Aiden stepped before the throne, an air of confidence bordering on arrogance exuded from him.
How he could carry himself in such a way with his forces so diminished was beyond her. Lydia watched him carefully.
Aiden rubbed his wounded shoulder as he waited for Titus to speak once more.
“Son and heir of King Doran, the terms we present are these. As long as Valkara remains true to the High King’s throne and stands with the kingdoms of Islandia as a united kingdom, the throne and all territories of Valkara shall be restored to you in this I swear by royal oath.”
Lydia glanced at the royal recorder writing down Titus’ words with fervor.
“As a seal to this promise we will send the full force of our army to accompany you, along with your own men, to dethrone the usurper Jorn and restore Valkara to you. On this I swear my royal oath. Does the true heir of Valkara accept these terms?”
“I would be foolish not to!” blurted Aiden with a childish grin.
The royal court erupted in disgust at his response. Suddenly Lydia felt the sinking feeling that she had made a mistake in trusting her brother, but then he caught her by surprise.
“I have no love for your throne, as it is well known, High King. Kingshelm has brought many dark nights to Valkara, but… my movement was about more than my personal feelings. Men have fought with me, died for me, in the hopes of having a kingdom to call their own again. If you are offering that, I cannot refuse and I will do all I can to maintain it.”
The room grew silent as they awaited the High King’s response. Titus stared down at Aiden, intently weighing the man in his mind. Finally, his eyes flickered as he ended his examination.
“I only have one more request. Henry, please step forth.”
The loyal agent of Kingshelm broke from the crowd in the room. The man’s face was now clean shaven, giving him the appearance of years shed. His sandy blonde hair was combed back, and his blue eyes had returned to life. He carried a new sense of dignity as he strode to the center of the room.
“Yes, my lord?” he asked as he approached the throne.
“I am sorry to place you in such a position, but you were this man’s captive for more than a year. What do you say of him? Will he keep his oath?”
All eyes fell on the returned man. Lydia looked to her brother instead. A glimpse of unease covered Aiden’s face. Not many in the room had seen Henry before his restoration, but any who had would know his answer.
Henry licked his lips as he chose his words carefully. “I have always served the High King faithfully, my lord. I have given my life in service to this kingdom. I have spent many sleepless nights in the open country. I have known fear, loneliness, and hunger for the throne.”
His eyes turned to Aiden. “My time spent in the captivity of this man is shaped by all those things. I have served the throne faithfully to this day. If restoration of Valkara to this man will serve the realm best, I see no way I can stand between it.”
The tension in the room fell at his words. Lydia realized that the man before her was of the noblest kind. History is often remembered by kings and tyrants, but it is those who faithfully serve that often make history what it is. Here was one of those men. She knew what his words must have cost in the vein of personal revenge, and yet he was willing to forgo his own justice.
She could see this revelation dawn on Titus as well. He rose in his seat and with a booming voice declared, “If there are no objections, then by the integrity of this court it shall be so. Valkara will be restored to Aiden and we will march on Jorn as soon as it is possible. With this decree the council is dismissed.”
The room erupted into the sound of undistinguishable voices. All of them she was sure were weighing the results of the day. She moved up the few steps to the throne. A weary look painted Titus’ face. She could feel the presence of Lancelin arrive just behind her.
“When do you want us to make preparations to march?” he asked.
“There is one more matter that must be resolved before I send the army as far as Valkara. They should arrive tomorrow,” Titus said.
“The outsiders?” Lydia asked.
He nodded. “Maybe then we will finally have the answers we seek.”
“Or more questions,” Lancelin chuckled.
Titus let out a weary sigh. “Indeed…”
9
Titus
The dining hall clamored with sounds of silverware on plates. Titus surveyed the room filled with hundreds of delegates, all belonging to the outsiders. Ulric sat at their head, all smiles as he devoured his steaming meal. Lydia and Lancelin, along with a dozen delegates from Kingshelm, sat eyeing the new arrivals with suspicion. Titus could see Geralt standing off in the corner of the room, hidden amongst the crowd. Geralt’s keen eyes scanned each face in search of any form of treachery. He had taken his new role of head royal guard in stride.
Above the noise Ulric stood and beckoned for Titus to sit among them. The audacity of the act to invite the High King to his own table could be seen on the Kingshelm’s delegates’ faces. Titus let it roll off of him, giving the difference of culture as Ulric’s excuse. He seated himself next to Lydia who quickly clutched his hand. Slicking back his jet black hair, Ulric gave him a childish grin as he sat.
“I must say the hospitality of Kingshelm is not lacking! Although I was a bit worried by the look of the place on our way in.”
“Watch your tongue. Do I need to remind you that you are a guest here?” said Lancelin.
“It’s all right, Lancelin,” Titus said gesturing to his friend. “These men are not accustomed to our ways.”
“Yes, sorry, where are my manners, High King? It has been awhile since I sat amongst royalty. The sea, it changes a man.”
A shared smile crossed the faces of the men around him.
“When I suggested you bring your leading men, I assumed a dozen,” Titus said as he surveyed the dining hall. More than a hundred men sat clustered in the vast hall. Each of them with a unique style of clothing and language.
“Ahh yes, again I must apologize, High King. Like I mentioned, we all hail from many different lands. I may be royalty, but I am no king. When I brought the proposal that we should confer with you about a possible stay here, the list of representation grew until…well, you can see for yourself,” Ulric said motioning to the room.
“You mentioned you are all from various lands. Where exactly do you hail from? And how do you know our speech?” asked Lancelin.
“May I answer this one, my lord?” the man sitting next to Ulric asked.
“Go on, Cedric, we are all free men here,” Ulric said patting the scrappy looking man on the back.
“Our company encompasses men from all over the world. As far as the open plains of Rasku to the dry and barren earth of Gurun. Men from frozen lands and scorching deserts. Some hail from the dense jungles of Kaskar and Mascar. My own boots carry the snow of Northland with me. And, do you see those men over there?” Cedric leaned over the table pointing to a group with narrow eyes and smaller stature.
“They hail from a land called Osaka. Renowned for its legendary blades. Tempered steel with a slight curve to their swords, and their armor! Large shield plates placed on the shoulders with beautiful artistry crafted into the plating. The helmets hold the face of demons to frighten their enemies.”
“Enough, Cedric. They don’t need to know about your admiration of the Osaka,” Ulric said rolling his eyes.
Cedric’s gray eyes shot him a sideways glance. “As you can see, I am an admirer. As for us, we understand one another well enough. Your language is as old as they come. Sure, there is some differences in dialect but the Edonian mother tongue is the gift given to all from the old empire.”
Titus shot the others a look of surprise at Cedric’s words about Edonia. Before he could ask more, Lancelin pressed another question.
“What about you?” Lancelin asked lifting his chin toward Ulric.
The man shifted in his seat as if the question stirred unwanted memories.
“I came from the continent of Edonia, land of the once proud empire. It has long passed those glory days. A millennia has come and gone since that time. My father ruled a small kingdom on the northern end of the continent. A realm left in the aftermath of Edonia’s fall. He ruled for some time until a rival took it from him. My family fled as refugees to Northland after. Thus, I was born in a foreign land but grew up in a royal court.”
Cedric chimed in again, “I was one of many royal attendants in the Northland. When my masters fell to Maluuk, I fled with prince Ulric to safety. We eventually ended up at a place called Mascar.”
Ulric broke in, “Apparently many other kingdoms had suffered what we had and fled to one of the few remaining havens left untouched. Soon, even Mascar came under assault.”
“How did you end up here?” Lancelin prodded.
“Did your High King not tell you?” Ulric asked a bit exasperated. “We followed a trail of rumors that led us back here. In fact, these rumors had grown long before our journey. Strange tales of men invading the ghost city of Edonia had reached our ears some years ago.”
“So you know of the city of Edonia?” Titus asked.
“Know it? It was practically home at one point. Although ruined long before my time. No one dared enter that foul place.”
“Except for Eloy,” commented Lancelin.
“Yes, this High King you speak of. I wish I could have met him. A brave man to enter that city.”
Titus noticed a strange mood fell over Ulric as he spoke. Edonia meant something to the man but he couldn’t discern what.
“We wish he was still here as well,” Titus said.
“I hear he played some part in the matter of stopping Maluuk. Is that correct?” Ulric asked.
“He did. It was his sacrifice that saved us from Maluuk’s forces. Yet, we are still dealing with the remains ourselves. Soon, we will take care of Maluuk’s last servant, Jorn, once and…”
Titus raised a hand to cut Lancelin off. He could feel Lydia squeeze his hand, a sign of her unease.
“What exactly is it you are looking for Ulric?” Lydia asked.
Ulric’s eyes darted between them. “We only wish to serve in any way we can. Perhaps we can assist with this Jorn you speak of?”
Titus shook his head. “It is a matter best discussed at a later time. When we all have decided on the decision of your staying here.”
He could feel Lydia sit back in her seat, yet tension still gripped her. Even Lancelin who had spoken absent-mindedly now could sense the gravity of his mistake. At all costs these men must not know of Jorn. Titus feared if the council’s decision was to expel these refugees they might turn to their enemy.
Thankfully, Ulric decided to let the matter go. “When do you think the rest of your council will arrive?” he asked.
“I have been given word that Imari will head this way in two days time. As for the rest of the kingdoms, you have them here,” Titus said motioning to Lydia and Lancelin.
“Ahhh, thus the probing by you,” Ulric said with a smile toward Lancelin.
“I had to know what kind of men I may be letting into our kingdom,” Lancelin said.
“Understandable. I hope you found your answer,” Ulric said.
“We should let our guests rest. They have traveled a long way just to arrive at Islandia,” Titus proclaimed.
“One last question,” Lydia said, her eyes fixed on Ulric.
“You have mentioned that all other men around the world serve Maluuk. Was this not the same for you? Or did you somehow earn his clemency all these years?”
It wasn’t just a probing question, but a dagger that pierced through the fog. Even as she asked it, Titus felt himself recoil and yet it, too, had weighed on his mind. He had been too afraid or maybe unwilling to know the truth. In that moment he felt both admiration for Lydia and shame on himself for not reaching for this truth sooner. The question did not faze Ulric.
“Yes, we served as a reluctant slave obeys a master. What could we do when all the world is under his authority?”
“You could have stood against him, regardless,” Lydia said, not pulling her punches.
“Perhaps you are right,” Ulric sighed. “We had never known any to stand against him and win. That is why we are here now. To make up for our past failings. Besides all that, look at us. Do we look like the servants of Maluuk?”
Ulric leaned over the table drawing near to them. “Look into my eyes. Do they carry a silver sheen? Does my skin look clammy and pale? No, we are not servants of that dreaded fiend.”
He slumped back into his chair. Cedric stared at his companion, a look of surprised admiration on his face.
“Very well Ulric. We apologize if we are a bit cautious, but you understand why we would take care not to allow the servants of Maluuk into our midst,” Titus said as he stood, placing a hand on Lydia’s shoulder.
Ulric’s eyes stayed unflinchingly on Lydia. “I fully understand, High King. One cannot be too careful.”
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Titus cleared his throat, “Lydia, I think it’s best we let our guests relax for a time. There can be more questions later.”
She rose to her feet without a word and turned to the door. Geralt stepped out from the shadows to follow close behind. Titus turned back to Lancelin, Ulric, and Cedric. “Gentlemen.”
He turned with a bow and quickly followed after Lydia who had already taken several strides to leave. He caught her by the arm in the hall just outside the dining room. She whirled around on him.
“I know what you are going to say, Titus, but I don’t trust them and neither should you!”
“That’s not what I was going to say. What I wanted to say was thank you.”
She blinked at him in amazement. Geralt behind her carried a self-satisfied grin at the response.
“What… what for?” she stammered.
“For doing what I was not brave enough to do.”
She gave him a sheepish nod as her cheeks reddened. “Sorry about snapping at you.”
He embraced her, kissing her forehead. “All is forgiven. Although I think I will retire to our room for a moment. There is much to reflect on and a lot to consider.”
“Very well, I believe Geralt and I were going to have a sparring match,” she said looking up at his grizzled face.
“News to me,” Geralt grunted.
“I need to blow off some steam.”
“Very well, when you are done you can meet me in our room,” Titus said with a wiry smile.
“Keep it together over there, High King,” she teased.
“Enough. Talk to each other like that when I’m not around,” Geralt said, rolling his eyes.
“Very well. See you soon, my love.” She leaned over, leaving him with a kiss on his cheek. He watched as she and Geralt strolled down the corridor. He couldn’t help but smile as he reflected on how truly grateful he was for her.
He made his way through the winding paths of the palace until he reached their room. With care he closed the door behind him after he entered. The lunch had tired him and he wished for silence to think before the council would begin in the next few days. He approached a small wash basin in the corner of the room. That’s when a sudden voice boomed behind him.
“Titus.”
He turned, half expecting an attendant, when he was struck to the ground in terror and awe. Before him stood Eloy. His eyes of bronze gleamed and his thick black beard curled in the form of a welcoming smile. Titus was unsure if he should bow or cower at the sight.
“Don’t be afraid, friend. It is truly me,” Eloy said.
“How…” was all he could get to leave his lips.
“I don’t have much time with you, but know that the power of Maluuk is overthrown. His gift has been wrestled from him and given to a new master. That answer must suffice f
or you now.”
Titus could only nod his head. Eloy reached out a comforting hand to help raise him to his feet. As he stood, he felt small compared to his High King. Something had changed in the man. He still bore the olive skin of his Sahra roots. His features shared commonality with the man he had come to know, but something more radiated from him. It took him back to the revealing of Dawn Bringer on the eve of the great battle against the Felled Ones. It was in this man’s presence a new reality began to break in. The world around him grew richer and deeper in his company.
“I need to speak with you about these visitors,” Eloy said breaking Titus from his awe.
“Yes, my King. I gladly receive your council.”
“Ahh, so now you seek it, do you? Did Geralt’s warning not stir you?” Eloy said with a playful smile.
A tinge of guilt filled him as he remembered Geralt’s words of warning in Samadura. “I… I failed to believe him, my King. I did not know if his words were true or who they spoke of.”
“It cannot be changed now. A path has been set and you must reveal these men for what they truly are.”
“You do not plan to stay?” Titus asked, disappointed.
“The time hasn’t come yet. Soon, all this pain, all this world has endured, will be made right. But that time hasn’t arrived. Maluuk has one last plan he must enact before he is condemned for good.”
“I don’t understand, Eloy.”
The High King smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know, my friend, but soon it will be made clear.”
A tint of sorrow filled his face as he stared into Titus’ eyes.
“What is it, my King?” Titus asked.
“There is still much pain to be endured before the end. I wish it was not this way, but the call to victory is difficult and full of sacrifice.”
“I can answer it, Eloy, just help me, help me know what to do to serve the kingdom as you have.”
Eloy gripped his shoulder. “You will, my dear friend, and in the end we will be victorious. I leave you with this. Draw a council as soon as you can. You must expose these visitors for who they truly are. You may not have heeded my warning before, but do not delay in doing so now or I fear much more will be lost.”
A New Dawn Page 9
