Events moved quickly during the Great War. While the Aisorbmii paid their respects to their fallen leader, the lords of the Kingdom sought the leadership of their Royal Sovereign.

The following account is taken from historical records.

Episode Fifteen – the Rewards of Patriotism

Within a day of the Declaration of War, the lords assembled at the Royal Palace and awaited the summons of their King. He kept them waiting a while, but granted them an honour of eating rice pudding made by his own hand. Some of them began to worry, saying they should not have forced the King into war. Others stubbornly held to their view that it was their duty to purge the lands of the Aisorbmii, a task passed down through generations. But after several hours unsummoned, they too began to be curious of the King's intentions.

A small servant was finally presented to them, and the Lord Samfr de Samfr summoned from among the Lords to represent them all before the King. Duly Samfr stood and followed the servant, his own aides in tow, leaving the others mystified.

He noticed upon reaching the ballroom that neither throne was occupied. The Queen was absent; the King was stood at a stained-glass window, facing away from Samfr. That was odd, for the King would not be able to see through the coloured pattern, but Lord Samfr de Samfr did not comment on this. He knew etiquette; he would wait for the servant to announce him or otherwise inform his Majesty of his presence. But the servant bowed and left, leaving the Lord and his retinue silently waiting for some prompt or direction.

'Lord Samfr de Samfr,' said the King. It was not an acknowledgement, more the tone one would use to read a report. Samfr remained standing where he was, facing the King. He heard the motion of one his servants misunderstanding the King's tone and stepping forward only to be slapped back by another servant who had understood the tone all too well. 'Aged fifty-one. Husband to Lady Gillian del Freya, father to the ill-fated brave adventurer Tarek ir Teriss.'

There was a pause, perhaps one of respect for the deceased. Samfr noted it as such and cast his eyes around the room. This is the room where Tarek died, wasn't it?

'An organiser of tournaments and gambling arenas. Financier of two champion jousting teams, sponsor for a high-profile archery squad and the lacrosse team known as the Fireballs... also a rather high-profile team at the moment... some interest in moat-jumping, water polo, catwalk showdowns...'

'Your Majesty, if I mightest be permitted to speak,' interrupted Lord Samfr de Samfr. The King did not speak, he merely paused long enough for Samfr's sentence to fit into his own statement. 'Your information is partially incorrect, for mine wife, the Lady Gillian del Freya, is the organiser of catwalk showdowns you speak of.'

'...but not cricket,' resumed the King, reciting in continued monotone and unflavoured speech many details of Samfr's life, 'because it was outlawed fourteen years ago, following the incident where a ball smashed a four-hundred-year-old window and landed in this King's predecessor's pea soup... it is mine understanding that you were the financier of the team which bowled on this noted occasion, Samfr?'

No formal greeting. That worried Lord Samfr de Samfr. That would worry him for a while. 'Yes, Majesty, I was indeed the finance-'

'Wert thou victorious in this final cricket match?'

'No, your Majesty. It is mine recollection that we were defeated.'

'Truly it wast a memorable hit,' said the King. He was still facing away but his voice now carried the impression that he was smiling nostalgically. 'Mine brother and predecessor was speaking unto his guests some bawdy tale he had heard from an informant amongst the librarians, when there is a crashing noise and a splotching noise and suddenly his beard is a most lumpy shade of green.

'It is mine recollection that the assembled guests did not speak, for the incident could have been considered an insult both upon his sovereignty and the country, and it was he who must dictate the response.

'I recollect that I wanted very much to laugh out loud at the incident, and I would have been the only individual at table with the freedom to do so. But such behaviour on my part would have permitted laughter from the assembled guests and weakened my brother's position, besides which, it was funnier to prolong their discomfort.

'I must admit my fondness for the game of cricket, and my sadness that the game was outlawed immediately afterwards. To my misfortune the laws of the Kingdom do not permit me to resurrect the sport now that my brother is dead, for unless the rule of the law restricts the liberties of the people, no King may countermand that rule if it was made by his immediate predecessor. Such is a tradition of respect for predecessors, and satisfaction of our successors' continued care.

'Do you miss cricket, Samfr?' asked the King.

'Yes, sire, I do.'

'It is a thought of mine that one day, before I meet my end, I should like to step down and watch a cricket match authorised by my successor. What are your thoughts, Samfr?'

Lord Samfr de Samfr wasn't sure what to think. What was the King saying, behind his words? Was he dying? 'It is my immediate thought, sire,' he started, 'that I should be honoured to organise a match for your entertainment, when the unhappy occasion draws near.'

'Green fields, Samfr. Linseed oil. Peace and quiet, and no rain. Is it your thought that you could manage all of these things to the satisfaction of your King?'

'I could, sire.'

'What a shame.'

Lord Samfr de Samfr looked up sharply, unsure of what this comment meant. Then the King turned around. He was not smiling. His expression was grim. Slowly he stepped towards Lord Samfr and his retinue.

'It is such a shame to know that such a man is within my service now, and has been for many years, but had not brought his talents to productive use in recent times.

'Where were you, Lord Samfr de Samfr, three days ago, when war was declared upon our country? Where were you, oh organiser of sporting events, a week ago, when riots threatened to kill hundreds of our people outside the stadium? Where were you, oh manager of peace and quiet, when your son was assassinated for supporting attacks against the Aisorbmii clans?

'Stand tall, Lord Samfr de Samfr,' ordered the King, his face inches from Samfr's. 'The information of your precise whereabouts and activities during these times is well known to me. In summary, you have conspired to terminate the peace, and now there is war. Do you realise the full enormity of this? All the men you have so skilfully trained to be athletes must now join regiments and fight and die at our commands. All the moneys you have earned through your wagering and house-wins rules must be spent on uniforms and weapons and the wages of men, and through them that money must now feed the wives and children of heroes and cripples and corpses, paying for grain which must soar in value now that there are so few farmers reaping the harvest.'

Lord Samfr de Samfr stepped back, disobeying the direct order of his King to stand tall. But the King turned aside and clapped his hands twice, deliberately. A second door in the throne room opened and three men marched in. They were clad in distastefully functional uniforms, smart but without flourish. The first two wore badges of rank which no noble would fail to recognise.

The King addressed these two men. 'Lord General Manus iw Elbirt, Commander Reglan ar Crestis, may I introduce Lord Samfr de Samfr, one of the several who have provided you with new occupations... for the duration.' They saluted, crisply. Lord Samfr de Samfr, nodded twice in acknowledgement. The the King introduced the third man, reversing the introduction in deference to their ranks. 'Lord Samfr de Samfr, I present to you Halfglint.'

Halfglint nodded. 'The honour is mine,' he said, his voice... peculiar, but not Lord Samfr de Samfr's main concern. He merely stared at Halfglint's weapon - a pole-axe.

'Is it your intention to have me executed, sire?' he asked. 'For I am of noble birth, and there are laws. You cannot-'

'I can,' said the King, 'and I shall. That would be one of those laws my predecessor didn't make, and therefore one I can countermand. But first, I wish you to see something.' The King walked back to the window. Lord Samfr looked at his retinue, who were looking very pale. He did not blame them for being scared, or showing it, now. He was, himself, petrified.

'Come, Samfr.' The King gestured for Samfr to follow, and Samfr did. The Lord General Manus iw Elbirt followed, as did the third man. Commander Reglan ar Crestis busied himself with ushering all other people from the throne room.

The King spoke. 'The court has heard, and it shall be recorded, that the conspirator Lord Samfr de Samfr will be executed by a young man named Halfglint, who has been in my service for a long time as a wood-feller in the Palace grounds. But this is not the whole truth.' He addressed Halfglint. 'Please, tell us again what your name is.'

'My name is Baroness Erica del Erica,' he said, in the voice of the woman deceased.

Lord Samfr barked a laugh. 'This is an absurdity!'

'Such did we think at first, Samfr. But it is true, she has been tested and has satisfied our curiosity. The Baroness is resurrected a male, which would disgust her suitors were they to discover this fact. Suffice to say I trust her, and there are events and prophecies set in motion which will require her presence and assistance.

'Such, however, cannot be said for you.' The King opened the stained-glass window, allowing Lord Samfr to look beyond, out into the territory to the rear of the Palace.

Soldiers.

Cavalrymen.

Dozens of them.

Organised in companies of a hundred.

Dozens of companies.

And among them, among the front lines... a uniform of burgundy. More than that he could not pick out at this height, but he knew... those were his men.

'The Kingdom goeth to war, Lord Samfr de Samfr, and I am ready to fight, as much as I wished for peace. My army is prepared, and I must give some thanks to you for participating in its organisation and assembly, for it is a good skill and thou hast performed admirably. It will really be such a great regret of mine that you shall not be organising a cricket match for me with this great talent you once possessed.'

The King moved away from the window, and addressed the Lord General and the Commander. 'I am informed that two others among the assembled nobles are of sufficient rank to know their crime and face sentencing before me. We will repeat this performance again, for them both. The other conspirators... merely have them killed. I didst grant them a last meal of the holy food, prepared by my own hand... that is all the forgiveness I could grant them, for I will have none but loyal men in my army.'

'I shall not kneel,' protested Lord Samfr de Samfr. 'I shall not kneel before this common tree-feller, regardless of how high ranking a woman he is, and wait for him to chop off my head!'

'I understand,' said the King, who turned away, as did the two leaders.

Baroness Erica del Erica looked at Lord Samfr de Samfr. There was a wicked half-glint in his eyes, and Samfr understood how the tree-feller might have acquired his name. Halfglint reversed the poleaxe, swung the haft around, struck Samfr in the chin with it, and pushed him out through the fifth-storey window.

There was a whistling of air, and a very conclusive collision with the ground.

And so the conspiracy of the Kingdom was ended, and the armies of the Kingdom were prepared to stand against the Aisorbmii in mortal combat, to fight for their culture, and their rituals, and their people, and their King, as had many generations before them.

But theirs was not to question why, theirs was just to do and die. What more can a soldier give, but his life for his country?

Further research will yield the answers.

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