Free Kingdoms in Chaos by Michael James Ploof

ten percent. As for the moonshiners, I would suggest that you bring them into your guild, as they are helping to meet the demand. To this end, I hereby proclaim that anyone caught brewing spirits for the purpose of sale without a charter shall receive the maximum fine, half of which shall be paid to the Brewers Guild from this day forth.”
    The scriveners of both the Magisters of Laws and Numbers took note of the declaration, and the leader of the Brewers Guild, while not completely satisfied, returned to his seat nonetheless.
    Many more complaints and arguments were heard, and Whill did his best to placate the agitated men. But there was only so much that he could do, and he reminded each of them that sacrifices needed to be made.
    By the time court was called to a close, Whill felt mentally exhausted, however, there was still much to discuss with the council.
    Once everything was put in order, Whill went to say his goodbyes to Tarren, who was in the middle of his daily tutoring lessons in the castle’s garden with Lunara. It was still strange for Whill to see Tarren in the Watcher’s body. His inflections and mannerisms were still the same, but that was as far as the resemblance went.
    “May I speak to your student for a moment?” Whill asked.
    Lunara nodded, and without a word left them to speak. He watched her go, having meant to tell her goodbye as well.
    “She’ll be over by the swan bridge. That’s her favorite spot,” Tarren said absently.
    “How are you holding up, kid?”
    Tarren shrugged and began pulling petals off the flower he had been learning about. The book before him boasted an impressive drawing of the plant.
    Whill found that he could think of nothing to say. He had always promised the boy that everything would be all right, that somehow, things would work out. No such words could be spoken now. The body of the Watcher was dying, and so too was Tarren. There was nothing he could do.
    “You’re going to war, aren’t you?” asked Tarren.
    “I’m going to try and avert a war.”
    Tarren had plucked all the petals off the flower and now held the stem in his hand. It began to quiver, and Whill realized that the boy was crying. The old elven face twisted with sorrow, and the stem fell to the grass below. Tarren hunched over and put his face in his hands.
    “I’m scared I’ll never see you again. Lunara says that you’ll find a way to switch us back…that maybe Kellallea will give you the power. But what if I don’t last until you return?”
    Whill felt his guilt swell, and choked down the growing lump in his throat. There was a way. If he swore fealty to Kellallea she had promised to not only restore Avriel’s memory, but also Tarren to his body. Would he let Tarren die because of his suspicions of the goddess’s motives?
    “Don’t worry yourself, I’ll find a way,” he found himself saying.
     
    He found Lunara by the swan bridge as Tarren said he would. She was sitting at its peak, legs dangling over the side and arms resting on the lower rail. Whill sat beside her and put a hand on hers. “Thank you for caring for Tarren these last few months. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
    Lunara regarded him with shimmering eyes and attempted a smile, but her lips quivered and she took in a shuddering breath. Suddenly, she took his face in her hands and kissed him. He was surprised by the kiss, though he didn’t pull away. Her lips were soft, warm. She pulled him to herself, pressing against him urgently. Passion stirred inside of him. He wanted to let himself go, to take her right there above the slowly flowing stream. But the closeness, the passion, reminded him of Avriel and he quickly pulled away, panting.
    Lunara stared wide-eyed for a moment and quickly got up. “I should never have done that…I…” She turned from him as he got up.
    “Wait!” he said, reaching for her. He took her by the shoulder and turned her around to give her a hug. She melted in his arms and