[Firefoot]

Faroz’s arrival in the garden could not have been more timely, in Siamak’s opinion. It gave him a few moments to think, short though they were. He paid minute attention to his father’s exchange with the General - just enough to get the gist of the conversation.

He was torn by the General’s offer, and quite surprised. Morgôs wanted to swear fealty to him? His largest objection was that he did not know if it was really right, being that his father was still king. Should one swear fealty to another who was not king? He could be king, though, someday, and he supposed that changed things. Assuming that it would be right (if not quite proper), having the support of the General of the Pashtian army would be a huge advantage over his sister. He had vowed that his sister and her inept fiancé would not gain the throne, and this would be a step in achieving that goal. He did not entertain the possibility that the General could swear fealty to him yet his sister be named heir. There would be no good in worrying about it. He nodded to himself, his mind made up. He had no other reasonable choice than to accept.

His father left shortly, and the General turned his attention back to the prince. “Well? Do you accept?”

In a voice more steady than he felt, Siamak replied, “I will.” Siamak could see that Morgôs was pleased with the decision. The Elf knelt down on one knee and said, “I, Morgôs, General of the Pashtian army, do so swear fealty and service to Prince Siamak of Pashtia, to support him and to be in alliance with him.”

“And I, Siamak, Prince of Pashtia, do so accept the fealty of General Morgôs of the Pashtian army, and this alliance with him.” The words felt awkward in his mouth, but he did not regret it. He felt a new kind of feeling inside of him, a new insight to the workings of palace life. In the past, he had stayed away from formal alliances with nobles, and a new sense of direction had been awakened in him. In this one night, he had experienced many new things, and the foremost of these was his newfound ability to take matters into his own hands to shape his own future. Being named the heir to the Pashtian throne had become more than a dream; it was a reality.

Morgôs rose, the formalities having been completed, and Siamak said, “I should like to speak with you in greater depth sometime soon, tomorrow or the next day. It is late now, and tomorrow will be busy, I think. We both know that these coming days will tell many things of the future of this country, for better, or for worse.” The last was said quietly, and Siamak felt a feeling of foreboding. If he (and his sister - he could not forget her) chose ill, the entire kingdom of Pashtia could be in shambles. He hoped it was an exaggeration, but feared it was not. The responsibility was crushing, suffocating.

Morgôs nodded in both assent to meet and agreement with Siamak’s statement. “There is much that we might speak of, but, as you say, that is for another day.”

“There is. That will be all, then, for the night?” he asked. The General responded that it was, and Siamak walked with him back out to the courtyard.

“I will look forward to meeting with you again, General,” said Siamak. “Good night.”

“Good night,” replied the General. “Until we speak again.” And so they parted. Siamak entered the palace to head to his quarters for the night, but he was intersected and stopped by the Chamberlain.

“Prince Siamak, the Queen has requested that you and your sister go to speak with her in her quarters mid-morning tomorrow,” said the Chamberlain, relaying the queen’s message. Siamak did not have to wonder what it was that they would talk about - unless he was completely mistaken, it would be the Emissary and their decision.

“Thank you, Chamberlain,” answered Siamak. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Jarult replied, and then hurried off, presumably to find Gjeelea. Siamak continued on to his rooms without further interruption, his mind fully occupied with thoughts of the day. These coming weeks would indeed tell many things of the future, and a certain sense of power that was as yet uncomfortable had come over him with the knowledge that he had the ability to determine the outcome.