Trials of the Hierophant: Vol. II of epic fantasy The Sundered Kingdoms Trilogy (6 page)

adoc watched braith sit at the large desk in his bedchamber, as he had so often in the past few weeks. His father pulled a large parchment out of a leather wrap and spread it out on the desk before him. He scowled as he ran his forefinger over the map. He traced lines across the Brynlands, and tapped hard where the Vega Outpost had once stood.

In the mirror, which hung above the fireplace, he saw Braith’s face and he took a deep breath. Though the visage of his father looked distorted from the angle, he could see the lines which now carved his father’s skin. Braith scratched his cheek, the rough bristles of his unshaven skin eliciting a rough noise Madoc recognized to be as intrinsical to his father as anything else. Even at his age, he could remember the feeling of his father’s beard beneath his chubby fingers as a young bairn, and how his father told him he would have a beard like his one day when he was a man.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.” Madoc walked toward him, taking another deep breath.

He reached for the chair against the wall, and dragged it across the floor to set it in front of his father’s desk. The loud scraping of wood on stone did nothing to get another response from Braith, whose attention remained on the papers in front of him.

Madoc looked closer at his father’s face. Pale and drawn, whether from age or from worry, Braith appeared years older than his age. He could have been mistaken for Madoc’s grandfather in such a light.

Long since gone from this world to that of the Maker, his grandfather still loomed large in Madoc’s memory. He held his grandfather in esteem. A distant and stern man, he never seemed to have much time for him except on rare occasions, such as a bit of foxhunting.

He wondered if Braith knew in what high regard he held him. He made an effort to be in his children’s lives, unlike his own father. Should an unknown bastard arrive at his doorstep, Madoc knew his father would attempt to raise the child‌—‌there was no question in his mind of such a matter.

Madoc had grown distant from Braith as of late, but he had always been his own man from a very young age and did not cling to his father as Bronwen had. He wondered if Bronwen resented their father for marrying her to a man so much her elder, though she was now married to a younger man.

Madoc let out a forced cough.

The inked plume Braith had been writing with came to a halt, and he set it in the inkpot. He took a moment to crack his neck and knuckles before looking up from the page to Madoc.

“What troubles you this day?”

“Father, I‌—‌”

Tristram’s soft knocking came at the door, and he did not wait for the king to welcome him in before he opened the door. “My lord.” Tristram gave a courteous bow. “I have come to inform you that the Senate will convene soon.”

“What?”

Madoc looked out his window and, indeed, dawn had come without his notice. “Would it not be more convenient later in the day?”

“Oh, wouldst you prefer I give the Senate your regrets?”

“No.” Braith did not allow Madoc to answer before he huffed out a breathy groan as he stood from the table. “Of course I will attend. It would not do well for me to offend the others, and I have matters to discuss.”

“Yes, my lord.” Tristram bowed again before leaving the room.

Moments later, Braith walked down the long corridor to the Senate with Madoc at his side. As the large doors opened, they drew the attention of the others.

“It is good for you to join…‌what is this?” Mihangel spoke gently from his tall chair at the head of the room. “The prince joins us as well?”

“I thought it wise to let the boy listen to affairs of state. The throne shall be his one day, shall it not?”

Hushed animosity filled the room as Braith took his seat. Madoc waited near the door.

“My lords,” Mihangel addressed them all. “We know of what matters we have come to speak of this day. Though it happened weeks ago, the loss of the entirety of the Vega Outpost is still fresh in the minds of our people. Men‌—‌husbands, brothers, and sons of Annwyd‌—‌were lost that terrible day. Yet, the cause of this atrocity is still not fully understood. All knowledge we have of that day is that the orders of the attack came from House Denorheim. Is that not correct, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, you speak truth, my lord Mihangel.” Braith shifted his weight in his chair, and Madoc took note of his humbled tone. “The orders to attack Arlais were from my mouth alone.”

“Why is it only now that we have come together to speak of such matters?” Kendric Pahne twisted his mouth in annoyance, conceivably knowing full well the answer. “Our king took ill not long after, did he not? Well, praise be to the Maker that you have recovered or, perhaps, we may never have convened.”

“That is not of concern.” Mihangel shook his head. “We have gathered now, and that is what matters. We must speak of what to do in the wake of this tragedy.”

“Lord Mihangel,” Braith said, a small bit of confidence returning to his voice. “I have been thinking of such matters for many days now.”

“Oh, and what would you propose?” Vaughn Garanth clasped his fingers together, waiting for an answer.

“I believe we must make haste to show our citizens that, despite this terrible loss, Annwyd is still the great kingdom it has always been, and shall remain so.”

“Go on,” Mihangel coaxed.

“I say we should have a tournament, a grand tournament, to give some joy to‌—‌”

“And where is it you propose we acquire such funds?” Vaughn said, his wry manner grating. “Cooks to hire, servants, carpenters, singers, and that is to say nothing of the gold to be given as prizes.”

“Surely the treasury will bear the expense?” Madoc scoffed, drawing the eyes of the others.

“What treasury would that be? Our coffers run dry from the extravagance of his lordship!” Kendric snapped, no longer able to retain his civility. “Our people starve while he squanders what little money we have on his hedonistic ways. Our debt only climbs, and you are so foolish as to suggest spending, easily, over one hundred thousand in gold we do not have? Where would we get it from this time, Your Majesty? Ordanis? Cærwyn? Or perhaps we can borrow from the Meïnir? Surely, they have no use for gold as they live in a forest.”

Madoc watched as the king fumed at the barrage of insults, but he knew his father could not speak out against them, fully aware the accusations to be true.

“My grandsire left our kingdom with an abundance of gold, did he not? Certainly‌—‌”

“Oh, he did, young prince.” Vaughn Garanth kept his eyes on Braith as he spoke to Madoc. “Now Annwyd owes hundreds of thousands of sovereigns to the kingdoms of Cærwyn and Ordanis. Perhaps your father could explain to us how this has happened?”

“I concede that a tournament may not be the best of routes,” Braith said, breaking through the contention. “I do, however, remain firmly behind my prior suggestion that we halt the war effort and recall troops to within Annwyd’s borders.”

“Halt the war effort?” Grigor Boraste’s voice rose to almost animalistic heights.

“Surely, you do not suggest surrender?” Culhwch Valifor added.

“Not surrender‌—‌”

“Then what?” Boraste barked.

“We need to show our people the kingdom remains impenetrable.”

“By withdrawing our troops?”

They all began to speak at once, and Braith shifted in his chair again.

Most uncomfortable, Madoc was unaccustomed to seeing his father so belittled, but their words seemed to harm him no more than his own thoughts as of late. He did not have the courage to look his son in the eyes, lest he see his failure in his reflection.

An entire regiment of men was lost that day because of his orders. He did not know whether his father felt rage at him for having issued orders to the Vega without the king’s knowledge, or pride for having shown so much initiative. It seemed to Madoc all of his past actions had come screaming back to haunt him in these past few weeks.

Terrified at the repercussions these actions could have, Madoc felt support from the Senate for his father all but withdrawn. House Denorheim was in a very precarious position‌—‌a very dangerous position. The volatile state of affairs brought upon them could cost both he and his father their lives. He could feel his options running out like sand through his fingers.

“My lords.” Braith spoke with calm resolve. “If it would please you, I would like to propose the formal dissolution of House Denorheim. As well as my abdication of the throne. In favor of Senatorial rule of Annwyd until which time a new king may be crowned. Shame has fallen upon House Denorheim, and it is a shame from which we shan’t recover. I look to retain what little honor we may yet have with this gesture.”

The room fell silent. Kendric Pahne glanced to Vaughn Garanth, seemingly unable to think of a reply.

“You cannot!” Madoc shouted at his father, breaking the silence.

“Hold your tongue, Madoc.” Braith lifted his eyes to meet his son’s. “We may yet walk from this room with our heads high.”

Mihangel cleared his throat, drawing the attention of all those in attendance. “The Senate accepts your proposal. As per our laws, you must announce your abdication formally before the nobles.”

“I shall call forth a meeting of Annwydian nobility as soon as possible.”

Madoc watched as Braith tried to remain calm, gripping his thighs to keep his sweaty hands from shaking.

“See that you do,” said Kendric Pahne, venom dripping from his words.

“I assure you that I will announce my decision to the public within a fortnight. I will need some time to gather my affairs.”

“A fortnight it shall be.” Mihangel nodded.

Braith did not wait for the ensuing words to spew from the other senators. He left the Senate with Madoc at his heels.

“My lord?” said Tristram, greeting them beyond the doors.

“Leave me be,” Braith ordered, and stormed off to his chambers.

Madoc stood with his fists clenched at his sides as he watched him leave. He knew of his father’s spending, but had no indication the treasury was empty. He knew Boraste and Valifor were not exempt from exaggeration, so he took at face value their concerns for his father’s lavish lifestyle. But the thought of Annwyd reduced to a mere beggar of Ordanis and Cærwyn‌—‌how could his father have allowed such a thing to occur?

And to halt the war effort? Had his father gone mad? Were they to halt the war, they would have no success in claiming the Brynlands for their own, nor mining the riches which lie beneath the hills. Expanding Annwyd’s territory would be the only way to fill the treasury once more and to pay off their debts. Only then could they, once again, reign as a powerful kingdom. Annwyd would not be some mongrel to beg for scraps at the heels of anyone.

“A most unfortunate turn of events, for which I see no advantageous outcome,” Madoc said to Tristram. “Come, walk with me.”

“Young Master, you seem bothered.” Tristram walked closely at his side through the courtyard. “Tell me what it is that ails you.”

“My father suffers from a most grievous sin. He has become complacent in a world that moves far more quickly than his sights witness. Cowardice is not a sin our house can bear at this most delicate time. I fear my father has descended into madness.”

“What is this madness of which you speak?”

“He wishes to formally dissolve House Denorheim.”

Tristram stopped in his tracks. “We cannot allow that to happen.”

“No, we cannot.” Madoc took a deep breath. “Those vultures who sit atop their perches in the Senate‌—‌they would have Annwyd for themselves. Our kingdom would crumble amidst their squabbles. I will not have them destroy all that my family has worked toward. I will not have them take away what is rightfully mine! Our people need a true leader, one who can lead them to victory. My father is no longer that leader.”

“What do you propose?”

“Our people are frightened. They need someone to believe in. I shall be the father our people so desperately need.”

“King Denorheim has already renounced, has he not?”

“We have a fortnight to change his mind.”

“And what if his decision is final?” Tristram gripped Madoc’s shoulder. “What did Senators Boraste and Valifor say?”

He brushed his hand away. “We did not stay long enough to hear a rebuttal.”

“This will not do, not at all.” Tristram wrung his wrinkled hands. “They want you on the throne.”

“I know.” Madoc felt his chest tighten.

“Do you have a plan to change the king’s mind? What if you cannot make him see your point of view?”

Madoc’s voice cracked, and he blinked several times. “Then Boraste was right. I shall make the decision for him.”

Chapter V