to absorb it all, obviously, while Duke Kalas was just shaking his head, his expression still doubtful.
"Fear not, Duke Kalas, for Abbot Olin's press to the south will take little of your resources from the duties of securing the main prize, the kingdom of Honce-the-Bear," Aydrian remarked. "He will use part of the mercenary armies that brought us to Ursal, and not the professional armies of the kingdom." He looked back to Olin. "You go there offering friendship and support above all else."
"And it will be an honest offer," Abbot Olin replied.
"Indeed," said Aydrian, "as long as they ultimately agree to the rule of King Aydrian Boudabras."
Olin's face darkened for just a moment, but then he grinned, and replied, "Of course."
He hugged her and he held on for a long, long time. For Bishop Braumin Herde there was usually no more welcome sight than Jilseponie Wyndon, his dear and trusted friend, the woman who had led him through the fires of Bestesbulzibar and the hellish swirl of the rosy plague.
This day, though, the sight of Jilseponie tore at the man's heart more than it elevated him. In all his years beside her, even during the plague, Braumin had only once seen Jilseponie this downtrodden, and that after the death of her beloved Elbryan. And aside from his fear for his wounded friend, the mere fact that she was here, and not sitting as queen of Honce-the-Bear, set off alarms in his head that many of the rumors creeping up the river might well be true.
"We have word of the death of King Danube," remarked Brother Marlboro Viscenti, standing across the room from the hugging pair. "Truly I am sorry."
Jilseponie, her face streaked with tears once again, moved back from Braumin. "It was Aydrian," she tried to explain, though their looks told her plainly that these two had no idea of who Aydrian truly might be.
"Aydrian Boudabras," said Braumin. "Yes, the proclamation has come up the Masur Delaval that this young man is now king of Honce-the-Bear, though what that means for us all we do not yet know. I have never heard him mentioned in the royal line."
"There are other rumors," Viscenti started to add, but Braumin waved his hand to silence the man.
Jilseponie, though, steadied herself and looked back at the thin and always nervous Viscenti. "Rumors of a change in St. Honce, one that shall spread throughout your church," she said.