Honor's Price

by Sever Bronny

  “I think so.”

  “This is serious. Know so, Stone.”

  Augum closed his eyes and searched his feelings. His soul shook with fear, but he gathered his courage. He opened his eyes. “I am ready.”

  “I hope you are, Stone, for all our sakes.” Eric led him to the guarded doorway. “Lord Stone to see my king father. He is expected.”

  One of the Black Eagles, an older woman, nodded at one of the doors. “It is open, Prince Eric.”

  Eric turned to Augum and nodded gravely. “Choose your words wisely.”

  Augum placed his hand on the intricately scrolled handle, took a breath, opened the door and stepped inside. The door was quietly closed behind him.

  King Rupert Southguard sat in one of two carved walnut armchairs by a roaring hearth, his chin resting on a fist. The hearth was the only source of light in the room, casting half the king in deep shadow. The man did not look up. Gilded candle sconces, vases, ornately framed paintings, and lush carpeting decorated the solar. The subtle scents of rosemary and beeswax hung in the air. The firelight glinted off empty suits of armor standing sentinel in the corners of the room. It would not surprise Augum if they animated upon command to defend the king.

  Augum bowed. “Your Highness.”

  The king flicked two fingers at the chair opposite him. Augum strode over and took a seat, smoothing his amber robe beneath him. He examined his sovereign’s face. The old man looked exhausted—his jowls sagged, there were deep rings under his eyes, and his usually groomed beard was rough and grayer than Augum remembered. The play of firelight accentuated his boar visage like a lantern flickering in a dark and windy forest.

  “You have humiliated me before the entire kingdom,” the king murmured. “You have humiliated my precious niece. And you have usurped my authority, allowing for an enemy to invade our Solia.”

  Augum wanted to ask how he had usurped the king’s authority, though suspected the answer lay with people like Katrina and the Lord High Steward, who had no doubt implanted falsities in the man’s mind. And as much as he wanted to defend himself, he knew he had to keep his mouth shut until asked to speak. He had to let the proud man alleviate himself of his anger, judging it the only way in.

  “I will enjoy seeing you grovel before me, begging for your castle back, for the life of your friends. Then I will enjoy seeing you hang from the gate. You and the two wenches you brought.”

  Augum had to clasp his hands to stop their shaking, surreptitiously hiding them in his robe sleeves.

  “And I recently learned you stood up for a wayward. A disgusting, unholy, ungodly, and damned wayward. An abomination of the gods. A blight upon our humble faith. You are, what, seventeen years of age, and yet you dared to proclaim such an evil is acceptable in my kingdom, in my academy?”

  Almost seventeen. But Augum did not correct the man. One wrong word, one wrong gesture, could ruin everything. And no arcanery would get him out of it, not even Centarro. All their lives, perhaps the future of the kingdom, rested in how he reacted.

  “You impudent little vermin,” Rupert went on, voice rising in anger. “You dare come in here under the protection of my own heir?” The man glared at Augum with the blackest look he had ever seen, roaring, “You dare come to mock the king!”

  Augum couldn’t help but swallow. He took a slow, shuddering breath … and sat quietly. He had to allow the king to invite him to speak. The question was, would that invitation come? If it did not, he was doomed. They all were. Unnameables give me a chance, that is all I ask.

  The king continued to glare, perhaps waiting for Augum to flinch, to protest, to do anything. When Augum did not, the man sat back in his chair to study him, face half in shadow and half in firelight. He tapped his middle finger against his thumb as he pondered. Then his eyes returned to the fire, voice low. “I have a large family in Castle Southguard. A lineage to protect. A long, proud history of a strong name.” Those tapping fingers closed into a fist. “And the Canterrans have taken it all hostage. They are steadily draining the coffers, and every day, the kingdom grows weaker. I grow weaker. Yet they are powerful. Unstoppable. You know nothing of what you do. Ignorant to the machinations around you. A heedless fool playing a master’s game.” He chuckled wheezily. “And here I am, the king, speaking to a near babe.” The black look returned. “Speak,” the man spat. “Speak and make it worthy, or by the gods I so do swear that I shall see you hang on my gates within the hour, the kingdom and your supporters be damned.”

  Augum straightened as he girded himself. He took one calming breath and launched his attack. “My great-grandmother once told me that intrigues follow kings like flies follow lions.” He leaned forward and whispered, “There is someone close to you who is working with the Canterrans. Someone powerful—”

  “The Lord High Steward.” Rupert chortled. “You daft, naive boy. Do you not think I know that? Is that what you brought me as leverage? Something I already know?”

  Augum pushed down the panic that rose in his throat like bile. He kept his voice as level as he could. “Then Your Highness is aware the Lord High Steward has hired the traditional enemy of the Arcaner, Whisper Blade assassins, to murder me, so that Arcaners do not return.”

  “I am, and am most amused—nor do I give a damn. If Arcaners had a hope of returning, they would overcome their traditional enemy on their own. As it is, a certain amount of … corruption, if you will, is necessary if a kingdom is to run properly. It is inevitable and unavoidable. That is why I do not relish Arcaners returning and undermining an already fragile situation.”

  “Your Highness, I firmly believe a just kingdom is vastly more powerful than a corrupt one. My great-grandmother taught me that, as did my former mentor, Sir Westwood, a knight who honorably served King Ridian to his dying breath.”

  “You would think that, would you not? As an Arcaner. What do you know of building kingdoms? You are but a child playing soldier.”

  “With all due respect, Your Highness, I am a man in the eyes of this kingdom. And as for what I know about building a kingdom, admittedly, I know very little, but I do know one thing—it can be built on the foundation of honor and truth.” And here came the great gamble. “We can rebuild the kingdom based on truth, Your Highness.” He flared his shield, displaying the golden-worded Arcaner motto, Semperis vorto honos. “Courage, fortitude, honor.”

  The king glowered, though to Augum’s great relief, he looked over at the words emblazoned along the edge of his black lightning shield.

  “I swear to you on my honor as an Arcaner squire that I believe I can save the kingdom. And here’s how,” and Augum boldly explained his plan to equip all academy warlocks with captured Legion Dreadnought armor, as well as what he needed from the king—the key to the old coal tunnel entrance in the Royal Armory, as well as for its guards to stand down. “I firmly believe I can save this kingdom, Your Highness,” Augum concluded. “And in doing so, I believe I can save your throne, your honor, and your lineage. But I can only do it—” Augum tensed. “—with your help.”

  The king sat mesmerized by the golden words on Augum’s shield. Words as bright as the hearth fire. Words that did not fade … for Augum was telling the truth.

  The Price of Honor

  After a moment of reflection, the king opened his mouth to respond but the door burst open, revealing all three Von Edgeworths—the count, the countess, and Katrina; along with the Lord High Steward, the Lady High Inquisitor, the Lord High Path Disciple, a slew of Black Eagles, and a procession of Solian guards. Darby the Diamond and a retinue of ten hooded overseers, no doubt his elite guard, followed. Eric ran in after, face ashen. Lastly, his mother, the queen, strode in, which prompted everyone to bow, even the Canterrans. Darby only inclined his head, though his eyes were on Augum, and there was a small up-twist to the corner of his mouth.

  Augum glanced from face to face while trying to keep the panic at bay. Out of everyone there, the only other person besides Eric who perhaps had the kingdom
’s interests at heart was the Lady High Inquisitor, Jez’s mortal enemy. And her bony face was inscrutable.

  King Rupert stood, roaring, “What is the meaning of this!”

  Katrina looked at Augum, whose shield was on full display, and her face went slack before contorting in fury.

  Countess Von Edgeworth extended a thin finger at Augum, who stood. “He stole my money. We only just learned of the theft, Your Highness, and when we heard from the guards that he was here, we rushed right over.”

  The weasel-like Lord High Steward strolled forth to hand the king a scroll. “I can confirm the accusation. A traitor working for the Black Bank handed over the entire sum of the account to an Augum Arinthian Stone, a sum that Countess Von Edgeworth lawfully seized. Here is his signature. Further, a bank loan in Augum Stone’s name—which His Highness personally instructed the bank to reject—was unlawfully reapproved—” The man looked to Eric. “—by His Highness’s own son.”

  The king, who had been reading the scroll, looked first to Augum and then to Eric.

  “Father, I can explain—” Eric stuttered, voice cracking.

  Katrina boldly strode forward. “That’s not all my traitorous cousin has been hiding, Uncle.”

  Eric whimpered. “Kat, no—”

  Katrina’s face went ice cold. “Cousin Eric … is a wayward. A wayward, Your Highness. By your own laws, he needs to burn in the purifying fires of The Path.” She took another step toward the king. “I beseech thee, sweet uncle King Rupert, Defender of the Realm, to take me on as your holy daughter in the old way. It would be well within your rights, for I am the daughter of your wife’s sister, whose husband—my father—was slain in the war.” She brought her hands together piously. “A wayward son would condemn your lineage forever, but I would bear you a grandson and ensure your good name and lineage live on eternally and in good standing, as well as ensure the Southguard family lives on safely in Castle Southguard.”

  Augum heard the threat, but had anyone else? Katrina was using the king’s castle and extended family as leverage. Yet Augum dared not say a thing, for it was imperative he choose his timing wisely.

  “My son is not a wayward,” the king sputtered. “That is a malicious fabrication—”

  “Cousin Eric will confirm it himself, Your Highness.” Katrina threw Eric a malevolent gaze, but Eric was shaking, unable to utter a word. “His cowardice has once more overwhelmed him, Uncle.” Katrina shot her arm out at Augum. “Ask him to confirm it on his shield. He must tell the truth, or that shield will dim.”

  All eyes turned to Augum, who wanted to retch. He looked at Eric, who fell to his knees, breathing rapidly like a squirrel. But then Eric did something Augum did not expect. Something that seared itself into Augum’s memory forever. With tears rolling down his cheeks, he looked Augum firmly in the eye, steeled his shaking body, and spat through gritted teeth, “Do it. Tell them. Let them see the unvarnished and damned truth once and for all. Father will never see me for who I truly am otherwise. He would not even believe me if I told him.”

  Augum shook his head. “Eric—”

  “Tell them!” Eric screamed through tears. “Damn you, just tell them. Show them so that it is undeniable. Show them!”

  Augum stared at Eric, willing him to lie, to change his mind, anything.

  “Do it, Augum.” Eric slowly raked a clawed hand across his cheek, as if doing so would pry the waywardness from his flesh. “I cannot live this lie any longer. Do it!”

  “As you wish,” Augum mouthed, unable to say it aloud. “As you wish.” With his shield flaring bright and proud, and knowing what it meant for Eric and for himself, Augum turned to the king. “I so do swear on my shield that what I say is the truth. Eric Southguard … is a wayward.”

  “Behold!” Katrina sang. “For his shield does not dim!”

  “There, now you know,” Eric murmured, the light in his eyes snuffed. “Now you all know.” Five raw scratch marks remained on his cheek, blood dribbling down his neck.

  The bank scroll fell from the king’s trembling hands. He seemed to age twenty years before their eyes. He staggered and Augum had to grab him lest he fall.

  Katrina stepped to the other side of the king and placed delicate hands on his arm. Her words were oily, eyes fixated on Augum. “Your Highness. You must show strength and courage. You know what must be done. For the sake of the kingdom, for the honor of your lineage, for your family and your castle, and for the honor of The Path. You must make an example. We must work with the Canterrans and show them we are strong enough to keep this kingdom intact. That we are capable of leadership in even the most difficult circumstances.”

  The suddenly aged king looked at Darby, who had been watching the dramatics with detached amusement and was now smiling at Katrina with admiration. His overseers loomed behind him, threatening, dangerous.

  Eric jolted and glanced about as if coming out of a stupor. Then he brought his quivering hands together. “Father, please, I cannot help who I am, and the Unnameables know how I’ve tried to make my soul whole …”

  Like an uncoiling viper, the king wrenched himself free from Augum and Katrina. He strode forth to glare down at his son and straightened to his full imposing height.

  Eric’s voice was soft. “Father … I’m your son, your only son. I’m still your baby boy …”

  The king snarled. “I hereby, before all these witnesses, disown you in the old way. You are no longer my son and heir.”

  Eric gasped. He scrunched his robe at his chest and looked to his mother for help. “Mother … please, do something …”

  Lady Ethel Southguard made a show of raising her nose and looking away from her son.

  King Rupert spoke over his son. “What I do now, I do for the kingdom.” He looked to the Black Eagles. “Hang him from the gate for all to see.”

  * * *

  Augum was barely conscious of shouting the same word, over and over. “No! No! No—!” He struggled against the guards, but they were too powerful. He saw Eric’s limp feet drag along the plush carpeting as they took him away. He saw Katrina smiling victoriously at Augum. He heard the king turn to her and proclaim her his true daughter in the old way, a small ceremony that the High Path disciple oversaw, making it official.

  And then the king turned to Augum, who had been arcanely paralyzed by The Butcher. He nodded at the Black Eagle and the man nullified the spell with a flick of his hand. Augum felt his limbs loosen. He breathed heavily, heart thumping, but he stood his ground, ready for the verdict that would proclaim his death.

  The king’s voice was cold and hostile. “Firstly, I hereby order you to return the full amount of money owed to the countess within a tenday, or you will hang until you are dead. Secondly, I order you to prove your loyalty to this kingdom.”

  While Katrina and the countess vehemently professed their disagreement with Augum walking free, Augum stood there stunned, disbelieving what he had heard. Gods, the king believed in Augum, yet he was sacrificing his own son. It made no sense at all.

  “Silence!” roared the king, and the bleating ceased. Rupert continued to glare at Augum. “Lastly, I order you and your cohorts to be taken to the gate to witness the fruits of your labor. To understand why I do what I do.”

  The countess drifted to the king with a sickly sweet smile. “But Your Highness—” she began, only to be quelled by a furious look from the man. She dropped her head and stepped away.

  The king flicked two fingers and Ethios Kamagant grabbed Augum’s arm and led him away, followed by a procession of guards.

  * * *

  Augum, Haylee and Leera, wearing their coats once more, were made to stand in the snow in the outer ward, surrounded by a throng of people and guards, as Eric was led to stand on the walkway high atop the front gate. Black Eagles stood beside Canterran overseers. Path Disciples roamed freely, gesturing to the gods and whispering prayers for the souls of those who were watching. Everyone of import was present … except for the king and quee
n.

  “Few understand a king and the choices he must make for his kingdom,” a cold voice said from behind them.

  Augum turned to see the Lady High Inquisitor.

  “But all must understand that, in the end, a king must do what is best for his kingdom.” She surreptitiously pressed a leather pouch into Augum’s hand. “Do not attempt to save him, for it will only cause you grief.” And just so he understood, her eyes flicked meaningfully to Leera before she strode off, leaving him white-knuckling the pouch, inside of which he could feel the outline of a key.

  Leera and Haylee lowered their eyes as a Path Disciple stepped before the trio. He raised his hands skyward, closed his eyes, and spoke in a rhythmic singing voice. “Allow me to bless thee and ward thee from evil. Waywards must burn, and although we have been denied that pleasure on this evening, we must rejoice in the death of a demonic soul corrupted by the tantalizations of the devil. May the Unnameables purify that soul. Bless you for witnessing the purification.” Then the man stepped to the next group of people and repeated the chant.

  Leera grabbed Augum’s shoulder to steady herself. “I’m going to be sick.”

  Haylee, meanwhile, kept her head down and quietly wept.

  Only Augum watched, damn his soul, for he needed to witness the consequences of his choices. He needed to see what his hubris had brought to bear upon a good person.

  A black-hooded man placed a noose around Eric’s neck. The Lord High Steward, who stood on the walkway near Eric, then proclaimed, “Our lord king has renounced Eric Davinius Chestin Southguard. The former prince and heir has been found guilty of living antithetically to the Unnameables, and thus The Path, by choosing to live as a wayward. The king has hereby sentenced him to hang until he is dead. May the rope purify his soul and the Unnameables forgive him.”

  Haylee dropped to her knees, shoulders heaving, while Leera buried her face in Augum’s chest. He numbly gathered her close, but did not look away.