Chapter 44

“They’re not all looking at you, so you can relax,” Rowena whispered in his ear as they danced.

“It feels like they are,” he whispered back, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

“That’s because they’re looking at me,” she explained. “Your proximity is merely coincidental.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

The young couple continued to dance their way around the room. Tom had a relatively high dexterity, and he’d been practicing for a week straight since the party had been announced. Those two factors combined to make him a mediocre dance partner for Rowena, who as a Rogue Agent had a much higher dexterity, and as a princess had been trained in the art of dance almost as soon as she’d learned to walk.

Fortunately she was dancing down to his level. Rowena was accustomed to the position of attempting to make her dance partner look good. And for once, she didn’t actually mind doing it.

If she was being completely honest with herself, she rather enjoyed being this close to him. She wondered if he was enjoying her perfume. She’d selected it with him in mind, after all.

She wondered who’d selected his cologne. That didn’t seem like a detail that he’d think of himself, so she was certain it was either Grant or his valet. She’d have to have a word with Nigel, because although there was nothing particularly wrong with the scent that Tom was wearing, it smelled too much like an aftershave. It was out of place on a boy too young to shave, and there were other common colognes which would fit Tom better.

Perhaps she’d make a gift of it. She’d missed his birthday, but their engagement had just been announced and a present celebrating that wouldn’t be out of place.

At least he hadn’t made the mistake of practically bathing in the scent, as some of Rowena’s previous dance partners had.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her.

“Perfume,” she admitted.

“Really?”

“It’s actually a very complex subject,” she informed him. “The scent that you wear says a lot about you. In the social circles that we walk, it’s a subject which requires a moderate amount of thought.”

“Well, I didn’t know you’d put so much thought into it, but I do think you smell nice tonight,” he informed her.

“Thank you. I happen to smell nice all of the time, however.”

“Not so much right after you get out of a dungeon,” he teased.

She pinched him, and he lost a step in the dance.

“Sorry,” they said in unison, then they giggled.

“So I guess it’s official that we’re engaged,” Tom commented.

“Is that a problem? It’s been almost official for a while now after all. And the official announcement means that we can cut out some of the formality with chaperones and such,” she pointed out.

“It’s … just weird,” he said. “I’m still not certain I understand why we have to get married in the first place, even after it’s been explained like fifty times. I’m not complaining or anything. I just, well, when I imagined getting married when I was younger I thought that the process would be a lot different than what we’ve gone through.”

“You weren’t expecting to fall in love at first sight, were you?” she asked him.

“No, not that,” he said. “But I really wasn’t expecting the king to be involved in the process at all. And I thought that we’d both have more say in it.”

“My parents promised me that I’d be able to marry for love,” she confided. “They broke that promise the first chance that they could. I think I’d be more resentful of them for it if it wasn’t for you.”

Tom was very cute when he blushed, Rowena thought to herself.

The dance finished, and they made their way to the refreshment table. As Classed adults, they were allowed to drink, but the king had decreed that only some light wines were to be served. Fenard didn’t want anyone getting drunk at this event. Despite having the option, they both selected worthmus juice instead.

Rowena saw Tom frowning at his glass and realized that he was thinking of home.

“It will be fine,” she told him. “The king is sending funds to help repair the damage that the dragon caused.”

“I know,” Tom said. “It’s not just the king. The Adventurer’s Guild is sending a team to Tilluth as well. They’re going to try to hunt down the last of the Flame-Lynxes and otherwise just establish an outpost there, since Tilluth Dungeon is probably one of the best ones that I’ve created for reaching high levels.”

“How high does it get?” she asked.

“The starting floors are only level ten or so,” Tom explained, “but the monsters on the deepest floors are level sixty-ish. One of the first things I did after getting my class was level the Tilluth Core as high as I could. I didn’t know any better at the time, and to be honest I was sort of confused after getting my class. I made a lot of mistakes when I first classed up.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t all that bad,” she said.

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“Rowena, people are dead because of those mistakes,” Tom said. “The monsters that started spawning because of me leveling the village core were way too powerful for anyone in the village to deal with. That’s the entire reason Lord Worth was sent to the village was to deal with them. The monsters killed six people. People I knew. And now Lord Worth is dead too.”

Rowena schooled her expression. She’d known some of this before hand, but she hadn’t seen it from his perspective before. Of course he felt guilty for the monster attacks. Why hadn’t she realized that sooner?

“Tom, the weight of the world doesn’t really rest on your shoulders,” she told him. “Not everything that happens in the periphery of your actions is actually your fault. Would you feel guilty if one of the summonees from Earth turned out to be a murderer?”

Tom frowned, considering the question. “I mean, they wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me,” he said.

“No! Tom, you’ve got to stop accepting responsibility for things that are outside of your control. You summoned people from Earth, and statistically some of those people might not be good people. But you don’t hang the parents of a criminal for not raising their child right. You’ve given those people another chance to have a good life, Tom, and if they go and do something stupid with it it’s on them, not on you.”

“Okay, so yeah,” he said, “but that’s a completely different situation than what happened in Tilluth.”

“It’s not the best comparison,” she admitted. “Look, Tom, you were fourteen at the time. You didn’t know how to use your class yet. And it wasn’t you that destroyed the outlet dungeon, that was Antoine.”

“If he hadn’t, then things might have been even worse,” Tom argued.

“Stop being an idiot!” she scolded. “Tom, nobody blames you for what some monsters did!”

“The dead people might! Or their families!” he shouted back.

Rowena realized at this point that their private conversation had more audience members than the current dancers. She blushed, despite her training, and motioned with her eyes to make Tom aware of the problem as well. That worked to calm him down, but unfortunately it also caused him to freeze up.

“Come on, let’s go outside,” she said, linking an arm through his elbow and leading him out of the room. They had eyes on them the entire way, but nobody made to follow them out of the ballroom.

“I’m sorry for shouting,” he told her.

“I’m sorry for rubbing salt in your wounds,” she responded. “I suppose you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t accept responsibility for your mistakes. I just wish that it didn’t tear you up inside when nobody who actually understands the situation blames you for what happened.”

“I won’t ever forget what happened,” Tom told her. “I’ll never make a mistake like that again. One that gets people killed.”

“Tom, yes you will,” she informed him in a kind voice. “Either as a Controller, or as a guild master to the Adventurer’s Guild, or even just as an important noble, you have an extreme amount of power. My uncle literally has the power of life and death at his command. That doesn’t mean that he’s perfect. He makes mistakes, and he has regrets. He’s ordered executions which he’s come to regret, Tom. That’s a level of guilt far beyond what you should feel for your mistakes.”

“Some of the executions I’ve regretted even as I ordered them,” a familiar voice said. The teens turned and were surprised to find that King Fenard and his retinue were following them. Fenard was dressed in a blue toga with a depiction of a dragon fighting a man embroidered on it.

Tom quickly bowed, as was appropriate in the situation, and Rowena curtsied. Fenard acknowledged the genuflections and waved for them both to straighten up. “Please, dispense with the formality,” he said. “I followed you, after all. I was worried that there might be trouble in paradise?”

“Just a little argument,” Rowena assured him. “Tom is feeling more guilty than he should over mistakes that he’s made.”

“Those mistakes led to people losing their lives,” Tom argued. “Are you really saying I shouldn’t feel guilty for that?”

“Tom, how many people do you think that I’ve killed?” King Fenard asked. Tom blinked at the non sequitur.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Tom admitted. “I mean, I know that you’ve had people executed.”

“Yes. I sign about two to five death warrants a year,” Fenard agreed. “And at least four of those executions have been carried out in error.”

Tom blinked in surprise. “What?”

“They were innocent. My investigators made mistakes, and innocent people paid for crimes that they did not commit,” Fenard clarified. “How do you think I feel about that?”

Tom considered for a moment. “If it were me, I’d feel terrible.”

“Indeed. It’s a most regrettable situation for all parties involved. In one instance, I had to execute a guard because he deliberately railroaded an innocent due to a personal vendetta. In another case it was a mistaken identity, and the true culprit was unmasked after the execution had already taken place. I could tell you each of those circumstances, Tom. But those are my burdens.”

Fenard paused, then he admitted “Honestly, Tom, compared to some of my other mistakes, the mistaken executions are but a sliver of the weight on my conscience. It’s simply the nature of being king that every decision I make regarding official policy has far reaching consequences. Even my decisions regarding taxation can literally mean life and death to some of my more vulnerable subjects.”

“How do you stand it?” Tom asked.

“Mostly I console myself that I am but one link in the chain. I may be the sovereign, but ultimately most of my fatal mistakes have been group efforts. Each moment of the day I am constantly reminding myself that I am but a man with a lot of responsibility. I will err. I will make mistakes. When they occur, I must simply accept my faults and try to move past them. In the moment, when I am presented with a difficult choice, I must simply accept that I may not know the correct course of action and pick the best of the alternatives that I do see before me.”

He paused. “It helps sometimes when the sleepless nights comes, but not always. Tonight, however, is not for reflecting on past mistakes. Tonight is for celebrating two heroes. Antoine the Vanquisher, of course, but also Lord Worth, who saved so many lives in the initial dragon attack. It’s such a shame that he died, I would have elevated him another rank to Count if he’d survived his encounter with the dragon.”

“I wish I could have met him,” Tom admitted. “He probably saved a lot of my friends and neighbors, and I’ll never even be able to put a face to the name.”

“Better to put a song to it, I think,” Fenard said. “Come, let’s go back into the ballroom and I’ll order the bard to sing the Ballad of the Worthy Lord, as they’ve named the song I commissioned in his memory.”