And one day, a day far in the future, perhaps past the time that he would live, the golden vision of life in the valley that he had been shown by the fairies would come to pass.
It can happen, he told himself firmly. I need only believe. I need only remain true. I need only continue to work for it.
He rose when they had finished. “I am your servant, first and always-yours and the land’s,” he told them, his voice quiet. The noise died away and they turned to listen. “I am that to you and I ask that you be the same to each other. We have much to accomplish together. These things we shall do immediately. We shall cease polluting the waterways and ravaging the forestlands of our neighbors. We shall work with each other and teach each other what we can to protect and restore all the land. We shall devise commerce agreements that facilitate free trade between all our peoples. We shall institute public works programs for our roads and waterways. We shall revise our laws and establish courts to enforce them. We shall exchange ambassadors — here and with all of the peoples of the valley — and we shall convene regularly at Sterling Silver to air our grievances in a peaceful and constructive fashion.”
He paused. “We shall find a way to be friends.”
They toasted him, more for the thought than the feasibility of what he was proposing, he knew — but it was a start. There were other ideas to be implemented as well: a workable taxing system, a uniform currency exchange, a census, and various reclamation projects. He had ideas he hadn’t even begun to think through thoroughly enough to propose yet. But the time would come. He would find a way to put them all to work.
He passed down the table, pausing by Kallendbor and the River Master. He bent close. “I rely on you, most of all, to stand by your promises. Each must help the other as you I have sworn you would. We are all allies, now.”
There were solemn nods and murmured assurances. But a veil of doubt remained in their eyes. Neither was certain that Ben Holiday was the man to hold their enemies in check. Neither was convinced that he was the King they needed. His victory over the Mark was impressive; but it was only a single victory. They would wait and see.
Ben accepted that. At least he had their pledge. He would find a way to win their trust.
He thought back momentarily to the battle fought between the Paladin and the Mark. He had told no one what he had learned of the link between the knight-errant and himself. He wasn’t sure yet if he ever would. He wondered if he could bring the Paladin back again if the knight were needed. He thought that he could. But it chilled him to think about the transformation he had undergone within that suit of iron — the feelings and emotions he had shared with his champion, the memories of battles and deaths over so many years. He shook his head. There would have to be a very compelling reason for him to call the Paladin back again…
Another toast was proposed by one of the Lords — his good health. He acknowledged it and drank. Count on it, he promised silently.
He switched subjects. He must begin work immediately on restoration of the Heart. So much had been damaged during the battle with the Mark; the ground had been torn, the white velvet kneeling pads and armrests had been destroyed, and the staffs of the flags and the tall stanchions had been shattered. The Heart must be put right again. It meant something special to them all, but to no one more than him.
“Ben.” Willow left her seat and moved next to him. She lifted her wine glass. “Happiness, High Lord,” she wished him, her voice soft against the background of noise.
He smiled. “I think I’ve found that happiness, Willow. You and the others have helped me find it.”
“Is this true?” She looked at him carefully. “And does the pain of what you lost in your old life no longer haunt you, then?”