The Warden of the South rode without guards, his cloak streaked with dust from the same roads his people walked every day. Men left their ploughs to bow their heads; women pressed their hands to their hearts. To them, he was not a lord wrapped in gold, but the only voice that still spoke when the King refused to listen.
He reined in beside a broken bridge, where farmers waited for coins that never came from the capital.
"If the Crown forgets you," he said, dismounting, "then let the South remember its own."
He took the hammer himself, driving the first stone into place. His soldiers watched in silence — not because they feared him, but because they loved him.
By the time he returned to his horse, the decision had already been made.
After seeing the condition of his beloved Southern lands, the Warden resolved to meet the King of Frankia — King Maelor of House Rhyn.
From Carienhelm, the capital of the South, it was a three-week ride to Aureth — the City of Gold. Marble halls glittered with wealth torn from the earth: iron from the West, grain from the South, minerals traded by force from the East. Statues of ancient kings loomed above the gates, carved by slaves from the fallen land of Almir.
Calen of House Dareth rode with what little remained of Carienhelm's treasury — humble offerings, sent in hope that the King might show mercy to starving men whose ancestors had once raised banners against the Crown. That rebellion, two decades past, had drowned in blood. Thousands had died — most of them for the King.
At last, Calen reached the gates, guarded by Northmen.
"I am Calen Dareth," he said, stepping down from his horse. "Warden of the South by lawful right. I seek audience with King Maelor."
"He looks more like a beggar than a warden," one guard whispered.
"The South's been in misery since the revolt," the other murmured.
"Send him with Ser Mervin. He's unarmed."
"What are you whispering about?" Calen asked.
"Nothing important, my lord," the guard said quickly. "Ser Mervin will escort you to the palace."
Ser Mervin arrived soon after.
"Walk with me, Lord Calen," he said smoothly.
"What brings you to Aureth — the helplessness of the South?"
"The South starves," Calen replied.
"I have not eaten properly in months. Perhaps I will here."
Mervin smiled thinly. "Of course you will, Warden… of course."
***