The Great War: Chapter 19
A tense dinner
Something in the back of Samuel’s mind told him he should stay. At first, he didn’t understand why, but now he might have an answer for himself.
Sitting at the long dinner table, his father at its head and him at his right, silence in the air, he can see it. The king is tired and worn. He sits slouched with dark bags under his eyes and a listless gaze. As Samuel serves himself, Cero stares right through the grand meal before them.
His energy is close to being gone. Defeated.
That’s probably why he felt compelled to stay. His father is at this lowest, the weight of all the lives lost under his command heavy on his mind. He has Killian, his friend, by his side at all times, but not his son, who’s been away making his own success. Even though they don’t always see eye-to-eye together, he doesn’t wish for his father to feel any more alone than he may already be feeling.
Samuel stares at the food on his plate. He wants to say something, and though he doesn’t wish to talk about the war, as he racks his brain for a topic of conversation, he find most of his ideas are war-related. Questions about the treaty, about whether or not he has other attack plans in mind, about what their next move will be. There’s only one other thing he can think of… but he’s not in the mood to pry open old wounds right now, either.
He resorts to eating in the silent air, fixing his gaze to his plate.
A few bites in, his father finally sighs and shifts in his seat, reaching for the food.
“When will you be returning to Ica?” Cero inquires with a heavy voice.
Samuel runs his tongue across his lips. “I… don’t know. I feel like I’ve done as much as I can do for right now.”
“I have had complaints from all over the island, but not as many from Ica.”
“Well, not all the refugees have places to stay, but it’s not as many as it had been before.” Samuel taps his fork on his plate. “I’ve wanted to turn my attention to our imports next, but I don’t know how dangerous that may be at the moment, or how many ships we may still have.”
The king hums, low and rumbling yet thoughtful nonetheless.
“You have been doing well, my son,” Cero says, “with keeping our subjects as comfortable as possible.”
“It’s hard,” Samuel mutters under his breath.
“No being said war would be easy. You will win, you will lose, but what matters is if you stay standing…”
Samuel purses his lips and casts his father a sideways glance. What wisdom to speak at a time like this.
He’s looking for hope, the little voice in the back of his head chides. Don’t bring it down with your skepticism.
“No doubt you’ve been thinking about the treaty,” Cero continues, readjusting his sitting posture to sit up straight and strong. Samuel feels his father’s gaze land on him, making his hair tingle with electricity.
“I have,” Samuel nods stiffly.
“I wish to hear them, though I am not expecting their terms to be kind.”
Silence. Samuel frowns at his plate as he bites his tongue to keep himself from speaking, his stomach bubbling with anger. To throw away their efforts only a season into a war his own father started…
“I am not expecting to accept-” Cero attempts to ease his son’s worries.
“Then why are you going?” Samuel asks, finally meeting his father’s eyes. He only finds a hollow shell of a king staring back at him.
Cero doesn’t speak. Not immediately. He lowers his fork and folds his hands, fingers lacing themselves together, and a single spark of lightning leaps from his shirt, landing on the table, narrowly missing his plate. On the white stone tabletop, a small black burn remains, a stain on the pristine surface.
“I’m sorry you never met your mother,” he replies. “She was kind, humorous… a very determined woman.”
“What does she have to do with this?” Samuel snaps, getting defensive. His father almost never talks about his mother, and whenever he did, in the past, it was because he was disappointed.
Still, Cero continues, though turns his eyes away from his son and turns them down towards the table, “Her death was an unfortunate tragedy. If only our magic was stronger, then maybe she could have been saved…” He shakes his head. “And you… I saw so much of her in you. I simply couldn’t bear it. I never tried to.
“It was all supposed to happen that way, that I would loose my wife but gain a son, but I didn’t believe. I never went to Korodon again after that night. Maybe I should have.”
The anger Samuel once felt turns to a sickening worry. He’s not sure what to make of his father’s sudden reminiscing, but he knows that there’s more to it that he’s not telling him.
He went to see Korodon not that long ago. It’s the entire reason why Samuel returned to the castle, because Korodon told his father to summon him.
“What did He tell you… father?” he asks hesitantly.
The king reaches for his fork once more. “Many things.”
He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t speak again for the rest of their time together that night.