Rise of the Darekian's, The (20 page)

Luken had one of his wild compulsive moments, "Marry Me," he blurted out without really thinking of any consequences. Taylor, looking pleased with himself, let out a small cheer, though Sarenas face was an absolute picture. "You love me, I love you, and I think had Taylor had a choice to pick a mother, he would only ever pick you." Taylor nodded excitedly in confirmation of his dads comments. Blushing prof
usely, Luken was in the moment now; he lifted Taylor down off his lap, and stood off the chair, before moving it out of the way. Bending down on one knee, and looking up, taking Sarena by the hand, "Lady Sarena, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" he asked in as romantic way as he could muster.

Sarena put her remaining hand to her mouth, and for a moment, Luken thought she was going to be sick, judging by the strange noise that came out of it. Unable to speak and lost for words she started crying, and Luken was beginning to worry he was getting a refusal, "Oh Luken I would love too" she sobbed, flinging her arms around him. Putting her cheek next to his, he could feel the wet tears, and deciding now was the time to make a move, he put his hands, cupping her
face. Taking a deep breath, he moved in, and kissed her full on the lips. He was not too sure how long his lips had been stuck on Sarenas but they were forced apart by Taylor squeezing his way in between them, wanting to join in on the hugs. "So does this mean you are going to be my mum then?" he asked, "I guess it does" Sarena answered kissing the young boy on the forehead, who gave her a big hug.

Chapter 17.

After the madness of lunchtime, Luken and Sarena walked about the camp hand in hand, with Taylor taking the place in the middle. The youngster beamed, as if showing the world his new mum and dad, although they had asked him to keep it under wraps for now at least, until other things were sorted.
They made their way to Lord Galliss for the latest updates, and found him in the command tent. He stood as they approached and bowed, "my dad and Sarena are getting married," Taylor shouted out the second they were in earshot. Luken rolled his eyes back, oh well so much for keeping it quiet. Lord Galliss looked quite pleased by the news, "really? That is excellent news. A royal wedding, that ought to cheer the people up. Nothing like a party to make them forget their troubles, and may I be the first to offer my congratulations."

Luken wished that Galliss would keep focus on rebuilding Easton, not talking about wedding plans. The city needed to be rebuilt, people needed homes and places from which to run their businesses, not wasting time on making wedding dresses and tailored suits.
Luken decided to put things back into some sort of perspective, "Lord Galliss, yes it is true I wish to marry the Lady Sarena, my son appears to have a short memory," he added looking down at Taylor with a stern face. "Perhaps though it would be more feasible to continue your excellent work on getting the city built, before we start planning any festivities," he said it in a way he hoped was not to condescending. Lord Galliss took it in his stride, "of course your highness, I was getting a little carried away. However I still feel we can put some focussing of effort on to your wedding." He went on to explain, that when his wife was alive she loved nothing more than to sit in an evening and work on a new dress or shirt. He thought rather than removing people from their current jobs, perhaps ask if any would like to volunteer for little extra evening work.

Reluctantly Luken agreed, but did stipulate that anyone involved be paid from his own purse
, and that any materials be bought at a fair price, again with his own money. Times were hard enough without him burdening the people with the cost of fancy clothes for him and Sarena. That gave way to another of his brilliant ideas, "in fact, if you will allow my dear fiancée here to liaise with whoever you may find, I am certain she would be more than happy to oversee things from our point of view." Sarena smiled with glee, "ooh yes, what a splendid idea, now let's see, you will need a suit, and so will Taylor of course, oh and a nice dress for Hope..." Luken and Lord Galliss had switched off though Sarena rattled off an apparently endless list of things she needed, before realising they were just stood staring at her.

Once the weddings discussions could now be put to one side, Luken listened to the latest news around camp. There was little of anything new, although Lord Galliss did request Luken join him inside the city walls for his opinion. Leaving Sarena and Taylor
, the two men walked slowly from the camp, "Darak visited us earlier," and for a second Galliss appeared worried, "he looks awful; though he tells me he has managed to stay off the drink. He came to say sorry and bring Taylor a gift." Sighing heavily, "I hope he has turned a corner, I know he is ashamed of what he did" Galliss added, "he is not the only one, I am also ashamed of my part, I'm sure we can all put this behind us, and let us hope we are better people for having done so" Luken replied.

Once inside the city walls, Luken was actually surprised at just how much had been done. In just a few days, huge patches had been cleared, the main street was clear of weeds, and most of its cobbles replaced.
Several men were still at work, hammering down the small stones that made up the road, and were now nearly up as far as the keep entrance. Others were busy digging, and it was to these men Galliss steered Luken towards. Alongside them were long clay pipes, "you wanted a decent sewerage system, and I witnessed them using this method on a trip to Murati a few years back." He went on to explain the wide pipes were linked together to run waste to the river, each home would have a smaller pipe connected to the main pipe, and the best part was they were all buried just under the surface of the ground.

Already there were areas marked out with bits of string, these were evenly spaced out in rectangles of about twenty paces by fifteen. Each of these he was told would be a home, nothing fancy, each would have two sleeping rooms, a
General living and kitchen area. As he had asked there was space around each allotted home, and only ten in a row before a side street was marked for construction. The construction of the homes themselves would initially have to be from a similar to the type he was currently living in. The main differences being, these would have glass in their windows, and a shingle roof, as well as each having a water pump for drawing fresh water. He was shown a stand pump currently in operation; this was able to suck water up from the wells deep below the city. It was hoped a smaller version could be implemented in each home. In addition, every house would be able to dispose of its waste through the sewerage system he had been shown before.

He had to admit, when Lord Galliss had asked him to accompany him into the city, he had not expected much. If they could make homes for everybody like he described, he knew the people could be happy here. That was not all, after the house explanations, he gestured Luken up the newly cleaned cobbled main street towards the keep. Here, a small set of gates were already being fitted across the entrance, nothing fancy, just iron bars running vertically, held together by several horizontals. These would never keep out an invading horde, but that is what the city gates were being made to do. These were more a barrier separating the city from the keep,
and once painted would suffice perfectly. Inside the keep yard, several teams were working on the stone buildings; those he had presumed were barracks and stables. It appeared that the builders had been able to use the remains that had survived, and these looked, as they would be finished sooner than any other.

Inside the keep itself, several lamps were lit, to give extra light. Window frames were being replaced, and already much of the ground floor
was cleared of debris, a staircase was being fitted, and a number of men were carrying long planks of wood up ladders onto the upper floors. The roof was now watertight, the upper most floor, was being laid out and fitted as Lukens quarters. Much to his annoyance, it was quite clear that Lord Galliss insisted on making this a priority. He showed him a large plan, drawn out on paper, of large rooms being set aside for royal living. He may have gotten his wish on not having any sort of palace, but it was quite evident Galliss was going to make the rooms being made for him as eloquent as possible.

Caldar and Vanessa slowly walked their horses side by side, chatting about the latest rumours they had heard. News was apparently coming through, confirming that some sort of rebuilding was being undertaken at Easton, but most bizarrely were the stories of some great magician or wizard. Some say he attacked the people trying to rebuild, others say he is on their side and in position to fight for them. They talked of a young man able to bring down entire towns by shaking the earth beneath them, or summon great walls of flame to incinerate anything or anybody that gets in his way. "Do you believe all this magic talk?" Caldar asked Vanessa, having been thinking about it for the last hour, running it through his mind. She shrugged her shoulders, "I do not know really, but I suppose, I would say I don't not believe, if that makes sense." She explained her theory that, she thought it may exist in some shape or form, there were always stories or rumours of people doing the most strangest of things. She used the fall of Hamalin as her example, and though it clearly made Caldar uncomfortable just to hear it, he supposed that must have been some great dark magical occurrence.

"It comes down to, I'll believe it
truly when I see it with my own two eyes" she finished off her surmise. That he thought was probably his feeling on the matter, magic was one of those things you really needed to be witness too. Stories and rumours were fine, but he knew all too well how gossip could be exaggerated the more it travelled from person to person. It was as if each liked to add their own little personal touch to the rumour, maybe to make it sound more exciting or news worthy, and before you knew it a tale that may have started off about a man shovelling a pile of earth, had become a magician who moved a whole mountain.

Caldar was utterly surprised by what came into view as he rode along the road to Casham. When last he had seen it, a week or two earlier, it was surrounded by a shaky looking wooden palisade that he had ordered built. What he saw now, was quite something else. It still had its wooden surround, but it now had a line of fortifications stretching as far as he could see east to west. When he had left Lord Willem of South
Besemia to oversee his defences, he certainly had not envisaged such a transformation. He could see several more watch towers along the line, as well as rows upon rows of stakes, ditches, as well as a number of smaller, what he could only describe as hill forts. These appeared to be built up on raised ground, earth he assumed from the digging, and intersected the ditches and trenches every several hundred paces. He thought of them as small strongholds, if the ditch or trench was breeched, men could better defend themselves on raised ground from behind a barrier.

They were greeted by two riders, carrying the colours of Lord Willem. A man of middle age, whom Caldar recognised, but could not remember his name, saluted, "Welcome back your highness. Lord Willem is expecting you in Berston; we have been tracking your movements for the last couple of days." That surprised Caldar, his own scouts had been sent out, but had reported nothing, ironically as it was
, his scouts had themselves been scouted. The officer looked at the large travelling contingent, "I see it is true your highness, you have a few more than when you left," he smiled at the tongue in cheek comment. He fell in beside Caldar and explained that provisions had been made south of Berston for any refugees he had collected along the way. Though for now at least, they would have to make do with canvas tents for living quarters, all building work was being carried out on defences. Caldar nodded, he had already seen just how much building work, and it was becoming apparently clear Lord Willem was surely not a man to hang around.

They passed by Berston
, which now proudly flew the colours of the Corlan flag. He had not had one when he had arrived, and was unsure where the people had obtained such a thing. "The townsfolk made it," the officer said, noticing the puzzlement on the prince's face, "it's been flying these past few days, guess they needed a statement to tell people of their identity. Lord Willem encourages them in such things; he wants them to know we are not the invaders here." He realised how that could be construed by the public, having seen him ride off, and leaving them with a foreign force in his place. Still it was also nice of the South Besemians to encourage his peoples own identity, it was after all still their town.

Casham
was now a sort of headquarters behind the front line; at least that is how he viewed it as they approached. The Defences here were as they had been when he had left, and the people still went about their business as if nothing untoward was going on. His own guards still patrolled the gates and walls, and the only sign of South Besemian soldiers were those entering or leaving shops or taverns. The building he had used for his discussions with Lord Willem had however been made over, and outside the door stood two of their guards, not his. The officer with him, pointed in that direction, "they are only there when Lord Willem is in residence your highness."  He nodded, accepting the explanation given, before dismounting and handing the reins of his horse to a waiting stable hand.

The guards at the entrance to the building, stood to attention as he entered the doorway, and into the room where he found Lord Willem
sitting at a desk. The top of the desk was a mass of paperwork, and just from a quick glance, Caldar was thankful he did not have to be responsible for such a thing. The Lord stood quickly as soon as he realised whom it was, before bowing his head and proffering his hand in welcome. "Welcome your highness, it is good to see you well," he greeted him in a warm friendly way. Caldar shook his hand and sat down on the opposite side of the table. Willem sent out for refreshments, to which Caldar was quite looking forward to; they had not stopped for some time and his mouth was feeling dry.

Lord Willem cleared a space for the tray when it arrived a short time later, which contained a bottle of wine, a couple of glasses as well as a small plate of biscuits. He poured a glass firstly for the prince then for
himself, before leaning back in his chair. Caldar gladly helped himself to several of the biscuits in between sips of his drink, "I see you have been very busy," he said. He proceeded by showing him a plan of the defences, the lines of trenches and fort like structures Caldar had passed through on his way in. It was his intention to make the line as long as it was feasible to do so, not only across his land, but across Corlan as well. Both nations had lost huge areas to the Darekian invaders and it was clear if they wanted to attempt to take any more, they would have to fight for it.

With reports coming in from Bashek, the North Besemian capital was in the hands of Darekia, with the perpetrators of the king's
murder no sooner to being found. Lord Willem explained for now it was necessary to hold what they had, before attempting to take back what they had lost. He made it quite clear, once more, that they had no desires on lands belonging to Corlan, and as his officer had suggested to Caldar on the ride in, was making sure it was important the people here saw them as friends not intruders. Once the general report and updates had been given, Caldar had a question, "I wonder, have you heard any of these rumours of my people resettling south of the River Fivan?" he pointed to a small map on the tabletop. "As we rode in, it appeared more and more people were saying the same thing. Thousands of refugees were making a stand here, at Easton, our old Capital."