Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

was still a definite pecking order. High Society had their own individual and highly stylised masks, each with its own subtle clues as to whose features lay concealed beneath. The lesser nobles wore the wilder and more bizarre masks, as though making up in originality what they lacked in social standing. The traders and the military made do with the simple black domino masks that Lord Darius had provided.
    Directly opposite Harald, three men stood together who wore no masks. Harald inclined his head slightly to them. The three Landsgraves nodded in acknowledgement, but made no move to approach him.
    Harald frowned, and met their eyes in turn. Sir Blays stared calmly back, Sir Guillam bobbed his head and simpered nervously, and Sir Bedivere . . . Despite himself, Harald shivered suddenly as he tried and failed to meet Sir Bedivere's cold dark eyes. He knew now, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that if he had fought the Landsgrave that day in Court, Sir Bedivere would have killed him easily. Harald glowered into his empty glass. He hadn't forgotten or forgiven the Landsgrave's insult to his father, but he vowed to himself that if it ever came to a fighting insult again, he'd have more sense than to challenge the Landsgrave to a duel. He'd just stab the man in the back, or put ground glass in his wine.
    'Welcome to the party,' said a chill voice, and Harald looked up to find himself face to face with a black and white harlequin mask. Its rosebud mouth smiled politely, but no humour showed in the pale blue eyes
    behind the mask.
    'I know that voice,' murmured Harald. 'Lord Vivian, isn't it? You're in charge of the Castle's guards, in the Champion's absence.'
    Lord Vivian reached up and slowly and deliberately removed his mask, revealing a gaunt, raw-boned face so pale as to be almost colourless, topped with a thick mane of silver-grey hair. There was a calm and studied stillness to the face that suggested strength and determination, but the eyes were hard and unyielding. Fanatic's eyes. His frame was lean and wiry, rather than muscular, but there was a deadly grace to his few, economical movements, and Harald noticed that Vivian's right hand never strayed far from his swordhilt.
    'I command the Castle guards,' said Lord Vivian slowly, 'Now, and always, my King.'
    'I'm not King yet,' said Harald.
    'You will be,' said Vivian. 'The Champion isn't coming back. His body lies rotting in the Darkwood. I speak for the guards now, and every man-at-arms in this Castle follows my orders. With us at your side, no one will dare dispute your claim to the Forest throne.'
    'Indeed,' said Harald. 'But why should you support me, rather than my father? You swore an oath of allegiance to him, upon your life and your honour.'
    'That was before the coming of the Darkwood,' said Vivian flatly. 'My oath to protect the Land takes precedence over all other oaths. My loyalty is to the throne, not who sits on it. The Forest is endangered, and your father is no longer capable of doing what must be done.'
    Harald raised an eyebrow. 'I take it you have something in mind for me to order as King?'
    Vivian smiled coldly. 'Take the fight to the enemy, Sire. Unite all the guards and men-at-arms into a single great army, and send them forth against the darkness. Under my command they will butcher the demons and drive them back.'
    'And then?' asked Harald.
    'And then my troops will set a wall of fire between us and the demons, a searing, bright-burning flame that will drive the foul creatures back into the darkness from which they came!'
    'Even assuming such a tactic would work,' said Harald thoughtfully, 'hundreds of the outlying farms would be lost in the fire, thousands of peasants would die.'
    Vivian shrugged. 'Regrettable, but necessary. If the Darkwood isn't stopped, they'll die anyway. What does it matter if a few peasants must die, if by their deaths they ensure the survival of the Forest Kingdom? I'm a soldier, my men and I take that same risk every time we go out into battle. Afterwards
    ... we can always build more farms, and the lower classes breed like rabbits anyway.'
    'Quite,' murmured Harald. 'Still, I fear the Barons would not take kindly to such widespread destruction of their lands.'
    'My army would stand ready to support their King against any foe,' said Vivian calmly. 'No matter where such enemies may be found.'
    'A comforting thought,' said Harald. 'I will think on your words, my Lord Vivian, and your most generous offer of support.'
    'In