As dawn broke, we stirred from a deep slumber. Our room was chilly and a thin layer of frost was on the window and we decided to lie under the soft and thick covers for some time before making our way downstairs for breakfast. Pitties had already gone away in the early hours of the morning, and we only found some dozen staff bustling about on various tasks, their footsteps blending into a single orchestra.
The day passed in leisure, but with an anticipation that we all felt. Jace was mostly silent and nervous, idly reading from this book or that, though hardly able to read more than a paragraph before the thoughts of the upcoming meeting with the King broke his focus. Iskander and Jaxine lounged around in the great hall before the fireplace, and we talked at length about this or that. Sometime after lunch, Florencia and I went for a walk in the estate’s garden before retiring inside to warm up.
Then, as the sun was setting early, and the sky was painted vivid red and orange, with scarcely a cloud above us, and the two Eveningstars gleamed brilliantly, we sensed a large commotion approach.
We were made to stand in front of the main entrance, as Pitties did the day before, and we saw in the distance two columns of the King’s Guard advance upon the white gravel road, and the tall cypresses were quickly covered with a cloud of chalky dust.
Slowly the air filled with a creeping psychic activity, and we felt on edge. Florencia grabbed my hand for comfort, and Jaxine hid her face in the collar of her sweater.
By that time, the estate’s staff were finished with their preparations, and the kitchen was warmed by the long fires and the delicious smells of oven-baked meat and bread, and wine and tea made their way into the furthest chambers. As the King’s company neared, none dared to talk.
The columns were commanded by Captain-Castellan Fortino Dienne, the tallest and mightiest of them all, whom I’d seen back in Sanermo. Following him were more men and women than I dared to count—the King’s retainers, bodyguards, secretaries, and members of his court—and in the middle of them rode the King and the Crown Prince.
“I shouldn’t be this nervous,” mumbled Iskander to himself, and he clenched his fists into a tight ball. “He’s just a man. A king, but just a man.” Florencia frowned but said nothing.
“Should we bow?” asked Jace, his face as a stone statue, and his hair and beard trimmed and combed to perfection. His fingers were anxiously fiddling with a new silver ring on his index finger.
“Of course!” said Florencia, “We have to bow when Our Majesty comes close, but don’t say anything until you’re spoken to.” She wore a brave expression, but I sensed she was as nervous as the rest of us.
First to arrive in the courtyard and dismount his horse—a massive, thick-haired war horse—was captain Dienne. He towered above his men and his chest was broad and strong, and the cloak of red, gold, and black billowed in the winter breeze, and his plumed helmet that covered his nose, cheeks, and forehead was polished to perfection. He strode past us with long steps, barely paying us any heed, and stopped before a decorated guardsman and demanded a report.
It was said that all was well, and the King could safely enter his estate.
After a crude pulse of telepathic command, the main body of the column rode ahead, and onto the estate courtyard entered the King of Lienor, Gussario Landoros II. He stopped his majestic horse—tall but with delicate features and light-brown spots among a coat of velvety black—with a pull on the reins and descended onto the fine white gravel.
Our King came forward with even and measured movements, dressed in a thick black cloak that had yellow and gold intricately embroidered in a pinstripe pattern. From afar, one might mistake him for simply a wealthy merchant, yet as he turned his gaze towards us, I saw in his eyes a commanding gaze and the strongest of wills that I found easy to submit to.
There was still strength left in the old King of Lienor.
In the wake of his father’s measured steps, Crown Prince Ames Landoros dismounted with practiced ease, as he’d done countless times before. He swept back his golden-brown hair and smiled at the sunset. He wore a long, midnight-blue tunic that extended to his thighs and had the two bottom buttons unfastened, as was fashionable. The fine embroidery was barely noticeable from where I stood—an inner lining from fine silk with bold golden flowers and green vines. And the Prince wore tall, polished riding boots of black. With a casual stride, he went to help his mother reign in her children.
Queen Leonelle Landoros, of house Fiandconis from the southwest, wore a faint smile on her lips as she herded her three younglings together. She moved slowly and gracefully and held her head high, and she did not waver in the face of the cold wind that came from the Lienor heartlands. Her dark hair had thin strands of grey, and she had wrapped around her neck and head a woolly shawl that had, it seemed to me, woven into it fine threads of gold.
The King had three younger children—the twin princesses Corette Mauve and Ivette Jeanne, who possessed an alluring magnetism that captured the attention of many who beheld them. With an air of nonchalance they scanned their surroundings, twirling their curly locks between their fingers, and gossiped about this and that and giggled among themselves, speaking of secrets none had privy to. And standing behind them was a slender boy of fifteen, who looked younger than his years. This was Prince Andry Aureliano, the boy who would always be overshadowed by his brother.
“Momma,” said the boy and gave the King’s Guards a frightful look. “I’m hungry. Let’s go inside.” He should have been used to seeing the King’s bodyguards by now. I wondered why he was so afraid of them.
“Hush, Andry,” whispered the Queen. “We’ll eat soon enough.” And the young prince frowned.
As the royal family adjusted their attire and spoke to each other, Rainier Pitties, who had arrived alongside them, exchanged words with the captain of the King’s Guard and gave commands to the staff of the estate. Hurriedly a pair of young helpers ran away, and an older man, with thick arms and a thicker beard, went mumbling back into the manor house. Pitties and I exchanged a quick glance, and he nodded reassuringly.
But then I felt a stabbing sensation in my upper neck. A large, golden medallion in the shape of a pentagon that hung from the King’s neck drew my attention. I felt my psychic powers dull and I felt a chill in my spine. I felt useless and blunted, as I’d felt in the prison cell of Cappesand, wearing that damned Circlet of Aegisthies!
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“Your King wears a powerful artifact,” said Goxhandar suddenly, his voice distant and wavering. “I cannot bear its presence! Please let me withdraw, Master.”
“Neither can I,” I replied. “This is insufferable. I will call upon you when I need you.” And Goxhandar did, indeed, retreat from my consciousness.
“It is the medallion,” whispered Florencia urgently, as the King made his way towards us. “It suppresses our powers. That’s how the king can stand on even ground with the mages and sorcerers.”
I remembered what Pitties told me the previous night—Mardovan Coeccedus was the creator of this medallion, and it was well over a thousand years old. Beside me, Iskander groaned and tightened his fists, while Jaxine squinted her eyes. Jace shifted his balance around and rubbed the skin on his wrists.
“Our counts don’t even have such treasures!” said Iskander. “I hope he’ll take it off.”
“Sush! Stop talking,” whispered Florencia again and smiled before the King.
We bowed.
Then, the King spoke: “Welcome noble champions and valiant warriors of the battle of Poscale. Your bravery in facing the savage enemy on that day will forever echo through the annals of our history. It is no mere trifle to endanger one’s life for a kingdom, not of your birth—” he looked straight at Iskander and Jaxine, who turned their eyes down. “Yet you chose to stand beside your comrades, nonetheless, and face death and injury. Such selfless deeds are sacred and what you have done is virtue itself! And in my kingdom, I shall reward these deeds honorably!”
Jaxine blushed and let out an involuntary giggle, and Iskander grunted something in reply. We remained bowed. The King turned to Florencia and Jace, who stood next to each other.
“And how can one forget the two castasides of Cappesand, who had no reason to uphold their oaths, yet you placed our kingdom above your own safety? You have my deepest gratitude and know that many lives are saved thanks to your viscousness in battle!”
With a casual step, he stopped before me and put his hand on my shoulder and I saw the Medallion dangling close. It almost felt searing, and I feared for a moment that it would burn my very skin. “And hail Jonas Espian, champion of Poscale and Krastarn, savior of my kingdom.” He lowered his voice. “I know you are in pain. Please forgive me, but it is a matter of custom that you remain bowed. And I am aware of the discomfort my Medallion is causing. I shall remove it soon.”
The King stepped past us and inside the estate. We rose and Florencia helped me straighten my back. Crown Prince Ames was suddenly beside us and he caught Florencia’s hand.
“It is a delight to see you again, Miss Regalla. This day is brighter and more beautiful now, indeed,” said Ames and smiled dashingly. There was a hint of flirt in the smile, but I sensed it meant nothing. Florencia blushed a deep red and bowed again. “Please, let us go inside. It’s getting cold out, and we have a long night ahead of us.”
The twin princesses passed us without even looking, and behind them trailed awkwardly the young Prince Andry. His frame was thin and lanky and his eyes were downcast. He wore long and draping robes that fit him ill, and his hair was wild and curled, but his eyes were soft and scared.
“Why don’t you join your father and brother in the smoking room, Andry,“ said the Queen in passing.
He stood wearily behind her and mumbled: “I don’t want to go. You said I could read, momma.” The Queen smiled weakly and went inside. We followed, and Prince Ames closed the doors behind us.
Suddenly I found myself flanked by the King and the Crown Prince. “We are not all meant to be rulers and wearers of crowns,” said the King. “Andry has a gentle soul. His interests are more of the arts and flowers.”
“Don’t give my brother too much grief. He has his own strengths,” said Ames.
“A kingdom needs brave soldiers to defend their homes and land, and strong men to till the earth, but all of us need poetry and music to nourish the soul. Life is colorless without art,” said the King.
What followed next was followed precisely as the old customs ordained—polite greetings and conversations treading cautiously around the true purpose of our gathering. It all seemed very pleasant and many of us, save for Jace, were eased and mellowed. The Queen made for a delightful host and spoke warmly and asked with interest about our wellbeing. We ate and drank liberally, and our hearts were filled until I had to be taken away into the smoking room. I left Florencia and the others in the company of the Queen and the princesses.
There, in the dark smoking room, a rich buffet was prepared and a fire was lit. Heavy curtains were drawn in front of narrow windows and candles were set in the dark corners. A thick carpet lay under my feet, and lounging couches were laid around.
“Why do you fight, Jonas?” asked the King.
His question and directness caught me off guard. The King, Gussario Landoros, a man of average build, with thinning hair and wrinkled mouth and eyes, still had a hardness in his voice and his eyes were keen. He stood next to the fire, having taken off the Medallion of Coeccedus, and I could, thankfully, again use all my psychic faculties.
Prince Ames and Pitties sat and held their eyes on us, sitting on edge and in anticipation.
“Because…” I began, wondering whether I should tell him the truth. A quiet voice encouraged me to speak from the heart. “Because the Enemy stole my life. My youth, my old life, and my future. Because Rufasmos, the demon, the Great Lord, banished me into a nightmarish realm, and destroyed me and Florencia’s life. I want revenge. I want to destroy them all. Even their mere presence here insults me.”
The King smirked and said: “Good. It is important for me to understand you and your motives, Mr. Espian.”
He turned and came before me, and spoke as if rehearsed many times. His voice was soft yet hard, with an understated authority. But here and now, this close and when his authoritative facade had been cast down, I noticed that he was old. His eyes were old and his hair was more white and wispy than I previously had noticed. And every now and then, he breathed out a weary sigh and the wrinkles on his face seemed to deepen in the light of the fire.
“Have you read the reports about the battle of the Poscale?”
“I have not.”
“In the battle, only three of their terrible captains were struck down by our men-at-arms. All the rest that fell that day were killed by you, Mr. Espian. Do you know what that means?”
I shook my head. I knew I killed many that day, but didn’t know the exact count. Over a dozen seemed too high a number.
“This means that had you not been on that field of battle, bolstering the men of marshall de-Vilgario, or ridden along with the brave captain Orsin, both of those battles we might have lost!”
He let the silence linger for an uncomfortable time.
“I don’t know what to say, Your Majesty,” I said and bowed slightly.
“You think this is flattery? No! This is a grave and terrible fact of our situation, Mr. Espian, where only one man in my kingdom is able to stand and fight against the might of our Enemy. It is only you who have the skill and power to kill their captains with ease. If you were to decide to leave Lienor, and pursue the Enemy elsewhere, as any free man or woman may in my kingdom, then what will happen with us? You are vital to our survival! I must have you interested and motivated in our affairs.”
“Father, your bluntness this evening is as admirable as ever,” said Ames, still smiling as the dark shadows danced on his face.
“I’ll reserve charming words and flattery for another occasion, my son. Mr. Espian is not a man of the court or a man who needs empty encouragement. I sense he needs no motivation and prefers directness. I do not wish to impose on his time unnecessarily. The day is late and we have much to do and the True Night is drawing near.”
Then, the King stood close in front of me, our eyes locked. “Because of your heroics and my necessity, I shall ennoble you. You shall be made viscount of Oscarian!”