FLYNN CLAYMORE

He never managed to make it to his tower through the great yard and all its ruckus and stirs of men and serving girls alike. He had found his steward waiting for him beneath the awning of the royal stable, which was on the way to his tower, the horses in the stable seemingly enjoying the presence of the man that served him, and they made sure he knew with their mirthful whiskers.

Ewart Haystack had been a stable boy once, long before he had been brought to serve as Flynn’s steward, and even though he reeked of horses when he had been brought to the Vale Of Rocks, he had always been a lot smarter than his peers, the little he had met, he was almost even as good as Flynn, but if there was a choice given to him between the stable and the book, he would pick the stable, and he sitting before one now was no coincidence, he loved the smell of horses still, and the horses no doubt loved him as well, Flynn could see that, but he had not been given such a choice, he had been dumped in stewardship, and with that came the end of his direct relations with mares and studs and geldings.

“They love you still,” Flynn called Ewart Haystack’s attention with an approach to the stable. He could not get too close though, the stench of manure that mingled with the smell of the horses he would not have tinge his leather, he could not be foul-smelling when he returned to Zephyr. “Ever thought of returning to become a stable boy?” He japed with a one sided grin, stopping his steps just outside the awning.

“My lord,” Ewart greeted with a bow as soon as he rose from the chopping block he was seated upon, his shoulder-length, dark and tousled hair, falling over his ears. “It’s better to serve you than to serve horses,” he said courteously, the richness of his calm voice seeping out.

“If only you meant that,” Flynn chuckled while he put one hand to rest on his hip.

“The horses do nothing but calm me now, my lord, but I was not here for them, I was here waiting for you.” Ewart Haystack let his face rise up to see the one of his lord. “Lady Audrey arrived not too long ago. Ser Aaron has taken her to her chambers, he had me tell you.”

“When was this?” Flynn questioned with a calm wave of his hand as a reply to the serving girl that greeted him as she passed, not sparing her his eyes. “How long has it been?” He added.

“Not long,” his steward said. “Just some minutes past. We both did as you said and waited for her at the castle’s drawbridge, as soon as her carriage came past the gates, Ser Aaron took her in, her along with one other, a man, her steward maybe, there’s no room prepared for that one, so he went along to her bedchamber.”

“You did good, Ewart. Meet up with Baldwin and have him put some serving girls to prepare hot water for the bath of them both, it’s midday so it should not be too hot, warm maybe, and then a room should be cleared up for the rest of the man that came with her thereafter. I’ll meet with the king to tell him of his bride’s arrival.”

He spared the reply and bow of his steward no time as he turned around and plunged himself a ways through the never ending rumpus of the great yard, not that it ever left him, but it had seemed to grow quiet when he was talking with his steward, now though, it had taken fit to storm his ears ever so much like it did before when he had left Aeron’s holdfast.

When he arrived beneath the grey mortared walls of the holdfast, he made his way to where he had last left the king. He was not sure if he retained his position, and for that matter as he arrived at the oak-door of the small hall, he asked the black cloak stationed before it of the matter he was not sure of. “Did the king leave?”

“My lord.” The guard bowed in greeting first, his armet firm over his face. “The king is still in,” he answered, his metal face returning to its previous position.

“And Lady Eira?” Flynn wondered if the king and the lady of Blackwood were still engaged in some sort of long queer conversation, one that would not be of politics, that he was sure. Zephyr had never been one for political blethers, he had never seemed to like it and he avoided it at every turn, and to make it worse, he had lost his memories, to Flynn that was what had happened upon his resurrection. Maybe he should have never left him alone with the Blackwood’s lady, but she had requested he did. So if it was not the bane of Zephyr, which was politics, they talked about, what could…

Stolen novel; please report.

Could it be… Flynn stumbled upon a late realisation, and gestured with immediacy to the guard to fly the door open; that one did almost as quickly as he saw the gesture, and Flynn was in, though not more than three steps in with the shut of the door before the king spoke.

“Returned, have you? Maybe you should never have left.” Zephyr continually stabbed the column of trenchers before him with the twin swords of silver that were his eyes, most especially the one with the slightly gobbled up chicken covered up by a linen napkin.

Flynn was sure of what they talked about now, he really should never have left them to be.

“What would happen if we lose the support of House Blackwood?” Zephyr said again, his hands clenched under his chin. “How bad would it be?”

“Very, my king.” Flynn sighed. “They are the richest and have the largest levies in the realm. Losing their support would not be a good option.” Flynn came before the trestle table Zephyr sat before now, but the king’s swords chose not to pierce him.

“And sadly it has now become an option.” Zephyr tsked. “I heard my father did the same as I. He married another with no regard for the Blackwoods. If we were meant to wed them, then why was I not told of such? You’re my advisor, you’re meant to tell me these things. And the council, none said a word. None.” Zephyr did not look angry of sort, at least from where Flynn stood before him. He was unable to see the king’s eyes, but he saw that his face was not twitching in annoyance, it was just filled with thoughts he had never been used to, thoughts he as the king’s advisor was meant to help him with.

“It was your father’s wish, my king,” he told Zephyr and that did enough to blunt his gaze and pull it from the trenchers lined before him and up at Flynn. “Your father wished nothing of such political hold on you. He told us all to not tell you a thing, and have you pick your bride yourself, not because of some obligation as the king. And we could not go against the dead king’s wishes, the grand savant would not even allow it.”

Zephyr’s clenched hands loosened. “If he did not want me to be tied up with kingly obligations he should never have crowned me. What would he have me do now that we are at risk of losing their support? I have chosen without obligations and I have chosen the lowest high house in the realm. What am I to do now, huh? You tell me. You counsel me.” He poured all his worries on Flynn and awaited a counsel of any sort from him, any would do.

“Call off the wedding with the lady of House Flamesworth, and betrothe yourself to Lady Eira’s daughter in good faith with House Blackwood. That is my counsel to you…” Flynn answered sharply and Zephyr’s eyes responded with a slumped narrowness of frustration at the exploit, “as your advisor,” Flynn put in at the end. “As your friend, Zephyr, I am in full support of your father’s decision.” And up went Zephyr’s brows.

“As my friend,” Zephyr muttered in some kind of way that made Flynn’s eyes wrench slightly, just for a moment. “And what would become of our relationship with House Blackwood? I should just throw it all away? That would be foolish of me as king will it not? You said they are the richest house in the realm, and they have the largest levies. We need them…”

“And they need us…” Flynn added. “You have the throne, do not forget that, my king. They are one house, but you can rally more together if you so wish. You have the most power in the realm.”

And how did that come to be…? Zephyr wondered why the Ravenswood house was chosen to sit the throne and not the richest and the most powerful house in the realm.

“But I still believe we should not let go of them so easily,” Flynn began to tell him. “If we can still have their riches and their levies, then we should have it.”

Zephyr was taken aback. “And for you to say this you must have some sort of plan in mind. What is that plan?”

“Wed her daughter to your brother.”

Zephyr’s eyebrows pinched. “My brother? Thaddeus? He’s a child.”

“No, not Thaddeus, my king… your brother, Dante.”