Lochlan gazed around the room. The chieftains of the Twelve Clans sat at the table, all except for his father, Dathen. Instead, his seat was occupied by Brida, the next in line according to Clan tradition.
Dathen had been proclaimed High King over five years ago, but with him rotting away in a Weldwyn dungeon, the Clans had slipped back into their constant state of bickering. Lochlan wondered if the Clans could ever be truly united. It had been a dream, of course, and for generations, tales were told about how one ruler would bring them all together. Everyone thought Dathen was the one to lead them, but then disaster had struck, and with his defeat came imprisonment.
In the wake of that defeat, Weldwyn had dictated the terms: never again would an army of the Clans assemble within one hun
