Prolouge: A King's return

"You do realize, that even with Lord Bronte returning home from battle, does not mean you will suddenly marry and become royalty."

Soliel glared across at the old buildmaster. "The  thought had not even crossed my mind," She said in irritation, "I am only here to greet my dearest friend. Bronte and I -"

"*Lord* Bronte-" Taran tried to interupt but Soliel quickly spoke back,

"To me he will always be simple Bronte, my child playmate as my mother worked for his father."

"You may find my dear," Taran spoke, his tone condescending,"That war changes people and Bronte has been in battle for five years now" The old build master pulled back his chair and stood up, "He may not be  your dear Child playmate any longer."

Soliel stood up as well, saying defiantly, "He will *always* be Bronte. War will not change him!"

"As you hope my dear. Child, it is late. He is not returning tonight. Go back to your tavern." He walked away, his heavy work boots echoeing on the wood floor that had been recently refinished and polished for Bronte's return.

Soliel stood in the room alone. Bronte would not be changed. He could not. He had always been so fun, so happy, so adventerous  - having no fear of choosing a servant's child as a playmate. He was the one who had, upon hearing of her mother's death bequested her enough to start her small tavern, remebering her dream to be a musician and playright. But old Taran's words rung in her head. He will  not be the same. War changes people...did it?

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The sun was bright over Danue' when the boat pulled into the dock. Bronte, no he he was now *Lord* Bronte, now that his father lay dead and buried on a foreign battlefield. Bronte leaned against the deck railing as the boat bumped and rattled against the dock. After five years he was home. Had much changed he wondered? All of his old friends he had lost touch with. Being forced to be locked in a realm of stealth and strategy, there had been no time to keep up with kingdom friends. Friends were a luxury that was not afforded when lives were on the line with each strategy created.

"We have docked my lord," A shipmate spoke, "Would you like your trunks brought off?"

"Leave them for later," Bronte answered, "I want the peace of a quiet walk before I return to the castle. I will send word when I need them."

He stepped down onto the sandy beach and stood for a moment, drinking in the sea air. It smelled clear, with a hint of seaweed on the breeze. He was finally home. He started up the path so familliar to his younger feet, and enjoyed the freedom from heavy shield and armour. The wars were not done, but the main battle had atleast been won, and, with it, their freedom. Now it was the reubuilding process that needed to take place.

At the top  of castle  hill he stopped and looked out over the rolling hills and forrest lands, and to the smoke haze of the village in the distance. It all belonged to him now. For good or bad, it was his decisions that would direct Danue's future.

Slowly he turned and walked through the heavy castle doors into the throne room and his new responsibilities....