There it was, Vatherîon. It was built upon a rocky outcrop jutting up from the river, two miles long and just under a mile wide, rising nearly a hundred feet up in some places. Turaz had learned from Snowy that the fort of Vatherîon was established by Imperial orders on the highest part of the island in the year 527, when the first humans arrived in the Vûrdasha. Migrants from the east came down the River Aiô, leaving the great steppe of Razadrî behind for more forgiving lands. For many, the first stop was beneath the walls of the fort on the river island. Over the years, some people wished to stay right where they stopped, and village had spread around Vatherîon, which too called itself Vatherîon.

Long gone were the wooden palisades and watchtower. Using the lessons observed from the bloody wars along the Middle Karthâ in the 1460s, old King Zhevakôs had razed the square keep and replaced it with another star-shaped fortress, not unlike Nikadîon to the west. Though it was far more compact than Nikadîon, the angular ramparts soaring into the sky were intimidating even to friends. There was no castle courtyard; instead, the keep was just another angular bastion lined with cannon holes. The ancient watchtower's descendant took the shape of a lighthouse-like spire, rising another forty feet out of the keep. From there, the white banner with its blue flower flew.

In short, the citadel of Vatherîon rivaled those found to the south, dwarfing any other structure in the region with its sheer presence. Like most fortresses in Athair, it was built out of some kind hardened, compacted sandstone quarried from the hills of Thecha. The city itself was made mostly of wood, given the great abundance of trees in the Vûrdasha. The King's residence was inside the fortress, completely invisible from beyond the walls. There was little else of note, except for the Kingdom's lone cathedral. Officially called the Church of Saint Vektôs, it was far grander than most other churches, built with bilateral rather than radial symmetry. Turaz had been in there several times, he had discovered that he preferred the smaller places of worship. On the north bank of the Aiô was a newer village, built when the island itself could no longer fit anyone else on it. There was a bridge running to the island from both sides of the river, but it wasn't fortified on either bank. From the north bridge a road led to the northwest, towards the North Aiô fork; and from there up into Verâd.

That was how the company was approaching, and what afforded them a view of the city. Turaz shielded his eyes from the sun, hoping they'd be indoors before it got too hot. It was only two weeks after summer began that Athair began to heat up, and it wouldn't cool off until another two weeks into fall. If you ask me, they got the seasons all wrong up here.

“It's about time.” Grumbled Prince Reshîv to his men. Aharôs only furtively clenched and unclenched a fist. His half-brother's remarks wore on him quickly. The heir to the throne had only grown more and more discontent the closer they got to Vatherîon. There was a reason he had made his home in Nikadîon for the past decade, after all.

“I concur.” Said Turaz's own personal vexation, Tempest Blackwind. “We could have been here days ago, but you lot had to go slow.”

“A zôsha only goes so fast.” Replied Mayor Pashal.

“Not fast enough.” Commented one of the pegasi, Coldstar by the sound of it.

“At least we made it without incident, can't we be happy about that?” Asked Sir Eberis, in a rare moment of vocation. Everyone looked at him like he had said something insane.

“No happiness allowed, didn't you get Aharôs's edict?” Responded Reshîv. So the banter continued in a three-way battle between Reshîv's men, the Blackwind pegasi, and eventually, Turaz himself. Thankfully, it was not long until they were crossing the many-arched bridge into Vatherîon. Last time he was in this city, the streets had been made of compacted dirt, but now they were paved in cobble stones. That's one change for the better.

The first order of business was to get through the city to the citadel. Since it was just midday, the streets were very busy, but everyone moved aside when the say the Prince's banner; not to mention, Aharôs himself. It was quick going. Some of the men were quite happy to see members of the opposite sex, many had been deprived of such a privilege for several months, excluding those who went into Dônara-Kur and the ruins of Rôstôs, or were near any number of manor houses Aharôs had stayed in over the journey.

When they got to the actual Vatherîon, Turaz noted how two ramparts jutted out from the gates, extending fifty feet beyond on both sides. Any would-be attacker in here would quickly be torn apart by cross-fire from arquebuses, crossbows, cannons, and even the occasional bow-wielding marksman. The gate itself was made of layered wood and steel; very heavy, but very strong. It rode on little wheels when it was opened and closed; it was currently open in expectation. In front of it was a steel portcullis that could be dropped, but only its teeth were showing. Beyond the gates, it was cool and dark; a ramp led upwards to another gate, which would lead into the citadel proper, where they would dismount and settle in. Most of Vatherîon was dimly lit, but the central hall got sunlight through a skylight, a channel, and a series of mirrors. But Aharôs was not going into the central hall today. As everyone got off their zôshai, and the pegasi flew in, the Prince approached Turaz.

“There are several things we need to take care of in the next few days.” He said. “We could be here awhile, it would be a good idea to use today's break from activity well.”

“So it looks like another few weeks away from home.” Turaz replied.

“More or less.” Nodded Aharôs, before disappearing into the castle. The knight made sure to have Snowy take a letter for him, informing his family that he'd still be absent. They're probably used to it by now. Tempest got to listen in on that, much to his chagrin. But, there was simply no separating the two.

Before supper came the event Turaz knew was coming, and it was not one he was looking forward to. Aharôs had to appear before the royal court, as was proper protocol. But the royal court was the reason he had relocated to Nikadîon all those years ago. The pegasi had never really encountered this situation before, and as they were allowed to sit in the gallery above, they were about to find out why Aharôs hated this.

The Prince's entrance to the throne room was silent, and met with silence. This hall was one of those that was lit by the mirror system in the walls and ceilings above. The throne of Athair was carved from a single tree's trunk, one of the great cedars from the coastal hills. No one occupied it at the moment. But the person of interest was a middle-aged woman, finely dressed and still good-looking for her age, seated on the smaller chair next to the throne. That was Valisa, the mother of Prince Reshîv, and current Queen of Athair. And she was the one person in the world that Aharôs might have hated more than Reshîv.

He stopped well short of the throne, and looked around at the assembled courtiers. Reshîv brushed past him.

“Ah, mother! You’re looking well as ever!” He greeted.

“Reshîv.” Acknowledged Valisa with a smile, bowing her head. “And Aharôs. I am glad you are in good health.” The Prince didn't respond, he only folded his arms. Turaz clasped his hands behind his back to prevent fidgeting.

“As you've no doubt heard, I have succeeded in my mission. The Verâdîm are at long last brought in line.” Stated Reshîv proudly. The court nodded and muttered in approval. “There was death and sacrifice along the way, but the war is won.”

“Excellent.” Queen Valisa said. “Just the kind of good work I've come to expect from my son.”

“To be fair to my brother,” Turaz almost could almost hear Aharôs growl half-brother, “I couldn't have done it without support from his army.”

“Aharôs would have burnt all of Verâd to the ground if left to his own devices.” Commented the Queen. “The credit is to his soldiers, not to him.” The knight couldn't help but shuffle on his feet, for lack of any other action he could take.

“If Reshîv had been left to his own devices, the war would still be going.” Coldly replied Aharôs. “I may be harsh, but I am expedient.”

“I would hardly call burning an entire city to the ground expedient.”

“They made their bed, let them lie in it.” The Prince sneered. “Traitors get what traitors deserve. And some have escaped with far too much.”

“So you say.” Valisa said back, equally as coolly, as the court again muttered amongst itself. She leaned back in her chair, and looked to Turaz. “Sir Turaz, it seems you've been wounded.”

“Yes...” Right, the missing eye... It wasn't bothering him nearly as much as it should. Perhaps he was just too distracted with all that was going on lately? “I had a run-in with an arquebus, my queen.” He stated.

“How terrible.” I'm sure a stupider man would believe you mean it. Both Turaz and Aharôs were well-aware what the Queen thought of them. They both knew how much of a schemer she was. Only the cleverest of commoners could fight their way this high, this close to the top. Valisa was one of them. Unfortunately for knight and prince, Reshîv was likely to have inherited that cunning.

“Tell me, Valisa, how fares my father?” Aharôs asked.

“The King fades day by day. He can hardly remember his own name, sometimes.” She replied. To those that did not know her, it would seem as if Valisa were truly sad over the fact.

“I shall see him this evening, then.” With that, the Prince abruptly turned around, and exited the throne room. Turaz followed, not wishing to be left alone in Valisa and the court's presence. Only Sir Eberis exited with them, everyone else stayed behind. The two wooden entrance doors closed after them. There was silence between the three as they walked through halls and stairs.

“Well, that went better than last time.” Turaz commented.

“It could have been worse.” Agreed Eberis.

“Notice how you two are the only ones following me.” The Prince stated.

“And?” Asked the other knight in the trio.

“It seems as if the court fears me.” Said Aharôs. “That is a good thing.”

“I don't know, my Prince.” Turaz disagreed. “That could be very dangerous. Take it from someone who's been on both sides of the castle wall; if people fear their lord too much they begin to hate him as well.”

“Point taken.”

Turaz spent the rest of the day collecting his battered armor, and overseeing repairs to it. There were a thousand dents that needed fixing, most of them from where lead shots had bounced off. Some lucky arquebusier had even managed to break one of the chains that displayed his rank! Turaz was thankful that firearms were so inaccurate; if they ever became as spot-on as a bow or crossbow... It wouldn't be good, to say the least. At supper that night, Aharôs declined to eat with Reshîv and the royal court in the banquet hall. Instead, the Prince gathered Turaz, Eberis, Îrilôs, and Tempest; with Lady Farpeak dragged along too, of course. They held their own supper in the Prince's own chambers, which hadn't been used for some many years.

“So, what exactly is the deal between you and Valisa?” Asked Tempest. “I never heard much about went on here back at Nikadîon.”

“She's the reason Reshîv even exists to torment me so.” Aharôs answered.

“That's rather obvious.” The pegasus said back. “I mean, she's not your mother, so she has to be Reshîv's.”

“Very astute.” Noted Îrilôs.

“By all rights, Reshîv should have been just another bastard son, like Keris.” Aharôs began to explain. “I liked Keris. I could have liked Reshîv too, but my father's illness was already setting in by the time Valisa entered the scene. The King's one flaw was that he liked a good tumble, and my mother at that time was no longer what she had once been. Conveniently, she dies.” The Prince had a dark look about him. “Very conveniently. So father marries Velisa, beset by the dawn of madness as he was, and thence came Reshîv, son of some up-jumped, common serving girl; somehow my equal.”

“Valisa killed your mother?” Tempest questioned, far more serious now. That was something she could relate to.

“I have no proof, but I know she did. Fifty-year old, healthy women don't just fall dead.” Stated Aharôs. “She was all that stood between Valisa and Zhevakôs, and with my father losing his mind... That's a path to power if I ever saw one. And I'm quite convinced she arranged the death of my brother Heranôs as well.”

“And now her son has basically stolen your job?” Tempest guessed, between mouthfuls of whatever cooked grains they had for the Equestrians tonight.

“Hah! Far from it.” Declared the Prince. “Reshîv can strut and boast all he wants, but unless he kills me, I will still be King. I think I might banish him to the upper Aiô frontier, we'll see how he likes the lands of our ancestors.” That would be the Razadrî steppe, from the edge of which came the Aiô's source. Aharôs had expanded Athair's border right up to the flat grasslands; guard posts sat at the very bottom of the Dashavon's western foothills.

“W-what if he does kill you?” Asked Snowy quietly.

“He won't.” The Prince said confidently. “He can’t.”

“The Emperor favors Prince Aharôs. Reshîv? His name isn't even known in Ar-Athazîon.” Îrilôs added in. “Actually, few know Aharôs's name either, but few is more than none. The wars on the Karthâ were far more interesting fifteen years ago, and Nîralska was far more interesting ten years ago. And with a dragon at court right now, Athair is nothing but unimportant to the Emperor and his attendees.”

“But if Athair is unimportant...” Began Tempest.

“Athair is not important to them, but it is to me.” Stated Îrilôs. “We all have our parts to play, even backwater kingdoms.”

“And Duke Îrilôs assures me that Reshîv has no part to play in all this.” Aharôs continued. “Reshîv is powerless to truly act against me without taking my head. And that action would be folly.”

“I hope so.” Said the blue-grey pegasus. Her timid friend nodded in silent agreement.

Later on, Turaz accompanied the Prince to see the King. Zhevakôs, the sixth, was merely a ghost of what he had once been. His strong frame had wasted away, his hair had fallen out, his eyes were sunken. He had seen Zhevakôs when he was well, but Turaz could swear to the Lord of Heaven that this man was not the same as the one he had once looked upon.

“He doesn't have much life left.” Commented Aharôs calmly.

“He could last a few more months.” Turaz said back, firmly grasping the edges of his coat. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing his liege like this just didn't sit right with him.

“No, his time has come.” The Prince stated. Then, the knight understood what he meant.

“Ah... Shall we fetch a priest-?”

“No, we'll wait for Brenan.” Aharôs cut him off. “They were good friends in better days. Brenan would want to be here at the end. But I won't wait longer than that.”

“I understand.” Turaz said with a nod. “I did the same for my father. Feels like a lifetime ago... But it's for the best. No one deserves this.” He gestured to the fading King.

“Agreed.” Spoke Aharôs quietly. He left without another word. The King had noticed their presence, but he just continued to stare into empty space. They mattered not to him. It was an uneasy feeling. I can't imagine what's going through his head, Turaz thought. At least my father was aware until the very end. But to not recognize your own son... There was no way to shrug that off, not even for the infamously cold Aharôs. Yes, this would be for the best.

Days passed by, and Turaz's sense of unease grew. There was big change on the horizon, and everyone seemed to know it. King Zhevakôs had ruled since his twenties, he was now into his seventies. Only grandfathers and grandmothers remembered Aharôs's own grandfather, Thûvarôs the fourth. Zhevakôs's firstborn son, Thûvarôs, would have been the fifth of his name; had he not died of an invisible illness that consumed him from within. Brenanîôs was next in line, actually named for their mutual friend the priest, but was slain in battle by an anonymous Verâdîm marksman. Then came Heranôs, whose love of nature led him into the suspicious situation of falling off a cliff to his death. Finally, there was Aharôs, the son no one had really heard about, who was suddenly set to inherit a kingdom. If he died, Athair would fall to his eldest of four sisters; Zefîra. She was married to some Karthâ river-lord far to the southwest. Such was the fate of the other three, so far away for so long that Aharôs only knew their names and little else. He was the last man of house Loiar, if one didn't count Reshîv. But most people seem to, these days. Turaz visited the smithy and collected his now-repaired armor. He hoped it wouldn't be necessary, but it was good to have it around just in case.

Not even Tempest and Snowy were safe from the growing uncertainty of the coming days. Both stayed out of sight and mind of humans, as did the rest of the pegasi. It was almost like they weren't there. Equestrians were uncommon as it was, and word had begun to spread about a change of leadership and hostilities across the sea. Both rumors were true, of course. Turaz hoped that the Emperor's diplomat had convinced Princess Celestia to call off her foolish war of revenge.

“Is he actually going to do it?” Tempest asked suddenly, on one warm evening. She and Turaz were supposed to be practicing her swordsmanship. Swordsponyship? No, that sounded silly. But, the sun had been hot, and neither of them particularly felt up to the task. Instead, they had found found a windy spot on the walls and sat down to work on proper care for armor.

“Do what?” Asked Turaz, as he fiddled with the hinges of the pegasi's chest plate.

“You know what.” She said, almost accusingly.

“Yes, Aharôs will.” The knight stated. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Well... I don't like the idea.” Admitted Tempest. “It doesn't seem right.”

“Of course it's right.” Turaz replied, feeling exasperated. Surely she should have learned by now to at least respect our culture. “It's the alternative that is wrong.”

“I don't know...” Tempest said quietly, looking away. “I just don't like it. I don't understand it, and I don't like it.”

“You will.” The knight assured her. “It's a natural part of life. I've gone through it twice now, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. Nor would anyone else involved.”

“If you say so.”

The next day, a rider came from the main army column; they wouldn't be long from the city now. Aharôs and Turaz both kept watch from Vatherîon's tower. Finally, they saw the approaching force, on the nineteenth of summer.

“Are you ready?” Turaz asked, lowering his spyglass. The Prince frowned at the distance.

“I don’t know. But it doesn't matter now.” A new era was coming for Athair.

Author's Notes:

You're probably disappointed it took me three weeks to get this little chapter out. But, my free time is evaporating like water in Fort Rock. I don’t even know why either. Luckily, I have a hefty chunk of the next chapter written already, it’s been sitting around for months (like many chunks of upcoming chapters).
Oh, this is the the stone they mention the citadel is built of: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quartzite

As always, tell me if anything needs fixing or could be done better. I've been having a crisis of quality since the last Luna chapter, in my opinion.