Weight of the Crown

by A. C. Cobble

  “That’s what I was missing,” he said with a contented sigh. Surveying the men and bared blades, he asked, “Now, which one of you took my sword and knives?”

  “Return his weapons,” instructed General Brinn to his men. Turning to Ben, he added, “See? I told you he was trouble. You can have him.”

  A guard frantically unslung a pair of long knives and tossed them at the rogue’s feet. Contemptuously, Rhys stooped and collected them. He took another drink before slipping the harness over his shoulders.

  “I’ve got your sword,” said Ben quickly, unsheathing the blade and handing it to Rhys.

  “Is that Jason’s?” asked Lloyd quietly, eyeing the second longsword on Ben’s back.

  “It’s yours if you want it,” offered Ben.

  Lloyd frowned.

  Amelie added, “That sword belongs to the ruler of Irrefort, Lloyd.”

  Lloyd stared at them, speechless.

  “I am the ruler of Irrefort,” interjected Lady Selene icily.

  “You are a traitor to Issen,” declared Amelie, “and right now, you are on Issen’s soil.”

  “A trap!” cried Councilman Graff. He raised his hands, letting energy build in his palms.

  “That is a bad idea, mage,” rumbled Earnest John from behind Ben and Amelie.

  The councilman shot the giant warrior-mage an angry glare. Then, he paused, a worried frown creasing his face. His eyes darted to Elle and then back to the shock-haired Earnest John. After a moment, Graff stepped back and dropped his hands, a frightened look in his eyes.

  Lady Selene stared at her mage before turning to her daughter. “There is an army behind us who will object to my capture. They will not allow you to rule them, daughter.”

  “I do not plan to,” responded Amelie calmly.

  A long moment passed. Then, Lady Selene finally broke eye contact with Amelie and looked to Lloyd. The blademaster met her gaze but did not speak. Finally, Lady Selene instructed Graff, “Alert our men to prepare for battle.”

  The Councilman did not respond to her, though. Instead, he looked to Amelie and Lloyd. “What are your intentions?”

  “The Coalition may maintain the territory it held prior to marching on Issen,” said Amelie. “If you declare Lloyd your king, you will have no contest from us. If he accepts the charge, Lloyd will rule as an independent monarch, not as a vassal of Issen. What he does with the existing council and Irrefort’s highborn will be up to him.”

  Graff pursed his lips, studied the impassive Lloyd, then allowed, “Fair enough.”

  “Are you sure you’re strong enough for this?” snarled Selene to Amelie.

  Amelie stared back at her mother. “I was strong enough to stop the demon-king. I was strong enough to face the Veil. I was strong enough to retake Issen, stop the war, and save the people. I’m stronger than you, Mother.”

  Blank-faced, Lady Selene responded, “I believe you are right, daughter. You are strong, strong like I knew you could be. You’ve grown into the woman I dreamed you would be.”

  “Do not think to flatter me and save yourself,” growled Amelie.

  “You are my daughter,” said Lady Selene, “and I am a proud mother. Everything I did, I did for you.”

  Amelie shook her head angrily.

  Selene turned to Lloyd. “Your brother was a powerful man, strong and bold. The strongest I have ever met. Will you be strong as well? I care not how you rule Irrefort after I am gone, but will you watch my daughter’s flank and be loyal to her?”

  “I pledged my allegiance to Amelie a long time ago,” said Lloyd.

  Lady Selene turned to Ben and studied him. “I do not understand you, Benjamin Ashwood. If you bedded my daughter to find wealth and power, you have been successful, but you certainly took a strange path to get there.”

  “I-I—” stammered Ben.

  “It’s okay, Ben,” murmured Amelie. She turned to General Brinn. “May I beg the use of your irons?”

  The general gestured to his men, and moving nervously, they walked to the Coalition party and knelt, clapping the manacles that had secured Rhys around Lady Selene’s wrists and ankles. The lady remained stoic, and her eyes never left Amelie’s face.

  “Please tell me you do not mean for the rogue to rule in Whitehall,” begged General Brinn.

  “No,” said Amelie. “I had someone else in mind.”

  The general blinked at her, uncomprehending.

  “You, General Brinn.”

  “I, ah, I’m no highborn lord,” mumbled Brinn.

  “And that’s why you may make a good king,” responded Amelie.

  “The highborn will complain,” protested the general.

  “They can talk, but you have the army,” reminded Ben.

  “Ah, am I to pledge loyalty to you?” wondered Brinn. “I, well, I don’t know how this kind of thing works.”

  Amelie shook her head. “I have no desire to rule the world, General. Instead of a pledge to me, I ask that you make a pledge to peace. I ask that you pledge to enact fair and just laws in your lands. I ask that you refrain from the petty, divisive squabbles that have torn this continent apart. I ask that instead of marching to war, when our nations have a conflict, we meet and settle it with words instead of steel and fire. I ask that you listen to your people. And I ask that you rule the way you would like to be ruled.”

  Brinn paused then stated, “Lady Amelie, I will do the best I can. It will not be easy.”

  Amelie smiled at him. “No, General Brinn, it will not be easy. It will be the most difficult thing you have ever done. It will be the most difficult thing that any of us has ever done. Rebellion is easy. Breaking the system of old is easy. Wearing the crown and doing something new is difficult. But it will be worth it.”

  Brinn dropped to one knee and drew his sword, placing it cross-wise in front of him. “Lady Amelie, if you ever have need, I am at your service.”

  Lloyd moved between the ranks and knelt beside Brinn. He went to draw his sword, but Ben unsheathed the one on his back and handed it to the blademaster. Nodding thanks, the man set the sword in front of him like Brinn’s and offered the same pledge.

  “You do not need to kneel before me. I am not your liege,” declared Amelie, “but I hope I am your friend. Rise. Rise and go to your people, to your homes. You have much to do.”

  17

  Hero

  Ben scratched at the thick wool britches and, for the hundredth time, wished he could have found something more comfortable.

  “You look like you fell into a patch of itchy brambles,” accused Lady Towaal.

  “These pants…”

  “You’re nervous?” asked the mage.

  Ben frowned.

  “It’s okay,” she assured him. “Everyone gets nervous speaking in front of people. It takes years of practice before it becomes a comfortable thing. Of course, you’ve had almost forty years of practice, so I don’t know why you are being such a baby about it.”

  He grunted. “I’ve never spoken in front of a group like this. Do you have anything to drink in this place?”

  “Tea,” replied Lady Towaal.

  “I’m told your predecessor loved tea,” said Ben, glancing behind Towaal’s shoulder at the verdant foliage visible through the open doors behind her. “Didn’t she grow tea back there in the garden?”

  Towaal snorted. “Tea is not made for this climate. It thrives in high altitude regions that are cooler than the City. It needs ample rain and good drainage. She grew tea here, it’s true, but she forced it. Her tea flourished unnaturally. The plants became sickly and died the moment she stopped sustaining them with her will. You cannot force something to do what it is not, and tea is not meant to grow in the City.”

  “I’d like an ale, then,” responded Ben.

  Sighing, the mage picked up a small bell off her desk and rang it.

  In moments, a slim girl in a white dress ducked her head through the doorway. “Yes, m’lady?”

  “A chilled ale for my fr
iend,” requested Towaal. Then, she glanced at Ben. “Make it a pitcher.”

  “Your wish, m’lady.” The girl ducked out of sight and quietly shut the door.

  “Being the Veil has its perks,” acknowledged Ben.

  “Not nearly as many perks as it does headaches,” responded Towaal. “How is being Lord of Issen?”

  Ben shrugged. “Amelie does most of the work. She is made for that kind of leadership. I am not. She trained her entire life to rule that city, and now, she does it well.”

  “So do you,” chided Towaal. “At least, when you try. We get reports, you know. Even amongst our allies, the Sanctuary has its spies. You’re a man of the people, I’m told, always in public, mixing with the common folk and listening to their challenges. Teaching them when it’s possible, supporting them when it’s required. You’re showing them how to live by your example. You’re establishing a system of governance that allows your people to succeed. Issen and the lands around it are thriving, Ben, thanks in part to Amelie, but also in large part to you. The pair of you is showing the world how to rule.”

  Ben grunted but did not respond.

  A knock on the door interrupted them, and the girl returned with the pitcher of ale and an empty pewter mug. Ben grabbed the mug and found it was chilled.

  “We should get these in Issen,” he remarked appreciatively.

  “I’m surprised there’s an innovation in ale drinking you are not aware of,” said Towaal with a laugh.

  “I’m not Rhys, and I don’t drink as much as I used to,” complained Ben. “Today, with the speech…”

  “I’m glad you agreed to deliver it here,” said Towaal. “Many have heard of your exploits, but they do not understand.”

  Ben sipped his ale. “People have forgotten already. They’ve forgotten what we fought for and what so many men and women died for. Lloyd’s done passing well in Irrefort, and you’ve kept the Sanctuary quiet, but after Brinn died in Whitehall, they’ve fallen back into the same old bickering and back-stabbing that existed in Argren’s time. In Narmid, Fabrizo, and Hamruhg, change is happening, but it’s slow there.”

  “Issen is the example of how it can be,” said Towaal.

  “We try our best,” stated Ben. “Every year, we get delegations coming to witness what we’re doing. Every year, they come back again. They see what is happening, but they don’t understand why, where it all started.”

  “Someone has to remind them of what it was all for,” remarked Towaal.

  “Someone has to remind them,” agreed Ben, and he turned up his ale mug.

  Ben stood at the lectern, shuffling through the parchments in front of him. He had his speech written down, word for word. There was a separate page marked with the key points he wanted to discuss. He glanced at the notes then put them away. He didn’t look at them again. He spoke from the heart.

  “I’ve given talks like this before,” he started. “Universities, councils of highborn, village mayors, anyone I thought would listen – anyone I thought was open to change. Many people have heard the words I will say today. Your leader, the Veil, told me that many of you already know these words. I came here to say them anyway. Even though you may know my words, understanding them is different. It’s important that you understand and do not merely know. More important here than anywhere else because of what you are.”

  The room was silent, listening in reverence to the Hero of Kirksbane. The Hero of Kirksbane, the City, Whitehall, Fabrizo, Issen… It changed depending on where the listener was from, but whichever it was, that was how they thought of him, he knew. Whether they remembered it themselves or whether their parents and grandparents had shared the stories, that was what they knew.

  They knew he’d fought the demon-king, and as a wealthy crowd in the City, perhaps they had even ventured north of Kirksbane to see the monuments. They knew he’d dueled two blademasters to prevent the war between the Alliance and the Coalition. They knew he’d been there when the previous Veil was executed. They knew all about his actions. Books were filled with the deeds he had accomplished. He’d certainly told enough scribes his story that he wouldn’t be surprised if entire libraries were filled with the vivid recollections.

  They knew, but none of them understood. They didn’t know why he had done it, and most didn’t care. He wanted to change that. He wanted them to understand why.

  Why was so much more important than what.

  He cleared his throat. “The tricky thing about living in a society that allows you freedom is that everyone else has it, too. Some people can’t handle that. They can’t accept their neighbor making a different choice than they did. That’s the tricky part. Letting someone else have the freedom to choose. A choice isn’t really a choice if there is only one option. It’s inherent with real choices—with true freedom—that everyone can make their own decisions. For us to be free, we have to come to terms with that. We have to understand that not every decision is ours to make. Not every decision is a good one.”

  He heard people shifting and fought down a smile.

  “People call me a hero. They say that because I fought for them. Let me tell you, the fighting was the easy part. The hard part, the part that really mattered, is what happened after. That’s what I want to be remembered for. Not because I fought. Not because I killed. Not because I survived. Remember me because I tolerated. Remember me because I accepted. Remember me because I understood that I’m not here to make your choices. If I had done that, if I had been just one more dictator sitting atop a golden throne, then it would have been for nothing. I didn’t free you from your oppressive rulers. I freed you from yourselves. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.”

  A well of murmurings rose up to greet the statement. That part always got them. He cleared his throat and swallowed. This was the difficult part, the part his story was about. The part they would either understand, or they would not.

  “The Alliance and the Coalition were two sides of the same coin. That is always the case when there are just two sides. One promised unrestrained growth and wealth to all of the people. The other promised a benevolent hand and a world where all were equal and no one had to worry. The truth is, they were both after only one thing – power. Their promises were nothing more than words. They were empty words. Words meant to appease the masses. Words meant to convince us there were only two choices.”

  He slammed a fist on the lectern and declared, “Those false choices nearly led to our demise. All of our demise. The demon-king wasn’t interested in whether we declared for the Alliance or the Coalition. The demon-king only cared for our life-blood. While our leaders spent time in councils, arguing over whether they’d join Jason or Argren, the demons killed. They rampaged, and they feasted. What good did the promises do then?”

  “I saw through those promises, those lies, and we held the leaders accountable. We raised something else in their place, something I believe is better. It wasn’t because I was born special or that I was chosen somehow. No, I was born to a lower life than most in this room. I wasn’t a blademaster when my journey started, and my future wife was merely an initiate on these very grounds. We didn’t have exceptional skills, abilities, or a mandate to make a change. What we did have, though, was the courage to try. We didn’t know if we’d be successful, and believe me, many times I thought we wouldn’t be. We fought anyway. We fought when the odds were against us. We fought when we were certain we’d lose. We were told we had to choose one side or the other, but we didn’t. We fought.”

  Ben was gaining steam, his voice rising with the passion of his statements. “That is true freedom, a willingness to look past the empty promises of the world and realize there are other options. Freedom is not comfortable. It is not easy. You have the ability to choose, as does your neighbor. But freedom only exists if you exercise it. Lady Coatney, King Saala, Lord Jason – they did not subjugate their people. The people subjugated themselves.”

  “Some say life is better now,” stated Ben. “Perhaps it is. T
hat doesn’t mean there will not be a time – a time within your lives – when you have a choice to rise up and fight or the choice to subjugate yourselves to the system.”

  He let the words hang there, watching as it sunk in. Then, he finished, “This is what you need to understand. You will hear leaders like me say compelling words, but do not listen to them. Instead, watch. Watch what those leaders do. See how they act. Their actions will tell the truth or the lie of their words. Their actions will give you knowledge. It is your will that gives you freedom to do something with it. You have the ability to decide your own fate. Take up your sword or your quill, and when the time comes, I hope you chose to be a hero.”

  18

  Reviews, Acknowledgements, and Newsletter

  I had the same team involved in this book as I did the previous 5. I’ve thanked them before, but it’s never enough. James Z, Nicole Zoltack (http://nicolezoltack.com), and Deranged Doctor Design (http://www.derangeddoctordesign.com) all deserve my heartfelt gratitude in making this something I’m not ashamed to share with the world. Tantor Media publishes the audio, and the talented Eric Michael Summerer is back for another round of narration. Listening to Eric is how my wife consumes the books, and if you ever needed a sign he’s doing something right, that’s it.

  I waited until the last book to do it, but now that we’re here, I need to give a shout out to the Terrible Ten. May our sprawling discussions about the business and craft of writing always be paired with scotch and archery.

  Finally, after this last book in the series, I need to give praise to my silent partners, the readers. When I wrote the first book, it was a hobby. I only half-considered what I would do with it once it was finished, and there was a very real possibility Benjamin Ashwood would be my first, and last, attempt at creative writing. I mean that. If it wasn’t for the readers, there would not have been books 2-6. I just wouldn’t have it in me, if it wasn’t for the support and encouragement I got from those early few who took a risk on a completely unknown (and arguably unskilled) author. I hope in this book I’ve repaid your faith. I hope the ending was worth it. If not, see below, you know where to find me.