Ikbar’s hand pressed gently against the ornate wooden door to his private dining room. The door itself seemed so delicate with its many intricacies cast by the ancient artisans who crafted it two centuries past, yet it was solid as if it was still rooted to the ground. As his hand ran over the wood he smiled. He pushed and the door yielded immediately. As it opened light flooded from the room and illuminated the cavernous hallway. The room contained a large dining table with an elder gentleman, Delfar, seated at one end. At his shoulder stood a tall, youthful man fully clad in commoner’s attire, with his face hidden by strips of muslin. There was a lengthy, slightly arched blade at the young man’s waist with an unadorned leather scabbard. The hilt was also wrapped in strips of muslin, save for upon inspection you could make out the intricate design under the cloth. At his other shoulder stood the guard captain Orendon.

     “Milord, as you requested I hath brought the lord Delfar to the dining room. His associate refused to remain somewhere else while you conduct your business,” affirmed Orendon serenely.

     “Thank you Orendon, you may depart,” stated Ikbar as he leisurely walked to the opposite end of the table and sat down.

     “But milord!” Orendon started in, but was cut off by Ikbar, “If you suppose that Delfar doth desire injury upon myself, then you are a fool Orendon,”

     “Yes milord…” replied Orendon dryly as he exited the room.

     “Now, to business, Delfar, what hath befallen you my friend?” asked Ikbar, his tone lighter and cheery now.

     “Milord, I hath been through a great deal,” replied Delfar, his voice somber.

     “Delfar! Hath thou no shame? I should be calling you milord!” said Ikbar a bit heatedly.

     “But milord Ikbar…” began Delfar, but he was cut off by Ikbar, “Cease this nonsense Delfar!”

     “What nonsense! I hath been cast out of my own quarters into the cold with but a solitary comrade who stood by me! Milord!” Delfar said quietly, restraining the fury in his voice that had bubbled up inside of him.

     “Enough!” shouted Ikbar, shoving his chair back as he stood, “You and I are equals Delfar!”

     “Nay! Not anymore! You and I are outcasts! You, somehow, hath kept the loyalty of your people! My people hath disowned me and mine!” roared Delfar in retort.

     “Your kin Delfar? Of course! Young man, you are Delfar’s son, but which?” replied Ikbar, his manner calm once more, he pulled his chair back into place and sat down. The young man had been standing very quiet and still at his father’s shoulder, but now he said something, “I am the second son of Delfar, Parion,”

      “Ah, of course, of course…What hath become of Adderan?” Ikbar said in kind.

      “My brother hath taken my father’s place as Lord of the realm of Menora,” Parion said hastily.

      “Nay! He hath?” replied Ikbar, slightly bewildered by this latest intelligence.

     “Yes, he hath turned against the very man who raised him! He is a foul swine of a son!” said Delfar irately.

     “This news intrigues me…” Ikbar said, rubbing his chin with his hand and leaning back in his chair. The room fell quiet as Ikbar contemplated this new information…