They walked not because they couldn’t afford a carriage, but because there were none to be found. Only those in the Kalronist government could afford one and they didn’t use them to go to parties or soirees. It only made them slow moving targets for angry crowds who saw the waste of money at the display. And the waste of food. When he realized that, Al felt poorly for the horses they had ridden across Arvonne and sold in the city. He had grown attached to his chestnut mare.

It was roughly twenty past seven when they arrived late for the party. The owner of the house was wealthy enough to own a maid, who took their affects and led them into a room lit with lanterns, not candles.

As they entered the parlor, Caudin was taken aback for a moment. Two decades ago, this could have been some corner of a party his father would have attended. Jemerie was sitting in profile, his fat fingers holding a spear with sausage, cheese, and vegetables on it. He was speaking to Duluv, the former Principal of Wine, a slight man with pale skin, light green eyes, and dark hair shot with silver. At the bar was Rogesh, once the Principal of Grains, a ruddy man with white, combed back hair that had once been strawberry blond. He tipped back his head and took a shot of some liquor, likely shablou if his tastes still ran the same.

This was the Cocktail Trio that Caudin had mentioned previously, named because they had been three of the more powerful principals and therefore had been invited to many parties, always responsible for keeping a steady flow of cheeses, wines, and crackers for the events.

As a child, it had been easy for Caudin to remember Duluv and Rogesh. (Not that it was really a problem for him, being god-blooded.) “Dul-” was a prefix often used in Arvonnese to describe things pertaining to the moon, as in the word “dulurah”, which meant “silvery and soft, like the moonlight”. Duluv was dulurah just as much as Rogesh wasn’t. Duluv was witty and chuckled quietly whereas Rogesh laughed boisterously, especially at lewd jokes, lit up a room with his presence, and had the warm, reddish-yellow coloring of the sun. From an early age he had remembered them as the sun and moon principals.

They both turned at the same time and matched each others look for just a moment. Duluv gave a small smile and a nod while Rogesh gaped. “Jemerie, it’s him. It’s actually him. Well, uh, welcome back, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Rogesh. How are Miret and the girls?”

“Doing well, actually, relatively speaking. No one is doing as well as we used to, but I’m sure you knew that.”

“Duluv? How’s your brood, both in family and your dogs?”

“Had to give the dogs up a long time ago. The family is fine. Chirin and his family moved to Kipraud about six years ago. He’s doing well.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said, though the message was tainted in sadness. If someone who was nobly blooded moved their main residency to another country, they forfeited their titles.

Jemerie stood and waved them in. “Thank you so much for coming. You must be friends of…oh dear.”

The three men in the room arched their necks up to take in all of Telbarisk’s height. “Good evening, everyone,” Caudin said. “Yes, I think we should probably start with Telbarisk of Nourabrikot. He’s a grivven from Ervaskin, actually a prince of the Valley of the Cold Winds. I met him many years ago when I sailed there, then again when he sailed to Gheny.”

“He’s quite tall, isn’t he?” Rogesh asked.

“I’m actually short, for a grivven,” Tel replied. Rogesh laughed in a jovial manner while Duluv chuckled.

Caudin took Al by the shoulders and moved him forward. “This is .rd Alpine Grey, top of his class at Amandorlam. One of the smartest men I know.”

“I am pleasing to make the acquaintances,” he said.

“Okay, well, languages aren’t his forte, though he’s working on Arvonnese. Smart in many other pursuits. And this,” he said, holding out his arm so that Anla could walk forward, “is my wife…”

The fourth of Jemerie’s guests stepped into the room at that moment, brushing his coat. “Oh, I’m sorry I missed your introductions.”

“Oh,” Caudin said, stopping to gather his thoughts. “I, uh, guessed you were bringing Rogesh and Duluv, Jemerie, but I didn’t know who your fourth would be. I find myself at a loss for words.”

“For Commres?” he asked, confused. “But, surely you remember him? Were there hard feelings when you last spoke?”

Commres was staring at Anla with a confused look on his face. “This is your wife?” he asked and Caudin nodded. “She looks very familiar.”

“I don’t believe we’ve ever met,” Anla said, but her face was troubled as well.

Caudin cleared his throat. “You haven’t. This is my wife Anladet. She was born in Liyand, but as you can tell her father was Arvonnese.”

“Oh,” Jemerie said, holding his hand up to his mouth.

“Anla?” Caudin said, and she turned to look at him. “This is Commres, otherwise known as Stevrin Auchindol. He’s your grandfather.”

She turned to look at Commres, then took a step towards him. He opened his arms and she ran into them, hugging him tightly. “My little one, I’m so happy to finally meet you!” he said, then to the others, “It’s one of Martin’s daughters!”

When he pulled away, he looked down as she hastily wiped away her tears. “Let me see you. Yes, you look like so much like him. That’s why you looked familiar. But, why are you sad?”

“Um, I think I should take over here, Commres. I think this is a good moment to sit and get comfortable.”

Anla sat next to Caudin on a davenport across from Duluv and Commres on the other. Al spoke quietly with Telbarisk to get caught up while Rogesh sampled the crudites at the bar.

“May I ask what happened to Martin? I know I was too harsh with him in my last letter, pressuring him to return home, but I didn’t think he’d stop writing to me all together. If he’s here I’ll apologize.”

“Commres,” Caudin said, rubbing his wife’s shoulder, “I must be the bearer of bad news. Your son was tried and hanged some six years ago in Gheny. I’m sorry.”

His face took some time to figure out how to deal with the information. “Dead? But, why? My boy would never do anything to break the law.”

“There is a law in Gheny called the ‘Nui-Breckin Act’. It forbids humans and elves from marrying and having offspring.”

“Well, yes, but what does that have to do with Martin?”

Caudin turned and tucked Anla’s hair behind her ear.

Commres’s mouth took a few moments to remember how to work. “What? He never told me…never said anything about marrying an elf! How could he…?”

“I’d be careful about what you say next,” Caudin said, looking straight at Commres. “If I’m accepted as your king, she will be your queen. And if I’m not, then I will still be a husband who would very much dislike people talking ill of my wife’s father and of her heritage.”

The room was very quiet for ten seconds, then Commres said, “You are right, Your Highness. I apologize. I was merely startled by the revelation. Anla,” he said, looking at her, “believe me when I say that he never once mentioned that his wife was elven. I had no idea. I will still accept you as my granddaughter.”

“That might help with the legitimacy,” Jemerie said. “But it will still be a tricky sell.”

“We should probably hold off on mentioning her elven blood until she’s accepted,” Duluv said.

“Bah! Elven or not, she’s just a duchess,” Rogesh said, sloshing his drink around. “That’s pretty much a commoner.”

“While I admit that taking a princess as a wife would have solved a lot of problems, I can assure you that she will be invaluable as a queen for different reasons.”

“Caudin?” Al asked. “Are we sure about that?”

“Yes, Wizard. Jemerie said the words. If he trusts his men, then I must as well.” He turned back to the men. “The reason why Gheny has the Nui-Breckin Act is because a human and an elf have a very small chance of creating what’s known as a baerd. They are very powerful magicians that can manipulate sound. Anla happens to be one.”

“What does that entail, precisely?” Jemerie asked.

“Quite a few things. Anla can speak a phrase, capture it, and pass it along to someone else who can hear it when they wish to break the confinement. She can stand in the spot a man was in and parse out a phrase he said earlier in the day. She can tell when someone is lying.”

“I see,” Jemerie said. “This would be beneficial if we could tell people. But, by telling the world she has those abilities, it would cause our enemies to be more careful around her, thus making her powers all but useless.”

“I’m telling you because I need you to fight for us. I will be blunt; I’d rather walk away from all of this than walk away from her. And I can’t begin to tell you how badly I want this.” All three of his friends turned their heads towards him in surprise. “I began my journey to Eri Ranvel thinking I had to do this, I had to come back. Along the way I realized I needed to come back. And then, I think just in the last few days, I’ve realized I wanted to come back. I want to bring change. I want to rule. I want to go home. But, not without Anla, Al, and Telbarisk. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Of course no one will mind who you keep company with, Your Highness. But, Arvonne is extremely fragile. Your grasp on the throne would be tenuous. Other countries might not accept your heirs if they are not half-blooded.”

“All challenges I will accept head-on if I am coronated.”

Jemerie threw his hands up. “All right. We all said we would support our prince if he ever returned, no matter what state he was in. We even had a discussion about him having married a commoner. This is…better than that. At least we can instate her as a duchess and let the people know that our prince returns happy and in love. Perhaps we could spin this as the beginning of a new era.”

“Whatever you wish me to do or say, I will.”

“I was saying that more for Commres’s benefit. He’s the editor-in-chief of the Eri casdem i Treru.”

“Really?” Caudin asked darkly.

“Now, wait, sire. Let me explain. Commres has to print any articles the government makes him print. And he can’t print anything seditious. But, if you read between the lines, a lot of what’s in those rags are biased to be anti-government. There’s are certain words the common people know that are used sometimes as code.”

“Tielcheny?” Al asked.

“Yes! Oh, this must be your friend who read the alley novels. See, I wrote those to help teach people how to pick up key phrases. So, when you see an article in the paper that uses the phrase, uh,” he leaned over and asked Duluv a question, then said in Ghenian, “’Twenty yards too far’, the reader will know that…”

Al piped up. “The person speaking is saying something preposterous.”

“All right, fine. I trust that you know what you’re doing with the newspaper.”

“I can assure you that other key phrases will begin to crop up. Everyone will know you’ve returned.”

“Is that what we want?” Caudin asked. “The element of surprise is a powerful thing.”

“We’ve discussed this before,” Jemerie said. “If you ever returned, it would be best to make sure the people were with you. I’ve heard from countless people that if they had only known that the Kalronists were serious, they would have taken up arms against them.”

“If wishes were fishes, Jemerie. I’m not dismissing their bravery in hindsight, but I doubt they would have stopped the running of Dilvestrar.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for protection and the battle, I meant for afterwards. We have had five major revolutions without our influence. So, imagine if we had the power of the people and our strategy. And never mind a siege, we want as many people to know that you will return so that they can begin to return their lives to normal.”

“I doubt I’m going to do that quickly.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short, sire,” Duluv said, “or perhaps of what you symbolize. If the people know their king has returned, they will feel confident in the leadership. Other countries will wish to trade with an Arvonne who has someone who upholds the dignity of the office. They want a fair and just king leading.”

Al leaned over. “Remember the numbers that man had correlated?”

“Yes,” Caudin said. “All right, if that’s what everyone thinks is best, but we are getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Yes, the Council of Principals and Dukes,” Jemerie said. “They will essentially vote where to accept you as their monarch or not.”

“And he is your king!” Al said. “Why would they say ‘no’ to a king that is yours?”

“Um, as I said, it’s complicated. The majority of the principals wish to only instate an Alscaine. Others have put forth their own candidates and are staunchly holding out for them. And there have been…mistakes.”

Duluv folded his hands and looked down. Rogesh snorted and went back to the bar.

“’Mistakes’?” Caudin prompted.

“Well, it was six or seven years after the Coup that we got our first impostor. I had my doubts about him, but he bore quite a striking resemblance to you, or at least how I thought you’d look as an adult. And he knew things you would know. I was excited and I fear I acted too rashly. I convened the Council, where they neatly saw through his lies and exposed him. It was a blow for us of the traditionalist ideal.”

“An impostor,” Caudin said. “Well, was he at least handsome?”

Duluv smiled, but Jemerie said, “You jest, but I felt very foolish about it! That’s why I made the vetting process much harder.”

“With the candy test. Really,” he said flatly. “And what if you were too rash again? I pick the right candy, which I should point out to the room I didn’t, and I simply must be your long, lost prince? I look like him and I can tell you the name of the trirec who traveled with Belisant and I, therefore there’s no way I happened to find that second letter he sent to you and filled in some blanks? Jemerie…”

He held his hands up in front of him. “I’m not saying it was my greatest moment. And frankly it’s not really the candy test that sold me. It was your attitude. Their mistake, the thirty or so impostors of all four of you children, have been to be uncomfortably you. Either they are too supplicant or too haughty. You didn’t have your full training. You were whisked away at ten, but you still knew better than to grovel to your lessers or lord over your fellow countrymen. You knew, and still know, that being king involves give and take.”

“I pretty much ‘took’ that Anla is my wife and no one else, end of story.”

“You gave us the hard line only when soft didn’t work.”

“Maybe we should ask, then,” Rogesh said. “Are you Prince Caudin?”

“Yes,” he said, “but how exactly does one prove they are irrevocably one person and not a fake?”

“They can’t,” Jemerie said. “I’m sure they’ll give their best efforts, but in the end doubt will always remain. We can’t solve that. What we’re hoping to do is-”

“Pardon, sir,” Al interrupted, “but I was thought that…nobles seeing each other knew each other?”

“Yes. That’s true, especially for those of higher blood. But, we can be fooled. I was almost certain that first boy was our prince and I thought that was enough, that perhaps after seven years I wasn’t going to recognize him.”

“You sawed Caudin at the market?”

“Good point. I knew it was him immediately, even though my eyes are old and I wasn’t expecting him.”

“I knew it was him,” Rogesh said. “No doubt in my mind. Then again, well, it’s like Jemerie said. Maybe we can fool ourselves. I thought that other kid looked enough like Prince Caudin to believe him. You weren’t fooled, though, were you Duluv?”

He shook his head. “I had strong doubts. In hindsight, I should have said something, but you two were sure.”

“And?” Rogesh asked, tipping his head to Caudin.

“Oh, he’s him.” He gave a small smile. “I had speeches prepared to say to you two, since I figured this wouldn’t be him, but I’m happy to say I won’t be saying them tonight.”

“And I had anecdotes prepared to blackmail you into your votes,” Caudin said, smirking as he sipped his wine. “I guess they’ll have to be unsaid.”

“You have our four votes, I believe?” Jemerie asked to four nods. “We will submit an article and convene the Council as quickly as we can. That will take a few months to alert everyone and to reach an agreement on a date. What’s left is to answer the second biggest question, after the one on your existence: where have you been these eighteen years?”

Caudin’s smile dropped and he put down his glass of wine. Rogesh pushed a chair over and sat down, crossing his ankle over his knee. “I suppose you want the truth, but I’d really rather not tell you.”

“Why?” Jemerie asked. “If you were ill or held against your will, we’d understand.”

“I suppose it was more the latter, but I would be lying to myself if I said that was the full truth. I could have left at any point and returned, but I chose not to.”

“Then why not?”

“I was bound to continue doing what I was doing. I was not allowed to leave my career. And, frankly, I was good at it. I was rich, I ate good food, had good company, I vacationed in the nicest places in the world. There was no reason for me to return.”

“What changed your mind, then?”

“As I said before, my wife. I wanted a life with her that was stable, or had the potential to be stable, where we could raise a family without fear. And also, because higher powers were at work. I don’t consider myself a pious man; that would’ve been my brother. But, I can’t help but notice very obvious signs that the gods were done with me being selfish and leaving Arvonne without a king. So, with the help of my friends, I returned and stumbled into you, Jemerie, who They said I could trust.”

“Well, I’m glad you listened. You wouldn’t want Them upset. But…” He wrung his hands. “I am dying to know what happened after the Coup.”

Caudin took a deep breath, then looked at Anla. She nodded once the dome of silence was up. Duluv pricked his ears up at the change, but said nothing. “The ships were burning, so I couldn’t go to Kinto. Our second choice was to go to Walpi and have me stay at the court of King Anistro, but unfortunately he was killed shortly before we arrived. The trirec with us had died of gangrene and Belisant was an old man. He knew he couldn’t travel around Noh Amair looking for a place for me. He was afraid Anistro’s younger brother wouldn’t protect me. So, he made a very hard decision. He brought me over the border into Merak and gave me to Arvarikor, the order that trains trirecs.”

“He what?” Jemerie’s neck couldn’t be farther craned from his body.

“Don’t blame him, Jemerie. His options were limited. He chose to tuck me away in a place where no one would find me until I was old enough to return. The problem that he didn’t realize was that by having me joining the order, it meant I was theirs for life. Trirecs die or retire, they don’t leave.”

“This is the truth?” Rogesh asked. When Caudin nodded, he tipped his glass back and finished his liquor.

“How did you leave, then?” Jemerie asked.

“I’m not certain I did, actually. My departure is incredibly tenuous, but technically legal. I’ll skip the intricacies and say that my fate essentially is in the hands of one man who didn’t like me very much the last time I spoke with him.”

“Wha…what could happen?”

“He is hopefully going to report me dead to the order. He could tell them the truth and they might agree that it was fair . Or, he could tell them and they could kill me.”

“You need to be protected, then. We need to send you to an estate in the country, far from…”

“Jemerie,” Caudin said. “It doesn’t matter where I go, they will find me. They are the best killers in the world. They could track down me to any hole you want to stuff me in and they will send ten to find me. Hell, they sent four to take me in before I left Gheny and they never allow trirecs to work together. I have to hope that the trirec chooses one of the first two options and that I am left alone.”

There was stricken silence as the four Principals took in that information. It was Commres that broke it. “We can’t tell anyone.”

“I absolutely agree with that,” Caudin said. “I know far too much about their operations. If they knew I was still alive and telling people their secrets, it would be a matter of days, not weeks or months, before I was killed. They wouldn’t care that I was a king.”

“So, what do we tell the people?” Jemerie asked.

“Whatever fiction you’d like. I’ve traveled pretty extensively and I can speak quite a few languages pretty well. I think my journey should end in Gheny, like mine actually did, to account for my wife and Al. I’ll leave the rest up to you and I’ll play along with any tale you’d like.”

“All right,” Jemerie said, still numb. “May I ask…did they treat you well?”

He thought of lying, then shook his head. “I was treated like any other orphan, so no, not well. I was beaten, exhausted, starved, half-drowned, frozen, burnt, and anything else that came with hard training. But, I was alive and I was fed and given a roof over my head. I was paid for my work. That’s all I can say.”

“Did no one love you?”

“It’s not a place for friendship, but I had scraps here and there. I found it where I could once I was on my own. It was only this last year that I was really loved enough to break myself from Arvarikor.”

It was obvious that the four Principals were too stunned by the information to hold much of a conversation. “I think that maybe this is enough for one evening,” Jemerie said, standing. “I can’t express enough how happy I am you’ve returned to us, Your Highness. And I thank your friends for helping you find the strength and courage to do so. There is a lot to mull over. I will call on you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. I’ll write down where we’re staying.”

“Excellent. A toast, at the end of our evening,” he said, lifting his glass, “to a new beginning of a wonderful era.”

As they were walking back to their hotel, Al asked, “So, how did it go?”

“As well as it could have. They’re like uncles to me, so I was happy to not have to go into detail about what my career entailed. I’ve never enjoyed it, you know that.”

“I think I knew that a lot sooner than I was willing to admit.”

Caudin smiled. “You know, you missed your opportunity back there for an autograph.”

“Autograph?”

“Jemerie. His pen name is Desuint.”

“Are you kidding?” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I would have…well, thanked him for all the books he wrote. But, maybe those times are behind me.”

“He says he’s going to write one more. Who knows? Maybe a dark-skinned wizard will make an appearance.”

“That’s lunacy,” he said, though he felt sort of pleased at the thought of being a character in a book.