Chapter 13 Confrontation
Can you see him from where you’re at? Notice how calm he is. My Prince’s face has been dignified and like stone since the beginning. — Prince Eater #34
THREE WEEKS EARLIER – CASTLE OF HILLTOWN, HARRISON’S PRIVATE APARTMENTS
“Hold still, Harry.”
Gil Braeford switched his brandy to his left hand as he walked behind Holy King Harrison. He casually stuck out the smallest finger on his right hand and pushed it against the point of a medium-sized horn.
“Ouch!” he yelped, withdrawing his hand. He shook it in the air as if he could wave away the pain, and then strolled back to his chair. “That hurts.”
“You’ve been doing that same thing every day for twenty years now,” Holy King Harrison complained. “You should know by now that it hurts.”
“I do, Harry, I do,” Gil agreed. “And I intend to continue sampling your poison for twenty years more.”
The king took a long swallow of ale, and grumped, “It isn’t my poison. It’s hers. Curse the day we were alone in that garden. If you haven’t built up immunity by now, you never will.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Gil agreed again. “But I don’t like leaving things to chance. It’s my fault that the Old Duke of Northlyn killed the Eolian woman and I ended up in exile. If I would have had ammunition, if I would have had back-up rather than just going off only half prepared, she’d still be alive.”
“She died because trophy hunters killed her,” Harrison disagreed. “Not because of anything you did or didn’t do. Sit back down and drink your brandy. It’s Southwold Brandy. Your father’s finest. Who knew Uncle Marston would develop the world’s most renowned distillery.”
“I recognize it,” Gil said companionably. He shook his hand a few more times to stave off the pain and then settled in the chair beside Harrison. “How is my father?”
“Doing well,” Harrison answered. “Now that the war is over he is focused on rebuilding, not just for himself but the entire community. I think he would have been a good king.”
“Humph,” Gil snorted.
“Not everyone can be a good father. It requires skills not everyone possesses. He misses you and would like you to come home.”
“Humph,” Gil repeated the snort.
Harrison rolled his eyes and then changed the subject, “I’ve never understood why Charles allowed that hunt to begin with. Eolians are as human as the rest of us.”
“They certainly are,” Gil agreed. “When that groom came to our home leading Northlyn’s lame horse, I didn’t think much about it. I didn’t recognize him or his livery. We were only in the northern mountains a couple times that I remember. It was a vacation home, not where we lived. I was staying there alone because I was trying to get away from my father. I helped the groom get the animal to our small stables so he could care for it. When the groom mentioned that they were hunting a human, I grabbed my own horse and rode out in a rage. I found them, but the hunters quickly overpowered me, I was tied to a tree, whipped, and then finally forced to watch the Old Duke kill her. Truth be told, I was lucky that I was eventually able to fight my way out of it the way I did. If I had taken even a few minutes to prepare, the outcome would have been much different.”
“You did the best you could, Gil, and your back shows it,” Harrison said, soothingly. “I’ve told you that before. You were young. Too hot-headed and self-righteous to think straight maybe, but you leveled out as you matured, and you’ve prevented many innocent deaths since. What does it matter now? The Old Duke is gone, and his son Merritt is Northlyn. He has eliminated all the trophy hunting and is rebuilding the Northlyn reputation.”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve heard, too,” Gil acknowledged. “The bounty the Old Duke put on me has been rescinded. There’s no reason I couldn’t go home to visit for a while. To visit. If I wanted to.”
“You could. I would hate to lose you permanently, though,” Harrison commented. Gil laughed and raised his glass. Harrison clinked his against Gil’s, and then continued, “I hate to tear you away from your memories.”
“But?”
“We need to discuss the boys again. Reggie’s Ritual is coming up soon and I don’t like the way Ava’s behaving. Promise me again that if Reggie fails the Ritual, you’ll take Ethan and Jon to safety.”
“If you think she’s going to deliberately hurt Reggie, we should simply kill her.”
At Gil’s comment, Harrison raised his eyes, but repeated simply, “Will you take Ethan and Jon to safety?”
“You know I will,” Gil reassured him.
“I need to hear it again, from your lips,” Holy King Harrison interrupted. “I want your promise, your solemn oath on our friendship that you will protect my sons. We both know that I’ll be incapacitated and won’t be able to help you. You need to swear it again and we need to plan for it right now, not wait.”
Gil set aside his brandy, slid fr
om his chair to one knee, and bowed his head to the monarch. “You have my word, Harrison. I will protect them even if it costs my own life.”
“Gil,” the king said, lowering his voice, “Promise me that you’ll rescue All the Princes, that you’ll take them all to safety.”
PRESENT DAY
Holy King Harrison’s right shoulder twitched as pain cascaded across his face. It had been two days since the funeral of his eldest sons and the torture of the third eldest. Yet, once again he was faced with Ava’s persistent anger without any allowance for his grief.
Despite having a throne bespoke to his personal needs, Holy King Harrison’s gestures and movement revealed the agony he endured. The chair he rested in had a short, padded shoe positioned low to support the small of his back. Two stiles curved out dramatically and then dovetailed into a wide, upholstered top rail where the king could rest the back of his head. The area between the shoe and the top rail was open so that the horns embedded in his back could project freely through the chair. Both of the chair’s arms were heavily padded.
“Where is he?” Ava Most Revered shouted from the center of the nearly deserted throne room.
“Dead,” Holy King Harrison said as he winced. “He had little chance of surviving the injuries your thugs left on him; let alone the ones I am ashamed to have put there myself. He was my son. I loved him and will not forgive myself. Or you.”
“Are the two missing Grays with Jon?”
“There are no missing Grays. Gil knows where every single one of them is.”
“Where is Gil Braeford?” Ava Most Revered demanded. “I know he’s behind this. He ordered those peasants to attack my soldiers. That entire detail of Magi Soldiers was killed. My soldiers were beaten and trampled to death dutifully upholding the sacredness of the Ritual. Gil Braeford rode off like a coward.”
“Ava, stop insulting Gil and stop referring to Midhe Nuae’s citizens as peasants,” Holy King Harrison responded. “It is not against any law anywhere in the Kingdom of Midhe Nuae for the Grays Commander to ride his horse. He is under no obligation to assist your figgict mercenaries. He was seeing to his responsibilities then and is seeing to them now. He is charged with the wellbeing of the princes.”
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Ava hesitated, narrowed her eyes questioningly, and then snarled, “He is not. Gil and his Grays are your assassins. They have nothing to do with the princes or anything else beyond the incidental things you order them to do. I want him executed. Gil Braeford and Prince Jon both.”
The Royal Scribe and her assistant stood nearby observing and noting down all that was said or transpired. Eventually, she would transfer the information to the royal journals. Harrison waved the Scribe forward and said, “Take this down exactly, Scribe, and see that it reaches every corner of Midhe Nuae. Use red messaging birds. Send armed riders. I authorize the expense of doing anything you need to so that this decree reaches everyone before First Sun sets today:
I, Holy King Harrison, hereby and immediately extend the Crown’s Forgiveness to my cousin Gilbert Braeford Raedwald, and to my son Prince Jon Raedwald, for all perceived or actual wrongdoing, in the past, present, or future, by either of them individually or both of them collectively. Neither is to be imprisoned, harassed, arrested, beaten, tortured, wounded, killed nor anything of a similar or like manner. They are not to be harmed or injured. No retribution or revenge is to be taken against either of them. This decree is Eternally Binding. It may not be altered, countermanded, or set aside by any future king, by Ava Most Revered or any future Most Revered, by any mage, or by any other person regardless of whether or not I, Holy King Harrison, am unconscious, in ill health or any similar condition, including deceased.
When the Scribe bowed and started to step back, Holy King Harrison said, “Prepare an identical one for Alec Mulrian – be sure to indicate that Mulrian has been promoted to the rank of captain in the Royal Archers and has earned a second Medal of the Kings Honor for Heroism. Also, make it clear that Gil Braeford is the respected Commander of the Armored Grays. None of them have done anything wrong, nonetheless, I will see to protecting them. I will sign the decrees the moment that you have them written out.”
The Scribe completed the decree, obtained Holy King Harrison’s signature, and then hastily ran from the throne room, leaving the assistant to continue transcribing the heated confrontation between the two most powerful individuals in the land. Holy King Harrison turned back to Ava Most Revered and continued, “I’m surprised, Ava. Your information is not up-to-date. Because of your actions, Gil and the Grays no longer answer to me. The Royal Guards still protect me, of course, but the Grays belong only to the princes.”
“What?” Ava Most Revered exclaimed. “They disobeyed our traditions. They need to answer for that.”
Growing weary, Holy King Harrison said frankly, “I’m shocked that you ordered Prince Jon’s execution simply because he left the castle at night without begging your permission first. His bag was found just beyond the archery field, for figgict’s sake. Did you seriously think hiding behind the archery targets would have helped him to avoid archers? Furthermore, I am mortified and shamed by my own actions, not the least because I was once as gentle and caring as Prince Jon. You have made me into a monster. Your conniving schemes, the relentless pain you continually heap on me, and the drugs you use to confuse and disable me, have transformed me into someone I am mortified to be. I should have acted sooner to help him, should have respected his need to walk a different path.”
“Clear the room,” Ava Most Revered snapped at the Kings Guards and Magi Soldiers. Her soldiers instantly complied, however, the Kings Guards looked to the king for his approval. He shook his head. Frowning, she continued, “Kings and princes don’t get to walk different paths. They are indentured to their destinies, slaves to the Crown. He was no different. Now, what did you do with him? If he is dead, where is his body?”
“Somewhere on the steep side of that cliff, I imagine, or in the sea,” the king answered, and then stopped to gasp in pain. “There’s no need for anyone to risk their safety descending the cliffs to look for corpses. I forbid it.”
“Beyond the supposed battlefield they found the body of a wolf that had been shot, and remains of another that had been partially eaten.”
“Are you suggesting that Captain Mulrian stopped for a snack on the way to save my son’s life?”
Ava gritted her teeth at his insolence. “No, I’m saying that when you add that to the fact that Mulrian, the person who went over the cliff with Jon, wasn’t even a Royal Archer, it looks considerably more suspicious. Can you tell me why Mulrian was even there? His sergeant demoted him to Citizen before they ever went out.”
“I have already spoken with the commander of my military about the inappropriateness and illegality of forcing Captain Mulrian from service. Until such time his body is found, and there is proof that he is dead, Mulrian remains on active duty with full pay and is assigned to be guard and companion to Prince Jon.”
“Then you do know that they are alive.”
“I do not,” Holy King Harrison continued. “Earth humans had a story about a cat in a box that was both alive and dead at the same time, so I have decided to proceed on the side of hope. In fact, Guard!” The senior-most Kings Guard present stepped forward and bowed. “Inform Captain Brady that, because of the danger Prince Jon may be in, Mulrian is to receive half again as much pay in addition to his new salary. Have Captain Brady establish for the record who is Mulrian’s next of kin so that the magi will not be able to steal his money under the guise of a tithe for Mulrian’s soul should his death be confirmed.”
As the Kings Guard hurried from the room the Most Revered scowled. “If he’s alive but not here, he’s Absent Without Permission and should be thrown into the dungeon.”
King Harrison rested his elbows on the chair so he could steeple his fingers in front of him. “Do you know anything about the severed hand that they found? The one that had been pickled in a jar of chemicals.”
The Most Revered’s face stilled.
“Did you ever meet my older brother?” King Harrison continued. “Prince Chadwick was the Chosen but died during his Ritual. A year or so before that he lost the tip of the smallest finger on his right hand sparring with the son of a Royal Guard. The bout became heated and Chad’s opponent accidentally sliced it off. The guard’s son was devastated and our father waived punishment. He rightly saw it as simply a case of untrained youths taking things too far.”
The Most Revered shifted her weight from side to side uneasily.
“I mention all this about Chad because that pickled, severed hand is a right one missing the tip of its smallest finger.”
The Most Revered’s face drained of color.
“Do not interfere in the Crown’s business, Ava. Do not,” the king cautioned. He drew in his breath, waved a hand to a servant who poured water for His Majesty, and hurried with it to his side. Harrison drank thirstily, and then returned the glass to the servant’s hand. “The citizens attacked your mercenaries out of love for Prince Jon. If you had been there, they would have beaten you to death, also. I am shocked and ashamed that you used my name to issue an order of execution for my son. Captain Mulrian either rescued my son or defended him to their mutual deaths. He did what every soldier present should have done; what every citizen should have done; what I should have done. I have ordered a statue erected in honor of my son and Mulrian.”
“If Mulrian is alive, and I get my hands on him, he’ll be Prince Eater hash,” the Most Revered snarled derisively.
“If Captain Mulrian is alive, you will keep your figgict hands off him. That is a Royal Command. Do not tempt your fate by disobeying it,” Holy King Harrison replied.
“People are already calling Jon, and that insufferable archer, heroes,” the Most Revered sniffed. “Displaying statues of them will make that worse.”
“That’s the consequence you face by adhering to that contemptible Ritual,” Holy King Harrison said with surprising calm. “The reality, Ava –”
“Don’t call me Ava,” the Most Revered directed. “You keep making that mistake, Harry. I’m properly referred to as the Most Revered or Ava Most Revered.”
He continued as if she had not interrupted him. “The reality is that the public has realized that the Ritual is a bloodthirsty farce. They know that the origins were a simple celebration – a dance, for figgict’s sake. Science and greed have turned those humble origins into something horrific and cruel. No one gains spiritual enhancement. Three of my sons and my brother were destroyed — by you and your predecessors — for nothing. Most people are even saying that you personally control who does or does not survive the Ritual so that you remain in power. And they’re right.”
The Most Revered fidgeted with the bracelets.
Holy King Harrison grimaced in pain again and vowed, “If I do nothing else during my reign it will be to eliminate that horror and allow Prince Seán to live peacefully and in good health — without these spikes making his life nearly unbearable. And Prince Jon if he is still alive.”
Shaking with anger, Ava spun her bracelets, moved to within a few meters of the king, and lifted one hand to point directly at him. Holy King Harrison screamed, arched his back, and then clutched at his stomach as he pitched forward. Several of the Kings Guards raced to his side in time to hear Ava Most Revered warn in a low voice, “If this is another one of your tricks, Harry —”
“If you think he’s living in SnakeIn, go there and look,” Holy King Harrison moaned. “Iron cages are easy enough to make. I’m sure they’ll accommodate you.”
“I’m warning you, Harry. If this is like Tatianna’s disappearance, I swear to you, I will kill you.”
The Kings Guards slammed halberds in front of the Most Revered and surrounded her with the points of their swords. Instinctively she dropped her hand from her bracelets, and the king’s torment eased. She stepped back into the swords behind her, jerked straighter at the pain, and hurried to explain, “I meant figuratively. Politically. People say that you helped Princess Tatianna escape from doing her duty. I think you’ve done that with Jon.”
Before Holy King Harrison could respond, the Commander of the Kings Guards interjected, “Threatening the king is treason, Ava Most Revered. Even someone as illustrious as you may not threaten His Majesty’s life. Arrest her.”
One of the only regrets Ava Most Revered had in her life was the one she had at that moment. She had dismissed her soldiers from the throne room.
“Harrison!” she pleaded in disbelief.
“Captain Jarek was a superb, highly decorated officer.” Harrison’s shoulders and upper arms began to bulge, his eyes narrowed, and a growl surfaced from his throat. With great effort, he continued, “Flat out the best. More than once I awarded him the Medal of the King’s Honor. There was no shame in Princess Tatianna loving him. You should have blessed their union the way I did, rather than try to destroy them, if only for prestige in the eyes of the public.” He inhaled deeply and then exhaled. “Why won’t you stop this pain, Ava? I dearly love my sons. I’ve enjoyed raising them personally without interference from the mothers or from the magi, as you know better than anyone since you gave birth to Gunnar. Three of them have been killed – Reggie and Jon by your schemes, Ethan because he was too honorable to stand idle while Prince Reginald suffered. Gunnar isn’t….well, Gunnar’s machinations will no doubt get him killed on his own. Meanwhile, I have twenty daughters whom I barely know. My youngest daughters are still with their mothers, and I see them twice a year, on the holiest days. The older ones were bartered to appease other countries’ princes or bribe pliable rivals. You raised my daughters, guided, cajoled, and punished each of them or their mothers so they would submit to your will. You valued them solely for their potential in forming alliances. Allowing one of so many to love would not have hurt you personally, nor diminished your power. It would have increased it. I haven’t seen Tatiana or her husband or even heard about them in years, and until you are no longer a threat to them, I am certain I won’t. I don’t know where they went, just like I don’t know about Jon. I cannot give you knowledge I don’t have.”
Holy King Harrison stopped speaking and focused on breathing. He was nearly panting.
“Your Majesty,” the Commander of the Kings Guards spoke up.
“Go ahead,” the king responded softly with a faint wave of his hand. “She might as well be locked in the dungeon while I consider her punishment.”
©2022 Vera S. Scott