Severance (The Sovereign Book 1)

by Michael Pritsos

  Xander had to think for a moment while he chewed. “Seventeen oars a side, Your Majesty.”

  “You’re a good soldier, Xander,” the king announced suddenly. He took a sip from the gilded goblet at his hand. Xander struggled thankfulness through a full mouth. “How old are you, my boy?”

  The watchman poured himself a small cup of water and washed down the bread. “I am newly twenty-four, Your Majesty.”

  “Ah,” Philip replied. His brow furrowed once more. “A tad young.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You know that although you wear that blue and yellow cloak of Sir Aldous’ house you still belong to me,” King Philip announced suddenly. “You’ve sworn no oath to Aldous, I hope?”

  “No, Your Majesty,” Xander said reverently. He was puzzled by the tangent but said nothing.

  “Age may have little to do with anything when it comes to stalwart fighters,” Philip continued. “If you’re half the man my son proclaimed you to be then I would not regret giving you command of that ship Brennus captured.”

  “Giving me the ship, Your Majesty?” Xander was incredulous.

  “I would make you a lieutenant under Brennus’ leadership,” King Philip said.

  “Ah,” Xander started.

  “This worries you?” the king asked.

  “It sounds nice but certainly there must be someone more suitable for the job,” Xander said. “My position in Sir Aldous’ household is already one of respect that—”

  “That goes nowhere,” Philip interrupted. “You won’t achieve anything under that old windbag.” Xander looked aghast for a moment but Patrick’s guffaw broke the discomfort. Philip continued, “Ah, Aldous is a good man but he is content to sit on that island for the rest of his days. Then who will replace him? You? No. No one will replace him because his position is not truly necessary any more after those Gaian bastards murdered my son. Now we have hundreds of men stationed on Triton and Aldous’ fifty will not make or break that. He is given a level of respect because he’s a good man and he deserves it, but my son did not request your transfer to that island for you to be stuck in a second-rate status for all your days.”

  Roselyn glanced up from her plate for a heartbeat.

  “I count myself lucky to have found the position I am in,” Xander replied.

  The king smiled. “I am offering you a chance to command your own men in full, under my name of course, and still have a place to live on Triton. Your pay will increase and you should know by now that commanders of vessels have the prospect of earning even more riches from loot. You have to send some my way, of course.”

  Xander felt his heart quicken and suddenly realized this was the course he wished to take. Whether it was a massive responsibility or not. I can manage this. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  “Take heed,” the king said curtly to Patrick. The nobleman sat up straight as though awaiting a lesson. “There are three knights under my direct employ, and each of those three has three captains under them. That means that nine captains are sworn to me, and Brennus is one of those nine. He’s a great fighter, loyal to a fault, and by rights should already be commanding a hundred or so soldiers. This is an opportunity for me to reward Brennus by giving him another ship in his command and all the warriors that go with that ship, rewarding his service and all the while placing my son’s friend at an advantage as well. Everyone wins, except for House Niall of course, but they should not have lost their ships in the first place.”

  “Clever, Your Majesty,” Patrick said dutifully. “You have tied Brennus to you further and also ensured Xander’s loyalty, though I doubt there were any problems with either man to begin with.”

  King Philip snorted. “You reward those who bring you favor, son-in-law, not the ones who disappoint. The ones who disappoint may be jealous at the start, yes, but if they have good heads on their shoulders they will only work harder to be in that favor as well. Besides, House Niall has plenty in its own coffers to figure out what they need to do to replace those vessels.”

  Patrick merely nodded.

  “So, young Xander,” Philip began, suddenly swiveling to meet the gaze of his soldier. “Do you accept?”

  Xander nodded. His stomach was filled with a rush of anxiety and excitement. This meant massive life changes but also gave the prospect for more. It gave the prospect for glory and wealth, a life he had never dreamed of before and would not have dared dream unless he was in his present circumstance. There was worry there too, though. Was he truly the warrior that he hoped he displayed himself to be? Was his survival of that first skirmish testament to his prowess, or merely luck? He prayed to the gods he would not be a disappointment.

  “You shall figure out all the details when you get back to Triton, I’m sure,” Philip began. “However, you should know that with a thirty-four oar vessel you’ll need at least thirty men to man it. Forty if you want to man it well.”

  “I am not sure what Sir Aldous will think of all this,” Xander stated. “I don’t know many men outside of his guard but I would be hesitant about taking any of his troops to fill my own benches.”

  “I’ll have his ranks filled within a week,” Philip said with a gesture that suggested the topic was as meaningful as a fly in the room. He belched after that, and stood from the table with a wobble that required his wife’s arm. “We are to retire for the night. I am glad we had this chat, Lieutenant. You’re a fine young man. If you want to sleep in the castle have a servant find some quarters for you, I’m sure a bed would be preferable to sleeping on the deck of a ship. You’ll be doing plenty of that in due time anyway!”

  The king’s hearty laugh bounced off the walls of the dining room and when he left a silence descended upon the three remaining at the table. Xander looked at Roselyn and saw that her face was fuller than he remembered it, but it suited her. She had a glow about her even when she appeared uncomfortable during certain moments of the conversation. Patrick finished his meal quietly at Xander’s side. He noticed the nobleman still wore the green and white of his household despite his position on Pontos, however there was a new ring on the middle finger of his left hand made of solid gold with a ruby the size of a thumbnail set in the middle. The royal colors, Xander thought. Perhaps it was a gift.

  Patrick poured some wine into a goblet and slid it Xander’s way. “I propose a toast to your new position and status.” He fingered Xander’s silver chain and gave a wry smile.

  “Hah,” Xander allowed. “A position you would rather I didn’t have.”

  Roselyn laughed but Patrick never missed a beat. Always deft with words he replied, “Don’t take offense to that. I was merely giving my father-in-law another option to ponder. He hates when others share opinions different from his own.”

  “He’s a king,” Roselyn declared. “He’s not used to it.”

  “Well,” Patrick began, glancing at his wife and back to Xander. “The problem was that Daemyn apparently hardly gave any opinions of his own and when he did it was only to share distrust of the Gaians. A notion King Philip agrees with wholeheartedly.”

  “He was definitely his father’s son,” Xander said. He took a sip of his wine. The rich aroma penetrated his nostrils and flared into his senses with expensive relish. Xander suppressed a cough at what he was unused to.

  “Truly though, I am happy for you,” Patrick said. “Your opinion will be looked for now in matters of the state. Tied to Brennus you should do well.”

  “Thank you,” Xander replied. The young man’s pleasure was etched all over his face.

  “Congratulations, Xander,” Roselyn stated. She took a sip of water and forced a smile. “It seems you know your way around the world more than anyone would have thought.”

  “Thank you, Princess,” Xander replied dutifully. The atmosphere grew uncomfortable after a few moments of silence and so he downed his goblet and stood. “I think I shall take my leave now.”

  Patrick stood and offered his hand. “You’re certain you do not wish to stay
in the castle tonight?”

  “No,” Xander answered graciously. “I have friends on Brennus’ ship that I would like to tell the good news. Caedmon will be waiting up for me I don’t doubt.”

  “Ah,” Roselyn said in slight recognition of the name. “How does he fair in Triton’s service?”

  “Well enough,” Xander answered.

  “How about that girl you were seen with so often on the isle?” Patrick asked with a beam. “The Gaian?”

  “Ana was her name,” Roselyn said. She feigned interest like a maid who was in love with the idea of love. “How do things fare with her, Xander?”

  “That goes well too,” he replied. Xander could hardly suppress a smile at the jealousy writ in Roselyn’s narrowed blue eyes. “She awaits me on the ship as well.”

  “Much joy to you,” Patrick offered and downed his goblet in toast.

  Roselyn muttered something similar and followed suit with her water. When she stood it took Xander aback at how large she had gotten in her pregnancy. Her stomach pushed her dress far before her and her breasts and backside were full. She used the chair to steady herself and gain her balance before Patrick moved to her side to take an arm. The princess appeared tired but it only accentuated her beauty. Xander felt a pang of jealousy for the nobleman but it was short-lived. His view of Patrick had only gotten better with time. It is truly hard to hate this man, Xander thought.

  He took his leave and gave courteous farewells before walking from the castle towards Pontos’ dock. Xander had been excited to see his old city before he arrived but with the recent news he hardly took any notice of what the stars and torchlight had to show him as he strode swiftly down the cobblestones of Pontos’ main street. The taverns and shops were all closed and dark. Even most of the houses had less than candlelight to illuminate their insides as everyone slept off the day’s work.

  Caedmon hailed him before he even got aboard the Victory and found that Ana had awaited his return as well. The other sailors were all sleeping but Caedmon and Ana stayed wide awake as he regaled them with the night’s happenings. Xander made certain not to linger too long on Roselyn’s description for fear of any prying Ana might do to his mind. Caedmon was a torrent of excitement when Xander announced his new position in Thalassa’s military.

  “You’re a leader of men in full, now!” Caedmon exclaimed.

  “Don’t be so nervous about it,” Ana said suddenly. Her hand flew to her mouth as if it could have held those words back if it had not arrived late to the scene. “I’m sorry…”

  Xander smiled despite himself. “It’s all right. I know my thoughts must be a screaming mess of nerves right now… I’m trying not to think of it. I know I’ll be fine.” He turned to Caedmon. “I’m supposed to handpick my crew. I was hoping that you may wish to transfer.”

  Caedmon smiled gently and stole a glance to the cabin. He was lost in thought for a moment. “I’m sorry my friend but I have a good thing going here. Brennus is a good captain and I’ve grown to like these sailors.”

  “I would make you a watchman on my ship,” Xander said quickly. “It’s more money… and command of a few men.”

  “A tempting offer,” Caedmon admitted. He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Even still, I wish to stay on this vessel.”

  Xander frowned but Ana put a placating hand on his armored shoulder. “All right, Caedmon. If that’s what you want…”

  “Don’t look so sad,” Caedmon said cheerily. He moved to his flagon of wine perched on an ale barrel just a few feet away. “Let’s celebrate!”

  They passed the wine between the three of them and Xander drank deep. His head was spinning by the time he handed the flagon back to a grinning Caedmon and he laughed heartily. Xander grimaced and his friend took a long draught to finish the flagon. The cheap wine had a bitter aftertaste that lingered on Xander’s tongue but he cherished the flavor. There was nowhere he would rather be.

  Donovan

  The Gaian captain grunted as he spilled his seed on his scullion’s belly. He pushed himself off the bed and beckoned to Ismael in the corner and the man moved forward humbly with a cup of water. Donovan downed it all in one draught and wiped his lips satisfactorily. Ismael moved to the other side of the bed to receive the dirtied rag from the scullion girl and bowed from the room. Donovan looked to the young woman to find that she was already curling up in the linen sheets to fall asleep but he did not stop her. He would wake her and send her from the room when he needed rest himself.

  Elianna was pretty in her foreign way. With curly hair that fell in tight ringlets to frame her face. Her chocolate gaze was set in doe eyes that looked meek, and he found that to be the most attractive thing about her. That and the fact that she could no more read his mind than Ismael could and she hardly had any words to say unless he required her speech. She was wearing nothing save a light silver chain studded with garnets Donovan had gifted her on a night she had especially pleased him. The dark red stones were an exact match to her nipples, which peaked out from beneath the folds of linen she wrapped her ivory body inside.

  He dressed in silence, first putting on a pair of forest green trousers followed by a silk tunic of the same hue. His cuirass of leather came next, black and oiled to a sheen to contrast the battered one he had just weeks prior. He pulled on high black boots to match the cuirass and after buckling the steel shortsword to his hip Donovan donned his cloak. The dark green cloth with leather lining smelled of a fresh cleaning and he almost wished to thank the scullion for going above and beyond her duties daily but thought it best to leave the sleeping girl be. He draped a chain of silver around his neck and placed a gold ring on each hand before leaving his quarters.

  It was only dusk outside. The windows brought a dying golden light into the room but a chill had rustled through the house and Donovan had Ismael close the wooden shutters. A meal was already prepared for him of mutton and potatoes mashed to a thick paste. He ate the food without any true hunger, knowing only that it was necessary for sustenance while remarking to himself that he should fire his current cook and hire one with better seasoning skills.

  Seth walked in and ushered the two guardsmen posted at the door aside with hardly a word. Donovan chuckled to see the assassin already possessing adeptness with command after only a few months of being elevated. He wore the sinew cord lined with great cat’s bicuspids, another present gifted from Donovan after Lucas, son of Lucian, and his friends were found dehydrated in a steam room of Tartarus. The men had been shriveled nearly beyond recognition, and it had appeared that they must have gotten locked in by accident. Such a tragedy, Donovan thought with a smirk.

  “The admiral would have a word with you,” Seth announced. He plopped himself into one of the lavish oaken chairs in Donovan’s kitchen and spooned a heap of potatoes onto an empty saucer.

  Donovan ignored the insolence. “Concerning?”

  “I have no idea,” Seth replied with a full mouth. The scars on his cheeks stretched obscenely as he chewed. Quite suddenly he stopped. “Do you have work for me?”

  “High Guard’s pay not enough for the son of a beggar?” Donovan mused.

  “I have gambling debts to pay off,” Seth said. “I suppose I just could make those disappear by other means…”

  “And have one less gambling ringleader in this town because of it?” Donovan sneered. “How many men will have lost their lives because of your own stupidity?”

  “Since when did you care?”

  “It’s money, Seth,” Donovan barked. The high guardsman leaned back from the table and arched his eyebrows. “It all gets down to money. Tartarus only has so many people willing to get into that way of life and once you start scrubbing out the names then others will not be so willing to fill dead men’s shoes.”

  “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Seth said. He tried to appear humble but his eyes betrayed his insincerity.

  “The problem is that you don’t think,” Donovan retorted. He placed his head in his hands
in thought for a moment. “I can have you collect some money for me. I loaned out a half-pound of gold to a couple businessmen from Bia two weeks ago. They promised two ounces on top of the amount they borrowed.”

  “Bia?” Seth said dubiously. “What the hell are they doing over here?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care,” Donovan said. He took his last bite of mutton and left the plate. Before leaving the room he turned back. “Get the money. You can keep one ounce.”

  “I need more than that,” Seth muttered.

  “That’s your problem, not mine,” Donovan answered. “Put your money into a couple slave girls and put them on the streets. You’ll make it all back in time.”

  “There’s no slave market in Tartarus this time of year, you know that,” Seth growled. “We haven’t raided the Eastern Lands in months.”

  Donovan shrugged. “Talk to someone who already has girls and buy them.”

  “Why don’t you sell me that kitchen slut you keep?” Seth suggested with a leer. “I’ll make my money back in a couple weeks with that one.”

  “She’s mine,” Donovan said curtly. He stalked from the house in the direction of Admiral Ultan’s manor.

  When he entered the first thing Donovan noticed was the lack of diversity in Ultan’s bland seating room. There were eighteen other captains there and all were wearing either iron or steel mail, green cloaks of Gaia, light grey tunics and black trousers. Some greeted him with inclined heads while others did their best to not even look in his direction. Typical, Donovan thought with a sneer. Acclaim on the one hand and disdain on the other.

  The thoughts of the captains were a medley of confusion. Why were they being summoned past dusk when most of them would rather be in a tavern? A better question was perhaps why they did not just meet in a tavern to kill both birds with the same stone. Ultan was standing at the front of the room with a piece of tattered parchment in his right hand while his left rested on the pommel of a decorated steel shortsword. The man did have a presence about him. That much was true. To compensate for his lack of height Ultan often stood with his back completely erect. In the rare moment when he wore a helmet throughout the town he chose to wear one with a crest of silver horsehair, the top of which only rose an inch or so above Donovan’s tall frame.