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“The six battles that united the Realm,” Captain Smolen said “Painted by Master Benril Lenial It took him over three years”

Vaelin res in Aspect Elera’s rooms, the fine detail hich each was rendered, the way the exposed viscera seemed to come out of the parchment He saw none of the saht but not vibrant, the battling warriors clearly depicted but stilted so in a pose

“Not his best is it?” Captain Smolen commented “He was commanded to it, you see I suspect he had little love for his subject Have you ever seen his fresco in the Great Library co the victi”

“I’ve never seen the Great Library,” Vaelin replied, thinking Captain Smolen would probably find much in common with Caenis

“You should, it’s a credit to the Realm I’ll need your weapons”

Vaelin unclipped his cloak with the four throwing knives secured within its folds, unbuckled his sword, unhooked his hunting knife froer froer “Alpiran?”

“I don’t know, I took it fro for you here” Smolen laid his weapons out on a nearby table “No-one will touch them” With that he moved to a bare patch of wall and pushed, a section of the wall swinging inwards revealing a dark stairwell “Follow the stairs to the top”

“He’s in there?” Vaelin asked He had expected to be led to a throne room or audience cha”

Vaelin nodded his thanks and entered the stairwell Oil laloo when Smolen closed the door behind him As instructed he climbed the stairs, the fall of his boots on the stone steps loud in the confined space The door at the top was slightly ajar, outlined in bright laht from the room beyond It creaked loudly when Vaelin pushed it open but the man seated at the desk before him didn’t look up He sat crouched over a roll of parch a spidery script in its wake The man was old, in his sixties, but still broad in the shoulder, his long hair hung over his face, once red it was now grey but still had a faint tinge of copper He wore a plain shirt of white linen, the sleeves stained with ink, his only adornht hand, a signet ring bearing the sy to one knee

The King raised his left hand,at a nearby chair His quill didn’t stop on the parchh with books and scrolls He hesitated then carefully gathered the down

He waited

The only sound in the roo’s quill Vaelin wondered if he should speak again but so told him it was best to keep silent Instead he surveyed the rooht Aspect Elera’s room to have been the ’s roo nearly to the ceiling In between the stacks were boxes of scrolls, soe The only decoration in the rooe map of the Realm above the fireplace, its surface partly covered with short notations in a spidery script Oddly some of the notations ritten in red ink and others black Down one edge of the map was a list of some kind, each iteh in red It was a long list

“You have your father’s face but your aze snapped back to the King He had laid his quill aside and reclined in his chair His green eyes were bright and shrewd in his craggy, weathered face Vaelin found he couldn’t stop his eyes straying to the livid red scars on the King’s neck, the legacy of his childhood brush with the Red Hand

“Highness?” he stammered

“Your father was clever in the ways of war but in s I have to say he was as dumb as a rock YourYou had her look just nohen you were looking at ratified to know you held such a high opinion of her, Highness”

The King raised an eyebrow “Don’t flatter me, boy I have servants aplenty for that Besides, you’re no good at it In that, at least, you are like your father”