When Dareios Falls

The solution presented itself in the form of a harried kitchen master outside the castle's service entrance, loudly bemoaning his shortage of serving staff.

"...and with King Aldric's retinue expecting proper service, we're stretched thinner than parchment," the man was saying to a gathered crowd of local workers.

"I need six more hands for tonight's formal session, and I need them experienced," he shouted to his assistant.

Kaerith stepped forward. "I've served in noble households," she lied smoothly, changing her accent slightly.

"I know how to be invisible when required."

The kitchen master looked her up and down, taking in her modest but clean appearance. "References?"

"I traveled up from Millbrook," she replied, naming a village small enough that he couldn't easily verify her claim.

"Served in Lord Garrett's household for three years before the harvest failures forced him to reduce staff," she continued.

It was a plausible story—economic hardship forcing servants to seek work elsewhere was common enough. The man's expression softened slightly.

"Know how to pour wine without spilling it?" he interrogated.

"Yes, sir," she replied immediately.

"Keep your mouth shut and your eyes down?" he warned sternly.

"Of course," she said, nodding frantically. 

He sighed, clearly desperate.

"Fine. Be back here at sunset. Dark dress, clean apron, hair covered. You'll be working the gallery service, serving wine and small plates to the observers. Pay is two silvers for the evening."

Kaerith nodded gratefully and withdrew, her heart racing. She'd gained access to the very room where King Aldric would be conducting his 'negotiations'.

The hours until sunset crawled by. She purchased suitable clothing from a local seamstress, found a room at the Peaceful Hearth, and tried to calm her nerves by reviewing what to do.

Get into the hall, check. Listen in on what Aldric's true plans were: was he seeking allies for the war, or was the meeting truly a 'peace mission,' whatever that meant? What kingdoms were present?

Simple enough in theory. In practice, she was walking into a place of ancient magic that could possibly reveal true intentions, surrounded by magic users of varying strengths, to spy on a king who perhaps just wanted to talk about trading crops.

She sighed. Easy enough, she just had to keep her magic in check. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

When sunset finally arrived, she presented herself at the castle's service entrance dressed as a serving woman. The kitchen master barely glanced at her before assigning her to the gallery rotation.

"You'll be serving the Council members and their guests," he explained, handing her a tray of delicate wine glasses.

"Up the servant's stair, through the hidden door behind the tapestry. Keep the glasses full, the plates cleared, and whatever you hear up there stays up there. Understand?" He asked, half his attention on her.

She nodded.

"Good," he answered and immediately went around ordering other servants.

She followed his directions up a narrow stone staircase that led to the gallery.

The space was exactly as she'd hoped—a balcony running along three walls of the great audience chamber, screened by carved wooden panels that allowed those within to observe without being seen.

Already, several figures were seated in the gallery's comfortable chairs—Emperors of faraway kingdoms, wealthy farmers, merchants, she guessed, and perhaps a few nobles. The kind of people who sought to benefit from trade, or maybe ally for the war?

The audience chamber below was impressive in its understated elegance. No weapons adorned the walls, no banners proclaimed allegiance to any single kingdom.

Instead, murals depicting scenes of peace and prosperity decorated the space, while soft light from hundreds of candles created an atmosphere more suited to diplomacy than intimidation.

At the chamber's center sat a circular table where five figures were already seated—the Council of Greiholld, she assumed.

They were an eclectic group:

an elderly woman with silver hair and a long, draping white dress,

a middle-aged man whose dark skin and elaborate robes spoke of southern kingdoms,

a sharp-faced woman who might have been Kaerith's own age,

a portly gentleman with the soft hands of someone who'd never done manual labor,

and a figure so androgynous she couldn't determine gender or approximate age.

As she moved among the gallery's occupants, refilling wine glasses and offering small savory pastries, the great doors of the audience chamber opened.

Aldric entered with a small retinue—no more than six people, all dressed in travel-stained but well-made clothing. No crowns, no ceremonial armor, no apparent displays of wealth or power. He looked, Kaerith realized with surprise, like any other successful merchant or minor lord.

Except for his bearing. Even dressed simply, in this place that supposedly stripped away pretense, there was something about the way he moved that spoke of absolute confidence. Not arrogance—confidence.

The difference was subtle but unmistakable.

He was younger than she'd expected, perhaps only a few years older than herself, with dark hair and the kind of face that would be called handsome in any kingdom.

But it was his eyes that caught her attention as he approached the Council table. They were alert, intelligent. Green? 

"Your Majesties," the elderly woman at the Council table said, addressing the room.

"Welcome to Greiholld. I am Councilor Meredith, speaking for the neutral territory. We are honored by your presence." Her voice carried clearly to every corner, magic visibly shimmering around her as she spoke

She turned to Aldric,

"Welcome." She greeted politely.

"The honor is mine, Councilor," Aldric replied, his voice carrying clearly to the gallery above.

'No magic needed,' Kaerith grinned to herself.

"I come seeking wisdom and, I hope, lasting peace."

'So far, so good,' Kaerith thought. No mention of gaining allies or backing. Hopefully, this was an uneventful and boring meeting about lettuce. 

"Please, be seated," Councilor Meredith started.

"We understand you come with proposals regarding the current... tensions... between Vaelthorne and its.... neighbors," she continued.

Aldric took his seat at the table, his retinue arranging themselves behind him.

"I do. Though I fear my proposal may not be what some expect." Aldric said.

The sharp-faced woman on the Council leaned forward. "Oh? How so, Your Majesty?"

"Because I come not to seek allies, or make negotiations about trade or business." He continued, his eyes slowly finding the nobles, farmers, and merchants.

The words hit Kaerith. She gripped the serving tray tighter, her mind reeling. 'If not trade, or allies? then what?"

His eyes rested on, from what Kaerith could make out, King Varezhan of Thaloré?. Interesting, very interesting indeed.

He ruled a considerably small nation, and they were the definition of small but mighty. But of course, they wouldn't be strong enough to beat Vaelthorne or even create a dent in her father's army. she grinned proudly.

Why did Aldric's gaze linger coldly on him, though? 

"Explain," the dark-skinned Councilor said.

Aldric's hands rested calmly on the table as he spoke.

"For months now, I've received reports of unprecedented troop buildups along our borders. Supply lines are being reinforced for what appears to be a final, decisive campaign." His voice remained level, but Kaerith caught the steel beneath the diplomatic tone.

"I believe 'someone' is preparing to end this decades-long war with one massive assault."

The gallery had gone completely silent. Even the other servants had stopped moving, caught by the gravity of the king's words.

"I see," Councilor Meredith said carefully. "Do you have evidence?"

"I do." Aldric gestured to one of his retinue, who stepped forward with a leather satchel. "Captured correspondence, testimony from prisoners, even some of the weapons being stockpiled," his escort read.

"And what would you want the council to do about it?" The portly gentleman with the soft hands asked, looking concerned and ready to help.

"Nothing," Aldric said, a grin spreading across his face.

His words hung in the air.

Kaerith's eyes widened in shock.

She looked around to make sure she wasn't alone in her disbelief. The androgynous figure, who had remained expressionless so far, looked visibly shocked, their head turned, eyes locked on Aldric as if he were mad.

"I come to Greiholld to state clearly that Vaelthorne will fight its own battle,"

"We appreciate the help that some of you are willing to offer," his eyes stopping again at King Varezhan. 

Twice, Kaerith noticed.

The sharp-faced Councilor examined some of the documents Aldric's aide had provided. While the androgenous figure asked.

"Are you sure, King of Vaelthorne?" they asked calmly

"I am," he nodded.

Councilor Meredith finally looked up and nodded. 

"Alright"

Greihold was, after all, a neutral ground built for negotiations; the council's job was to help kingdoms reach a decision, whether or not they adhered to it was not their concern.

Low whispers began circulating in the hall, accompanied by agitated and frustrated looks.

Kaerith noticed that some kings remained calm. Others, including some minor nobles and wealthy farmers, were a bit annoyed; apparently, they had been hoping for something related to farming.

King Varezhan looked like a volcano with a lid on it.

Kaerith found herself backing toward the gallery's rear wall, her mind struggling to process what she was hearing. 

She was so focused on the revelation that she didn't notice she'd backed directly into one of the gallery's support pillars.

The collision wasn't loud, but in the hushed whispered atmosphere of the chamber, it carried. Several of the gallery's occupants turned to look at her, and she quickly busied herself with arranging empty glasses on her tray.

But it was too late.

Below, King Aldric had heard the noise and glanced up toward the gallery. The carved screens provided concealment, but they weren't solid barriers—there were gaps, some wider than others, between the decorative elements that allowed glimpses of the space beyond.

His eyes found hers through one of those wider gaps.