Grawden was worried with the ease in which his men had been fooled. It was that ease which had resulted in the current situation. The captain of the guard felt the sword pressing into his throat and felt his heart sink. The men who held him were fanatics, members of a vegetable cult. There appeared to be no escape.

"A convoy of the king's men isn't something which can be kept a secret," the man who had pretended to be the caravan owner spoke with hatred dripping off of every word.

Grawden went to speak again but felt the sword being pressed tighter against his throat. He could see that all of his men, including Marden and Angstrong, had suffered a similar fate as him. Ahead of him lay Arron lying face down in the mud. The rain still poured down and lightning flashed overhead. I need a chance, a distraction, but where is it. Grawden was beginning to realise that maybe this time there was no plan which could help him - maybe this was it. I can't think like that, there's always hope.

Arron was beginning to come around. Wet. Dark. He was about to reach to his face to see what was wrong when the memories of what happened came flooding back to him. Being hit by the caravan owner. Wait, he could hear voices.

"We were lucky for it to be so easy to capture you. Perhaps you're hiding something, maybe it was too easy. Wait a minute what am I saying. Your royal guards and loyal to the fruits. You're too stupid to have thought this was a trap." It sounded like the caravan owner, whoever he was.

Perhaps if I lie still I can fool them into thinking I'm still unconscious and I can help Grawden effect a rescue. Arron lay still, the desire to wipe his face clear of the mud was unbearable. The fact that mud was in his eyes also made it difficult.

Grawden was not faring any better than Arron, he still had a sword to his throat and had no escape plan. "Move over to the caravan. I want out of this rain." The sword left Grawden's throat but any hope of escape was quashed when he felt the sword pressing into his back. "Move."

Grawden did as he was told marching across the slick ground. As far as he could make out the rest of his men were being rounded up and were also walking towards the caravan. They were approaching Arron, as far as Grawden could tell he was still unconscious.

Arron was anything but unconscious. He had assessed the situation and had come up with a plan. This is going to work - hopefully. As the two people walked past him Arron surmised that the first one would be a hostage and thus one of the guards, the other would be a cultist. Reaching out with his left hand Arron grabbed the leg of the cultist and pulled with all his might.

Grawden heard a yelp from the man behind and the pressure of the sword on his back was released. He was free. Swirling around Grawden pulled his own sword free and saw that Arron was not as unconscious as he had initially thought. The man who had posed as the caravan owner was lying on the ground sprawling in the mud. He was struggling to get up as every time he put pressure on the ground with his hand he just slipped. Grawden realised this was his opportunity. "Men defend yourself," Grawden shouted the order clearly and precisely.

Startled the other cultists hesitated as they realised that Grawden was now free. It was all the hesitation the guards needed and within moments the tide had turned and all the cultists were subdued. Grawden reached out his arm to Arron to lift him off the ground, all the time keeping his sword on the caravan owner.

Once Arron was standing he began to try and clear the mud from his face, "I'm glad I brought a change of clothes now."

Grawden turned to the adviser, "well let's see who these people are." The captain of the guard knelt before the caravan owner and asked, "who's your leader?"

"I am," replied the man foolishly.

"Well then," said Grawden as he pressed his sword into the man's throat, "that makes you responsible for what happened here. What is your name?"

Realising that there was little else he could do the man began to co-operate, "Asten, but I'm not responsible for what happened here."

"Who is then?" asked Grawden growing impatient. This man, Asten, was becoming as much nuisance as the rain. Suddenly a rumble of thunder was heard.

"The storm's growing worse," said Arron, his face showing signs of worry. Grawden could clearly see that he was worried for the group and the mission.

"Who is responsible for this if you aren't?" repeated Grawden, pushing the sword slightly tighter against Asten's neck.

"Ertan, your religious leader. The man who preaches to you about the fruits. He leads the cultists. For the last few years he's been preaching about the vegetables in secret, building up a following large enough to take on the king."

Grawden and Arron exchanged shocked looks with each other - this was serious news indeed.

Jobek walked the corridors of the Work tower, he was headed towards Styrin's office on a mission. He was hoping to catch Krentar since he was not in his office and this was the most likely place to find him. The words of King Rogeth echoed in his ears, "this is a mission of utmost secrecy. Only Koflan and I know about it and you will report only to Koflan, not even to me. We must be discreet if we are to win."

The thought of going up against Styrin on a secret mission scared Jobek but he felt that this was a good opportunity to prove himself. Of late his young enthusiasm had gotten him into a little bit of trouble as he made many hasty decisions without having thought them through. The youngest on the advisory team at 23 and the youngest of the council, Jobek was keen to prove himself. The Work tower was busy with people milling about, the news of the Nibe envoy had sent everyone into a panic. Everyone including Styrin and Krentar it seemed. Jobek was walking forward keeping an eye out for Krentar when something caught his eye, Arron. The adviser was standing beside him. Jobek turned to speak to him, to ask him why he was here instead of with Grawden but he was gone. Was it just my imagination, thought Jobek. He was not usually a victim of an over active imagination but lately he had been working a little to hard.

He was coming up on Styrin's office when he noticed the door open, out walked Krentar. "Krentar," called out Jobek.

The look of fear on Krentar's face was enough to tell Jobek that he had been up to no good but he recovered quickly. "what is it?" he asked curtly.

"I've just received word the our king is in conference with Koflan again. We're being excluded in the time when we are most needed."

"This is most unlike you," said Krentar. Jobek started to sweat was his fellow adviser about to guess why he was here. Continuing Krentar said, "I thought that King Rogeth could do no wrong in your eyes."

"I am loyal to the crown," protested Jobek trying not to give too much away too soon. "It's just that calling a council meeting is what's best."

"The king has been doing too many strange things of late. I don't believe that he is stable. Perhaps the pressure of taking over the crown without ample preparation has gotten to him and he is cracking up. Maybe he just doesn't realise how to run the kingdom and perhaps he just wishes the power all to himself. There are so many possibilities and so many wild theories bounding around. Personally I wouldn't believe any of them. We're in a crisis situation and the king does have the final decision over what we do."

Krentar had almost given himself away but he had recovered completely. Maybe that was his ploy to make him seem loyal to the king but at the same time sow the seeds of doubt in Jobek's mind. Whatever had just happened Jobek knew that Krentar would be back for another meeting.

"Anyway I've work to do. I've got some proposals to draw up which I've got to present to Koflan this evening." With that Krentar turned his back on Jobek and walked away down the corridor.

He will be back, thought Jobek, it is only a matter of time.

Rogeth was in his quarters sitting on his bed. He wanted a rest from everyone and everything. It was getting to much just for one day and he still had the evening to go through. He could only shudder at what might happen this evening. Lying back Rogeth closed his eyes and relaxed...

"Get off of me," Rogeth pushed Mawreth away from him and she flew across Joleth's study only to clatter into one of the chairs. As Rogeth stood he looked on in pity at the tangled mess of his sister. She was struggling to free herself but Rogeth ignored her his mind racing onto thoughts of his wife. The prince started to button up his shirt and ran out of the room.

Mawreth finally untangled herself and stood up, "come back brother dear. I want another child." Mawreth ran out of the room, her silken dress billowing around her. She raced down the corridors of the King's tower blindly; she hoped that this was the direction in which he had gone. The rugs on the floor felt soft under her feet and the corridors felt warmer than any of the other towers. Mawreth ran along her feet racing to chase after her brother. Within moments she heard voices and rounded the corner.

Rogeth stood holding Aneth's arms as she struggled to get free. Tears were streaming down Aneth's face and she was visibly angry. "So this is why your sister was sent away because you couldn't keep your hands off of her."

"Aneth," Rogeth slapped his wife across the face trying to snap her out of her hysteria.

Aneth just stared at Rogeth her crying stopped suddenly and her face became a mask of anger. "How dare you hit me. I'm your wife, not some common servant and not a woman of service." Aneth stared at Mawreth who she had just noticed for the first time.

Rogeth turned round to follow where his wife was looking and saw his sister standing there. Releasing all grip on Aneth the prince stalked towards his sister. "You," Rogeth pointed an accusing finger, "you've caused this. You're doing it again, trying to cause trouble, trying to cause pain and misery. It just follows you wherever you go. You disgust me." Rogeth grabbed Mawreth and shook her violently. "Get out of Klonkar and get out of my life."

"But what of our son," Mawreth seemed upset. "Last time I was here you seemed desperate to have a child. I thought that since you and Aneth had not had a child that maybe the love you showed for me last time could be repeated."

Rogeth threw his sister against the wall in a moment of rage, "you lie."

Aneth looked on in fear as she saw her husband transform into a beast of evil. "So this is how you treat women. You use them and abuse them," she was screaming at the top of her voice.

Rogeth winced, he had been far too violent with everyone. Aneth though was going to draw attention if she kept up like this and maybe Joleth would stumble upon them. "My sister is an expert liar," protested Rogeth, "we have no child."

"Well it looked as thought the two of you were pretty intimate when I found you," Aneth was screaming and shouting not just in anger but in sadness.

Rogeth marched towards his wife and grabbed her arms. "She forced herself upon me," shouted Rogeth and flecks of spittle launched themselves towards Aneth. The look of terror on Aneth's face was too much for the prince and he pushed his wife away from him.

Mawreth had sorted herself out after being thrown into the wall and walked between the feuding couple. Rogeth could see that she was about to cause another upset, "how could I, a mere woman, force herself upon such a strong man as yourself. I mean..."

"You're no woman," interjected Rogeth, "you're a witch."

"Is that anyway to talk to the mother of your child." Mawreth had pushed herself up into her brother's face and was shouting. Aneth was shouting, Rogeth was shouting and now Mawreth was shouting - they would surely draw attention soon.

Rogeth shoved his sister away and she stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. At this point Joleth rounded the corner. "What is going on here? What is this madness?" his voice was louder than anyone else's.

"Father," Rogeth was in shock. What had his father seen. Rogeth considered for a moment that his father had watched everything but that was not possible, he would have interrupted sooner.

"I said, what is going on here?" Joleth stared at all three and watched as Mawreth picked herself up from the floor, a streak of blood ran from her nose.

"My husband is a lying, deceitful, incestuous...," Aneth could not continue and sank to the floor in tears. Her body shook as sobs racked her frail physique.

Joleth turned to his son, "maybe you can tell me what is going on here."

Rogeth took a step towards his father and raised his arms as though pleading, "father, it's Mawreth." Rogeth turned and pointed at his sister who was now standing on her feet. "This witch is up to her old tricks again."

Joleth turned and looked at his daughter. The words that he had spoken to his son earlier that night echoed in his mind, perhaps this was the first step in her destruction of the family. Perhaps Mawreth did not want to kill Aneth herself but strove to make his daughter in law commit suicide. A sharp pain suddenly struck Joleth. He clutched his chest as waves of sharp searing pain struck through his body. Every nerve was on fire. All his sensations began to shut down one after another as pain consumed and over took them. Fear washed through his body but soon that too was consumed by the terrible pain which coursed through his body.

Rogeth watched in horror as his father pitched forward. Joleth reached out and grabbed his son. Rogeth felt the hard callous hands grasp him. A third hand reached out and ran down his body and then he was plunged into darkness. Fear washed through Rogeth as a hundred callous hands ran themselves over his body. Rogeth reached out flailing, trying frantically to grab onto something. Nothing was near and he felt himself being dragged into the blackness of the oval...

Rogeth woke up screaming. Sitting up his eyes adjusted to the light in the room. He then heard a noise. Somebody was in the room with his. His muscles tensed in fear. What is happening has everyone gone mad today. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement. Someone was entering this room from the washroom. Rogeth tensed further ready to defend himself. Then he saw Aneth and he relaxed. Breathing a sigh of relief he spoke, his voice was dry and hoarse from having just woken up, "Aneth?"

Aneth placed a finger on his lips to keep him quiet, "relax, you've just had a bad dream." Aneth placed a damp cloth on his forehead and began to mop up the sweat. Rogeth realised that he was still wearing the clothes from this morning.

"How long...," Rogeth's voice croaked.

"A few hours. I've just received word from Koflan that there are some guards on their way back from Grawden's team."

Not more injuries, thought Rogeth. The king watched his wife stand and walk across to the dresser where she poured a glass of water. Walking back she handed it to Rogeth. The glass felt cold in his hand and he shivered. Rogeth lifted the water to his mouth and sipped, the effect was instantaneous, his dry throat began to feel better. He coughed to clear his throat then Rogeth spoke, "why are the guards returning?"

"As far as I could make out from Koflan they captured some vegetable cultists."

Rogeth sighed, that meant that the escort for the Nibe envoy would be greatly reduced. "Did Koflan say how many men would be returning?"

"Four," replied Aneth. As far as Rogeth could make out from his wife's face, she understood the severity of having a greatly reduced presence with the Nibe.

Rogeth rose from the bed, "I need to get changed and find Koflan. It's too late to send out extra men but we could hopefully secure the route which they are going to use so that we avoid any further troubles."

The rain was beginning to clear slightly and Grawden had decided that they should set-up camp in a clearing which they had come across. At the moment Angstrong and Dravid were trying to pitch a couple of tents for the group to sleep in. Marden was setting up a fire and Arron was trying to clean his journal of mud.

"I don't know how I managed it. My bag was never on the ground but I've got mud on my books. At least it's not too bad and it's mainly on the cover."

Marden looked up as the fire started to burn, "Can you not stop moaning?"

Arron looked up straight at Marden, "who's moaning?"

Grawden could see that this time Arron was not going to stand for any of Marden's sarcasm. He could understand it for Marden had been niggling Arron ever since the fight three hours ago. Grawden was about to step in and stop the pair from bickering again but he decided that it might just teach his son a lesson if Arron were to put him in his place.

Marden walked up to Arron and grabbed his journal, "you are. Look at this book, there's nothing wrong with it. All right, there's a little mud on it but it doesn't really obscure the writing."

"Not that you'd be able to read it even if there was no mud on it," Arron was fast with his come back. Grawden smiled, he knew his son was in for a tough time.

"I can read, just because I'm a guard doesn't make me stupid," Marden was growing annoyed.

"I didn't say guards were stupid, just you." Grawden winced, he could see that his son was not going to let himself be insulted like that.

"Well at least I wasn't knocked unconscious during the fight with such a simple push. I'm strong and educated..."

"And egotistical," Arron interrupted Marden and did not let him finish his posturing. Arron stood up and retrieved his journal. "If you remember I was the one who saved your skin. You were trapped with no hope of escape, a sword to your throat. I helped distract their leader and let your father form an escape plan. You were just left to follow in the wake of what myself and Grawden had started."

"If you think your so strong show me." Grawden could see where this was headed and knew that he really should interrupt but it was too late for that. Marden would not stop until he had achieved some kind of victory over his apparent enemy. "come on then, show me your..."

Arron punched Marden straight in the face. Grawden watched his son fall to the ground cut off in mid posturing. Grawden sneaked a chuckle to himself, his son had definitely had it coming. Angstrong and Dravid were just staring at Arron, obviously nobody thought Arron very capable of defending himself. Grawden himself was surprised because he thought that Arron would have put his son in his place using words. The effect on Marden would be worse though, put down by Arron not by words but by a punch.

Marden was not that affected though. He picked himself up out of the mud and stared at Arron, hatred burning in his eyes. "I will kill you where you stand for that." Marden charged forward and rammed straight into Arron's stomach. Winded the adviser fell to the ground, mud splattered up. Marden to was on the ground but lying on top of Arron. Gaining the upper hand though surprise the guard sat on his opponent and punched Arron's face. Grawden was already on his way over to the pair when Arron gave an uppercut which connected with Marden's jaw. A crack echoed round the clearing and Marden fell sideways into the mud, sobs of pain could be heard.

Grawden rushed to his son and lifted him to his feet. Blood streamed down his face from both his nose and his mouth. Looking down at Arron the captain of the guard saw that he fared no better. "You stupid idiot," Grawden reprimanded his son.

Marden looked up at his father and tried to speak but the pain was too great and instead Grawden watched his son burst into tears. The lesson had been well learnt.

Angstrong and Dravid were on the scene helping Arron to his feet, "I hope I didn't break his jaw, much."

Grawden reached forward and felt his son's jaw. Marden let out a scream of pain. "Marden, this is pathetic, you're supposed to be my successor and yet you still wander around crying like a child. You're jaw is fine, if a little tender. I hope you've learnt your lesson."

Marden only nodded as he tried to bring himself under control.

Arron looked down at his clothes and sighed, "look at this mud, and after just getting changed as well."

Grawden could only laugh at the silliness of the entire situation. He knew that he was hurting his son's ego but after what Arron had just said the entire fiasco seemed so petty and small minded that Grawden could only laugh.

Rogeth stood with Koflan and Fraythen at the main entrance to the Guard's tower. The three were waiting for the guard's to return with the vegetable cultists that they had captured. It was late evening and soon everyone would be turning in for the night but Rogeth wished this business resolved today. Turning to his associates he said, "what news do you think they have?"

"It can only be bad if Grawden's instructions told his men only to reveal it to you," Fraythen stood concerned. He had not been that involved in the preparations for the Nibe envoy but he was still tired having worked through several resource reports detailing what might happen in the event of a Nibe attack. In the absence of Grawden and Marden, Fraythen's role as constable of the palace was brought to the front. As the castellan he was officially designated with the duty of constable of the palace but generally that was left to either Grawden or Marden, however they were both gone. It would be Fraythen's job to see to the prisoners.

"I can see them approaching now," Koflan pointed into the distance.

Rogeth squinted through the dark sky and eventually saw a few men on horses approaching, as they drew nearer to the light of the palace he identified them as the guards. "I see they have eight men tied up on horses. That means we'll have four more horses for Klonkar."

"I'll factor that into my next resource report depending upon the stable master's report on their health," Fraythen was always working.

The guards drew closer and Rogeth walked forward to meet them. The rain of earlier had decreased to a small drizzle which pleased the king no end. One of the prisoners squirmed in the ropes and tried to face Rogeth. He spoke with a leering grin and Rogeth noticed that the man's teeth were all yellowed and rotten, "so you're the king. Well at least you've not had time to get too comfortable in your throne."

Rogeth took a defiant step towards the horrible man, "identify yourself."

"Oh, aren't we being the tough one," teased the cultist.

Rogeth took another step forward and slapped the man. Fraythen step forward to pull Rogeth back but Koflan placed his hand on the castellan's arm to stop him. Rogeth repeated his request of earlier, "identify yourself."

"Asten, the leader of this group and we're going to bring you and your kingdom down in chaos. The vegetables will rule once again," Asten laughed maniacally.