B2 Chapter 77

CHAPTER 77

LONG LIVE THE KING

Lucan stood on the sands of the training yard, watching Heath get disarmed by Aldous one more time. Still, he waited patiently until they were fully through with their training, particularly because he wanted to speak with Aldous alone.

He sighed as Heath picked his training sword up one more time. Finding something else to look at, Lucan raised his face to the sky and smiled as he saw the new banner fluttering atop the keep. Four triangles of blue and white. And in the center, between them, the circular walls of a fortress curled upon itself, but they were no ordinary walls. The walls were made of silver. It had taken him a while, but he’d had the livery made at last. They had their new banner. His father had even approved of it.

Upon remembering his father, he sighed again, for he was why Lucan was here. It was as he had expected. After he had passed the lordship onto Lucan, he’d withdrawn entirely into himself, spending most of his time in his chamber. Summer had ended and autumn had come, yet all he’d seen from his father was decay. He worried that by winter, there would be nothing left of the man he’d once known. So he’d come to speak to their master-at-arms.

The sand welcomed Heath’s sword once more and the man-at-arms had to leave at last, likely to attend to some delayed duty. He only seemed to notice Lucan then, giving him a quick bow before putting the training sword back on its rack. Aldous only showed an amused smile at this, meeting Lucan’s eyes and dipping his head as the man-at-arms left for his duties.

“My lord.”

“Aldous,” Lucan greeted him back, continuing to the matter on his mind without preamble. “I’ve come to bid you do something for me, discreetly, if you will.”

“You need only say it, my lord,” Aldous said.

“I would like for you to spar with my father.”

“My lord?” the master-at-arms gave him an incredulous look.

Lucan answered it with the most serious gaze he could muster. “It is only natural that you would find this beyond belief, but I need you to do it all the same.”

“But…”

“My father loves the sword,” Lucan said. “You heard him not too long ago. It is all he has ever known. It is the only thing that may drag him out into the sunlight again.”

Aldous gulped, nodding slowly. “Of course…but caution will have to be my guide.”

“Of course,” Lucan said. “It needs not to be said that this matter must be handled artfully. Patiently and slowly, but also discreetly. My father has his pride, and he would not want the men to watch him stumbling about the training yard with a training sword like a child.”

“I see, my lord.” Aldous bobbed his head. “It shall be done.”

“And you will have my thanks,” Lucan said with a smile. He hoped that the darkness of helplessness would not consume his father. He pretended to be well whenever Lucan sought him out, but he was all but well.

As he left the master-at-arms behind, intending to go on a brisk walk with Lilian, he was met by Thomas near the gate of the keep. He only tilted his head quizzically at the steward’s grim countenance.

“A bird just arrived,” the old man said. “From the capital. With a letter bearing the royal seal.”

Lucan frowned. “Have you–?”

The steward shook his head. “Cordell is already waiting in the study.”

Lucan only gave him a nod before hastening into the keep followed by the steward. They came across Lilian on the way to the study, and Lucan could only give her an apologetic look and tell her that a pressing matter had reared its head.

Soon, they were in the study, the three of them surrounding the writing table, upon which sat a small, rolled-up piece of parchment. None of them missed the drop of red wax impressed with the royal seal keeping it intact.

Lucan let out a breath and picked up the missive, carefully breaking the seal. He spread it between his fingers and began reading aloud. “To the esteemed peers of the realm. Take heed. The king is dead. May the gods give him a wide berth. Vassals of the throne are expected in Eldham within the moon to offer their fealty. His Majesty, Dane Baroun, has ascended the throne as its rightful heir. Long live the king.”

Lucan didn’t miss the sharp breaths taken by his aides. While the king was indeed aging and expected to pass, it came as no less of a surprise. Often, one would only hear such tidings once in their lives if they were fortunate, for to hear of the death of more than one king meant unrest and perhaps turmoil.

“I will bring word to your father,” Thomas said.

Lucan nodded. “Very well. It would be for the best, however, that I go to the capital alone.”

The steward only nodded as he left. It was unquestionable what would happen next. Even if they were not on the most flowery of terms with the new king, there was no other way forward but to swear loyalty, hoping that some matters may be smoothed over by time and necessity.

Lucan turned to his sergeant-at-arms. “Have Clifton, Tomis, and Ryder prepare themselves. We ride on the morrow. I must be in Eldham sooner than customarily expected.” He would have to show his new king as much courtesy as he could.

“Yes, my lord,” Cordell said, turning on his heel and marching out of the study.

Shortly after the sergeant-at-arms left, there was a soft knock on the door. Lucan recognized its rhythm. “You may enter.”

His betrothed stepped in, looking concerned, and rightfully so. “I saw Cordell bolting down the corridor. Is something the matter?”

“The king is dead.” He gave her a moment to accept her own dismay, acknowledging her disconcerted countenance with a nod. “I can assure you, you will not be the only one suffering this surprise today.”

“What–what…” she ran out of words, or perhaps air, only letting out a faint sigh.

“I will be departing on the morrow.”

“Shall I come with you?”

Lucan shook his head. He would not hide his betrothed, but it was not proper to take her with him to court under the circumstances. Neither her father nor his were there to be her guardian, and he could not present her at court until she became his wife. “I will have to go alone.”

“Alone?”

“Clifton, Tomis, and Ryder will accompany me. You need not worry.”

“Ah, I see,” she said, her eyes still wide. And he realized her consternation had not yet faded. Lucan didn’t even know if she had ever seen the king in the flesh, yet here she was, shivering like a thunderstruck bird.

“His Majesty, Dane Baroun, has ascended the throne,” Lucan continued to explain. No doubt, his betrothed would have asked more questions had she been in possession of her wits, and no doubt, she would contemplate such questions later. So he made matters clear for her regardless. “I must swear my fealty as soon as I can, and assure him that no trouble will come from this corner of the kingdom. My hope is he will be content to know that he will have a certainty of order from one of his many vassals, considering that not all of them will be as obedient.”

Lilian only nodded along, and Lucan sighed. She would, perhaps, be like this for the day. But he had no time. He, too, had to prepare if he were to leave at first light. So he bid her take a stroll through the estate and rest well for the night before heading to his father’s chamber.

There, he saw Thomas leaving to attend to their most pressing affairs, and his father sitting as rigid as a lance on his chair. And even without eyes to show his dismay or surprise, Lucan could feel it oozing off the former lord. “You leave on the morn?”

“I do.”

“It is wise.”

“Do you wish to accompany me?” Lucan asked carefully.

His father shook his head. “Word should have reached the capital by now. They know who sits in Silvergate as lord. My coming would be of no consequence, and I do not enjoy stepping into that pit of a court. The man I swore to serve has died, just as much as my ability to serve him.” He let out a rasping sigh. “Go, my son. My chamber will keep me company.”

“Then I fare you well, Father,” Lucan said with pressed lips. He hoped Aldous would be able to keep to his promise. “I will not be long.”

“Fare well, Son.”

On the morn of the next day, Lucan was on his horse, leading his men west on the estate’s road and then north on the High Road. They rode hard, hoping to get to Eldham within a fortnight. Winter was still on its way, and hopefully, the road would be easy to traverse.

For the first two nights, they camped on the side of the road. On the third, they rested in a small settlement where two roads met. On the fourth, they found a hamlet with a small inn where they could stay, knowing that on the sixth, they would reach Arpague at last, a proper city and a proper rest.

Fate, however, had other plans, for they would never reach Arpague.

On their fifth day on the road, they came across what was clearly a noble’s party. It didn’t take long for Lucan to spot and recognize the banner of Lord Drummond. What was peculiar, however, was that the lord was marching south instead of north. It was already surprising that the southern lord was ahead of them on the road to Eldham. He could not have already reached the capital, reaffirmed his fealty, and marched back, unless the lord and his men had sprouted wings on their way north and lost them on their way south.

Lucan brought his men to a halt and waited for the lord and his men to reach them. Lord Drummond had a somewhat larger party than Lucan’s, but he was easy to spot. The large man rode an appropriately bulky horse and led his men from the front.

Lucan raised a hand in greeting and received a raised hand in response, though he didn’t miss the grim look on the lord’s face. Lucan urged his horse forward, followed by his men. When he and the other lord were finally close enough to hear each other, Lucan dipped his head. “Lord Drummond.”

The bear of a man returned the greeting with a stiff nod. “Lord Zesh.”

“You are heading south, Your Lordship…?” Lucan let the question in his voice hang.

Lord Drummond huffed with a scowl. “Aye. These are dark times. I just got word. The king is dead.”

Lucan raised a brow. “Indeed…” he paused, glancing at the lord’s men and seeing their grim looks as well. “His Majesty, Athelstan Baroun, has passed, may his slumber be peaceful. We are on our way to Eldham to swear fealty to King Dane Baroun.”

Lord Drummond shook his head, as though dissuading a child from some fantasy. “No, young Lucan. What I meant is that His Majesty Dane Baroun is dead.” He paused, meeting Lucan’s eyes with the gravity of his own. “By treachery. He was poisoned.”

The world spun around Lucan for a moment, Lord Drummond’s words clubbing it out of balance. He shook his head. “Are you…Are you certain, Your Lordship?”

Another grave nod was the only answer he got.

“Then-then,” Lucan stuttered in spite of himself. “Who…?”

“No one knows,” Lord Drummond said. “Prince Oswin has accused Prince Esmond of the king’s murder and declared himself rightful heir to the throne. Prince Esmond has likewise accused his elder brother of the king’s murder and declared himself rightful heir to the throne. Each has won the loyalty of some of the Royal Guard. Blood has been shed, and they say the capital lies in ruins, though it sounds overblown. Both princes have retreated from Eldham, however. Prince Oswin south and Prince Esmond north. I have no doubt that banners are about to be raised in Arpague and somewhere in the northern half of the kingdom too.”

“Civil war…” Lucan muttered, an ominous breeze caressing his face as he said the words.

“I fear so.”

Lucan could only stare north as though his eyes would be able to overtake the distance and find some truth in Eldham.

“I must be on my way now,” Lord Drummond interrupted the haze of his thoughts.

“Of course, your lordship,” Lucan dipped his head hastily, gesturing for his men to make way for the lord and his men.

The stunned silence was not only his own, for his three men sat frozen on their horses as well. Until finally, Ryder spoke.

“What are we to do?”

Lucan eyed the horizon one more time, then himself. What does one do when a storm comes rolling over the horizon?

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”