The Winds of Crowns and Wolves (21 page)

At the end of the line of tables there sat a
high table that was raised a few inches off the ground to denote a
higher stature of importance for those who dined at its quarters.
From his best count, fourteen places had been set, and only his
remained empty. The head of the table was reserved for the King, as
Neach had expected, and he approached his side with caution.

“I apologize for my tardiness, your
highness,” Neach said tepidly.

The King smiled a slightly irritated grin,
and extended his arm to touch his shoulder.

“It’s alright, son. Now be seated, tonight
we eat up in honor of your success today!” the King exclaimed to
quiet grunts from his men.

And then he saw her.

Seated at the head of the table, a few seats
from the King, was none other than Jenos. Her striking green eyes
stood out from all of the others who sat at the high table, and
Neach could not take his gaze off of her. Henrig seemed to notice
almost right away, before Neach had even reached his seat.

“Ah, Coinneach, you have not had the
pleasure of meeting my daughter, Jenos, have you?” the King boomed
from the tip of the long, dark table that looked like a pillar laid
on its side.

Neach froze.

The King’s daughter; he had fallen for the
King’s daughter.

“I don’t believe we have met, your Grace;
Jenos, it is my pleasure,” Neach said with a wry smile.

She replied with a seated curtsy, and Neach
immediately stared down.

Great cheer erupted from every corner of the
hall, as food and drink were passed around liberally. Neach felt
uncomfortable in his own skin after making the revelation. His
appetite was all but gone when the advisor who sat directly across
from him demanded his attention.

“Lady Jenos is indeed a fair maiden, no?”
the older man said. His eyes and face gave no hint of sarcasm or
jest, and he appeared to be stone serious in his inquiry.

Neach swallowed hard on the roasted duck
that had been prepared for the occasion.

“Yes, she is. Quite beautiful,” Neach
responded coyly. He had a habit of growing in comfort as time
passed in places.

The man nodded in agreement and continued to
devour the food in front of him. The King had ordered the
preparation of the freshest vegetables and meats that the castle
could muster for tonight. As he overheard from the others at the
table, today was the beginning of a weeklong celebration for
Henrig’s father, which would culminate with a grand ceremony the
following weekend. The nature of his employment now appeared to be
quite clear, as he contemplated the next few days.

But his mind continued to go back to
her.

Jenos, the “fair maiden”, the black haired
she-devil who had bewitched his heart with her beauty and wit, was
the daughter of Neach’s mortal enemy: the bastard King.

He could scarcely understand the predicament
he found himself in, and his adolescent hormones did little to
alleviate the pain he felt deep within his heart. After an hour or
so, the King rose from his seat and began to speak to the
collective hall, which now numbered in the hundreds.

“Friends, family, new subjects,” he said
with a glance toward Neach, “we are gathered here tonight to start
the celebration of the grandest period of our year here in the
Castle. My father, Filep of Endal, lived a life that was held in
revere by all of the finest musicians of the land. He fought for
the crown, and helped eradicate many plagues that threatened to
destroy the fabric of our Kingdom. And so, for the next week, we
will drink merrily, sing merrily, and play merrily in the spirit of
his good faith. For without remembrance, we cannot understand the
sacrifices of the past. Without remembrance, we cannot move forward
to pursue greater things. So, we drink to the memory of my father,
and all of those who gave the ultimate sacrifice for the flag which
flutters atop the castle wall. Drink up, friends, family; tonight
we begin a journey that will end in our ultimate education and
appreciation by week’s end,” the King’s speech was met with an
uproar of applause and cheers. The people seemed to genuinely love
their ruler, a far cry from the monster Neach understood the King
to be before coming to his home.

He sat down again and began to eat
voraciously. Pausing momentarily, he looked up at Neach.

“Have you ever seen the city at night,
Coinneach?” the King asked.

Neach was taken aback by the King’s
forwardness.

“Yes, sir, from my home I have walked the
streets under the light of the moon,” he responded attempting not
to sound ignorant.

The King chuckled to himself and looked
toward Jenos.

“That is nothing, my dear son, whence we
finish our drink and food, I will take you to the battlements so
you can lay your eyes upon the most stunning view in all the city,”
the King said.

Neach graciously accepted Henrig’s offer and
continued to eat all that was left on his plate. By the end, Neach
felt as if he had been stuffed like a winter chicken. Never in his
entire life had he eaten the amount of food that was provided by
the King’s grace the first night in Castle Leirwold.

A few minutes passed before a single voice
broke out from the crowd.

From the wooded shores of the East land, to
the western cliffs of yore, from South on Cyll’s great mountains,
to the Northern village whores, from the fairies of the forest, to
the stone laid castle’s core, there are bird singing above us and
snakes squirming below, but the summer breeze feels warmer than the
cold of winter snow.

He finished the first verse as the entire
congregation joined in.

The Kingdom burns aflame, oh the Kingdom’s
glory holds. As the vultures fly above our enemies, only the Gods
will know. Oh, only the God’s will know the harshest deeds of old.
When we fight in battle and take up the saddle, oh the Kingdom is
our home.

Some of the older men around the room began
to well up with nostalgia. Most of them probably hadn’t fought in
some years, but the memories burned vividly in their minds.

Such camaraderie was unseen before this
moment. Never before had the love and loyalty of the Kingdom’s
subject been on such full display for Neach to experience. He found
himself singing and clapping along with the grizzled men who
surrounded him, and questioned again how the King could garner such
support if he were as ruthless as they said.

Nevertheless, he cleared his mind
momentarily, as he finished a glass of wine with a large gulp. His
lips had turned a dark shade of purple, but nothing could take away
from the fire which was being ignited deep within his soul. It
wasn’t long before the King approached his side and offered his
hand in friendship.

“Come with me, young man, for I wish to show
you a sight you will never forget,” the King said joyfully, a grin
beaming from ear to ear.

Neach had no choice but to oblige and follow
Henrig out of the hall and back toward the cloisters. The breeze
which comforted so during the day sent a shiver through Neach’s
spine, and if not for the alcohol, his teeth may well have
chattered. Though the summer was upon them, the night still clung
to the winter’s cold with a vice grip.

“Do you go to the battlements often, your
highness?” Neach asked, his courage no doubt brought on by the cup
of cheer he had consumed a few minutes earlier.

Without pause, the King nodded his head in
confirmation.

“Indeed, I travel here most often. It is
nice to remove myself from the fracas of daily life within the
Castle every now and again,” he added.

Neach absorbed the words as if they were
water to a rag, and added them to his growing encyclopedia of
knowledge that he held about the King. Painted as a vagrant by
every member of the House Goedwig, Henrig seemed a young man, as
they bounded up the steps to the summit of the secondary ring.

For his age, the King moved quite nimbly.
Neach questioned whether the King could beat him in a race if it
came to it, but left those thoughts for another time. He trailed
behind, as he struggled to keep his balance: a result of both the
narrow stairs and the intoxication.

Soon, they reached the top and the staircase
opened up to the Castle’s battlements, which hung over the city
like a daunting guard, crafted in metal. Large archers’ towers and
ballistae lined the wall for as far as Neach could see. In the
darkness of the night, only their tops were illuminated by the
moon.

“Come along, Coinneach, we’re going to
ascend one of these here towers,” the King said with conviction.
Though his age fought against him, he fought back with a might to
maintain his youthful sense of adventure.

The climb was daunting to say the least. The
only method of ascension was a rickety ladder, attached to the side
of the fifty foot face of the back end of the tower. Neach climbed
cautiously behind the King, knowing full well that if he were to
fall he would surely take him with him.

By the grace of the Gods, the two men made
it into the open air housing at the top of the tower. What Neach
saw, when he peered over the edge, was even more impressive than
the view from atop the tower near his room.

His vision went on unencumbered for miles,
as he looked out beyond the city limits to the darkness of the wild
pastures, which stretched far outside of the King’s imminent
domain. The moonlight sparkled on the top of the rivers’ waters,
and Neach could make out the outline of the mountains near his
village low on the horizon.

“What do you think?” the King asked with a
playful smile.

It would have been hard to hide his
excitement and happiness at this moment, and Neach made little
effort to do so.

“I’m surprised there hasn’t been a damned
picture painted of this scene, your highness,” Neach said, not
realizing he had just cursed at the King.

Alas, the King chuckled lightly and rebuked
with concurrence.

“Tis true that this may very well be the
best view in the entire Kingdom, but if it were painted it would
cheapen the experience,” Henrig responded.

Neach received the words silently and
thought about the peculiar situation he now found himself in. How
had he ended up here, with the King? He had taken a strange liking
to him since his performance at the auditions.

As if reading his mind, Henrig validated
Neach’s thoughts.

“You know, Coinneach, there is a certain
spark about you which I admire,” he scratched at the bottom of his
beard as he thought about his next words carefully, “What you did
in your audition is unparalleled to anything I’ve ever seen before.
The audacity required to pull off that move is uncanny; perhaps in
another life you would have manned this tower yourself, under the
flag of Duncairn,” he concluded.

Neach had never considered fighting for the
crown. As a child, he knew little of the distant land that was
Leirwold, and even less about the elite warriors who were recruited
to fight under the King’s command.

“I have never had a taste for blood, sir,”
Neach offered.

“It is most definitely an acquired thing;
some of the noblest warriors never truly accepted their fate as
blood merchants. Unfortunately, it is both unforgiving and a
necessity to maintain order in a land as vast as our Kingdom,” the
King looked off in the distance as his tone fell somber.

Neach chewed on the King’s words for a few
moments and wondered what he was referring to. Was it the incessant
slaughter required to ascend to the position he now held, or was it
the merciless killing required to eradicate the members of his
House from ousting him from the position he felt he deserved?

“I had a wife, Coinneach, when I was much
younger than I am now. When my hair was as black as the sky we now
look up at, and my bones knew nothing of the heartache and pain
they now harbor,” Neach couldn’t decipher whether this was coming
on from pure good intention or the alcohol, but he listened
nonetheless.

“Her name was Silvia. She was as beautiful
as our daughter, if not more so. We were married at seventeen, and
our daughter was born not six years later. Her passion for the
Kingdom and myself ultimately led to her demise, unfortunately. She
contracted sickness when Jenos was a mere child, and refused
treatment to maintain the strength of our rule over the Kingdom. If
I would have known that she was doing something so foolish, I would
have provided the treatment myself,” a tear welled up in the corner
of his left eye which he promptly wiped away.

A thick silence hung over the two men as
they peered out over the wall and into the sea of candlelight that
was Leirwold at night. Fires could be seen burning just north of
the Castle where the homeless and destitute laid their heads for
the night.

“I fear a war is coming, Coinneach,” the
King turned his gaze toward the young man again.

“I know not when it will happen, but I can
feel it in my bones. Rebel groups are forming as the days pass, and
it is only a matter of time before they unify under the guise of
removing me from my position atop the throne. It is my duty to
maintain cohesion of this Kingdom, and if it costs me my own life,
then it will be so. My wife did the same, and I will not let her
death be in vein,” he concluded as he removed his hands from the
edge of the tower. They were ashen from many dry days without
moisture, in which he had wielded both a sword and the edges of a
pulpit.

“If you fear this war is coming, what do you
plan to do about it, your highness?” Neach asked timidly. He did
not want to push too hard on the King fearing that it would make
him suspicious.

“Plans are the ultimate downfall of the
smartest men, Coinneach. In order to survive and succeed, one must
take each day in stride. No amount of preparation can prepare a man
for making the ultimate sacrifice if necessary.”