Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Lucan stood in the great hall of the royal palace, alone and with a silver goblet in his hand. The goblet was full of wine. He was full of stress. And his formal garments were full enough of him to evoke a feeling of suffocation. Around him was the soft clamor of a crowd of polite company. Nobles of many stations but only one allegiance, at least outwardly. The feast wouldn’t formally begin until the morrow’s evening, when the King would be announced and the guests welcomed, yet it was informally underway.

For the night, the noblemen would converse, broker deals, and maybe plot a little as well. And the ladies would gossip, giggle in appropriately quiet voices, and perhaps suffer courtship from young men of proper stations.

Judging by company alone, of which he had none, he was neither a lady nor a nobleman. The discomfort of loneliness amidst a crowd surprisingly smothered him more than his doublet. His father had left him, justifiably, for a private audience with the King where the matter of succession would be discussed and their estate’s opinion on the matter disclosed.

At least his lack of a companion came with a bit of comfort since no one would poke into their family’s affairs or attempt to invest him into one of theirs.

He had given proper greetings to the nobles he recognized, and sometimes to those he didn’t. Among the pairs and groups that had formed, there were several familiar faces. Lord Zesh, his father’s cousin, stood among his fellow noblemen, obviously led by one broad-shouldered man who was certain to be Duke Elmere of Arpague. Lucan regarded the group with interest for a while but couldn’t make out their subject of discussion no matter how much he tried to read their lips, a skill he had to admit he didn’t have.

With much less regard, Lucan observed another group, centered around the first prince. The object of his aversion to this group was a certain member of their number that happened to be his second cousin. Winton.

The first prince himself appeared well-built with wide shoulders and an inflated chest. He looked every bit the warrior-king. Lucan imagined that he could indeed garner some support on the merits of his appearance alone.

He hadn’t missed the other princes though. The second prince had his own retinue of nobles, mostly those of the royal faction whose territories either neighbored the capital or spanned the breadth of the kingdom’s middle. He was more modestly built, shorter than his older brother if not narrower at the shoulders. Lucan had exchanged greetings with him briefly at the beginning of the gathering, and the second prince carried himself with such dignity and intellect that Lucan had found himself empathizing with the King’s wish to make him his heir.

As for the third prince, his greeting had been fleeting. Lucan had seen him for nary a moment before the young man had walked away amidst a small retinue of unfamiliar people, possibly local persons of influence. The third prince had the least chance of ever sitting on the throne. Lucan imagined that that was why none of the nobles were interested in currying favor with him.

Lucan saw the Northern nobles grouped up together in a corner of the hall. They were the neutral parties expected to oppose any change in the traditional order of things, like changing the crown prince. His father hoped to appear as one of many voices that opposed the King’s plans instead of appearing complicit to the Duke’s opposition to royal authority. The Northerners were neighbors to the greatest threat Barwalis had to guard against, The Vincemare, or as many called them, the traitors. From what Lucan had read about their history, he didn’t believe they deserved the latter title. They had, after all, taken the brunt of the Mer’s invasion of the Elder Lands centuries ago, and in the process lost most of their sovereignty. After The Pact, they acted as an informal appendage of the Theocracy in the Elder Lands. And when they weren’t attempting a conquest of Liberferia, they were either contesting territories on the border with Barwalis or with Barwalis’s neighbor and ally, Pontis. Such contests had extended into long and bloody wars in the past, the last of which had ended thirteen years ago.

When Lucan’s eyes began to search for the last of the royal children among those present, she surprised him by appearing at his side.

“I see you are mingling quite well,” the princess said, her tone not quite mocking even though her words cut a little.

“The night is still young,” Lucan said. “I may yet find company.” He turned and noted the two companions that trailed behind the princess. They didn’t look like maidservants, considering that one of them was a man.

“Too late now, company has found you,” the princess chortled. “May I introduce you to my friends?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Lucan said. “It would be my pleasure.”

“This here is Master Aston Sawyer.” The princess gestured towards the man who seemed to be beginning the third decade of his life. “He is quite the masterful engineer. You must see some of his works. Oh, and he prefers to be addressed by his family’s name, Sawyer.” The engineer nodded thankfully at the princess’s last statement before nodding a greeting at Lucan.

“A pleasure to meet you, Master Sawyer,” Lucan said.

“The pleasure is mine, Master Zesh,” the engineer said.

“This is Helena,” the princess continued. “She is a dear friend of mine and a ledger master of great skill.”

Helena extended a greeting before Lucan could. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Lucan.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Lucan said.

A commotion came from the direction of the first prince’s party. Lucan noted the prince laughing uproariously. The goblet in his hand sloshed as he laughed and some of the wine splashed on the ground. Around him, the younger generation of nobles were sharing in the revelry with their own drinks in hand.

“Perhaps we should retreat into one of the side halls,” the princess said, eying Lucan. “There are some things of interest to discuss.”

Lucan didn’t know what manner of discussion the princess wanted to have but he wouldn’t say no considering she’d shown him and his father courtesy on more than one occasion. “If you wish, then we may, Your Highness.”

There was a small entryway nearby, through which they entered one of the side halls. It was smaller and quieter but there were still some servants around, ready to serve food and drink. The four of them took to one corner of the hall for the sake of some privacy from the ears of the servants.N0v3lRealm was the platform where this chapter was initially revealed on N0v3l.B1n.

Lucan didn’t know why, perhaps because the moment of highest intensity had passed, but he realized now that the princess’s countenance was in no way accusing, but rather similar to how he imagined his would be while doing simple arithmetic.

“Regretful,” the princess said softly. “If I’d known earlier...”

“Your Highness?” Lucan said carefully.

She gave him a resigned look. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you now.” She sighed again. “The duke has a false notion that he is crafty, craftier than this court, perhaps even craftier than the King himself. He is wrong. It is the sort of mistake one makes when they think sitting on the throne is as simple as ruling a big city or gathering an alliance of minor lords with a vested interest in opposing royal authority. It wasn’t good fortune that allowed my father to keep a Kingdom surrounded by the uncertain together, and even stable. You’ve met the first prince?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“How did he strike you?”

“I didn’t speak with him for long, Your Highness.”

“Yes, but you must have made at least the simplest of judgements by what you’ve observed so far.”

“He is...boisterous?”

The princess tittered. “I suppose one could observe him as such. Let me tell you, then, what all those native to the royal court know. My eldest half-brother is acerbic in his folly. A Bane to any reasonable man.”

Lucan was shocked into silence. He hadn’t expected such an acidic description of a royal member coming from another, and now he struggled to find an appropriate response.

The princess, perhaps having not noticed the cast of his countenance or deliberately choosing to ignore it, continued. “What do you suppose happens when you send such a person on a tour of the Northern territories? The border territories.”

After a brief calm, Lucan balked. His breath came faster. “You mean...”

“Yes,” the princess said. “Those ‘dissidents’ you spoke of will now be confined to the duke and his closest allies.”

“And the King’s mind cannot be changed?” Lucan said, the words coming out weak and empty. He didn’t hold much hope for them himself.

For the first time, the princess scoffed then shook her head. “Are you so desperate to have a fool on the throne, Lucan Zesh? The second prince might not be a paragon of benevolence. But even a competent villain is always better than a foolish saint, not that my first half-brother is a saint. I thought you read history.”

“It’s not...” Lucan found himself without words. But perhaps the look on his face spoke for him.

“Ah, of course,” the princess said. “I suppose you’re in a rather desperate position. Well, hear this, none of what I’ve told you is much of a secret, or at least it won’t be by the end of this day. But now I will tell you one, and I will expect your discretion on the matter, of course, and your gratitude should I seek it later.”

Lucan took the words in and nodded.

“My father is sick.,” she whispered, her words coming as a deadly hiss. “The court’s healers have found no recourse. Some of them even call it a divine affliction, but the truth is, they simply don’t know what to make of it. They don’t see many years ahead of my father either.” She leaned forward, not losing any of her regal bearing while doing so, and she said. “His decision is made. It is not a matter for counsel or politics to contest. I can tell you that even the most persuasive men in this court cannot change the mind of a dying man, and certainly more so if he’s a dying King.”

Lucan’s eyes rested on the ground, his mind a tempest of thoughts, none of them good. He and his father were about to set themselves against the second prince, no, the crown prince. The man who was certain to be King in a few short years.

He had to warn his father. He had to catch him before he met the King. “Your Highness, may I please be excused.”

The princess gave him a resigned nod even though she was obviously inconvenienced. He didn’t know what matter she had intended to discuss with him, but he had other concerns now. He gave her a hasty bow and walked out of the halls.

Then he ran. He had to.

Now their estate’s fate may very well depend on how fast he could run in the royal palace without alarming the guards enough to stop him.