CHAPTER 47
“I don’t care, Fillmore,” Brock replied. “I said it because I meant it.”
“But Sire, having a king and queen rule jointly is a recipe for disaster.” The magistrate responded. “It’s just not done. It’s never been done.”
Brock sighed. “Just because something hasn’t been done does not mean that it’s not possible. Trust me on that.” He stood, tired of sitting behind the blasted desk. “If you’re worried about us disagreeing, just include a line that I have the final word. However, when I am not present, Ashland has full rights to rule in my stead!”
He hadn’t meant to shout, but Brock’s patience was wearing thin. The discussion had gone on an hour and had been preceded by numerous similar discussions over the past month.
Looking about the room, Brock found fear reflecting in the eyes that stared back at him. With the exception of Budakis, the six men and three women in the room feared Brock despite his friendly nature. Brock glanced at Budakis again, his eyes narrowing in thought.
Just as well, Brock thought. As long as they listen and do their job, it doesn’t matter what they think.
“I believe we are done here.” Brock announced. “The wedding is tomorrow, and I have other things to attend to. Write up the documents as we discussed so they’re ready for the ceremony.”
With nods and quiet thanks, the Clerks and Magistrates exited the room, leaving only Brock and Budakis behind.
“That was frustrating,” Brock said as soon as the door closed.
Budakis shrugged. “They’re still trying to get comfortable with your way of doing things.” He smiled. “You scare them, you know.”
Brock frowned. “Why would they be scared of me, Gunther? That wouldn’t be your doing, would it?”
The man shrugged, but the smile on his face betrayed the truth. “I don’t think it matters. As long as they respect you, everything should work itself out.”
Brock frowned. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I have no idea how to be King. How long will they respect me if they think I’m incompetent?”
Budakis shook his head. “You’ll be fine. You’ve a good head on your shoulders and have displayed more integrity and compassion than most others in your position. It won’t always be easy, but I can’t imagine you putting your own agenda ahead of the good of Kantaria. That’s where thing usually go sideways.”
Brock sighed and let the conversation end there. When he reluctantly accepted the position of King, he had done so in fear that someone who might abuse the authority would take it if he didn’t. It still felt odd that the Ministry could just declare him King and that others would accept it. Kantar officials appeared oddly at ease with the transition, seemingly satisfied to have someone, anyone, hoist the burden of responsibility left untended after the imprisonment of the former Prelate and key members of his staff.
Standing to stretch his legs, Brock crossed the room and peered out the large window. His office stood five stories above the square and offered a wonderful view of the city below. The sun was low in the sky, hovering above the dark blue ocean beyond the city walls. The sea mist left a haze over the water and obscured the view of the ships sailing within the harbor.
Brock’s gaze shifted toward Lower Kantar, the area of the city that had been his home for so long. Back then, Brock had rarely visited Upper Kantar and couldn’t even imagine living within the Citadel. It amazed him how things had changed.
He leaned forward, resting his palms on the windowsill when a commotion in the square below caught his attention. A two-horse wagon carrying a half-dozen men and a massive object rode across the stone pavement, toward the center of the square. The white sheet covering the object rippled in the breeze. Brock’s eyes went wide when he realized what it was.
“I forgot to tell you, Bennett stopped by earlier to report that he was finished.” Budakis said as he sidled beside Brock and peered out the window.
Brock smiled, “He did it in time for the wedding, too.”
Budakis shrugged. “Yeah. He complained about the hours he spent on it, but I reminded him of how much you were paying and the complaints stopped immediately. He told me he’d be back to install it before sunset.”
“I need to go find Ashland,” Brock turned from the window. “I plan to take her down to the square to see it if you’d like to join us.”
Budakis snorted. “You know I’ll have to send an escort with you if I don’t.”
Brock reached the door. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m King now, and I need protection. I don’t like it, but I get it.”
Budakis replied, “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Brock gave the man a nod and slipped out the door. He walked down the hall, turned left and took the stairs down to the next level. After walking down another corridor, he turned the corner and found Ashland stepping from the third door on the left. She pulled the door closed and glanced down the hallway, smiling when she spotted Brock approaching.
“So, how are your parents?” Brock asked.
Ashland shrugged. “In shock, I guess.” She glanced back at the door she had just closed. “Less than two weeks ago, they were basically slaves living in a tiny dilapidated shack. I get the feeling that they don’t believe me when I tell them that this is their new home and they don’t have to work fifteen hours a day without pay.” She smiled. “Just wait until they see what we’re having for dinner.”
Brock nodded, understanding since he had gone through a similar transition with his father. As if thinking of Milan conjured the man, he emerged from a room further down the hallway. Milan spotted Brock and headed toward him.
“Brock,” Milan said. “I need to speak with you.”
Brock sighed, expecting that he already knew the subject.
“What is it, Father?”
“I need something to do, Brock,” Milan complained. “This place is wonderful and the food is amazing, but at least the tannery kept me busy and made me feel productive.”
“We’ve been through this,” Brock replied. “I’ll figure something out. I’m still getting a feel for what I’m supposed to be doing, let alone what else might need to be done. When something suitable comes up, I’ll let you know.”
Milan grunted, not appearing satisfied with the response.
Brock changed the subject. “Since both of you are here, I thought you might like to join me to inspect our delivery.”
“Sure. What delivery?” Ashland asked.
“I’ve got nothing else to do,” Milan replied with a shrug.
“Good.” Brock nodded. “Let’s go down to the square, and you can witness the unveiling.”
Brock held his arm out toward Ashland, who looped her hand inside his elbow. He led them down the stairs, continuing beyond the second story to the main level. When they emerged from the stairwell, Brock heard a commotion. Budakis and another guard were facing a woman who was shouting at them.
“…telling you that I know him. If you’ll just tell him that Sally’s here, he will speak with me. I know it.”
“Sally?” Brock said, interrupting her.
The woman craned her neck to see around the two large men who blocked her view. Brock smiled when he saw her handsome face and long blonde curls.
“Brock!” Sally cried, pushing past the two men. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Brock released Ashland’s arm and met the woman with a hug.
“It’s great to see you, too,” Brock replied. “What’s this about?”
She released him and stepped back. “It’s my tavern. Now that the laws treats Unchosen like anyone else, almost nobody goes down there. You’re proclamation is appr
eciated, but it’s also killing my business.”
“I’m sorry, Sally,” Brock replied. “I’ll figure out a plan to help you out.”
Ashland extended her hand toward Sally. “It’s nice to meet you, Sally. I’m Brock’s fiancée, Ashland.”
Sally pushed Ashland’s hand aside and leaned in to give her a hug. Brock saw her eyes widen as she looked over Ashland’s shoulder and found Brock’s father standing behind her.
“Milan?” Sally said, releasing Ashland. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”
“Hi Sally,” Milan replied. “You look amazing. It’s been what, twelve years?”
She nodded as a smile bloomed across her face. Milan smiled in return. Brock even found himself smiling.
“Far too long, Milan,” Sally said. “Did you ever remarry after Emily died?”
Milan’s smile faltered. “No. I…never really thought about it.”
“You stopped coming to the taproom after she died.”
“I know…I…just felt like it was no longer a place for me.”
Brock thought about it and realized what his father meant. Milan had a rune while Sally’s taproom was a place for Unchosen. He had been introduced to it by Emily and felt like he no longer belonged after she died.
Sally stepped closer and placed her hand on his cheek. “You can come see me anytime, Milan.”
Milan stared into her eyes for a long moment. “I’d like that, Sally.”
Brock’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening. Ashland grabbed his arm, dragging him away.
“We’ll leave you two to catch up,” Ashland said. “Brock and I are going outside before it gets dark.”
She led him toward the door, leaving Milan and Sally behind. Brock glanced backward one last time, seeing his father and Sally staring at each other. When he passed Budakis, the man and the guard followed them outside.
They crossed the large platform outside the main doors and descended the steps to floor of the square, now half-covered by shadows cast by the setting sun. The workers were using a series of poles as makeshift wheels to roll the towering, sheet-covered form down the ramp they had placed behind the wagon.
As the flat base of the delivered item rolled down the ramp and onto the stone tiles of the square, the workers removed the poles and the ramp before setting them back into the wagon. By the time Brock and his companions reached the area, the wagon was loaded and the driver coerced his team into motion, pulling the wagon toward the entrance to Upper Kantar.
“Hello, Bennett,” Brock approached a man with long brown hair, tied into a tail behind his head.
Bennett turned toward Brock. “Hello, Brock…um…er…your Majesty.”
Brock smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Bennett. I’m still getting used to it myself.”
Bennett nodded, appearing relieved.
“Can you take the sheet off so I can see it?” Brock asked.
A pained look crossed Bennett’s face. “I was hoping to reveal it just before the ceremony, when I had an audience.”
“You can put the sheet back on after we’re done. I can’t wait until tomorrow.” Brock glanced at Ashland. “My mind will be on other things.”
She smiled and he smiled back.
“Okay, fine.” Bennett grumbled.
The artist approached the tall form and grabbed ahold of the rope tied around the base. He unwound it, walking around the fifteen-foot tall object three times before the sheet came loose. With a look toward Brock, Bennett gave the sheet a jerk and stepped back to pull it free.
The setting sun shone upon the tall statue, causing its bronze surface to reflect the orange light. When he had commissioned Bennett to carve the statue, Brock had described his vision in detail to ensure that the man understood what Brock hoped he might achieve. The reality of what the man created was beyond anything Brock had imagined.
Ashland gasped and lifted her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my. It’s amazing.”
Brock gazed in awe at the giant statue. The creation depicted an uncanny likeness to Tipper, pointing toward the western horizon. Beside him stood a massive dog, appearing defiant and proud. Tears began to track down Brock’s cheeks as he gazed at the masterpiece. He missed both Tipper and Wraith fiercely. Brock’s gaze drifted to the base of the statue, where he found words carved into the pedestal.
Ashland read the words aloud. “A hero resides within each of us. Be the best you can be.”
Brock nodded at the words, sighing as he wiped the tears away.
“You did a wonderful job, Bennett,” Brock said. “You’ve earned your commission. Budakis, please pay the man.”
Budakis reached into his coat, pulled out a purse, and began counting out coins.
“Thank you for the opportunity, your Majesty.” Bennett replied. “Just having my name on something within the Citadel is sure to earn me future business.”
Brock nodded and glanced up at the stature one last time. I miss you, Brock thought as he looked at the carving. He and Ashland turned to head back into the building.
“I have something to tell you,” Ashland said.
“Okay. What is it?”
“You’re going to be a father.” She said, smiling coyly.
Brock stopped. “What? I’m…how did that happen?”
Her smile became even more devious. “Well, you and I were together in our room and you took my…”
Brock interrupted her, feeling his face grow flush. “I know how it works. I just didn’t…think…I didn’t expect… ”
“My, for someone so smooth with words, you’re certainly having issues right now.”
Budakis approached after having paid Bennett. “Is something wrong, your Majesty?”
“It appears that I’m going to be a father,” Brock replied, feeling a bit frightened as the reality dawned on him. “Things are sure to get interesting with a little heir to the throne running around here.”
“Yes,” Ashland said as she wrapped her arms about Brock. “We’re about to begin another adventure together.”
Brock smiled as he stared into her crystal blue eyes. “And I couldn’t be happier.”
A Note from the Author
Brock’s story ends here, but there are other tales yet to be told within the world of Issalia. More books will follow, leading to new adventures and discoveries.
I thank you for joining Brock and his companions on their quest, allowing me to share the characters who have become such an important part of my life. If you enjoyed the book and the series, please spread the word by:
-Posting reviews on sites such as Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Goodreads
-Sharing on social media such as Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram
-Telling a friend who might enjoy the book
Regards,
Jeffrey L Kohanek
For information about Jeffrey’s books, the world of Issalia,
and upcoming author events, visit:
www.JeffreyLKohanek.com
View select Black Rose Writing eBooks at http://www.blackrosewriting.com/ebooks.
www.blackrosewriting.com
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An Empire in Runes (The Runes of Issalia Book 3) Page 29
