The Thieves of Tharbad by AliceNWonder000137  

A Matter of Succession

A dispute of succession arises in Cardolan.  Will political maneuvering dethrone the Princess before she even receives the crown?

Fornost Erain – The Palace of the King – Narwain 25th, Early Morning

A thick fog had gathered outside of the palace, which was coated in frost and icicles. In the slowly gathering, but diffused light, a rider sped up the cobblestone road, hoof beats clattering along, growing louder by the minute. The rider, clad in a surcoat of the Royal Family of Cardolan, shouted up at the sentries manning the gate to the palace. "I bear a message for the Princess of Cardolan from Chancellor Nimhir. Open the gate."

The Arthedan guards peered down into the soupy mist and waved to the warden below. The grinding of heavy chains could be heard and soon, the massive portcullis cranked upward, allowing the messenger to enter.

"Please bear me quickly to the Princess. I have an urgent message on a matter of state."

The warden, clad in shiny half plate armor, nodded as the rider dismounted. A groom quickly took the horse as the warden marched off toward the keep. Droplets of moisture beaded and rolled down the buffed metal plates and bassinet of the warden as he strode along through a lush garden, kept warm by enchanted heaters. The rider marveled at the bright flowers, blooming in the winter landscape of the Arthedan capitol.

With breath steaming, the two approached the fortified keep and two armored sentries snapped halberds to attention and then opened the great doors. A valet immediately took the cloak of the rider to be dried and hung for his departure as another servant carried in a platter of fruit and juice.

The messenger rubbed his nose and then his hands to shake out the chill and then gratefully accepted refreshment. As he gulped the fluid from the glass, Baranor came bolting down the broad, circular stairway, a smile of recognition on his face. "Cedhron, greetings my friend. News of your coming has preceded you."

Sergeant Cedhron, a fellow Royal Guardsman and the conspirator with Nirnadel's escapades, smiled broadly as the two men embraced. "Well, you have me at a disadvantage. Without a Palantír, we remain somewhat blind. You will have to fill me in on your adventures later; I bear an urgent message for the Princess. We will be returning to Tharbad as soon as possible."

The captain raised an eyebrow. "Something is wrong?" he said more as a question than a statement.

"We must speak…in private," he said quietly as he scanned for eavesdroppers.

The valet bowed low to the two warriors. "I shall take you to the chamber of the Princess. Walk this way."

At the Mallorn Wood door to the Royal Guest Chambers, the valet rapped the bronze knocker, bringing Anariel to answer in her nightcap. The old maid seemed irritated at first until she saw Cedhron. The expression of joy on his face spoke volumes and she ushered the knights in, leaving the valet outside. Anariel walked to a lantern, bringing its light to life and she left to wake the Princess. Cedhron warmed his hands over a glowing brazier full of hot coals as Baranor mixed tea leaves into a kettle.

Soon, Nirnadel appeared, dressed in heavy velvet robes of burgundy as Anariel brushed the Princess' black hair. Barely concealed worry was cast upon her pale features. "Good Cedhron, We thank you for your long ride from Tharbad. Please, share your message with us."

The sergeant inhaled and removed a scroll tube from a pouch. He broke the wax Seal of the Chancellor and rolled the parchment out on a table. "There has been an attempt on the Chancellor's life. Nimhir has been wounded, but he is recovering," he said, his voice heavy with worry.

Nirnadel and Anariel gasped as Kaile and Galadel emerged from the next room. "What? How did this happen?" the Princess asked, her gray eyes wide with concern. She took the parchment and read it in depth. "This is the good Chancellor's hand. We can confirm this," she said, shaking.

Cedhron nodded. "The assassin was slain, but we have no clues as to who may have sent him. This vile deed has highlighted an important matter of state – the Chancellor has no successor and Cardolan has no sovereign. Valar forbid, should he perish, we would have anarchy."

Baranor hissed. "I smell Girithlin in this."

Nirnadel furrowed her brows. "Do not be hasty, good sir. Angmar is ever up to no good and We have seen great things from Falathar. We do not think Mablung Girithlin would go so far."

The captain knew of the Princess' naiveté but held his tongue. He merely exhaled sharply.

"Your Highness," added Cedhron, "We must depart for Tharbad as soon as possible. There, you must preside over a ceremony to name the Chancellor's successor."

Nirnadel frowned. "If We understand Cardolan law, We have no authority to invest a successor as of yet and such a matter must go to a vote among the Hirdoms. That is the law, good sergeant."

Baranor understood the underlying message. "Your Highness," he started with a sigh, "it is not that simple…and Nimhir has the power to bring about such a ceremony. When Nimhir was voted in as Chancellor, it was a near run thing with four for him and three against. This time, we may not be so lucky, and we must keep power out of the hands of Mablung Girithlin. Nimhir cannot choose his own successor…you must do it. The Hiri would scream foul if Nimhir did that. It would smack of corruption."

The Princess was shocked at such political maneuvering and her expression showed that she found it distasteful, her lips pursed tightly. "Kind Baranor, We will not manipulate the system…a system that our forebears founded and upheld for more than four hundred years of Cardolan's history. We find this abhorrent."

The captain bit his lip as the memory of a spoiled, prissy Nirnadel passed. "Your Highness…you may find it…difficult to believe, but your father, the great King Ostoher, learned about the realities of governing in his reign. Survival is often more important than law."

Nirnadel stood sharply. "You lie! You leave my father out of this. He was a good King and a good father." Kaile held her back.

Baranor shook his head and held up his hands, palms out. "I'm not saying he wasn't, Your Highness. I'm saying he understood what it took to rule…and it's not always pretty."

"Enough," stated the Princess with a wave of her hand. "This conversation is at an end. We will sanction a vote as it was laid down in Cardolan law." She then turned to Anariel. "Make preparations for our departure, good nurse." Tension lined the Princess' face, her jaw taut and her forehead furrowed. Baranor hated this. He wished he could do it over.

With that, the women strode off, leaving the two guards in the chilly room. Cedhron shrugged as Baranor rolled his eyes. The captain took a bite from one of the apples in a silver bowl. The knowledge of what was to come churned his stomach. "Girithlin will be poised to rule the Kingdom. When he gains control of the Chancellery, he will force Nirnadel to marry his son…and then we'll be lost."