The banquet upon the army's return was beyond lavish! It was incredible! They brought out kegs of Ambrosia and other famous years like the Thirty-Nine-Eighty-Sixth, one of the oldest vintages that can still be found. The University of Jaton Orchestra had been hired to perform famous pieces such as Lavona's fifth symphony, Trochester's famous Corealean March and Famukas' Twilight Sonata.

To Rades it all sounded like rubbish. He knew the Arthian that he'd taken the bag pipes from had recorded the notes of his Lament and was planning to have it played tonight, by Rades if that could be arranged. That wasn't going to happen. Rades didn't know how to play the bag pipes. How he had known or even why he had done it in that tunnel was beyond Rades. He got confused everytime he thought about it. Whatever had happened, it had been magical.

Rodrigo was off somewhere talking to the Cherten ambassador. Rades hadn't known that the Cherten's, wherever they came from, traded with the Kinians and the Colnics, but not the Storniums, they lived too far away. The Graf was off talking to Lord Blackaxe and other Storniums, trying to learn more of what has happened in the last twenty years. He had a lot of catching up to do. What was bothering Rades was Johann had declared him his successor. Successor of what? The Graf of a bunch of rubble called Castle Deltex?

"Lieutenant Rades?"

The Stornium looked up from his seat and his bottle of Thirty-Nine-Eighty-Six. It was Princess Kelly, no Kerry. Kelly's hair was much shorter, plus they had curled it so it wouldn't look so weird. "Yes?"

Kerry smiled. "Would you mind dancing with Kelly?" She hooked a finger over her shoulder at her timid looking sister. "She says that she's not afraid of you anymore. Not since your... Lament."

"Am I the only one?"

"Yes, she won't even go near father or my brothers!"

"Well, I suppose I have to, even though I can't dance!"

"No matter. She just needs someone to keep her company. Plus she needs to get used to men again."

"Okay," Rades agreed, standing up lazily. He stretched and walked forward to stand before Kelly. "Care to dance?" he asked, offering her his arm.

She took it. Not reluctantly, Rades noticed. She did however seem to prefer to dance away from the rest of the dancers in a corner of the dance floor. He didn't care. He placed his hands on her hips and she placed her hands on his shoulders. Now what? Thank god! She decided to lead!

He didn't feel that comfortable in the new ceremonial armour Blackaxe had bought him. A gift for finding the Spear of Destiny. Waytorn had given the Stornium the seven-foot long diamond spear and Blackaxe would have given Waytorn something in return, but what do you give a man who has everything?

Waytorn had claimed it was but a token. After all, he didn't want the world, he wanted the young lady called Susanna Rougeta that he was dancing with right now. Susanna, thought Rades, thinking of a different young maiden by that name from a castle called Deltex. She was dead now.

This was one of the few, actually the only, banquet Waytorn had ever attended. He didn't even seem to notice those few people that gawked at his face. He actually seemed proud of his face now. Probably due to this new scar fad. Rades himself had become fairly popular with the ladies because of his eye. Why this is, was beyond him.

Suddenly he woke up and looked down to see Kelly resting her head on his shoulder. He smiled briefly. Poor girl must be tired. "Would you like to sit down, Fraulein?" he asked.

She looked up, her curls brushed his face. "No thank you," she said and leaned her head back on his shoulder. Rades tried not to shrug. He wondered for a moment if he should consider learning how to play the bag pipes if this was the way people reacted to his playing? Nah, he only had two shoulders!

They were playing the Twilight Sonata now. Rades found himself thinking of Susanna again. She was probably still lying dead somewhere in Deltex. He wondered if he could ever go back there? Johann said it was blasphemy to let them lie there and roast in the sun. They had to be buried so their souls could be freed from their torment. Was Susanna in torment?

Kelly looked up, her curls brushing his face, and kissed him lightly on the lips. She bent her head back down and set it on his shoulder again. This was the part of the dance where it was traditional to kiss your partner, but Rades hadn't known that. Well, what the hell...?

"Excellent idea, Pothax!" congratulated Willium. "You'd make an excellent ambassador now that I think of it. Plus with your knowledge of Colnic, why we might not have to worry about any civil wars in Colnic for many years down the road! Everytime they have a civil war the Allied Kingdoms are thrown into chaos for several years because of all the allegiances between Colnic nobles and the nobles of other Allied Kingdoms."

"Thank you, sire," replied Pothax. "I'll take that as a yes. What do you think of the title Ambassador Doxon, Savin?"

"Sounds pretty good," the ex-pirate captain replied. "Though, since Willium has managed to talk me into coming out of retirement, I'm now the Royal Arthian Ice-Admiral of the Fleet, I'd say my new title is better. Though I only work in the winter."

"Okay, I've got to go now. I promised Princess Kerry to dance with her," Pothax said with a wave.

"Interesting," Willium noted under his breath. "The Twilight Sonata."

Victoria smiled. Twilight Sonata, her favorite. Soft notes intermingled with a rising crescendo of small notes. When the soft notes and the crescendo reached a certain point of harmony it was traditional to kiss your partner. Right now, people were switching partners to the ones they liked more. She smiled and looked up at Wynic. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Well," began Wynic. "Asides from all the wine making me dizzy, the music causing my head to throb, and having to listen to Larry, I'm fine. How about you?" He smiled.

"I'm a bit queasy from being pregnant and Larry's chatter is getting to be too much on my nerves, but I-"

"Hey, Wynic?" shouted Larry, poking the assassin in the side. "Can I cut in?" He smiled at Victoria. Unfortunately for Victoria, Wynic didn't know about this kissing tradition. "Just till the end of the dance?"

Wynic frowned. "I can't think of any reason why not." He backed away reluctantly, letting Larry take his place. Victoria cursed her husband's good natured politeness.

"You had this planned out, didn't you?" she demanded. She glared down at the cutthroat.

Larry looked up innocently. "Who me? What did I do?"

"You planned it out so I'd have to kiss you!"

"So? What's wrong with that? It's just a harmless kiss?"

"May I remind you that Wynic didn't know about the tradition and that he's an assassin?"

"Of course, you may. Now get ready to bend over, because I can't jump that high!" For all his obnoxiousness, Victoria secretly liked the short cutthroat, to a point. He always managed to take her mind off more pressing problems and make her smile inwardly. Though whether he did it deliberately or not was beyond Victoria. Whatever the case she granted him this battle and when the time came she bent over and gave him a quick kiss.

Wynic fell out of his chair where he was watching.

Redhawk fidgeted and looked down at Queen Helen. The most beautiful woman in the whole world. Once again he thanked the Lord for making him the luckiest man on the continent. "Do you know the tradition?" he asked as the orchestra started to play Twilight Sonata.

"Of course," Helen replied. "What woman doesn't? It's the most romantic of all the Famukas' pieces."

"Okay. I've been trying to figure out is this new scar fad. Any ideas?"

"Take a look at Waytorn and his partner. That girl, whoever she is, apparently made some speech about scars being signs of bravery. Now every maiden in Jaton thinks scars are a sign of a romantic man. Much like an uniform. You go out and find a middle ranking soldier, a colonel perhaps, give him a nice scar across the cheek and I'll bet you he thanks you for the line up of women outside his door!"

"Oh, really. Meaning someone might be able to set up a shop sort of like a tattoo shop and sell scars?"

"Maybe, but then the fad would die down because women would start asking if the scars were really from a fight. There is one person who I'm not surprised isn't dancing."

"Oh, who?"

"Lady Bardelias."

Redhawk nearly choked. "You-you're kidding me?"

"No." Helen turned around so he could see. "Take a look."

Indeed, there sat Lady Bardelias, all alone. Not a single young courtier flocking around her. It was amazing. "Where's all her men that follow her around?"

"Off dancing with people who aren't disgraced. If you had listened to any of the gossip lately you'd know she was thoroughly embarrassed by the King Culprit. Nobody even talks to her now. Well, with the exception of her bodyguard, who's the source of her embarrassment. I-"

Redhawk kissed her. She had nearly forgotten about the tradition so busy she had been talking. She melted into his arms and his tongue slipped between her lips to explore her mouth in a Kinian kiss. Oh, to hell with Bardelias!

Pothax smiled and drew back from Kerry. "What was that for?" he asked, bemused.

The Princess smiled. "Tradition," she replied. "You're supposed to kiss your partner everytime we get to this part of the sonata," she explained.

"Oh, they should have more traditions like that!" Pothax said with a smile. He frowned when he looked over to where people were sitting and eating. Wynic was lying on the marble floor. "Why's my brother on the floor?" he asked, pointing.

"Did he know about the tradition?"

"Probably not," Pothax shrugged.

"Then look at who Victoria's dancing with."

Pothax looked over his shoulder and laughed. It was an almost comical sight to see the tall archeress and the short cutthroat dancing together but the thought of Victoria having to actually kiss Larry? "Victoria's never gonna let this down. She hates Larry!"

Waytorn too noticed the assassin lying on the ground. "Care to sit down?" he asked Zsa Zsa. He led her through the crowd of dancers to stand at Wynic's table. "Mind if we join you down there, Wynic?" he asked.

"Suit yourself. I'm quite comfortable down here. How's everything up there?" He placed his hands behind his head comfortably and looked up at the King Culprit. "I hear a certain cutthroat is planning his retirement?" he whispered. "Is that true?"

"Yes, it is. Do you know any good warriors that might make fair bodyguards? Preferably someone with eyes like a hawk and notices everything?"

"Depends, what's the pay? This warrior is pretty much retired as is. It will take a fair bit to bring him out of retirement."

"Free access to my hoard sounds reasonable, once I'm safe within my keep that is. After all, there's plenty to go around."

"Very reasonable. But I'm afraid this warrior needs a vacation, as does his pregnant wife. Money doesn't mean much anymore when you live a life of luxury."

"I agree. Money can't buy love. Are you sure you don't want to sit in a chair?"

"No, I'm fine. Just recovering from shock. I didn't know there was some kind of tradition with this dance."

"Oh? What happened?"

"I let Larry cut in."

Waytorn smiled and laughed. "Okay, how would a vacation in my luxurious new keep? I have a Vormian bath?"

"A pool? Very tempting, I'll have to discuss this with my wife."

"Of course. I'm planning to announce it during Summerfest and escape in the confusion. I still have to figure out who to name my successor. I'm thinking of Maseri or Sinclair. They'll have problems with the Cherten crime lady however, a woman called Nevada. My sources tell me she'll be vying for my throne soon enough."

"A female cutthroat? That's rare!"

"No, she's not a cutthroat. A seductress is what I've been told. I've already warned Rades to beware of her. He's had enough woman troubles already."

"I agree. Pothax said he's still shocked from the Siege of Deltex and with everything else, I'm not surprised by Rades' recent behaviour." Wynic smiled thoughtfully and stared at the arched ceiling. "You know as far as your successor goes, I'd pick someone I hate, but is a lousy cutthroat. That would guarantee you get rid of him and the strongest killer comes out on top. What do you think?"

"A fair idea, but what happens if I don't approve of the winner?"

"Does it matter? Once you're retired you'll be free of such problems!"

"True," Waytorn smiled. The music was now into Lavona's twelfth symphony. "You shouldn't keep Victoria waiting, ye know?"

Wynic groaned and got to his feet. "There aren't any more traditions I don't know about is there?"

Bren waved at Darylinn and made his way back out from under Lady Bardelias' table. Oh, this was going to be a good trick! Why did Darylinn always think up the really good pranks? He hoped he didn't have any juice on his clothes.

He stood up and inspected himself. Nope, not a drop. Oh, this was funny! He ran over to where Darylinn sat and whispered, "Mission complete," in her ear.

She giggled. "It will be awhile before anyone notices it. Want to dance?"

"Me? Dance? Cutthroats don't dance!"

"Pothax is," Darylinn pointed. "And so is Larry. Why not?"

"Well, okay, but I don't know how. Neither Victoria or father have taught me."

"It's easy, I'll teach you!" She grabbed his hand roughly and pulled him onto the dance floor. "Put your toes on mine, and follow my steps. Okay?"

"Okay." Bren did as told and placed his hands on her hips like everyone else had theirs.

Suddenly Darylinn stepped on her tippy toes and kissed the boy as was tradition. She smiled as he wiped his mouth with a "Yuck!"

"Dame Larel," said General Chek. "Asides from your wine bottle, is there anyone you'd like to dance with?"

"Meaning, in your own, somewhat impolite way, that you'd like to dance with me?" laughed Larel. "You do know which dance this is?" She smiled at the General.

"Yes, I would and yes I do know which dance it is. Or else I'll have to ask Sardias, which I don't want to do."

"Oh, really why?" She toasted the Stornium and took a drink.

"Because she can become obnoxious."

"Heaven forbid!" Larel cried in mock anguish. "That's a shame because it's looks like you're going to have to. I don't dance. Men tend to try and take advantage of a woman because of the romantic appeal to it."

"You're smarter than you look," Chek concluded. "Still I must insist. You don't have to kiss me if you don't want to. I just need an excuse not to dance with Sardias."

"Oh, all right. But you owe me a favour."

Rades broke apart from the Princess and looked her in the eye. "Why aren't you afraid of me anymore?" he asked curiously.

"Lament," she said slowly.

"What about the Lament? What did I do?"

"You-you called out to me." She frowned.

Rades frowned. That didn't make sense. "How?"

"You-you don't know?"

"No."

"The music, it was beautiful. More beautiful than this could ever be."

Rades frowned again. He pulled her closer and they resumed dancing. "I don't even know how to play the bag pipes," he murmured.

"Oui, you do. I heard you play. I was there."

"I know, but I had never played before."

"Never?"

"Never."

"But-but how did you...?"

"I don't know. They asked me to play tonight, but I couldn't. I don't even know how."

"You could try?"

Rades broke apart again. There was a strange spark in the Princess's eyes. "Do you want me to try?"

"Oui."

Rades frowned and led her around the crowd towards the dais where the orchestra was playing. He didn't see any bag pipes. Where was that Arthian that had asked him to play?

"Excuse me," he asked one of the second violins. "Do you know where that guy with the bag pipes is?"

The man hooked a thumb at the hallway. "Out there. You'll have to excuse me, Lavona's Twelfth Symphony is about to start."

Rades nodded. "Danke schon," he thanked the man and led Kelly out into the hallway. There sat the Arthian beside his bag pipes, and a bottle of Ambrosia. He picked up the bag pipes, it was heavy and he knew he wasn't holding it right. He placed the bag under his arm and placed his fingers over the holes in the pipe. It didn't feel right.

The man stirred at his feet and looked up. "You're holding it under the wrong arm, idiot!"

Blackaxe could not help but wonder why Waytorn had given him the giant diamond that was the Spear of Destiny. Surely the Spear would be worth something at a jewelers and yet Waytorn had given it to him. Something was wrong, but then again, how could Blackaxe refuse such a gift? It would make an excellent addition to his collection!

"Gisoni," said Pollex. "What did that scholar call this war? Something about the poachers?"

The huge minotaur general nodded. "He said the Poacher's Conflict, though I find that name doesn't suit it very well. It underestimates what truly happened here. Though during Kobalix's Quest, we did call that final battle the Picnic or sometimes the Barbecue. The bards like to call it that. Kobalix's Quest is suitable. The Third Ice War would be a better name for what happened here. What do you think, Lord Blackaxe?"

Blackaxe nodded. "I too agree that Poacher's Conflict underestimates it. Though the war itself didn't last long; it was barely two or three major battles. I'm inclined to call it the Great Ice Battle or perhaps the Quest's Aftermath." He frowned and pointed at Lady Bardelias. "Uh, what is that under her chair?"

Gisoni looked and snorted. "Well, either Lady Bardelias drank a little too much and-" he blushed -"and she urinated, or someone played a prank on her. One or the other. Considering I saw Bren and Darylinn with a bottle of apple juice earlier, I'd wager on the latter." He smiled. "It's amazing how children can find the simplest pleasures out of a harmless prank."

Loud music interrupted the orchestra's finale and it died down quietly as Rades entered playing. The loud, boisterous music filled the chamber and the crowd turned to listen. The Lieutenant closed his eyes and played. The notes came to him like a flood of music that he had to struggle to keep up with.

Behind him, the Arthian was writing madly with an ink well, pen and parchment. The music was different this time. The Arthian had assumed Rades knew the music from somewhere but now it occurred to him that the Stornium made the music up as he went, totally unknowing of how the next few notes would be. The sound though, oh, the sound was inspired.

Rades' music had taken on a new texture. It was hard to distinguish it, but it was there nevertheless. The effect on the crowd was no longer bringing tears to people's eyes, but suggesting, no insisting, that they tap their feet to a now rising flurry of hard notes. He dipped into a spell of quick notes, so fast it was close to gibberish, but the conductor of the orchestra had now joined the Arthian in madly trying to capture and hold all the notes on paper.

He slowed down dramatically, the notes swirling in the midst of a high, triumphant note like a trumpet. Ever so slowly, the music started to build a crescendo of music that was spiraling up to new heights, new octaves. A mix of lower notes mixed in with gibberish notes.

Once again the crescendo started to build. Rades could feel the music humming in his chest as the notes flew at him out of them chasm of pain that was his mind. The music took on an accusing luster, then laughter and finally a sharp final note of longing that rang throughout the palace with such force Rades thought his ears would start to bleed.

As abruptly as it had started it was over. He'd played for about five minutes and his chest hurt. The stunned crowd stood there as he did wondering how in heaven had all that music, enough to drown out an orchestra, could come from one bag pipe. An old worn bag pipe at that! The conductor was muttering something about a bag pipe concerto and calling it Triumph.

Then there was an explosion out in the courtyard.

Carlo and Brenda didn't attend the banquet. Well, actually, they did show up, but that was the last anyone saw of them. It was raining lightly outside, the snow starting ever so slowly to melt. But they weren't outside. They were however wet with sweat from being in each other's naked embrace for the last hour in the cupola on the roof.

Imagine how surprised they were when they started seeing fireballs flying up into the night sky and exploding into fiery reds, blues, purples and pinks. They jumped to their feet, clothed themselves and ran down the stairs, drawing their weapons as they went. Someone was attacking the palace with some kind of new black dust weapon!

They ran along side the crowd of screaming people as they all ran to get outside. What greeted them however when they did get out in the courtyard was two minotaurs and an old man. The one minotaur was lighting the explosives while the other two were painting.

"Mathex!" shouted Redhawk. "What are you doing?" He had to admit the fiery balls of flame were dangerous, but-

"I call them fireworks!" shouted Mathex. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Yes, but-"

"I know it uses black dust, but this isn't a weapon and Nebonex gave me permission to proceed." He smiled and lit another of the explosives. It went up into the sky and exploded into a brilliant display of red sparks. "Sort of like artificial northern lights, don't you think?"

Redhawk nodded and watched another explosive fly up into the air and explode into purple and pink sparks. He sheathed his sword and hugged his wife. Her dress was ruined by the rain and his armour would be needing a damn good polish when this was over, but he didn't care.

No one did.