Aglanthol 1 - The Legend of Khaalindaan - 5. Chapter 5

Qildor was determined to travel north. He made up a plan.

He joined his comrades in the grand hall where they usually assembled for the meals. He spoke to them of the danger that threatened the realm of Aglanthol. He told them of the Khalindash and how they attacked the villages in the north of the kingdom. He hesitated, however, to mention the legend of Khaalindaan. Soon he had managed to fuel the rage of the men, all trained warriors who only rarely rode out to fight. Beer and wine fuelled their anger even more.

Like he did usually, the king came to the hall later that evening. He was accompanied by his counsellors. The king and the noble men sat at a different table and usually did not join the soldiers of low rank. Qildor had the privilege to sit at the king’s table as he was a soldier of a high rank. When the king and the noble men had adjusted themselves, Qildor rose and crossed the hall. He bowed to the king and then sat down at the king’s table.

A noble man turned to Qildor. He pointed at the banquet table and asked why the men talked so loud.

"They are enraged," Qildor said.

"Why so?" he asked.

"Have you not yet heard of the danger that came upon the kingdom of Aglanthol?" Qildor asked with surprise.

The king leaned forward.

"Danger?" he asked.

The noble men looked between the king and Qildor.

"Speak up," the king said.

"I have just come back from the northern frontier. We have underestimated the danger. The northern tribe, the Khalindash, cross the border often and attack the villages. They kill innocent men, women, and children. They steal cattle and they abduct children. It’s getting worse," Qildor said.

The king leaned back in his chair and made a dismissive gesture.

"This is nothing new, Qildor," he said. "It’s just a nuisance. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill."

The noble men nodded.

"Did you not have order to seek out men and form a guard?" a man inquired.

Qildor nodded.

"I rode from village to village, but have not encountered one single qualified man," he said calmly. "Peasants all," he continued. "Haggard men, barely able to outlive the winter. That’s why I need to speak to you, my king," he said, turning to the king.

The king raised his hand faintly. He was only mildly interested in Qildor’s recount.

"The locals suspect the Khalindash will retreat to their land in winter. The snowfalls there are heavy. The climate is rough. They will, however, return in spring and resume their attack on the kingdom," Qildor said.

A man gave a laugh and various others joined in.

"Attack on the kingdom? Good man, Qildor, they attack a village now and then. They do not threaten the kingdom of Aglanthol," a noble man said.

"They are persistent," Qildor replied. "And for what I have learned, they have a reason to be so."

"What have you learned?" the king asked while investigating his plate.

"The Khalindash originate from the land of Bre which now is part of northern Aglanthol," Qildor said. "I suspect they want to occupy their original homeland which is more destined for farming than the land in the north."

The men exchanged looks. For the first time they seemed to be genuinely interested. A man, dressed entirely in black, leaned forward. Qildor recognized the scribe of the king.

"Indeed," the scribe said in a serious voice. "The Khalindash originate from the land of Bre. They were driven from their homeland a thousand years ago."

"And a thousand years later they want to return?" the king asked in a mocking voice. "How comes?"

The scribe shrugged.

"History is full of it. Tradition, recollection, some maniac who fuels the tribe’s aggression. The bad weather, the bad crops, the wealth of Aglanthol. They were driven from their homeland and now want it back. It makes sense to me," he said.

"It does not make sense at all," the king said angrily.

"You cannot acknowledge a frontier for a thousand years and then suddenly break the contract," he said.

"No contract was ever signed," the scribe said. "The Aglanthol then conquered the land of Bre, killed most of the inhabitants, and drove out the few that had survived the bloodshed. It was not a justified act."

The king shrugged.

"The Aglanthol were powerful, and their power even rose," he said.

One of the counsellors leaned in to the king and spoke to him under his breath. The king looked puzzled, but then nodded. He straightened in his chair.

"We perhaps underestimated the danger coming from this minor tribe," the king said with a frown. "Like you said, a maniac perhaps fuels their rage. What can we do about it?"

"Build a fortress in spring and send there trained warriors," Qildor said. "The peasants cannot defend themselves or even guard the frontier and protect the realm."

The man who had spoken to the king nodded.

"A good plan," he said. "We will be developing it."

The king leaned back. The discussion had ended. The counsellors would resume it in private.

"One more thing," Qildor said.

The faces of the king and his counsellor showed an impatient look.

"I want to travel north again before the heavy snow comes," Qildor said. "The Khalindash don’t expect a royal soldier there in winter, scouting the land."

The men at the table looked at Qildor in bewilderment. The king just gazed at Qildor. The counsellor narrowed his eyes.

"What do you hope to find there?" he asked.

"The maniac perhaps," Qildor said. "Killing the man would safe us building the fortress."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked from one to the other grimly.

The men looked at him with surprise. The king leaned forward and his first counsellor nodded in acknowledgement.

"Indeed," the man said. "A very good plan."

Qildor smiled vaguely.

The king raised his hand.

"Travel north as soon as you can," he said to Qildor. "We trust you will eliminate the man."

The men exchanged furtive glances. So far, there was no proof that there was a maniac amongst the Khalindash. But why object to the king’s decision? And why question Qildor’s motives? The man was probably only over-ambitious and hoped for an even higher rank after he had successfully completed his mission. This, however, was probably a hope in vain. It remained to be seen if the man returned at all.

The king leaned back in his chair again. Qildor rose to his feet and bowed to the king. Then he left the hall quickly. The king and the noble men looked after him, and then turned to a conversation that was lighter and more pleasing.

Qildor hurried to his room with a smile on his lips. How easy it had been to scheme a convincing plan that was nothing but a lie. How easy it had been to sell it to the king. Qildor whistled a happy tune while he started packing. He would be back in Tanmil at the end of the week.

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