The Winter Sun

Chapter 5

"Your Highness. You can't possibly think of doing that. This will be the end of us all!" The council room stood still as Commander Zakrus shoved his seat back, hands landing flat against the stony surface of the long rectangular table. Sitting at his sides were men beyond their middle-aged years bearing fine tunics with heavy gold bracelets suffocating their wrists. Their gazes fixed on the Commander under severe frowns. But the Commander only bothered to meet the collected gaze of the man sitting in high chair prevailing over the others. His skin was deep and rich, like a blessing of the Sun God that spared him from the freezing cold touch of the cobblestones. Complex features announced by a prominent nose that stared as boldly and heavily as his eyes littered with thick lines. Squared shoulders as robust as the castle stones -very much telling of a past of battles and field training- were drowned under a large emerald green tunic of velvet touch with gold intricated details. A gold circlet with a sun carved in the middle of it sat heavily on long, dark, interlocked strands.

"Commander." The King's deep baritone voice lured away the tensed eyes of the Council members to him. "As the Chief of Ornuv Army, you are certainly aware of the dire situation of our soldiers. Marrying Ornuv to another country of the continent is the only way to solve the crisis."

The Commander's hands tightened into fists. "If you do this, your Highness, you lose what makes Ornuv the most fearful country of the continent. Our army." He enunciated rising murmurs. "Which will lead us to our ultimate downfall must a war arise."

"There hasn't been a war for ten long years, Zakrus," A Lord with pepper-colored mustache matching the hue of a lengthy beard tumbling under the table chimed in. "Most of the continent signed the Peace Treaty. This is but fearful nonsense."

Zakrus' dark eyes turned to him. «Signing a paper never stopped a war Lord Abby. »

But the Lord wouldn't let it go. "The Favor was the reason we were attacked in the first place and we lost it. There won't be a war," he added, rousing murmurs of approval around the table.

Wrinkly hands raised up, attracting all the eyes. "Our Almighty Sun God punished us by taking away the Favor. » They belonged to a bald man with bushy sideburns. "Our prayers are heavy and while the Sun God is goodness and forgiveness, the Favor remains inside his hands." He gazed up to the ceiling as if contemplating the sky.

"The High priest is right." Lord Abby leaned forward on the table. "There is naught to do besides marrying the Princess. »

Zakrus slid his fists off the table, standing up straight. "Our sovereignty is our most important weapon in time of war. Must this wedding occur, we will lose it as submission will be asked from the other country."

"You can't be serious, Zakrus," A man with chubby cheeks barely hidden by a cropped black beard huffed. "What about our dying crops and population?" his haughty gaze found the Commander. "There are other alarming matters besides the threat of your self-seeking control over Ornuv army."

Zakrus grimaced a smile before he lifted an icy stare at the Lord. "You care so much about the population, Lord Castello." The Lord's frown deepened. "It is why you raised the taxes, and you all voted unanimously for the prices to spike," his stare combed the room. The eyes were fleeing, and the Priest cleared his throat. Zakrus' eyes narrowed. "Your bellies are so thick you can't even fill your pockets anymore." He hissed.

A fist bumped against the table, echoing in the room. All eyes flickered on the scarlet face of Lord Castello. "What do you think it is for? Our taxes are what keep this Kingdom from drowning!"

"What will help us is a stronger army," Zakrus yelled back. The Lord's features scrunched into fury and the swords drew out. A combat of arguments started to clash between the two men under the jaded gaze of the King. A man crawled in from under the shadow and stood next him. An unceremonious crooked nose and an arched spine like a bow were the first things standing out upon seeing him and when he walked a slight limp would be diffused by a wooden staff.