Desolation of Warlords:
Luke Beverley
Chapter 2: Remembrance
Jedrick cracked his knuckles, readjusted himself in his chair, and began his tale without further delay.
“When I met my bride-to-be, Gannia, I was still a valiant Servant, fighting under King Seneris’ name. The sergeant of my squadron had let us off to explore the city during the Barrier Day holiday, each of us carrying a decent amount of gold. He was a good man. Verrius, I believe his name was. He recognised the wisdom of balancing extreme discipline with leisure. A good mix of both was the best path for him. Poor chap died in battle against a warlord. Ah, listen to me, rambling on like the old man I am. Back to the story. Yes, I was in the marketplace at the time, buying sweetened apples and cider. I just finished paying the merchant and collecting my cider when I quite literally bumped into Gannia.” Jedrick laughed wheezily, stopping during a coughing fit. “Heh. Your king turned around and slammed into her embroidered dress of silk headfirst!” He chuckled heartily at the memory. “I spilled half my cider mug onto poor Gannia, and I was apologising profusely. Luckily, I wasn’t wearing my armour that day, otherwise our holiday would’ve turned into one massive trip to a doctor. She was furious, of course, as it was her finest dress she was wearing for Barrier Day. Never had I seen a woman so beautiful in my life, even with cider staining her hair and dress. I gave her an apple to make amends, and offered to dry her. She asked ‘how?’ and I sent my healing rays of life to warm her skin and dry her clothes. It was a misuse of power, I know, but she was simply so lovely, I had to. She forgave me in an instant once she felt the soothing rays of the Omnipresent One coming from my palms. She gazed into my eyes, and I gazed into hers.
“Such deep pools of brown, you would think her eyes were permanently reflecting a drink of warm chocolate you would give to an obedient child. Gannia was no less impressed by me, either. ‘Your eyes, good sir, they are more azure than the sky and the ocean intertwined, bound with strands of bellflowers and lavender,’ she said while in a trance-like state. She invited me to spend the holiday with her, and I accepted.
“We had such a wondrous time together, and during it, I felt two things not in my entire Knighthood had I felt: compassion and love.” Jedrick’s face lit up when he began to talk about the activities and times he had with Gannia, ranging from juggling several bottles of honeyed sweet milk to win a prize, to horse racing for a bag of gold (neither of them won, but the memories were more precious than the money), to leisure walks on the scented rose and chrysanthemum path.
Jedrick’s talk was filled with energy and vigour when he described the berry picking contest where Gannia picked twice the blackberries and raspberries than anyone else, and swept away the competitors on how often she found the esteemed silverberry bush. She won a giant basket of assorted fruits and berries for her and Jedrick to feast on after a marvelous picnic-supper of herb-basted coneys and salted venison chops, with enough spice-and-pork stew for starters to fill a lord’s table. They ended the day by drifting asleep on the whistling grass fields outside of the city. The winds carried the smell of the ongoing festivities and the dew-scented grass (which was gentler than a feather pillow), the roasting pheasants, the honey apples, and corn wine. The noses of Gannia and Jedrick were sung to sleep, enchanting their evening together. The breeze was soft and cool enough for the pair’s rest, yet quiet enough to sing them a lullaby to sleep. Harroll the Knight’s face matched Jedrick the King’s face at the moment which they spent the night in silence, dreaming about the next day of festivities and excitement.
“I woke up the following morning, finding Barrier Day had transitioned to the next holiday, Ward Day. I was refreshed and thrilled to start a brand new adventure with Gannia, only to find that she gone from my arms.” I remember this part of the story, thought Kellston. I like it even less than Jedrick does. “I thought, in my naïve youth, she had run away and didn’t want to be with me anymore. I wept and wept and wept, planning to spend the entire holiday weeping. It was only when I noticed the small traces of blood on the grass did I realise something else had happened. I grew furious, wanting to chop off the head of anyone who wished to harm my beloved Gannia.
“I set after her blood trail, like a hound I tracked and like a horse I ran. I did not fetch my armour in my rush to save Gannia. Even if it was the last thing I did, I would find Gannia. The morning was not yet over when I approached a cave dark and dank, where the blood trail entered. I delved into the cave of blackness, and ventured a thousand thousand metres before the deepness ended and the dark was cast out by several lit torches. So enraged was I, it slipped my mind completely to use my holy light to show the way. When I saw the torch-lit cavern passage and the silhouette of a woman, I rejoiced. I entered the moss-coated doorway to find Gannia bound and gagged with white cloth, a squabbling band of fur-cloaked bandits surrounding her. They were armed with ill-gained weapons, arguing whom should take her honour first. Before another thought entered my mind, I summoned my radiant blade and smote them in their terrified tracks. Never had those pigs faced a foe mightier than a Servant of the Omnipresent One. Their daggers and axes fell down and their faces quivered in the light of a Knight’s zeal. Their bodies, minds, and spirits were wholly evil, and my sword of light ate at their existence. Each body was scorched and slashed at the same time with every swing of my ethereal blade.
“When the bandits were all dead and sent to the Domain of Demons, I untied Gannia and took off her gag. She began to cry, and I held her. I carried Gannia the rest of the way to her family’s keep, mute all along the way. I arrived at midday, and her family thanked me a dozen dozen times. They showered me in gifts for saving their beloved Gannia once they heard of her potential fate. In response, I said nothing. We both knew our love was true, but forbidden. I was a Servant, unable to marry or show affection for anyone other than the Omnipresent One. She was of marrying age by then, and her parents would undoubtedly be choosing a suitable groom for her. It seemed hopeless, and for the rest of my service as a Knight, I pined.
“When I was smiting evil the years afterwards, all I thought of was her good and benevolent face, brighter than the light I used against the foul evildoers of the Hospitable Realms. When I was receiving orders from the Receiver, all I heard was her voice, sweeter than corn wine. And the moment I became king and lost my golden hair, I eagerly threw down my vows and rode a horse to Gannia. She had been a widow for five and twenty years when I arrived at her family’s keep, her knighted husband of nobility killed in battle against a rival house. When I was shown to her quarters, my hair had been dyed grey by the Omnipresent One’s almighty power, and I was worried she would not recognise me. Her golden-haired Servant prince had changed over the years. It was as I feared when I entered her chambers. She looked to me, confused. ‘Why has a stranger ventured inside my bedroom?’ she had said.”
The king looked wistfully to the ceiling. “Her voice was as lovely and beautiful as the day we first met.” Jedrick sat quiet for another minute, envisioning her face and voice, a sight and sound so often he recalled on a lonely summer’s eve. “And then I said to her, ‘A stranger, you say? Would you like to think back to the moment we first met?’ She looked at my face, trying to think back upon when she met a silver-haired nobleman. I stepped closer to her. ‘Look into my eyes, Gannia.’ She did at once, and saw me at last. ‘Your eyes, sir. . . they are more azure than the sky and the ocean intertwined, bound with strands of bellflowers and lavender.’ She wasted no more time and leapt off her silken bed to kiss me with every grain of passion inside her body. I kissed her back, exchanging near telepathic signals of undying love and faith to each other. It was something I had waited to do for an eternity’s eternity.” Jedrick smiled blissfully as he remembered his most treasured moment in his life with Gannia. “Our first kiss. Not confined by a strict code of Knights and not hindered by a noble’s demanding lifestyle. They had shared a single, wonderful, marvelous kiss that neither of them would’ve given up for the world. They were happy together, and were declared to be married on the eve of the second week of Grains End, on Barrier Day.
Their wedding ceremony was said to be one of the finest in all of the Hospitable Realms. “Everything was perfect,” gaily laughed Jedrick. “Gannia and her house were happy, I was happy, and all of the guests which had the privilege of attending the wedding were happy. I had found a bride quicker than expected, and the nobles were even angrier than when I robbed them of their throne. Ha! They can have their soulless and bitter politics, I was the merriest man on Chrononys when I wed Gannia! Sadly, the throne of a king they had sought themselves, and assassination plans were formed shortly afterwards. But for the time, even the most elderly and stuck-up noble couldn’t find a singular fault in my wedding.
“There was singing, dancing, laughing, jesting, and the wine flowed freely to large and begging goblets. Your poor king was drunk after his first goblet of spiced raspberry-apple wine, never having alcohol meet my lips once in my life. Holy Knights were discouraged from drinking anything other than water, and my senses weren’t used to the taster of Arch wine. Despite this (or because of this), I had more fun and enjoyment from the ceremony than anyone. Gannia nearly split her gut laughing at her betrothed love’s drunken antics!” Jedrick took a break from his tale to guffaw roaringly. He continued his laughing fit for a full ten seconds. “Apologies, Kellston. I haven’t laughed like this for so long. Back to the story, no more time wasted.
“For the music and entertainment, I hired the Mad Menagerie of Minstrels (the most famous and skilled collection of bards) to perform. They provided the most marvelous and impressive tunes for dancing and drinking, didn’t they?”
“Even when they took breaks, they told their wild and fantastical tales to all who would listen before strumming their lutes and blowing their flutes again,” chuckled Kellston. “The melodies they played were so fast-paced and rhythmic you would swear the frenzied tempo would send you into a trance.”
“They most definitely depended on that rather than the lyrics.”
“Would you call nonsensical babble they used to fill the slow parts lyrics?”
“Well, when they did formulate complete words and thoughts, we were always treated to a humorous satire or an overblown adventure tale of the bumbling ‘Sir Greegis the Knight’.”
“Sir Greegis the Knight!” laughed Kellston. “You were too drunk to be offended by this, thank the Five. I don’t believe your younger self would’ve known that they didn’t take themselves too seriously.”
“No, no I wouldn’t have. Ah, I loved those minstrels. Such delights.”
“What was your favorite part of the wedding besides Gannia and the bards, my king?”
“As much a pleasure as the Mad Menagerie of Minstrels and my wife were, the food is what made the wedding what it was. You were hired as the caterer for the wedding, I remember. I made sure you spared no expense.”
“Of course not, Your Grace, I knew how much Gannia meant to you. Only the finest wine and most delectable platters I bought for the wedding. A trio of renown chefs prepared and perfected the dishes for the wedding, if you remember. Oregano pumpernickel-stuffed moist turkey, extra-salted chopped rabbit garlic broth, roasted pork adorned with potatoes mashed to a creamy paste, and other delicacies which the chefs refused to name in pride.”
“There was one curious platter of small rolled balls of food, which was gone faster than one could speak. No one knew what was used for the meat, or what was inside its soft centre. A mystery spice was used inside it, and despite several offers for the recipe, the chefs refused to give out the secret to their dish. What was it, do you know, Kellston?”
“No, no, of course not. I think I knew the least about the trio’s dishes, in fact.”
“A pity. Those little morsels went perfectly with the corn wine.”
“Oh, yes, the corn wine. Surely the crowning jewel of the wedding, not to mention the priciest.”
“Four crates of corn wine were brought in, correct?”
“No, five crates. And ten crates of blackberry-strawberry wine, fifteen crates of raspberry-grape wine, ten crates of juniper berry wine, eleven crates of apple-grape wine, sixteen crates of raspberry-apple wine, and many other types of wine that I lost count of.” Jedrick stroked his beard.
“Oh my. I-I had no idea how many wines we had bought. I’m sorry if this bothered you.
“Don’t you fret, it was for your wedding. Besides, I think the kingdom could afford to spend a little bit.”
“Aye, we weren’t stretching our army thin as parchment combating the warlords of the south back then. Our gold was right where it belonged: in our purses.” The silence which followed Jedrick’s word was deafening. Kellston scratched the back of his neck, breaking the quiet awkwardness with,
“What was your favourite wine at the wedding, Your Majesty?”
“Oh, I simply adored the pomegranate-peach wine, the most fermented of the wines. It kept just enough sweetness to rank it up with the other fruit and berry wines, even the corn wine. Of course, the corn wine was my favourite of all, no question. Never had there been a larger collection of corn wine in all of the Archland, can you believe it? Only a couple bottles have existed in a single place at a single time, but five at one wedding? Oh, those nobles were jealous, all right. If the luckiest man in the world was lucky, his guests would be treated to two or three crates, but five is an entirely different number altogether!”
“I need not note how I cringed when I saw the price of the wedding once I ordered the corn wines.”
“But it was worth every copper piece once the guests unanimously praised the gathering all the more once the rare corn wine met their lips. Many assassination plans were created that day, and many assassination plans were cancelled that day. Never underestimate the power of good drink, friend.” Jedrick roared in laughter at his own joke, longer and louder than he had done before. “All joking aside, the wedding benefitted the kingdom in more ways than one. Trade alliances were made that day by drunken merchant-lords and our crafty nobles. If I correctly recall, the trades made from that day forward more than made up the lofty cost of the wedding. Most of these alliances were made by you, Parcol Kellston. You did not touch a drop of wine that day, and you formed three powerful friendships for the kingdom.” Kellston blushed in embarrassment.
“Oh, they weren’t that important, my king,” he chuckled modestly.
“Your dedication and soberness was rewarded with a prime position as Chief Housemaster, rightfully so.”
“The previous one had quite mysteriously drowned in his own goblet of wine during the wedding.”
“Most unusual,” commented Jedrick.
“Aye. Many nobles cursed my name once I took the title Chief Housemaster the following week.”
“It seems that even in the grandest wedding of our time the nobles still have their greedy mindset. How could they though, when Gannia and I hogged all of the fun to be had?” Kellston was slightly miffed at the king’s sudden transition. A tad rude, but I’ll be damned if I mention it to the king. “No one had more of a merry time than the bride and the groom. We danced to the Minstrels’ tunes and drank our weight in sweet wine. We could show their love openly, and no regrets came from me in my abandoning of Servanthood. We would have a life of living well in the Castle of Kings, with its curtains of velvet and gold, and nothing could make us depressed that day. Responsibility would strike me like a bolt from the skies the years following, but for that singular day, that joyous and happy day, I would be carefree and jolly and filled to my brow with love.
“Finally, late in the evening when the festivities were exhausted, the drunk and woozy guests attended the anointment of our holy bond. A priest saw us kneeling with our heads exposed, and poured cool holy water from a wooden chalice atop our heads while his attendants placed golden laurels upon our ears. We drank the water that remained from the same wooden chalice while he said the proper rights which blessed our marriage The moment we drank the last drops from the chalice, he said, ‘Let your marriage last this life and the next,’ and kissed our foreheads. We were married, and I was happier than any moment again in my life.” Jedrick sat back, tired from retelling such a tale. Not over yet, now is it? There are still parts of the tale where Jedrick shall wince. “After the wedding was over and the guests went to their homes, Gannia and I went to our quarters. I was exhausted from the day’s events, and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillows. Gannia decided to retire at the same time as I, kissing my head and saying, ‘good night, love.’
“The following morning, my head was pounding and ringing, no doubt from all of the wines at the wedding. I groggily descended to the Grand Hall, where the servants were setting the tables for the royalty and nobility that took residence inside the castle. All I wished for was some bacon and eggs to dine on for breakfast, but to my sleep-filled eyes, the table was filled with cinnamon-sugar roll, butter on toasted bread, omelettes with three different cheeses, a plate of circular pastries I recognised later as ‘waffles’, and the largest collection of jams than I had ever seen in my life. Alongside these dishes were jugs and jugs of coffee with the richest cream and the sweetest sugar.”
I asked the Housemaster overseeing the servants, ‘What is all this food for? I did not invite anyone to breakfast this morning.’ The Housemaster answered, ‘This is your breakfast, milord. Tuck in before it gets cold.’ I noticed several other nobles, included Gannia, had already sat down and began piling their plates with more food than I would know what to do with. I inquired, ‘Where are the bacon and eggs, good sir?’ He answered, ‘The bacon is coming from the stove, milord, along with the sausages. The eggs are at the ends and middle of the table.’ Large plates of eggs in every style were, indeed, sitting in their places. I didn’t even see the yolk-up eggs. I then said, ‘Why do the bacon and sausages need to be in a stove? Wouldn’t they taste equally as good if on an open flame?’ The Housemaster replied, ‘Perhaps, sir, but that is not how we do things in this castle. Surely, Holy Knights have had stove-cooked bacon before.’ I said in an annoyed manner, ‘No, good Housemaster, Knights live a simple lifestyle, don’t you know that? We eat bacon and sausages from an open fire! The highest luxury we were allowed were double rations on holidays! We crack our own eggs yolk-up, whether we like it or not.’ The Housemaster said, ‘Perhaps it was different when you were a Servant. But you are a king, and our chefs would be insulted if you merely ate bacon and eggs. Do you not see our selection, sire? Most people would die for this sort of meal.’”
A thought struck right me then and there. I said back to the noble, ‘Yes, most people would. Good sir, what do you do with all the food the nobles and staff don’t eat?’ He answered, ‘Why, we feed them to the swine, of course.’ I decided to wield my kingly power for the first time, and I spoke loudly and clearly for all the hall to hear, ‘This is a command from your king. You will only cook what is necessary for nourishment for the nobles and staff from this day forth. Any additional cooking materials will be made into food and distributed to the poor. There will be no wastefulness in my castle.’ The nobles looked at me incredulously. The plumper ones cried out in anger, displeased with this new rule. The Housemaster gawked at me, but I stood by my order. ‘You all heard me,’ I said. ‘After you are done eating, take all the food left and give it to the needy. And tell the chefs we will be having a simple lunch this noon, sandwiches and turkey. Save holidays, every day we shall have smaller meals. By the king’s command.’ The nobles knew not what to say. I turned to the Housemaster and ordered, ‘Go and fetch a scribe. I want to make my order apparent to all of the nobles.’ He said back to me, ‘Your Majesty, the chefs have already began preparing lunch. I have no idea where a scribe may be, and there isn’t a specialised food distributor team.’ I growled in frustration, and yelled for someone to fetch a scribe. I recall that you were the one to find the scribe which wrote down my command that day, Kellston.”
“Yes, sire, I indeed found a scribe for you that day.”
“Ah, yes,” chuckled Jedrick. “You were there, I completely forgot!”
“I was only a simple Housemaster back then. It was the day after that day you appointed me the most honourable role of Chief Housemaster. Only after the previous Chief Housemaster was confirmed dead, may his spirit rest in the Domain of Angels.”
“Ah, that stuck-up buffoon wouldn’t have been fit to handle my children anyways. I made the right choice when I made you Chief Housemaster.”
“Thank you, my lord,” chuckled Kellston, once again flattered. “It was the same day the first assassins started to arrive, I believe.” Jedrick’s face drooped when he remembered that, and Kellston immediately regretted opening his mouth.
“Aye, the assassins. I thought I had at least another month of peace before the nobles would grow vengeful. I suppose I stretched my kingly power too often, if that is possible. I wouldn’t have expect the nobles to commit murder after a decree of shorter meals, but perhaps I was too harsh when I outlawed levies for farmers and raised the taxes for nobility.”
“I do not lie when I say that maneuver was much too forward and risky for your very first week of ruling. One shudders to think if you hadn’t increased the taxes for the farmers to appease the nobles. You could’ve set the entire city to war if you weren’t careful!”
“The nobles were drowning in their own wealth!” growled the king as he slammed his fist onto the table. “It’s unfair that farmers have to pay annual levies and taxes, whilst the nobles dally about with purses heavier than lead! I don’t even think they bother paying the taxes, since they are the ones to count them! Can they not see that trade has doubled ever since the farmers were able to keep their crop haul without interference from the government? And with more coin at hand, they can buy better equipment and therefore, more farmhands and more land! No one would have to go hungry or jobless if the nobles would just listen and accept change. There would be no need for those levies if there were no more wars, if half of the noble families hadn’t seceded from the kingdom! We wouldn’t be having a serious warlord crisis if the nobles had accepted their rightful king! I think it’s a much more balanced system for the kingdom to buy their army’s food instead of stealing it from the people! Even when I added a single levy per year, smaller than the original two levies per year issued to the farmers, the nobles still weren’t happy! And the farmers complained, ‘Can’t the king make up his mind? Can’t he give us our grains anymore?’ All thanks to the damned nobles! It’s their fault they want to squander money on irrelevant issues, thus having to be disciplined like spoiled children. They whine and bicker like juveniles as well, the similarities are striking. Come to think of it, I wonder if their positions would be better off when given to the children they so act like! See how they like it then!” Jedrick didn’t even realise he had stood up in anger, sitting back down while trying to control his breath. Kellston looked involuntarily shocked. Undoubtedly, Jedrick has lost his mind. Shall I mention it to him? Of course not.
“Harroll, my king, You needn’t worry about the topic of fewer levies on this day. The mistake has been rectified.”
“Only after the nobles sent the killers of the slums after me. I would have died had their knives touched my throat. Once again, I owe you my life for informing me the exact date on which the assassins would strike.”
“They were second-stringers, unprofessional. Hardly worth the effort on both of our parts, I’m afraid. The rest of the nobles wouldn’t speak to me for another two years! The Omnipresent One must have been on your side at the time of the later assassins’ attempts.”
“Only He could’ve given me the superior senses to detect that shadow assassin.”
“The last attack.” Kellston remembered the day as if it was yesterday. “Not even the Omnipresent One could’ve protected you from a fully-fledged X’Shiexxe killer. Those murderers are below his light in their dark Realm of eternal shadows. He had granted your final boon by sending an apprentice to do a master’s job. Even then, the chances were slim.”
“The nobles seemed to stop the flow of would-be king killers after that,” laughed Jedrick. “Sobered up, they were, when they saw that shadow assassin’s head on a silver plate at the council meeting.” Both the men shared a laugh, recalling the looks upon the face of the nobles whom had conspired against the king.
“Did you see how Armad Hannis ran until his own guards caught him?”
“Oh, yes, the look on his face when they told me that he was the one who sent the killer after me!” The king and his Housemaster laughed and laughed and laughed. Perhaps in hindsight, memories are entertaining and fun. But it had been no laughing matter at the scene itself, a small thing for Jedrick to forget. The measures he went to to tighten the powers the nobility had. He forgot how he assigned each of us a ‘guard’ for our protection from ‘assassins’. Those unpleasant times.
“Anyhow, I digress. I sent for the castle inquisitors to interrogated all of the nobles present at the council meeting. Gannia was not happy when she saw her fellow nobles being questioned. Of course, she was spared, but her family members weren’t. She demanded to know why I was interrogating the nobles without a writ from the magistrate. I told her, ‘A writ is not needed when a shadow assassin is involved.’ Gannia did not accept my reply. She demanded the name of the noble who would dare do such a thing and called for a courier to send for the magistrate. ‘There will be no more investigation if the noble who conspired against you has been found,’ she said. ‘He must be tried in court.’ I replied to her, ‘He will be put to death without a trial tomorrow morning. I am aware of a special skill nobles possess to wriggle themselves out of an uncomfortable situation.’ Gannia was furious. She wanted to know why the noble would be executed with no way to prove his guilt. I remained mute as a eunuch. She said not a word to me as she stormed out of the council room.
“The next morning, I awoke without Gannia at my side. She was still angry at me, and I wouldn’t have expected her to accompany me in the night anyways. I sent for the royal executioner, and we went down to kill the treacherous nobleman. We went down to the dungeons of the castle, only to find that Armad Hannis had been freed in the dark of the night. We questioned the guards patrolling, and they revealed that a slim stranger disguised as the executioner had came to retrieve Hannis. They would’ve been discharged from their positions right then and there had they not told us where they suspected the false executioner went. They kept their jobs because of keen ears for gossip.
“Very soon, we had fetched a horse and rode to the Hannis Keep where the guards told us to go. Their words were truthful, and we were caught up with the traitor Hannis before morning’s end. He and the false executioner had foolishly walked to the stone stronghold instead of taking a steed. We took off the false executioner’s hood, revealing the sour face of my sweet Gannia underneath. She resisted all she could, but I took her aside. Hannis was begging and pleading not to kill him, to give him a fair trial, slobbering like a dog all the way to the end. He told us he was the one which conspired against me, and said he would flee the Realm so long as we let him go. I struck him with my naked hand to quiet him down. We didn’t pray for the Omnipresent One to save his soul. The executioner knocked him down to his knees and chopped off his head without delay.” Jedrick looked sadder than he was before. “I made her watch,” he said wearily. “I stood there, face blanker than a gambler’s, holding her jaw to make her gaze upon the justice dealt to Hannis. His head rolled and bled all across the grassy field. Tears went down Gannia’s eyes, unbelieving to what she saw. She looked to me with wide and wet eyes, pleading silently for. . . something. I know not what it was, even today. We rode back to the Arch City, and it was plain in Gannia’s eyes that her energy and vigour was deflated.
“Her state was not changed when we arrived back at the castle. For years, she remained in the same mood, and kept the same sullen face every time I saw her. She was already pregnant when she started avoiding me altogether. She slept in separate quarters simply to spite me, but I kept checking on her, if she was well. She wouldn’t even show her face to me. Gannia always pretended she was asleep. I would talk to her, pleading on my knees for her to join my side. It was as if we weren’t even married,the solemn vow we made meaningless. Eventually, I stopped.
“For another month, I left her alone to herself, and I never knew she had her baby until she sent her handmaiden to tell me straight after she gave birth. I rushed to her quarters in a hurry, and saw her cradling the baby to sleep. Gannia seemed. . . gentler when I saw her nursing the baby. She was contained and no longer spiteful. It was a welcome change, but I didn’t know what to expect of it. Was she playing a game with me, or was her heart truly content? Childbirth is an exhausting process, but I never would have expected Gannia to change her adamant mind after it. I had entered her quarters, and I saw the most lovely face I hadn’t seen for eight months. In her arms she carried a beautiful baby girl, whom wailed and screamed healthily when she heard me. I rushed to her side, and she smiled when I kissed the little girl in her lap. We named her Maia.” Kellston hid a smile. I can’t believe Jedrick has forgotten it. I was the one who had birthed and cleaned the baby girl. I was the first person to see Maia. Oh well, then. “It seemed that Gannia had forgiven me. The miserable period of my life was over, and the love between us was struck anew.
“We spent another two years with each other, happier than a pair of seamen arriving home. Six years later, we had another daughter, Salnia. She was even louder than Maia when she arrived. Ah, yes, you know how it went after that. A normal, happy life for us. Normal and happy as a life of a king and queen could become, at any rate. Nothing to worry about, nothing to complain about, so long as we had each other. All the dratted nobles in the world couldn’t have stopped our love. They could whine and bicker all they want, they couldn’t deter our love. If they were moaning about my latest order, I would just think of her face, and all my problems would be dissolved in a candle-flicker. I only wish I saw her more instead of ruling this blasted kingdom. Poor Maia and Salnia, they had to grow up without their father half of the time. Oh, how the nobles would complain of the noise from the babes. If only I could complain of the noise from them!” The king stopped to have a hearty laugh from his own joke, continuing on until he had a coughing fit. He cleared his throat, and went on with his story, “Well, that was fine and good, yes it was, and we had a marvelous time together.” Jedrick lifted himself from his chair. “Yes, yes, that’s the end of the story. I’ll be retiring to my quarters now-”
“Sir, there’s more.” Jedrick paused halfway from getting out of his chair. “You and I both know how it goes.” The king breathed deeply and closed his eyes. He exhaled, and sat back down.
“Apologies, sir Kellston. The memories are fading away, every memory except the ones I want to leave. Perhaps that is a good thing. Tragedy must be stored inside the mind somewhere for future referral and knowledge. That is how wisdom is formed: you must have memories of the bad times. My mind is willing to let go of my depressing memories, but my heart says otherwise. The more memories you have, the more things you’ll have to compare to the current situation, and the wiser you’ll be to handle the situation. What was that old poem that said this? I forget its name. Ah, I’ll think about it later. What I always say is the senile professor with a thousand thousand experiences will be chosen over the brilliant professor with none, that’s what I say.” Jedrick held his chin pensively. “Perhaps that saying needs some work, now that I say it aloud. That is why I am a king instead of a philosopher, I suppose. But I’m getting off-the-topic once more. Remind me, Kellston, when I wander off into my own realm of mind.” The Housemaster nodded curtly. “Gannia and I were happy to no end when she discovered she was pregnant once more. A soothsayer told us our next child would be a boy. A boy! You remember how mad little Salnia was when she found out she would have another sibling. She didn’t even turn up for supper after we told her.”
“I was the one who finally found her, eating all of your raspberries and peaches after seizing an entire meat pie,” mentioned Kellston. “You didn’t believe me when I told you she tore apart half the pie before I even reached her.”
“Mmm, she made quite the apology to the cooks of the castle.”
“Yes, by far the blandest and most unconvincing of them all.” Jedrick couldn’t help but laugh at Kellston’s remark. Jedrick loves his children more than anything else, but even he can’t lie when he says Salnia is the most troublesome. But so long as Jedrick is her father, he will always love and forgive her.
“Anyways, the rest of us were joyous. The nobles started sending twice as many assassins as before, alas, once they heard of our next child to be a boy. Never do those fools learn! I had defended myself from ten more assassination attempts ever since Gannia stopped talking to me. Three months, they had, to murder my beloved and her young until their crimes would be punished by the Omnipresent One. Hmmph, as if murder isn’t crooked enough. They still failed. I consider myself blessed every day Gannia never saw those killers in person, and that Chaiss was gracious enough to send her his finest men for protection.
“The same men that were plotting against me attended Gannia’s baby shower the seventh month of her pregnancy. The nerve of those noblemen! They were courteous, kind even. What falseness. One could not confuse them with the scheming, evil shrewds that they were. I swear, they must have a closet of invisible masks to hide their true colours: their cunning, conniving, and cowardly colours. One old man in particular, I remember him, he had an uncanny similarity to a vulture. I knew he was one of the nobles that had tried to kill me. Came close, too, and had Chaiss the Receiver not been on patrol, I would have awoken in the afterlife. The vulture sat there and chatted up my wife, jesting and entertaining her. I can’t remember his name for my life, but I was confident he was the one to send the assassins closest to murdering us! It made my blood boil, I tell you, the urge to strangle the life from his throat.
“The shower was pleasant in nature, but all false, I knew. The compassion the nobles displayed for our child was artificial. After the shower was no better from before. All everyone did was grovel, and that is all they still do. For months, I had to endure fake congratulations and good tidings. Ha! What actors the nobility has! Sick to my stomach, is what it makes me! Ah, but once more, I stray from my original story. I feel as if I only chew off your ears with my tiresome words to complain about the nobility and their treasonous acts. That was not my intention, friend.” Jedrick struggled to find where he was in his story, concentrating and frowning. He regained his stream of thought after much delay, only to put on a face of dejection and sadness when he realised where he was in his tale. More so than in any other part of his story, until he could take it no longer and weeped his eyes out.
All Kellston could do was sit still and say nothing, for nothing was there to say. What could cure the king of his sadness at this point? he thought. “My wife, Gannia, was a month early in the birth of our child. She had sent a servant to fetch me, and I went with her when I heard the news. I was elated at first, but I understood that a baby born early was nothing but trouble. I fully comprehended that fact halfway en route to my wife, and I became terrified at that point. A dozen dozen things could go wrong, and I was sprinting like a madman to see Gannia.
“We arrived at the kitchen, where Gannia was at when she felt the baby coming. She was struggling heavily with the birth, the servant told me. She was originally sent to gather medicinal herbs from the botanist’s garden, but instead brought me to the kitchen. The midwife, the midwife’s servant which had brought me, and the foul vulture-noble who talked to Gannia at her baby shower were huddled around Gannia. The midwife told me he was the one which sent for her, but I didn’t trust him fully. In fact, I didn’t at all.
“When I looked upon my wife, I saw that she was truly struggling. Her pain was etched across her face, eased slightly when she saw me. I was both worried and relieved. The midwife wasn’t specific in determining what was wrong, all she knew was that she had to split my precious wife’s belly. I knew that without the herbs the servant was sent to gather, it was practically a death sentence. All we could hope for was that the baby would survive. Giving one life to save another. I would not see my wife so quickly gone. While the midwife screamed at her handmaiden, I offered to venture up the High Mage’s tower and fetch one of his mystic healing potions. It was closer than the botanist’s garden or any Holy Servant inside the castle, seeming to be the most likely plan. The midwife advised me not to go, worried that I would be scorched by that cranky old wizard. He wouldn’t dare do that to a king, and I went on with haste.
“Desperate to save Gannia, I ran further and faster than I had ever ran in my old age. Twenty years younger, and I could’ve done circuits around the tower, went up it two times and still arrive in time to save my love. But what I could’ve done is different than what I did do. My tired old bones faltered halfway up the spiral stairway of that dratted bat’s tower, but that did not stop me from continuing my frantic pace. I only managed to obtain a single potion from that cross old codger, and he fought tooth and nail for it as well. I had half a mind to take his swollen head off of his body, but I abstained. One potion was enough, I reasoned. My blood flowed strong as I moved my limbs to get to my beloved wife.” Jedrick started weeping again. The memory he kept was more painful than the rest, more painful than all the rest. It had hit close to his heart and soul, leaving nothing fully intact. “I had arrived at the staff quarters to intense cries and wails. It was not the sound of a baby, but instead the ugly noise coming from women. The midwife was comforting her servant, both hunched over Gannia. I was slow to understand, but I saw my awful fate at last: My wife’s eyes were glazed over and motionless. Gannia was dead.
“My love of my life, my soul, bleeding from her belly with her pale mouth lolled open. I saw our baby lying alone nearby, bloody and shriveled. The umbilical cord trailed from the baby’s belly, untouched. A boy, just like the soothsayer said. The sickly little thing was crying softly, being drowned out by the banshee screams of the two sobbing women. I picked him up, cradling his bloody body in my arms. His head, no bigger than an apple, was almost as big as his body. A person could’ve lifted him with one hand and put little effort in it. I vainly placed the mouth of the potion inside of Gannia’s open lips, pointlessly letting the golden liquid dribble into her throat. I knew only a miracle could’ve saved her then. I- I wasn’t even able to hear her last word,” Jedrick croaked. Another crying fit came to the king’s eyes. Kellston waited for Jedrick to let out the tears. King Jedrick sniffled, gulped, and continued his story. “The midwife regained her composure at once when she heard the boy’s soft cry. She immediately stopped her weeping and cleaned the boy right up. and cut the umbilical cord from his belly. I said nothing, standing still and staring at Gannia’s body. My eyes were wet and my mouth was opened like a fool. I was paralyzed in place, and no matter how hard the servants urged me, I would not move. Only staring and moping.
“The midwife tended a fire for the baby as there wasn’t enough fat on his body to keep him warm. Maia and Salnia entered the kitchen with a wet nurse shortly after the baby was born, both trying to look at their new brother. They were shooed away by the still weeping servant. The midwife was like a general, ordering a bottle of fresh cow’s milk and blankets from the shaken cooks. The baby was not to be moved, she commanded, not even letting the wet nurse come close. I was still staring at my wife’s corpse when the midwife swaddled and fed the baby with the bottle of milk. No ordinary person would dare give orders to a king, but the midwife did not seem to know that. She right pushed me out of my trance. I sat there, unmoving, and began to sob. It must’ve disheartened the servants, seeing their mighty king cry like a child. The one to protect and defend their Realm, on his knees, weeping.
“Nothing pains me more than the memory of acknowledging Gannia’s death. I tried to think on what had caused this atrocity. Our marriage was blessed by the Omnipresent One, how could something as simple as a birth destroy my love of my heart, mind, body, and soul? Our previous children had been birthed flawlessly, what had gone wrong with our last one? My mind immediately raced to that elderly buzzard at Gannia’s baby shower. In my deliriousness and sorrow, I thought that he had poisoned Gannia to weaken her strength to get to me, for only that could’ve done my wife in. Maybe our heir would’ve died to spite me. What a loathsome creature. I leapt to the conclusion that he was the one to kill Gannia. Do you know what I had did, perchance?” Oh, I know. I was all too aware of it the second you mentioned it.
“No,” stated the Housemaster.
“You must keep this a secret. It is not my proudest moment, and I believe now would be the time to tell you of it. You have been my friend for many years now, and I think you should know.” Jedrick looked Kellston straight in his eyes. “Not a soul will know, Kellston. Do you understand me?” The Housemaster nodded, knowing what would happen otherwise. The king cracked his knuckles and continued, “I fulfilled my wish, Housemaster of mine. I did so indeed. I wished for my fingers and palms wrapped and pressed against the buzzard’s throat once in my life, and it was granted. A rush of fury came over me. I had little control over my body as my hands grabbed the vulture’s throat. They grasped a proper grip, eight fingers on the back of his neck, my palms holding down the sides, and both thumbs pressing down on the throat. I squeezed and squeezed and squeezed until I could squeeze no longer. The feel of his rapidly beating veins underneath my hands soothed my raging spirit. His eyes bulging out of his head and his dilating pupils comforted my rage. His tormented breathing and the sound of his fruitless struggle rang in my ears as my thumbs compressed his throat, and then, silence.
“The cooks and servants stood in shock, unbelieving in what they had seen. I ordered them to clear the body out at once, and never speak a word of what had occurred. The midwife only shook her head looked at me tiredly. I didn’t stop to look at my son or the kitchen for another minute, and left for my quarters. Do you wish to know what the odd thing was?” Kellston opened his mouth to speak but the king was already talking. “I had no regrets of this. Not even today. I never thought again of it, the issue never kept me awake at night, it was simply. . . right. One less noble. That is always how I have justified it. Neither have I ever fussed over Armad Hannis when I executed him. Funny thing, that.” The murder of Cyrus Waterlax, thought the Housemaster. Word spread quickly after he died. The king counts on his staff to keep it as a secret, but what’s the use of a secret if not for telling? Servants are terrible gossips. Jedrick should be ashamed of himself for what he did. “For three months, I wouldn’t leave my quarters. I did no ruling and no speaking, only eating, sleeping, and mourning. It was only until I learned from you the little baby boy had survived and grown healthy that I emerged from my hibernation and sat on my kingly throne of gilded marble.
“The midwife, who had inexhaustibly tended to my baby boy, was paid twice what she earned a year for her services. She had not named the little boy yet, waiting for me to do so myself. I took the tiny, plump cherub and named him Gann.” Jedrick stretched his limbs and grunted. “That, my friend, is the end of my tale. I apologise for keeping you.” Jedrick closed his eyes, exhausted from such a lengthy tale. He slouched back on his seat, remaining that way for several seconds.
After waiting an appropriate amount of time, Kellson lifted himself up and was about to say goodbye to his king (for the Housemaster was worried that pesky Salnia might’ve run away again), until Jedrick spoke up once more, “Oh, before I forget idly, I’ve been meaning to do this for a year now. I apologise once more, but I must thank you for informing me of the kingdom’s status while I was sealed in my quarters for those months. It only just occurred to me I had never shown my gratitude before, and now seemed to be an optimal time. Thank you, Parcol Kellston.” Jedrick stood up and bowed to his Housemaster. “You continued to be a good courtier, even in my prolonged absence. You are truly the best of my friends and my most trusted noble.”
“Yes, sire, I had no desire for you to be slow in the state affairs, now did I? You are still the king, after all.”
“It was an irresponsible and foolish thing to do, what I did. I should’ve grew a spine and went to my court despite my personal loss. Someone had to keep the nobility in check. Without my presence, they would’ve started a civil war!” Kellston was reminded of the days when Jedrick was always in his quarters. Oh, my. Shall I tell him? He decided it was for the best, and remarked,
“I wasn’t able to tell you this on threat of death at the time, but a civil war nearly did break out merely a day before you came back.” Jedrick’s face swiftly turned Kellston. “The nobles were splitting into groups, each preparing their men-at-arms for battle. Now seemed to be the best time to tell you.” Jedrick grimaced and looked down on the table, unsure of what to do. “You came back at exactly the right time, Harroll. The two sides had already drawn battle plans for an engagement.”
“Tell me about the civil war, Housemaster, and why you never mentioned it to me before,” muttered Jedrick.
“Everybody thought you had killed yourself. We discussed it two weeks after your ‘disappearance’ and it was decided someone would have to rule for you. Count Atollo Redigge claimed the throne in the stead of the steward, as Hollius was in the Eastern Villages. This was before his body was discovered in a bandit’s den, of course. Redigge owned the most land and supporters at the time, so it seemed to be the obvious choice. It was clear there would be conflict eventually, and assassins were almost certain. But Redigge kept a tight rule, and no one dared to strike against him in the beginning.
“The second month after you disappeared was when tensions grew. The other nobles grew wary of Redigge as the true steward had not yet returned from the Villages. He had been making nobles who questioned him vanish and imposed martial law on their estates. One day in court, the War Prince Jyriss Aierre declared Redigge a traitor to the throne.”
“Airre, the boy of sixteen years?” laughed the king.
“He said that a new ruler was to be elected, offering himself,” continued Kellston. “Before Jyriss could disappear, he laid siege to the Redigge Keep. He was driven away, but swore revenge on Atollo. The nobles flocked to both sides, preparing for a war. I am not a landowner and was not at that point in time, so they did not pressure me or any other Housemaster to do anything. Even as my loyal Housemasters gathered to either side, I did not partake in the conflict. Along with a handful of other nobles, I was completely neutral.” Jedrick paid great attention to his Housemaster’s words when he uttered his last sentence.
“A neutral party?”
“Consisting of six nobles, myself included. We refused to choose a side in the pointless feud, knowing that as far as the kingdom was concerned, there would be no winners. Redigge was a greedy and insecure ruler, and Airre was an impatient and short-tempered youth. Only those two really cared about the outcome of their war, the rest of the nobles wished to exploit them.”
“You were the only one to know I hadn’t killed myself up until that point, correct?”
“Yes. Rumours spread like a wizard’s fire that you couldn’t take the sadness of your wife’s passing, and lies circulating that a metallic smell was wafting from your quarter, and that the carpet had been stained red. Rotting flesh was even reported to have been in the air around your quarters. It was even worse that several of the nobles had confirmed this, perhaps for their own agendas.”
“These other five men, though, did they believe the rumours?”
“To my knowledge, yes. We had all conferenced in private, but I never told them of your status. In our meetings, we talked of ways to defer the civil war until Hollius was found. They had sent a company of their finest knights to find and escort him back to the Archland.”
“What were the names of the five men that remained neutral?”
“Sire?”
“The names, Kellston. They’re important.”
“I will not be the one to go against a king, but may I only ask what these five nobles may do for you, so eager are you to obtain their names?”
“If they remained neutral in a potential deadly civil war, it means they remained loyal to my steward, who acts as the king would. That means they are loyal to the king!”
“Perhaps that is not the wisest assumption, my liege,” cautioned the Housemaster. “It was over a year ago, and their loyalties may have changed. Maybe some of them knew you were alive and I did not detect it. They could have dozens of selfish reasons-”
“I know nobles better than the nobles do themselves, and I know they are always looking for influence. They will stop at nothing for power, and will do anything to get it. When two parties emerge, two very large parties, the nobles will side on the one they believe they will achieve the most influence under. What do they stand to gain by not joining these opposing parties? Nothing. In this case, the nobles which never chose a side have no way of gaining leverage over their rivals. All the nobles whom joined sides had their own agendas for taking over, planning to topple whichever fool stood when the dust clears. Then they obtain the upper hand. But remaining neutral? It is the most passive thing one can do, and the most honest. I must assume all of the men whom were neutral have a reasonable and intelligent reputation. They were the ones to go against the general mindset, and the least likely to stab me in the back.”
“Your Majesty, again, these men could have done nothing for another reason unknown to us. I shan’t lie, sire, but I feel this idea ill-guided and based not in logic.”
“The names, Kellston.” The king was done delaying. He glared at Kellston until the Housemaster sighed and reluctantly listed,
“Chaiss the Receiver was amongst the people who didn’t wish to partake in the conflict. He was not so much neutral as he was entirely against the idea. Chaiss hated the nobles’ ignorance and selfishness in starting a war when there were annihilistic warlords in the south. He loathed the opposing sides and their utter blindness. He said, and I quote, ‘the swelled heads of those incompetent squawkers would look much better without their bodies underneath them.’ ”
“Typical of Chaiss. Ah, well, you can’t choose them all. It is beneficial that he saw fault in this feud. We may have our disagreements often, but he is still a trusted supporter, even before my awareness of a secret war. Carry on.”
“The next person, I believe, would be Vaterrios Venikkis. He seemed sorry that the nobles were fighting, and opposed Chaiss many times in his belief the conflict could be resolved with words. Very humble, indeed.”
“Venikkis, eh? Hmm, I can see how he could be an ally. I do not know much of him, only that he has partaken in shouting matches the least in our council meets. Next person, then.”
“I remember Corcedim Leous attending our meetings. He wished to see the steward found and rule until Gann came of age, and sent the most knights to search for him. He was almost as outspoken as Chaiss, in fact.”
“I would’ve never guessed Leous to remain neutral. That man is quite rude in speaking his words, truthful as they may be, during our councils. Why, you’d think he was a warlord in disguise!”
“Quite. The next person which didn’t pick a side was the Holy Archbishop Akariel. He believed that the feud between the nobles was barbaric and unholy. He much preferred to see no one on a throne than to let one of the nobles steal it.”
“That was the only reason he joined you? The Omnipresent One saw it as degeneracy? By Colossus’ beard, for no other reason?”
“He is a priest, Your Grace. He said your return was a miracle from the Omnipresent One and a blessing of your rule. Besides, my king, he did truly believe in your ideas and methods.”
“Aye, only because our Creator said it for him! I wonder how many other kings he would cry out in the name of, good or bad. If for no better reason to trust me than that, I consider his opinion invalid.”
“The last noble which stood by the kingdom’s well-being was Argous’la Nag’van, speaker for the Mudmarshes Realm. He had similar motives to Leous and didn’t want to see the Realm divided during a crisis of warlords. He was often confused as to why allies fight as frequently as they did if they were on the same side.”
“Bah, Nag’van sees every northerner as weak-boned. But it certainly helps us to have a war minded person other than Chaiss on our side. So, that is it then? Not counting you, we have two zealots, one foreigner, and but two honest men on our side? I’m considering my steward as an ally, Neille Rainblessed has truly earned his status. Seven men which are still loyal to me.” Jedrick looked up to the heavens and prayed, “May the Five Sons and their Father be merciful.” His gaze shifted back to Kellston, saying sternly to him, “Send a letter to each of the men you mentioned. We are to hold a private council meeting as of Creator-Day next week.”
“Again, sire, while I am not protesting your actions-”
“I believe you are, friend. Send the letters before I grow old.” Jedrick squinted cynically at his Housemaster. “They are to notify no one of this meeting. I wish to see them before next week, however, so inform the rest of the nobles of an impromptu council meet on Magus-Day this week. I wish to evaluate the nobles you have mentioned myself. In these times of unrest, I need some real allies instead of a gaggle of sycophants. So my aging mind does not forget, write down the names for me, including Neille’s and your own.” Kellston did so, and fetched a piece of parchment, a feather pen, and ink. He quickly scribbled down:

Chaiss the Receiver
Veteran Record-Keeper Vaterrios Venikkis
Veteran Advisor Corcedim Leous
Holy Archbishop Akariel
Speaker of Mudmarshes Argous’la Nag’van
King’s Steward Neille Rainblessed
Chief Housemaster Parcol Kellston

Satisfied, the king nodded for Kellston’s departure.
“I’m glad we had this talk, Master Kellston.” The Housemaster stood up and bowed deeply. Before he could leave, the king ordered, “Promise me, Kellston. Promise me you will send letters to these men.” Kellston looked at Jedrick for a brief amount of time.
“I promise, my king, do not worry.” Jedrick nodded, signalling that Kellston could venture off at last.
*
*
*
Kellston was just leaving the room when he heard the guards start arguing with each other. Convenient, he thought. I now regret not discussing further the weapons in the streets. What if it proves to be deadly? What if I take the information to the grave? What if it means nothing, and I am deluding myself? Who knows? Plenty of illegal things happen in the Pickpocket District, perhaps all of the arms present were simply a normal day for them. He kept on fretting over it, until he glanced at a little black silhouette dashing across the courtyard below him. Kellston stopped his worrying, and wondered what the shadow was. A rogue from the Pickpocket District? So soon? No, wait, it is much too small to be that. Kellston peered closer. He saw the silhouette climb a tree effortlessly and scurry across the branches. Salnia! It’s Salnia! All thoughts of the potential conspiracy were gone, replaced by frustration and anger. She has done it again, the little pest-girl!
“I’m going to kill that miscreant!” yelled Kellston to no one in particular. As the silhouette leapt from one tree to another, the Chief Housemaster girded his loins, took off his fine shoes, and ran to the staircase that led to the courtyard. The Five Sons of the Omnipresent One and their holy angels combined couldn’t have stopped Kellston’s fury upon the mischievous little girl. Jedrick will just have to wait, thought the Housemaster.
*
*
*
Remembre the love, remembre the lyght,
Remembre the hate, remembre the nyght,
Remembre the warmth, remembre the syght,
Remembre the cold, remembre the fryght.
Keep a sharp mynd wherever ye look,
Remembre the tymes, lest ye forsook.
-Old Goldhaven Poem