The onyx walls of Mordelic bulged at the seams. Men, women, and children too poor to afford housing took up residence in narrow alleys by night and begged for food or copper by day. More and more people went hungry in their own homes. 
      But the king found a solution. A city in the mountains more beautiful than anything dwarfs could create, a city larger than Mordelic. 
      As the people of Mordelic waited anxiously for the king’s announcement Timaleon sat on his throne awaiting the arrival of his sons. Only in their hands could he trust such an important task; however, each of them must be spoken to separately. Though both of his sons had patience with him, they had none with each other. 
      Since they could first walk side by side they had done nothing but fight and disagree about everything. As they grew older Timaleon had hoped their childish feud would cease, but instead it grew worse. He was sure the root of the issue was their mother, who died from birthing complications after Tiberius was born. The king had great fear for the future of Cevius once he was gone and it was in their hands.
      Narcysius, eldest of the two, held his own opinions high enough that the words of others were nothing to him. Tiberius, however, always had a ready ear and took the issues into consideration. In the case of his own brother though, he never agreed. They were as opposite as day and night.
      The doors to the great chamber groaned open with a racket that startled Timaleon from his thoughts. 
      Narcysius marched in with his head held high. Nearly a full foot taller than his father, and loaded with muscles, the First Heirleeon seemed to tower over men equal to him in size. There was not a man that did not either admire or fear the heir to the throne. 
      As usual, his shoulder length hair was pulled back behind his ears, perfectly framing his face. Blond locks lightly flopped with each confident stride he took toward the throne. 
      As he approached, Timaleon noticed that his son was wearing nothing but the best, as always; a purple velvet tunic with the symbol of Cevius colored in platinum across the chest, with trim to match, and purple velvet trousers to match the tunic. 
      Around his waist, holding the tunic firmly and perfectly in place, was the leather sword belt that held the embroidered leather sheath for his custom made long sword. The eyelet studded holes in the leather strap—invented by Narcysius—allowed for both fashion and utility, able to hold half a dozen daggers, pouches for gold or herbs, or any other small item. The idea behind his belt was genius; however, Timaleon tried to convince his son that such a belt was unnecessary if he was to be king one day. Narcysius argued that if his kingdom were in danger, and armies sent to war, he had no intention of sending the men out the onyx gate without leading the way. He intended to serve them not just as their king, but as their general as well. Those words had sent a chill up his father’s spine, and Narcysius seemed to take great delight in those shivers.
      Even as Narcysius passed the last chair, and rounded the edge of the pool, Timaleon could see that same look in his emerald green eyes and stone cold face. Delight in someone else’s fear. Not that Timaleon feared him, really. There was so much about his eldest son that Timaleon would never be able to understand, which was why he knew that what he was about to do was best for the kingdom.
      Narcysius knelt before the king. The purple velvet cape around his shoulders swished quickly from side to side as he flipped the left shoulder of it back—purposely revealing the sheathed sword—without touching the cape. The inside of the long cloak shimmered platinum silk. His hand was firmly around the black suede hilt of his sword. With the skills that he possessed—and a brief backward glare that Timaleon could have sworn he caught a glimpse of—Narcysius would have no trouble drawing and quickly beheading his own kin before anyone knew what had happened. The idea that his own flesh and blood could be so cruel forced the usually jolly king to shake off the horrible image.
      “Father.” Narcysius’ tone was cold, which matched his detached expression.
      Timaleon sighed. “My son.”
      Formalities passed, Narcysius stood again. The cape around him returned to normal with a swish that seemed to hold its own life, as if the velvet were not just a cape, but another extension of him. Timaleon scowled at the firm grip Narcysius maintained on his suede hilt.
      Timaleon motioned to the nearest council chair, encouraging the young man to sit and talk with him. It had been a long time since to two had a heart to heart, and time was running short. 
      With a thin grimace Narcysius looked at the chair as if it was infested with an illness he could catch just by standing near enough to it. Then a thin smile crossed his lips and in one swift move he unfastened the platinum, crescent-shaped broach which held the cloak around him and flipped the cloth over the entire chair. 
      As Timaleon watched his son patiently smooth out the wrinkled material over the surface of the seat, he thought about how strange his son's behavior had become with age. There was no longer anything about him that Timaleon recalled seeing in those sparkling emerald eyes on the day he was born. 
      Even as he finally rested on the now silken-covered chair, Narcysius adjusted the blade of his sword at his side, unwilling to let it touch the cleanest floor in the entire kingdom. Adjusting his back and sitting upright, he looked at the king in unenthusiastic anticipation.
      “It’s been so long since we talked last, Narcysius.” Timaleon’s voice was soft and gentle. “Tell your old father what you have been up to.”
      Narcysius closed his eyes in a flash, so fast it almost seemed like a blink, and collected himself. Making small talk with his father was not something he liked to waste time on, though his father was always loving and tolerant beyond anything he could have ever been. When it came to love, Narcysius had no inkling of what it meant to love someone and allow him to be enslaved, or to sacrifice for that person. He did understand that country was more important than anything else. If his father required him to participate in senseless conversation—challenging as it was at times—then he was obligated to do so.
      “Nothing but studies in my chambers, father.” His reply was only partially forthcoming. “Preparing for the day when I am required to take your place, Light save the king. That is all I have time for these days.”
      Timaleon smiled at his son’s political answer, understanding that he was not only in study, but practice also. Sliding in the formal comment for the gods was a nice touch.
      “And what of marriage? Your day is almost on you.”
      Narcysius clenched his jaw and took a deep breath before speaking. “I shall marry whomever my king wishes... What news brings me away from my urgent studies, father? It’s been more than a year since you sent for me just to talk.”
      The king sighed and readjusted his stout body. There was no getting anything past Narcysius these days. The boy had grown more intelligent than him over the last couple of years, causing the two of them to drift apart. The cloud of arrogance that surrounded the heirleeon was both alluring and distasteful.
      “I have come across a quest that I could trust in no other hands but yours, Narcysius,” he answered, unable to create small talk any longer. “It could be dangerous, so I hesitate to send my eldest son to lead the way; however, there is no other choice. I have no doubt that you are aware of the supply shortage in Mordelic, or that you know the reason.”
      Narcysius acknowledged the obvious statement with nothing more than a readjustment of his posture before speaking. “The solution is a simple one father; however, you refuse it for reasons I cannot understand. Deny citizenship within the city gates, create housing outside the onyx wall, enlist a new workforce of farmers on the lands, create citizenship capacity for Mordelic and its sister cities.”
      Timaleon remained as calm as always. “I’ll not turn away the people of this kingdom for any reason. If that means that I must suffer along with them then so be it, but I will never default upon my word. When I give it, it is as good as gold.”
      “It seems these days, my King, that even gold is worth little around here.” Narcysius’ laugh had a snide undertone as he referred to the king with a sarcastic snap.
      Without breaking his calm, Timaleon replied. “Even so, what I am referring to is honor. Honor your people as you want them to honor you. The only way to create peace is through respect, and I will ask that you give it if you wish to receive it.”
      Though he did not raise his voice, Narcysius knew his father was angry with the way he disrespected him. The day would come, however, when the conversation would mean nothing and the king was gone. 
      “What quest do you speak of that makes this conversation justified?” He tried to tone down the disdain in his voice.
      Pointing to the northern window beside him, Timaleon returned to the issue. “Look out that window and tell me what you see.”
      The muscles in Narcysius' jaw throbbed as he clenched tighter. Shifting in his chair to see the long window he tried to maintain his posture. 
      Suddenly a shadow swooped past just the single window. In that brief instant, far off in the distance, a momentary shadow appeared in the clouds. The image came and went quickly.
      “You want me to take the army and recover the castle for Cevius because they refuse alliance to the kingdom.” The excitement in his voice was not normal for a Cevian, but more like a barbarian chomping at the bit for blood and war in peaceful times. It was not a question, but a plea to fight for the country he loved.
      Timaleon shook his head at the boy. “Son of mine, the castle is deserted. The details will come to you before nightfall. All I need to ask is that you lead the people we send to this new city. I can trust this task in no other hands but yours. I will not order you to take the journey. You must decide for yourself.”
      Thin lips, nothing more than a slash across his face, spread in a narrow smile the king had not seen since he was a young boy. His teeth shined like pearls in the sunlight. It was apparent he wanted the opportunity to leave Mordelic.
      “Very well,” Timaleon sighed. “Once all is ready you will lead the people to the new city and set up trade. Until then prepare for the announcement tonight. I will require you to be at my side.”
      Without wasting a moment, Narcysius stood and returned his cape to his shoulders in one fluid motion then headed for the door. 
      As Timaleon watched him walk away the velvet cape silently swept the floor in his stead. His excitement was both invigorating and unnerving. Nothing had inspired Narcysius to such haste since the days he raced the other children in the palace courtyard. Perhaps excitement was exactly what he needed to give himself a jump start back into the realities of his future.

*****

      At the king’s request the doors to the Silver Hall remained open with his guards posted outside. Tiberius stormed into the hall in a huff, upset about some news that had reached him. Timaleon could only guess what. Though his posture and stride were confident, and the look on his face was serious, Timaleon saw the right of him. 
      On the surface his son was as tough as the onyx walls, but beneath that darkly tanned skin was a heart as soft as his own. Tiberius had an incredible ability to turn his emotions on and off to the public as necessary; however, he had never been able to learn how to control the feelings of his heart.
      Even as Tiberius approached the throne and prepared to pay proper respect to the king, Timaleon held a preemptive hand firmly in the air to stop him, permitting his youngest to forgo formalities, Tiberius relaxed his posture and sighed. 
      Red faced from a good workout it was apparent that he had come from another practice in the courtyard with his friends. Wavy blond hair was slightly damp with sweat, and he still wore his practice chain-mail with belt and sheath holding his sword at his side. The only change made between the courtyard and the Silver Hall was a simple charcoal cloak that enveloped him and brushed the floor as he moved. 
      Eager to get down to business, Tiberius did not even wait for Timaleon to offer him a chair before taking a seat.
      Soft, sweet blue and green eyes met his for a moment in silence. Though his face was hard, Timaleon could see the pain behind his eyes. As always, the brown fragment of color in Tiberius’ right iris seemed to flex with life of its own. For years he maintained the fascinating deformity within his blue eye.
      “You seem upset Tiberius.” Timaleon decided to forgo small talk. It was sure not to work in this case also, though for different reasons.
      “I’ve already heard from my brother.” Tiberius’ voice snapped hard, filled with hurt and scorn. “Father, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t send me instead. I know the land better. I understand better how to run an army. I know all there is to know about how to establish a government. I understand the ways of our people better because I actually take the time to spend with them. It makes no sense to—”
      Timaleon did not give him a chance to finish. “And all these reasons are precisely why I have decided to send him and not you. Have patience, my son. I have different plans for you.”
      The boy’s eyebrows narrowed until they became one.
      “What plans could you possibly have for me that are half as important? How could a man with two right feet possibly protect our people?”
      When Timaleon had made the decision to send Narcysius he knew Tiberius would come with pain in his eyes and foul words on his tongue. He was not prepared for all of the questions.
      “Narcysius is more skilled with a blade than you know.” His voice was reassuring. “And as far as your future is concerned, there is no need to worry about that now. The only thing you need to understand is that I am the king, and I know what is best for my people. If you cannot have faith in my decision as a father, then have faith in my decision as king.”
      Over the years he made some wrong choices when it came to raising his sons, snapping to quick judgments, but when it came to raising a country from poverty and hate to equality and love he had not once failed. Cevius was far richer under his rule than it had ever been before. Not in gold and jewels, but in peace. If sending the First Heirleeon was the will of the king, then there would be no man or woman in the kingdom that second-guessed his decision.
      The young man looked at the pool in shame. Once again he had let Narcysius get the better of him. The words his brother spewed in the courtyard, when he appeared to rub his task in Tiberius' face, were exaggerations of the truth. Seething words of hatred slithered off his tongue and engaged Tiberius’ sensitive emotions. Narcysius always knew exactly what buttons to push. Realizing that he had acted just as his disdainful as brother had wished, Tiberius took a deep breath to regain control over his emotions.
      Knowing what happened without being present, Timaleon placed a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
      “You must learn that Narcysius is only trying to cause a ripple in your composure when he says such things. Just remember, his words are nothing more than words placed together with little meaning or truth behind them. I meant you no harm. You are my life and I love you both dearly.”
      If Tiberius ever hoped to be half the man his father was he knew he had to learn to control his hatred toward Narcysius.
      “You’re right, father.” His voice was a meek sigh. Their eyes met and exchanged feelings of trust and understanding. “I do trust your decisions as the king. I have no doubt you know what you’re doing, regardless of how it hurts me. The people of Cevius come first.”
      Timaleon smiled as he rose to his feet and the two men embraced in a manner only father and son could. After a pat on the boy’s back they pulled apart and again looked each other in the eye.
      “Go!” Timaleon encourage. “You’re dirty and sweaty. Go prepare for the announcement.”
      Without further encouragement Tiberius heeled around and headed for the exit in his usual casual manner as the king returned to his seat and called for Corbàn. They had a speech to prepare.