"This is a day of days." Graeme said, no longer a ranking Prince of Calan, but now the Sorcerer King of Armaleith, and Calan. He reclined in the refurbished throne, made of polished mohogany and onxy, with discs of gold set into the arms and the feet. Baird stood before him, now in the regalia of the Chancellor of Calan, the second most powerful lord in the resurgent dual kingdoms.
"Indeed brother, it is." Baird said, looking out the windows of the keep, at the towers again reaching for the skies. With the ban on magic ended, many were coming out of long periods of hiding, and finding their arts welcome, so long as they abided by the Kings laws. Summoned monsters, creatures of stone and earth labored, lifting great stones into place, setting them with the care of master masons though the stones were tons in weight. If the population continued to grow, the city would be fully occupied, and new additions would have to be raised from the earth.
"We cannot forget that this was not won by myself alone. We commemorate this day for posterity, the day the dragons thought to return, and were instead vanquished. We are raised from the lowly to the lofty, but the price paid in lives has been great. The dead must be remembered, memorials lifted in their memory."
"Agreed." Baird said.
"We should thus also remember our allies, Talaharian, and our foes the ogres who yet live. Send emissaries to Talahar with gifts and invitations of trade and good will between our kingdoms that we all may flourish."
"and of the ogres?"
"They are few, but they will not always stay few. Send the bravest to them, offer them the branch of friendship, and honor their fallen. We would have them as allies, if not..."
"I understand." Baird said.
