Read Online Kingdoms in Chaos by Michael James Ploof - Free Book Online Page B

gotten along well when Abram took him to the mountain city.
    The secrecy of the dwarves didn’t bother him as much as the war he was being forced to wage. He had sworn to his people that his would be a reign of peace. Now he realized just how naïve he had been.
    Perhaps I can talk to the three lords. Surely they would rather retain their lands and titles over a war they cannot win.
    “Sire, are you awake?” Lunara called from the doorway to his chambers.
    “Come in, I was just about to get up,” he said, sitting up in bed.
    She strode into the room with a grace he had seldom seen in humans. Her footfalls were undiscernible beneath her flowing gown. She smiled brightly, holding something behind her back.
    “A surprise?” he asked.
    “Strawberries!” she said with a laugh, and produced a small basket. “They have ripened. Here, try one.”
    Whill reached for one but she slapped his hand playfully and proceeded to feed him herself. He bit off half of the plump berry and gave a small groan of pleasure.
    “They are delicious. This is a good sign.”
    She popped the other half in her mouth and gave an exaggerated groan. Whill laughed to himself—she was often an insufferable tease. He was well aware of her feelings for him, and he had been careful to not give off the wrong impression. There was no future for them; he was a king of men, and she, an elf. He was expected to marry the daughter of one lord or another. Neither the council nor the people would condone the marriage of their king to an elf.
    He wondered if he would care for their opinion if Avriel was still his.
    “Do strawberries make you think of her?” Lunara asked.
    Whill realized that he had been staring off into space. “What? Who?”
    Lunara gave a small laugh and a fleeting smile dimpled one cheek. She left her basket on the bed and hurriedly moved toward the door.
    “Wait!” Whill blurted.
    She stopped at the threshold and turned to him.
    “Thank you. For the berries,” he said.
    She offered only a nod and small bow and left.
    Whill sighed. What did she expect from him? He popped another strawberry into his mouth and got up to prepare for his day.
     
    Shortly after breakfast Whill and the council met with the city’s guild leaders. For five hours he sat listening to their many complaints. The tallow chandlers complained that due to the livestock shortage, the butchers had less and less animal fat to provide for their candle and soap making. The Wax Chandlers, on the other hand, were thriving, due to the abundance of beeswax. The guild leader of the Tallow Chandlers had been pushing for months for Whill to sign his charter, one that would merge both the Tallow and Wax Chandler guilds into one. Whill listened to their arguments for a half hour before finally agreeing to temporarily ratify the charter for a term of six months.
    Next came the Brewers, whose businesses were struggling due to the shortage of hops, barley, and grain.
    “If we are to meet the demands of the growing population we will need more than a ten percent allocation of grain,” said the Brewer’s Guild Leader as he stood before the court.
    The Magister of Numbers, Hyrold Glean studied his scrolls for a time and finally addressed the man. “What do you propose?”
    “Twenty percent, at least.”
    The leader of the Baker’s Guild shot to his feet and began to protest.
    Whill looked to Hyrold, who shook his head faintly.
    “We cannot justify such an increase,” said Whill.
    “Fifteen, then,” begged the Brewer’s Guild leader. “Sire, we are being undercut by moonshiners. If not the increase in grain, would the court then consider stricter punishments for those making liquor without a charter? While we are bound by the laws of fair trade, these scoundrels sell their concoctions for ungodly prices.”
    “I cannot take bread from children so that their fathers might have beer,” said Whill. “Weaken your recipes if you must, but for now your allocation will remain at