An Ending of Oaths - Chapter 10

Kenna, River Mark, Sidor

Aldric sat in his favorite cushioned chair, feeling the warmth from the fireplace, still not feeling warm. He had only been home from Shadowhold for a few days, and he’d yet to feel fully warm. The season had been incredibly long this year, with more of the monsters staying out, not returning to the depths as most of their kind did.

He didn’t know how many more years he had of leading this fight in him. He wasn’t a young man anymore, and the years of watching young men die at his command were weighing on him.

And then he comes back to... this. A complete catastrophe in every way. The revolt had been unfortunate. Necessary, but unfortunate. Aldric had tried to talk them out of some of their harder points, not that he begrudged them their desire to have a say in how they were governed. But he’d known Edmund and many, if not most, of the barons would see it as an affront to everything they knew. They saw their privileges as having come directly from the ancients themselves. Giving those same privileges to commoners would sit poorly.

Aldric knew it would not stand for long, but he’d hoped that it would last a little longer than this.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when the door to his study opened. His annoyance turned to a smile when he saw his wife.

“I thought I might find you here. You’ve been brooding all morning.”

“Can you blame me? The news from Starhaven grows more troubling by the day.”

“I thought so. It’s all anyone can talk about here. From the nobles to the scullion maids. A murdered woodcutter and an arrested Baron from halfway across the continent, and it’s all anyone can talk about, from the bannerets and ministers all the way down to the scullions.”

“As they should. They may not realize it directly, but it is maybe the most important news in the kingdom since Charlies Whitton crossed the Leviathan Straits.”

“How could Thurston have sent such a letter to Fletcher? It seems so unlike him.”

“Because he didn’t. I’d stake my life on it.”

“Then who do you think...”

“Edmund had Fletcher killed and planted that letter on him. I’m sure of it,” he said, angry, but trying not to place that anger on her.

Alyssa sat across from him, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She was always calm, always composed. He appreciated that about her.

“But why? Thurston has always been loyal. He’s one of the few who still believes in duty to the people.”

“That’s the problem, he’s loyal to the people more than the crown. In Edmund’s estimation, that is the same as outright treason. Edmund was furious with Thurston specifically, ever since he backed the commoners’ ending of his latest taxes. He’s been looking for a way to be rid of him ever since. My fear is that this is just the beginning. If this works, he will see it as a new tool to go after others who’ve opposed him. You can be certain of that.”

“The Treaty of the Twins has been law for centuries. Edmund can’t simply tear it apart.”

On the face of it, she was right, of course. It was also a naive way to see the world.

“The treaty only has as much power as we give it. If Edmund amasses enough power, he can tear up the treaty, and there will be nothing the barons that don’t stand with him can do to stop him.”

“Which is why he’s replacing the barons who aren’t loyal, then. Starting with Thurston.”

“Or trying at least, but that has always been for starters. He’s said many times that Sidor was strongest when it was united by force, when Edgar Whitton first brought the kingdoms of Kingsheart, Iron Keep, and River Mark together. Before the time of unification, when the Treaty was written and the barons given the power of the coin.”

“Does he really think he can depose all the barons? Or abolish the Nobles Council entirely?”

“I don’t know,” Aldric said, sighing. “Ambition has always blinded him. He sees himself as the architect of Sidor’s future, and the rest of us... pawns.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Alyssa had known Edmund as a younger man, but she’d only seen what he’d wanted her to see. He’d been courting her, and as devious as Edmund was, he understood that others would see those traits as... less valuable. He was good at presenting versions of himself, whichever one he felt would give him the best advantage in a situation.

Aldric hadn’t spoken about Edmund in that way before. Partly because he knew he played a careful game. Edmund had never trusted him fully, but he also didn’t put Edmund in the same category as the barons. Putting himself in Edmund’s sights would only make it harder for him to mediate.

“What about the council?” Alyssa finally said, breaking the silence. “It has rights under the charter—”

Her words were interrupted by a knock at the door. A messenger stepped in, holding a small scroll bound by the telltale seal of a wyvern message. Aldric gestured for him to approach, taking the scroll from the messenger’s hand.

“Thank you,” Aldric said, dismissing the man with a nod.

He unfurled the message, his eyes quickly scanning the words. The more he read, the deeper his frown got.

“What is it?” she asked, clearly reading the expression on his face.

Aldric didn’t answer right away, reading the note through a second time before crumpling it up and leaning his head back into the soft cushion.

“Adric?”

“It’s from Garris. He’s furious about Thurston’s arrest.”

“That shouldn’t be a surprise?” Alyssa said, forming it into a question, knowing there was more.

“It’s not, but that is only the beginning. He believes this is the first arrow in Edmund’s war against the barons. He’s convinced that this isn’t just about Thurston or his barony. He thinks it’s about the security of the entire kingdom.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you were saying?”

“It is, but I believe he means to be more … direct in his opposition than I’m willing to go.”

“What does he propose?”

“He doesn’t say directly but … I think he plans on standing up to the king. Whether that means if any other barons are arrested or unless Thurston is returned, I don’t know yet. He’s cagey with his words. I think he knew I would not agree.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to try and put the cork back in the bottle before this turns into something worse.”

“You are a convincing man, my darling, but you know Garris. I’m not sure that will be possible. Especially when your brother seems intent on smashing the bottle altogether. Wouldn’t it be better to support Garris instead?”

“No. What Garris is proposing is chaos. Civil war. It would be a disaster for Sidor and its people. I won’t give in to the last resort so easily.”

“And you think you can stop it?”

“I have to try. I’ll counsel Garris to show some patience, see if I can talk him down. Then I’ll send word to Edmund, try to convince him how much of a mistake this business with Thurston really is.”

“And if they both refuse?”

Aldric set the scroll aside and rubbed his eyes. “Then I’ll start sending wyverns to the barons. Both those who’ve supported us in the past, and even some of the more antagonistic ones. I need to shore up support, just in case.”

“To support Garris, or to oppose him?”

“I honestly don’t know. Garris means well and has the best interest of the kingdom at heart. Mostly. But … I just don’t know. I’d rather it didn’t come to that.”

Alyssa reached across and put a hand on his knee, massaging it gently. “I know.”

Aldric closed his eyes for a moment, placing his hand on hers, trying not to let his fears of the future get the best of him.

***

Starhaven, Sidor

“This is a mistake, Your Majesty. We’re pushing too hard, too fast. The nobles won’t stand for…”

“Enough!” Serwyn cut him off, slamming his fist on the ornate table between them. “I’m tired of this conversation, Uncle. I am the king, chosen by right and the ancestors to lead Sidor. The people must bend their wills to me, not the other way around.”

Edmund sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He had known this wouldn’t go well the moment he had come into Serwyn’s study. Serwyn had been becoming more and more unmanageable with each passing day, assured of his own brilliance. The boy was feeling his oats, and at the worst possible time.

His schemes had thrown everything Edmund had planned into chaos, and it looked less salvageable with each passing day.

“You can’t be that naive, Serwyn,” he said, looking at his nephew again. “The crown…”

“Watch how you speak to me, Uncle,” Serwyn said, his face flushing. “Royal blood or not, I won’t tolerate such disrespect.”

Edmund had had enough. This was getting out of control, and it had to get back under control fast, before everything fell apart.

Raising his own voice, Edmund said, “Power is only as good as what can be wielded. Arresting Baron Thurston was a step too far. We don’t have enough support for such a brazen move. If we lose the loyalty of enough barons, they’ll march their men into Starhaven and put your head on a spike.”

The chamber fell silent as Serwyn’s anger gave way to uncertainty, as he sat back in his chair behind the desk, brooding. Edmund seized the moment, producing a handful of crumpled wyvern messages from his doublet.

“I’ve been receiving demands and furious complaints from barons across the kingdom. They’re calling for Thurston’s immediate release.”

“Thurston is just one man. I won’t let a single baron dictate the future of my kingdom,” Serwyn said, but a lot less confidently than his proclamations a few moments earlier.

“He is not just one man, Your Majesty. The Nobles Council has been in session all morning. They are up in arms, Serwyn. Yelling about their rights, their prerogatives … some are even threatening to hold all funds until Thurston is released.”

Serwyn turned his head, refusing to meet Edmund’s eyes. His jaw clenched, clearly battling with his anger, but he said nothing.

“Even the Commoners’ Council…”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“That council never should have existed!” Serwyn exploded, rising abruptly from his chair. “Thurston was one of the men responsible for that folly. He and his ilk have done nothing but undermine my authority since the day I ascended to the throne.”

“Be that as it may, Your Majesty, we cannot ignore the reality of our situation. The nobles…”

“The nobles can rot in the darkest pits of the Maw for all I care,” Serwyn spat. “Thurston has been tried and found guilty of treason. He will be executed, as is my right as king. And any barons who think to demand their ‘rights’ and threaten the crown will join him on the gallows.”

This was spiraling out of control faster than he had anticipated.

“Your Majesty, I implore you to reconsider. Such actions could lead to open rebellion. We must find a way to appease…”

“Appease? I am the king, Uncle. Chosen by right and the ancestors to lead Sidor. I will bend to the nobles no more,” he said, coming around his desk, standing right in front of him, lowering his voice dangerously. “You can either carry out my commands, or you can find yourself in their company. Which will it be?”

Edmund did not speak directly. He could see the look in Serwyn’s eyes. The boy was out of control. Wild.

“Your loyalty seems to waver, Uncle. With every passing day, your constant advice for caution makes you sound more like one of those mewling barons than my advisor. Should I count you among their number?”

The threat hung between them, unmistakable. Edmund was furious. How dare this boy, this strippling, threaten him. Serwyn would have lost his crown already, if it was not for Edmund. He tampered the feelings down as soon as they came. Control. Everything needed to be done with control. Instead, he chose his next words carefully.

“I assure you, my loyalty is not in question. But we must consider the consequences of our actions. If enough barons become convinced they have more to gain by overthrowing the crown than supporting it, we’ll have a civil war on our hands.”

Serwyn’s nostrils flared, but he remained silent, allowing Edmund to continue.

“We barely have enough forces to maintain order as it is. If a full-scale revolt breaks out, we’ll be hard-pressed to put it down. The kingdom could tear itself apart. Your instincts aren’t wrong, Your Majesty. The barons have grown too bold, too comfortable. But we need to ensure we have enough support before we act. If we can’t sway certain barons to our side, we must at least have the banners to defeat them should they rise up.”

Serwyn finally looked away, taking a step back. Softening again.

“I know you mean well, Uncle. But I won’t back down on this. Thurston will be executed. His actions cannot go unpunished.”

“If we could just…”

“No more waiting! I need your help to keep things under control, Uncle. I’m only doing what you’ve preached since the day I was crowned - asserting my authority, showing strength. I want you to make it clear to the barons that their titles and lands are in jeopardy if they continue to defy me. They’ll fall in line, or they’ll fall.”

Serwyn wasn’t going to be backed down. Thurston was a dead man, and there was nothing Edmund could do to stop that. It was time to start thinking about alternative plans. Things were going to get out of control. There was no way of stopping it. All he could do now was figure out a way to turn things back to his advantage.

It would take a change in priorities and time. If he was careful. If he was smart. Edmund let the thoughts drop. He just needed a little time.

“As you say, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing and excusing himself from the king’s study.

Just a little more time.

***

Valemonde, Lynese

If William only looked up at the sky, it was an amazing spring day. After almost ten days of rain, the clouds had finally broken and the weather had continued to warm. Renewing was known as the month of rain, leading into late fall and the height of planting season.

Renewing’s rains fed Scholarium’s plains, as the saying goes.

Of course, this was not a farm and he was not a planter. All he had to do was tilt his head down to see the reality of the situation. Lynesian trenches and field works in front of him, backed up against the walls of Valemonde, and Sidorian trenches before him, backed by a sea of tents and still under construction siege weapons and towers, preparing for the day when the siege would end and assault would begin.

William and his small retinue sat between the two lines under a flag of truce, getting a rare view that was only seen during the height of an assault. A few paces away, Sir Drummond was not enjoying the weather. As a good soldier, he was studying this closer look at the enemy lines, memorizing their works and weak points for that future assault.

William appreciated the diligence, but also didn’t think it would come to that. The Lynesian capital had already withered the previous year as William and his forces sat on large swaths of the most productive land. This year would be worse for them, as nearly all supplies but those carried through by a handful of skilled, or at least lucky, smugglers managed to get in.

William would prefer to starve them out, rather than waste his men on what would certainly be a costly assault.

“I’ve nearly finished the book you lent me. The tales of the early Acolytes are... quite fascinating,” Isolde said, sitting on the horse next to him. “I am saddened that I will not have a chance to finish it.”

She was the reason Sir Drummond and the rest of the escorts gave him so much room, allowing the two to speak somewhat privately. William appreciated the thoughtfulness, even with it being unnecessary. It wasn’t like they were courting.

“Keep it,” he said, giving her a smile. “Consider it an apology for your capture.”

“I couldn’t possibly. It’s far too valuable.”

“Books are meant to be read, Princess. The Acolytes themselves preach the necessity of reading and studying our histories and traditions. True, most people only get the chance to read works inside one of the halls, if Father Taelman found out I was hoarding works, he would rap me on the knuckles again like when I was nine and trying to avoid my studies. Besides, I’ve always found comfort in those tales. Considering the Acolytes’ faith took root here in your homeland, you have more right to it than I. I’m honestly surprised your halls did not have a copy.”

Isolde hesitated, her fingers tracing the pommel of her saddle. “I appreciate the gesture, but-”

“I will be offended if you don’t accept my gift.”

After a moment, Isolde inclined her head. “Then... thank you, Prince William.”

“Good. In all honesty, it is too little of an apology. I had hoped to return you to your people sooner, but, with the complexities of war…”

William half shrugged as if to say, ‘what can you do.’ Isolde’s face changed in an instant. Her friendly, almost shy smile replaced by the scowl she wore so much more often.

“If you were truly sorry, you would end this war.”

William’s mouth tightened as the mood shifted. This was how it had gone on every visit, vacillating between surprisingly pleasant conversation to open hostility at the drop of a hat. This was ground that they covered nearly every time they spoke.

The princes took the concept of agreeing to disagree as a more active prospect than how most would have interpreted it.

“I wish it were that simple. Ultimately, it’s up to your father to decide when and if this conflict ends.”

Isolde wasn’t unreasonable. While she truly believed William could just up and return home, giving up the war if he wanted to, she also harbored a fair amount of animosity toward her father for his part in bringing her people to war. Which is why that is where the conversation normally ended.

William was surprised when instead, Isolde said, “But how can he? So many of my people already live under your yoke. How can my people surrender and accept subjugation under foreign rule?”

“Is that what you think our goal is? Princess, if your father ends the war, we will return home and leave your people to their own devices. While we will need certain conditions met to keep your father’s ambitions in check, we have no desire to rule all of Lynese. Sidor has enough of its own problems without maintaining forces here to keep your people under subjugation.”

Isolde considered him, clearly skeptical. “Would you truly leave if the war ends?”

“Yes.”

Silence fell between them as Isolde looked toward the walls of her home, lost in thought. William couldn’t help but wonder what she thought would happen.

“Sometimes,” she said softly after a few minutes. “I wish my father were less shortsighted.”

William let out a dry chuckle. “I have the same complaints about my own father.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I share your frustrations. My father, like yours, makes poor decisions that only serve his own interests and often make life harder for the people he rules.”

“I... wouldn’t have expected that from you, Prince William.”

“There’s much about me you don’t know, Princess,” William replied. “Just as there’s much about you I’m sure I don’t understand. I think perhaps we have more in common than you might like to admit.”

“If we have so much in common, then surely you can see why ending this war is preferable to letting it continue? Look at my city, William. The people there are starving. Supplies dwindle by the day. My people suffer.”

“I know, but again, that is war. I wish with all my heart I could change the way things are. But your father made his choices. He set all of this in motion.”

“And that justifies the suffering? You can cast blame all you want, claim you have no desire to rule my people all you want, but you are still here and you are still controlling their lives.”

“It’s not that simple, Princess. You speak of the suffering in Lynese, but what of the suffering in Sidor? What of the coastal villages razed by raiders? Raiders paid and supplied by your father. Even now, while your people starve, he sends coin to the Alchmara to continue the raids, instead of using that coin to relieve suffering. If you want to see the cause of your people’s pain, you should be looking much closer to home.”

“Lies.”

“For years, Lynesian gold has funded pirate attacks on our northern coasts. Entire fishing villages put to the sword. Children orphaned. Livelihoods destroyed. Believe it or not, that is up to you, but ask yourself if paying for that, in hopes of weakening my people sounds that out of character for your father.”

She did not respond right away, looking at her horse’s mane, and then down to the muddy ground.

“I wish this weren’t the way of the world. I admire your idealism, truly. I hope that one day, your vision of peace can become reality.”

Before Isolde could respond, movement near the gates of the city caught their attention, as a small group rode from within the city under a similar flag of truce, toward them.

“It seems our time together has come to an end,” William said, nodding toward the approaching party. “Your brother has come to escort you home. Thank you for your company these past weeks. I’m glad I had the chance to know you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Oddly enough, I feel the same.”

With that, she urged her horse forward to meet the Lynesian party. William watched her go, feeling somewhat bittersweet and losing his most prominent prisoner.

Sir Drummond moved his horse alongside William’s. “Shall we withdraw, Your Highness?”

William nodded, tearing his eyes away from Isolde’s retreating form. As they rode back toward the Sidorian lines, he was surprised to find Isolde looking over her mount in return, back to him. After the briefest of eye contact, the two looked back to their respective lines, William resisting the urge to look back again.

She certainly was an interesting girl.