Other courtiers gathered below the dais, enjoying the spoils of the king’s table. Given the slightest opportunity, how many would knife Niam in the back?
Some nobles chafed, thinking him weak for seeking ties to the empire, blissfully ignorant of reality, unknowing or uncaring how many from poorer villages would die before next spring without help. The bounty of this table from which they fed their bellies wasn’t as expansive as in times past. Let them grumble about Niam being tight with the purse strings.
Losing arable land to sinkholes and stifling an impending invasion from Craice conspired to bring Delletina to her knees. Yet she survived.
Soon, word would spread of Delletina’s new status under Avestan’s protection. The people could either come to terms with the new state of affairs or join Lord Whreyn.
So much to be thankful for tonight, but most of all, for Rufe. In Niam’s bed, in his heart, in his life. Rufe lifted the burden from Niam’s shoulders. Nobles squabbling for control of Delletina reminded Niam of fleas fighting over a dying animal. They thought they could rule better? Some days, he’d love to let them try.
He’d put unpleasantness behind him, move forward, improve Delletina, safeguard against Craice, and make more stable lands available for farming. Delletina would survive. Delletina would thrive.
As would Delletina’s king.
And the king’s warrior.
