The Heartfelt Saga by Dustin De Felice
The Heartfelt Saga
By Dustin De Felice
Copyright 2011 Dustin De Felice
Chapter 1
Book 1: Prologue
Many, many years ago, a small tribe embarked on a treacherous journey over the mountain ranges to the south of their village. For these people, crossing the mountain was not only dangerous; it was sacrilegious. But, the choice was not theirs.
Michael Heartfelt and his family were a small part of that expedition who took to the mountains in search of a new land, a new beginning. This family, the Heartfelts, was to forever change the land beyond the mountains.
Over the course of two centuries, this family united the vast land of Valerica under its vision. By the year 768, this young monarchy is ready to have its loyalty tested, its people pushed, and its ideals challenged.
June 4th, 768; Moments before the end of the War of Occupation in Castle Heartfelt.
“Sire.”
Sir Stamos turned upon hearing the voice and faced the running messenger. “Yes.”
The messenger slid to a stop and bowed to one knee. “I bring word from the Redderin Townesmen.” He presented a scroll in his outstretched hand with his head down.
Sir Stamos reached down and retrieved the scroll. He gently fingered the wax seal of the Redderin imprint and silently thanked the heavens. “Rise. We must bring this to the King!”
The messenger followed in Sir Stamos’ hasty retreat toward the King’s chamber as the hallway’s occupants dove to the side to allow them to pass. Sir Stamos turned the corner and arrived in front of the chamber. He took a moment to fix himself and knocked as the messenger fell in behind him.
After a brief moment Sir Stamos turned the doorknob and walked into the chamber. He quickly made his way towards the back of the enormous room and stopped about fifteen feet in front of the King and bowed. Moments later the messenger did the same.
King Frederick Heartfelt closed his conversation with his son, Prince Ty, and sat back in his chair. He absently rubbed his temple with his weathered hand and silently hoped this was good news. “What news do you bring, Edwin?”
Sir Stamos nodded and stood, looking the King in the eye. He nervously fingered the scroll hoping it was going to be good news. The King looked exceptionally tired and he wondered if the King had eaten in the last few days. His normally large frame had been shrinking since the day all this nonsense started almost two years ago.
Sir Stamos breathed in and approached the chair. “A messenger, sire. He arrived moments ago with this scroll. The scroll is from Redderin and Townesmen Schillings!” He handed it to the King and stepped back to wait
The King took a moment before opening the scroll and looked beyond Sir Stamos until his eyes fell upon the Redderin messenger. He was surprised at how young the man looked. His boots were caked in mud and his brow was covered in sweat. The messenger noticed the King’s stare and bowed his head in respect. The King nodded as the man bowed his head. The King’s attention went back to the scroll. He slowly broke the seal in an attempt to prolong the inevitable.
Sir Stamos forced himself to breathe as he watched the King’s eyes moving along each line. A breath escaped as the King finished reading. The lines on the King’s face softened as he sat back in his chair, while years of worry left his body. With only a brief pause, the King rose from his chair.
“Prince Ty, bring your sister to me.” The King couldn’t find any words to say more, so he walked to the window and paused.
Prince Ty nodded his head. He stood and made his way to the door. The Prince shrugged his shoulders at Sir Stamos, but didn’t question the order. He just disappeared out of the chamber.
As the door fell shut the King continued, “It’s over Edwin. It’s finally over.”
Sir Stamos thought he could see a tear escaping from the King’s eye, though the King was fixated on the horizon. Sir Stamos nodded to himself and felt the same relief washing over him.
The King abruptly turned and spoke. “Messenger.”
The Redderin messenger stood. “Yes, my lord.”
The King broke away from the window long enough to return to his chair. He seated himself and broke out a piece of parchment. The next few minutes he spent drafting a message. “Messenger, what is your name?”
“Michael, my lord.”
The King nodded. He rolled the parchment and started to work on the seal. “Thank you for bringing me these words.” The King blew on the seal and stood. “Here. Take these words back to Townesmen Schillings. It’s time to put this behind us. Edwin, prepare an escort for Michael. I intend for this message to make it all of the way this time.”
Sir Stamos nodded his understanding and took the messenger with him as they turned to leave the chamber. As they headed for the door, both men respectfully stepped to the side to allow Princess Elizabeth passage. She politely nodded at the men, but briskly continued into the chamber. Sir Stamos smiled to himself as he led the messenger through the chambers. Before they left heard the King’s orders-Messengers were to be sent to the front lines. The war was over. As Sir Stamos stepped into the courtyard he finally let himself feel the excitement. It looked like things were going to return to normal.
September 15th, 769, Castle Heartfelt with the Council
“Sit down!” The King rose from his chair and pounded his fist on the table again. “Enough!” The King’s blood started to boil as the yelling continued growing despite his efforts. “Dammit, I said enough!” This last command was lost in the argument and nothing changed except the volume rose a few more levels.
Sir Stamos was the only member in the Council to notice the King’s apparent displeasure. Fearing the worst, he moved over to the King’s side and keeping his voice low, he whispered into the King’s ear, “Sire, please try and relax. You are still recovering from your illness, please.” Sir Stamos cringed from the look he received, but watched as the King nodded and fell into his chair placing his head into his hand.
The yelling continued and became even louder.
Prince Christopher, who up to this point had not contributed to the yelling, rose from his chair. The Prince was in his mid twenties and stood an imposing six feet. His eyes were a deep blue color and his position in life left him second in line to the throne. As he stood he took in the room.
At the head of the table he nodded briefly to his father who had a pale look on his face. He imagined this wasn’t helping his father’s recovery. He cringed as Sir Stamos poured his father some more of that awful concoction, but was relieved as he watched it take affect with the King visibly relaxing.
The Prince continued looking around the table. To his father’s immediate left, Confidence Massenberg from Fort North continued his attack across the table at Confidence Schillings from Redderin. Confidence Massenberg had been one of the staunchest supporters of keeping Redderin a towne instead of a full fledged Vassal of the Crown and had been a pain in the ass ever since Redderin was instated as a Vassal. The stocky Confidence once said he would rather rebel than share the Crown with a Redderin. Massenberg’s voice rose another level as he renewed his attack on the Redderin Confidence.
The Prince shook his head as he noticed Confidence Pope of Bayside repeating Confidence Massenberg’s every word. The Prince hoped that someday Confidence Pope would gain enough courage to stand on his own, but for now he continued his role as a sidekick. The geographical location of Bayside and Fort North had nurtured the relationship the two Confidences now shared. The role Confidence Pope assumed was, as his father once said, a lap dog to Massenberg’s every whim. It seemed that, no matter how ridiculous Massenberg became, Pope would continue to back his ideas.
The P
Years ago she had been handpicked by Confidence Thos Trynn and because of that the King trusted her implicitly. Lady Loveland functioned as the trade overseer, so she held no official power within the Council, but was responsible for all trade moving through Markham, whether north or south. In some respects, she was more important than the Confidences surrounding her. She caught the Prince’s look and respectfully nodded. He returned the nod with a smile. She was a very beautiful woman in her late forties with the intelligence and experience to match. He watched as one of her advisors took her attention.
The Prince’s gaze led him to Confidence Thos Trynn of Elizabeth Towne. He was shouting at both Confidences from the north and doing his best to force some common sense into the shouting match. His advisors were doing their best to interject and Trynn would occasionally nod his approval in their direction.
Confidence Trynn grew up with and was the same age as the King. They had spent most their young lives together and this intimacy had continued into adulthood. Years before the war, when King Frederick assumed the throne, his first order of business was to promote Thos to the Confidence of Elizabeth Towne. Thos Trynn had become the only Confidence not involved in the debacle that led to the War of Occupation. It was a distinction that Thos carried proudly.
The Prince noticed that a good number of the advisors to the Confidences stood idly by in disbelief at how the discussion had turned. Much to the Prince's displeasure, too many of the bolder ones contributed yells of support. The volume rose one more notch and then the unthinkable happened.
Confidence Massenberg lunged across the table at Confidence Schillings grabbing him by the folds of his robe. As the Confidences collided, parchments, mugs, bowls of fruit, and jugs full of water scattered and knocked across the table. A large jug of water splashed onto the table throwing the contents onto the King, who had risen in shock over the outburst.
As Sir Stamos did his best to offer some protection for the King, he called out to one of the aides. “Get help. Go!” Sir Stamos physically put himself in front of the King as the grappling increased.
Before Prince Christopher could react Royal Man Blackheart sprang from his corner and bee lined for the two Confidences. Blackheart stood well over six feet tall and was an imposing figure on the battlefield, but the Confidences were too entwined to notice. Blackheart threw protocol out the window as he grabbed the back of Massenberg’s robe and forcefully lifted him from the scuffle. As he tried to put the Confidence on his feet, Massenberg wildly swung backwards with his elbows, knocking Blackheart in the jaw and then in the side of his head. Stunned, Blackheart dropped the Confidence back on top of Schillings, lost his balance and fell into Sir Stamos, whose body frame and age didn’t support the mass of Blackheart. Both men tumbled, sandwiching the King into his chair.
The rest of the Council stared in awe as a trio of Guardsmen burst into the room. They then joined the rest of the room by staring at the sight in front of them.
The Prince paused momentarily, looking from his squashed father to the battle between the Confidences, to the gawking Guardsmen before he acted.
“Guardsmen, separate the Confidences, by my order!”
Without hesitation the Guardsmen took off into the fray.
Prince Christopher ran past the Confidences and grasped Blackheart in an effort to lift him off his father and Sir Stamos. The Prince grunted as he tried his best to lift the dazed bulk of Blackheart from the chair. He struggled for a few moments until Confidence Trynn grabbed a side of Blackheart and together they lifted him and placed him in an empty chair. The Prince held Blackheart in an upright position and tried to revive him.
With Blackheart off of him, Sir Stamos was able to move. He picked himself off the King and immediately inquired to the King’s health. The King looked flustered and started to fall from his chair, but Sir Stamos righted him and grabbed for a pitcher of water that had survived the assault. As Stamos fumbled with the water, the King sat back placing his head against the back of the chair and closing his eyes. Stamos waited patiently as the King collected himself.
While Prince Christopher was rescuing his father, the Guardsmen had succeeded in breaking apart the Confidences and had dragged Massenberg to the other side of the room. Schillings, who was on the receiving end, was pulling himself together with the help of his aides.
Prince Christopher was relieved to have Blackheart conscious, and seeing his father’s improved condition, he tried to regain some order.
“Please gentlemen, find your seats.” He motioned for his Guardsmen to release Confidence Massenberg. He looked to the staff of aides surrounding the table. “Let’s see if we can clean this mess up.”
The aides moved from the outside of the table and started to put things back into place.
“Good…” Prince Christopher was cut off as Confidence Massenberg yelled at the top of his lungs.
“This is an outrage!” He headed back towards the table while glaring at the Redderin Confidence. “I will not be subjected to this table of lunacy.” He turned to his aides. “Gather my things.”
No one stirred.
“Now!”
The proclamation was made and the aides scurried around Confidence Massenberg gathering the loose parchments.
“This is not necessary…”
Without letting Prince Christopher finish, Confidence Massenberg started leaving the chamber. “Yes, this is! We are done!”
Struggling to hold onto the mess of parchments his entourage followed in his wake.
Confidence Pope looked sheepishly around the room until he caught a scowl from Massenberg which brought him into action. He nodded to his aides who started gathering his things. Pope respectfully nodded his head in Prince Christopher’s direction and followed in Massenberg’s wake.
Before the northern Confidences departed, Massenberg looked with pure hatred directly at Schillings and said, “This is not through. We will settle!” Massenberg spun on his heels and disappeared out of the chambers followed by Pope and the rest of the aides.
Prince Christopher, boiling with rage, stalked after them only to be stopped by his father’s voice.
“Let them go, Christopher.” The King rose from his chair and repeated himself. "Let them go.”
The Prince turned around and bowed. “As you wish, sire.”
The King wearily moved around the table. “This meeting is adjourned. Thank you all for coming.” King Heartfelt walked through the door to his bedroom with Sir Stamos hurriedly following behind.
After the door shut, silence fell over the chamber.
Prince Christopher turned and kneeled down in front of Blackheart, who was still holding his head.
“How are you?”
Blackheart opened his eyes and frowned. “This wasn’t how I envisioned this meeting.”
The Prince smiled. “You or me both. Do you need the Healer?”
“No.” Blackheart stood up with only a moment of dizziness. “I will be fine. How is the King?”
Prince Christopher shook his head. “This wasn’t what he needed. I will speak with him later.” He turned back to the table and addressed Schillings.
“I am sorry for what transpired, sir.”
Schillings warmly smiled in his direction. “There is nothing you could have done to make this go any differently. I think we both know Massenberg came to the table with this ending already written. If you will excuse me, I am retiring to my room. Please tell your father that I am sorry for today.” The Confidence lowered his head and headed out of the chamber.
The Prince sat back down at the table and watched the rest of the occupants head for the door. He drummed his fingers on the table until Blackheart sat down next to him.
“Our
The Prince eyed Blackheart for a minute and then continued. “Bring me your plans for the recall. I don’t see this situation resolving and I don’t want to be caught without a plan.”
“As you wish.” Blackheart rose and disappeared from the room.
Prince Christopher put his elbows on the table and placed his head into his hands. He rubbed his temples for a moment and was surprised to hear a woman’s voice.
“May I sit down, sire?”
The Prince looked up. “Of course, Lady Loveland.” He stood up as she seated herself next to him.
“This has lasted longer than I anticipated and I need to return to Markham. Please tell your father I will return in a few weeks.”
“I will my lady. I wish things could have gone differently. Do you wish any protection for Markham?”
“Not yet. I don’t think Massenberg has room for any more enemies. He has created enough today and can’t afford to add me to the list. Besides, Markham will continue to trade, since the merchants will go on despite our best efforts at improving their lot.” Lady Loveland rose. “Take care Prince Christopher. Until next time.”
“I will. Have a safe passage.” Prince Christopher put his head back into his hands and thought about the next day. He wasn’t sure tomorrow was going to be any different than today.
September 16th, 769, the next morning in the chamber
“What do you mean they left?” Sir Stamos angrily slammed his fist into his other hand.
“As I said, they have left.” Prince Christopher was growing tired of this roadblock. “May I see my father now?”
“I just saw Massenberg’s entourage this morning. Who is this information coming from?”
Prince Christopher rolled his eyes. “The Confidences left early in the morning with only a skeleton crew to make the first leg of the trip. As we speak, the rest of the entourages are making the final preparations to depart. The head of both parties gave this information to me. May I see my father now?”
Sir Stamos nodded. “Follow me.”
Both men left the chamber and entered the King’s bedroom. The shutters were closed and the King sat in his wide backed chair facing the door.
“Good morning, gentlemen.”
Both men knelt.
“They have left sire.” Prince Christopher kept his head down.
“I know. I watched them go.”
Sir Stamos and Prince Christopher exchanged glances with each other.
Lifting his head towards his father, Christopher addressed him. “Father, do you want us to stop them?”
The King stood and walked to his window. He pulled open the shutters and took in the fresh morning air. “No. Let them be. In due time we will readdress the issues before us, but for now let’s concentrate on the coming winter.”
Prince Christopher nodded. “I understand, sire.”
“We still have Elizabeth Towne and Redderin. Continue with the meetings.” Having said this, the King disappeared into his changing room.
Since they were dismissed, Sir Stamos and Prince Christopher quietly left the bedroom.
“I will inform the Confidences.” Prince Christopher walked out of the chamber wondering how long they would have to wait to readdress these issues with the north. He had a feeling the coming winter season wouldn’t be as relaxing as he imagined.