"Really."
    "He politely requested that we send some more people," I told him.
    Meara got out the list. "Warm socks, booze, more people—that's not necessarily his order—cards....."
    "The suggestion has been made that we could rotate some people down from Stonesgate, perhaps as a reward."
    "And a request to be included in a bardic circuit of some sort at least once a year."
    His Majesty walked off bellowing for his cousin the record-keeper to sort this little matter out. He dug out the records, which claimed that the place had been closed entirely 250 years ago.
    "They left somebody behind?" he looked as us quizzically. Gavin was an old military man who'd taken over the records after he lost his lower leg in a battle and turned out to be good at it.
    "Got a hell of a spear," I mentioned.
    "Two hundred and fifty years," he muttered. "Got to give him something for that...."
    "Might want to promote him," Meara suggested. "Perhaps some back pay?"
    Conner recited the list. "He did mention that he hasn't seen a woman in years, but I don't think that's your responsibility, sir."
    "I suppose we could.... we should send him at least some more people," the record-keeper admitted. "Maybe a priest to bury him?"
    "No, he seems to be hale and hearty."
    "Okay....."
    "Took him a while to figure out his name, but he should be okay this time," Gannon told him.
    "I mean, I don't know if he's fit for command or anything like that, but you might want to just put him in charge of the place," Meara said.
    Meanwhile, there was tallying going on. "Two hundred and fifty years.... we could be in a lot of trouble here."
    "There's no place for him to spend the money," she pointed out.
    "Two hundred and fifty years of back pay at Legion standard, with interest.... and there's the.... I'm going to have to sit down, we have some work to do, I might have to prorate some things on the promotion table. I'll take care of it," he told us, looking a bit worried.
    "Anything else I can do for you, while you're here?"
    "I sent a request down with my latest report, asking about a sword called Rite of Kings?" I asked.
    "Ah. Lovely name. Melt it down, turn it into horseshoes for uppity ponies."
    "Okay....." No shortage of those in Caer Myrrthin.
    "Shave it to flinders and feed it to snakes, I don't know. I'd rather it didn't exist, break it if you can."
    "Well, we've got a nice forge....."
    Meara nodded. "Yeah, the only way of melting it's probably going to be dipping it into the molten iron that's currently entombing Balor."
    "Yeah, that'll improve its personality," I muttered.
    "Handle it at your discretion," was the final judgment.
    "We'll do what we can," I promised. It didn't seem likely to cause any trouble soon, at least.
    "I have some letters for the lot of you that we hadn't sent up yet, and here's the tax notices for Rhonwen, and some letters for Rhonwen, her recognition of title and all that, and this is for you....."
    "Thank you," I took it automatically. "Hey!" It was the charter for Seagate.
    Meara cackled. "Maybe you can make a fine living breeding surly ponies."
    "Cross them with Griffin, we'll have some of the best damn battle horses—they'll be slightly short, but damn will they be mean." I sighed and accepted my fate, not actually displeased.
    "Argh! I forgot to pay my guild dues!" Conner whirled away at high speed, whirled back. "Back pay?"
    "Here," I handed him some money. Conner in full sprint is something to behold.
    "You're welcome to stay here before heading back to your castle," my father grinned slightly.
    I glowered, also slightly.
    "Will you still be traveling with my daughter?" he asked Gannon.
    "If she wishes, milord."
    "Good. Here's the new tax schedule."
    "We're going to need a road," I started. And a lot of other things, but the road would make the rest of it easier.
    "Make up now or send me once you get back, a wish list," he told me. "Your mother is collecting material already."
    That did not surprise me in the least; she'd done the same for my older sibs when they went out on their own. She's the sort of mother who would think to set aside fifty sword blanks for one of her children, just in case they're needed some day. There was a lot to be done, all the minutiae of organization that have hitherto not been something I needed to worry about. There were schedules to be planned out; it would be at least two years before the building was finished, so there was no sense sending up too much too soon. Staff to be hired, or at least thought about for later; I made a mental note that candidates should be good-looking so they wouldn't feel too out of place. Horses for the return journey, since the Caer Myrrthin ponies were well and truly surly after being ridden all the way around the island. Feasts and parties to attend, celebrating the whole business.
    
    "Hello, can I help you?" the clerk greeted Conner.
    "Um, hi. I'm Conner of Rhys, here to pay my guild dues. I've been on the road, with the princess," he explained.
    "For two years, I see?"
    "Yes, we went out to Seagate, and then we circled entirely around the.... island."
    "Do you have your dues?"
    Conner handed over the purse. The clerk selected some coins and tossed the rest back.
    "Since you're here," he tossed a stack of papers on the desk. "Correspondences for you."
    Two years back notes, papers, publications, invitations to dissertation committees, etc. from the Collegium met his eyes. He sighed in the sad knowledge that he might never catch up to some of his classmates' publication credits at this point, after two years almost entirely out of circulation.
    
    The trip back north was mostly uneventful. Once a pack of goblins poured out of the woods toward us, paused, screamed, and ran the other way.
    "I think your parents are getting sloppy," Meara remarked.
    "Say that where they can hear it, please; I'll be amused."
    We found their warren this time; they were well dug into a hill and it would take a determined effort to eradicate them. At least they'd abandoned the toll hut strategy.
    Other than being annoyed by wolves once or twice, we encountered no other trouble. Wynn's direction remained steady; no doubt he was working on that cunning plan of his.
    Gaenor met us on the road in. "Welcome back."
    "Thank you. How was the winter?"
    "Cold. Very, very cold. Got a storm on Solstice Eve like you wouldn't believe."
    Yes, we would.
    "There may be some more people coming up next year," I told her. "They've given me the damn place."
    "Really, I'm shocked. Good, we could always use more people here." We chatted about the prospect of deepening the port, and doing some mining (not iron, of course).
    "Did anyone come and claim the crown and the sword?" Meara asked.
    
         

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