[u]Morning, Rotaerus Castle[/u]

The sun had made its appearance, and it was shining through the large window within the Kings bedchamber. The glaring rays fell upon his eyes, not giving a care in the world who he was or what he was. Arthur had learned long ago that a king could do nothing to damper the suns brightness. He had woken hours earlier to get ready for the meeting, and afterwards had decided to sit and enjoy the view. The rain had left the city looking glum and dark, but as the sun shined down from the sky, everything seemed to be cheering up. People were going about their day, animals were coming out of their shelters, life continued where it had left off.

 He turned to the woman still laying in bed. Her long auburn hair fell like cascading water over her shoulders. Her soft and light skin looked so lovely in this light, his eyes couldn't wander elsewhere if they tried. Arthur never dared to wake her, he always found her to be such a beautiful sleeper. It was times like this when he would reminisce of events gone by, of the life they had lived these past several years. He thought of the four children they'd had, of the lives they'd lead, of the future they'd have. It was these moments he wanted to last forever.

It wasn't to be as a knock came at the door and Caitlyn began to stir. She raised her head gently to see what was going on, yawning and stretching her arms. "Don't get up, my love." Arthur leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead softly, brushing her hair to the side as he did. She smiled from below and looked up at him with her forest green eyes.

"Whoever it is, tell them they have my royal displeasure. I was having the most amazing dream."

"I'll be sure to throw them from the tallest tower personally," he said in a playful tone, cracking a smile. "I am the king after all." He got up from the bed and walked to the door, opening it quietly so as not to disturb her further. Once it was closed with him on the other side, he saw who it was that had knocked. "Captain, I am afraid I'm going to have to throw you from a tall tower. The Queen asked for it personally; you'll understand won't you?"

"But of course your grace. Anything for the women we love." The captain of the royal guard was a respected friend to the King, for good and obvious reason. One wanted to be in good graces with the man whose life was sworn to protect his.

They shared a brief laugh over their peculiar humor, "what did you need to tell me?"

"You asked me to inform you when your son, the prince, returned. He was just seen entering the castles gate with six of our guards," the commander reported.

The king was a bit confused, "six? Did he not leave with nine?" The king had always been the protective sort. If James had left with a smaller detail than he liked, someone would be in trouble.

The commanders cheery attitude turned somber. "He did your grace. I'm afraid the other three might have fallen. I'll know more once I speak with the men."

The king nodded solemnly. "Please make sure you find out." The death of three royal guards was no small thing. They were supposed to be the best soldiers the Kingdom could produce. For one of them to fall in combat was a most distressing thought. It was especially grievous for the king. Arthur deplored death, especially that of his own people. Something about it always left a sour taste in his mouth.

As if able to read minds, the commander spoke, "all men die. It's only natural."

The king nodded again, responding, "yes. But it's never an easy thing to deal with." He didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Excuse me, I wish to see my son." The commander bowed as the king took his leave. His son had been away for three weeks, and he was most interested in seeing what the north had brought about in his firstborn.

As he walked the halls of the great castle, he passed servants and guards going about their business. The castle was immense; it'd be a confusing building to navigate if the king hadn't grown up in it. He remembered back to the days of his youth, running the halls with his brother. They would play games and pretend to be men like Jonathan the Uniter, and Frederick the Strong. Their father, Robert the Restorer, always disapproved of their foolishness. Not because he was against playing around, but because Arthur and his brother typically got into trouble when they did.

It was later by the time he actually saw his son. The prince had spent the time since arriving to get cleaned up; this involved intense bathing, grooming, and of course a change of clothes. While Arthur waited, he looked around at his sons chambers. The room was full of memories of raising James. Many times were spent teaching and playing with him, spending quality moments with his child. Not a single toy remained as James grew older though. The room was now that of an adults, changing much like his own room had.

"How did you find the north? Was it what you thought it would be?" Arthur didn't have to turn to know who was behind him.

James contemplated the question. "No. It was worse. I expected fighting, I expected death, I even expected the harsh conditions, but..." His voice trailed off.

"But it's something else entirely when you actually see it; or experience it." His father turned around and got a look at him. James had tied his hair back into a ponytail and shaved his facial hair to a short stubble. He had on a set of fine clothing with the eagle of Osterlaind embroidered upon his chest. His son was only three weeks older, but the boy who left him had turned into a man. "I take it you killed a few clansmen."

James didn't want to answer the question. It wasn't that he was a coward; it was just that killing wasn't something he was used to. He turned his head and looked about the room. His silence was just as telling as giving a verbal response. "I did," he finally resigned. James had grown up hearing men talk valiantly of killing. He was so excited to get into the thick of things and prove his worth. But when the time came, there was nothing heroic, nothing glorious about the task before him. Killing was not what the songs had made it to be.

"And how did you take it?" His father asked.

"I'm afraid I got sick to my stomach. Right there on the field."

Arthur chuckled and smiled knowingly. "I did as much the first time. Only, I was able to hold it in until after the fighting; after the rage of action had passed."

James was glad to hear he wasn't the only one. "And what about the others? What about when other men died?"

"My men you mean?" James nodded. His fathers voice grew a bit more quiet on that topic. "That was even harder to cope with. I'll admit I cried when my first friend was slain; not within sight of the men of course, a king must uphold a brave image." He observed the worried look on his sons face. "It will bother you every single time, if you're anything like me that is. It's best to get used to it as much as possible." He reassured his boy. "Now, we have pressing matters to attend to. The council and mayors are all awaiting in the council room."

"Father," James started. "What's this meeting about?"

His father sighed. James could see the pain in his face, as if the words were trying their hardest to keep from coming out. "The nation is in trouble. It's not anything we can't handle I don't think." He paused. "But it is definitely the most challenging thing to face my reign." The king turned to the door and left into the hallway. "Let's not keep them waiting."