The Great War: Chapter 28
A king holds his head high
The king and his guard watches the little rowboat floating on the waves, making its way to the passing island.
“My,” Cero hums, his gaze locked on his son, who, from this distance, appears to be talking to his new group of friends. The girl is rowing the boat to shore, with Samuel talking to the one in yellow and the one in orange. “He seems to be surrounding himself with a rather colorful group.”
Killian attempts to laugh, but it comes out as a stiff cough. “Metaphorically or literally?”
The king just shakes his head sadly, turning away from the sight and folding his arms. He wears a deeply troubled scowl, one that Killian has seen quite a lot of the last couple of cycles.
“Does it sound strange that I feel grateful?” Cero asks.
“For what?” Killian inquires.
“That… Samuel isn’t here, just this one time.”
Killian can’t help but scowl back at his lifelong friend. Of course it does, he wants to say, but holds his tongue a little bit longer. It is strange; he’s talking about his own son, no less! But, at the same time, maybe this is a blessing in disguise. If anything were to happen to the Erima, then at least the prince wouldn’t be as affected. Nor Devin, for that matter.
Killian turns back to the little rowboat once more. He can see his own son, sitting perfectly still behind the prince and facing the island, so that all Killian can see is brief glimpses of his backside as the boat sways. Yes, at least neither of their children will be in harms way. Not yet.
So he turns back to the king and replies, “Cer… what are you hiding?”
The king shifts his weight, his lips pressing together harder. He doesn’t look at Killian, only at the deck under his shoes.
“If you’re worried about the Guardians, I am as-”
“It’s not…” the king starts, though he pauses and lets out a small sigh before continuing, “No, it’s not them. Not this time.”
Killian rolls his shoulders, trying to let out the tension within them. “Then what?”
Cero licks his lips, finally looking up to meet Killian’s eyes. It’s a sad, lifeless gaze, sunken and ringed with dark bags indicating many a sleepless night. He hates to think this, but being the royal executioner for almost all his life he knows this look all too well.
It’s the look of a dead man accepting his fate.
The two moved into the ship’s study, where Cero finally broke his silence. Killian, sitting on the other side of the desk, leans back in his seat, the weight of the world pressing down on his chest.
“Stars,” he can only breathe, taking the story in. “The Spirit telling you how you’re going to die…” He wants to call it cruel, but refrains from doing so. No doubt the Spirit already knows. No doubt He is watching them right now as they speak.
“I don’t look forward to it,” Cero nods, “but it’s unavoidable.”
“Samuel…?”
“He doesn’t know, Killian.” He takes in a deep breath, his gaze slipping down to the desk. “I… am glad that he is surrounding himself with other beings. No doubt they’ll treat him much better.”
“Cer, don’t say that.”
“He’ll still have you, too,” the king simply continues. “This was meant to happen. No, this has to happen. If we mean to win-”
“But what if we’re shot out of the water?” Killian asks, leaning forward in an instant, rage constricting his chest. “What if the island is destroyed with them still on it? What if they’re capsized on their way back to the Erima? What then, my king? What will happen when we lose your son, too?”
Heavy silence fills the room as Killian’s words ring in his own ears. Cero taps the desk once, twice, then looks up at his friend again and smiles ever so slightly. “He’ll be safe. Safe all the way back to Korodon. After that… he’ll be a hard one for them to reach.”
“Come on, Cer, what did He say?”
“That information was for me, and so with me it stays.”
Killian’s right eye begins to twitch irritably. “This Spirit-”
Knock, knock, knock!
Killian whirls around in his chair in an instant, his guard elevated higher than it’s ever been before. He almost reaches for his weapon, but hesitates. It could be a sailor. It could be a Guardian that snuck onto the ship, ready to execute the king. He doesn’t know.
“Who is it?” he barks.
“The Captain, my king,” Captain Edwin’s muffled voice rings on the other side. “We’re preparing for landfall. Expect us to dock soon.”
“Yes, thank you, Captain,” Cero calls back. The two wait a moment, staring at the door, to make sure that they don’t run the risk of the Captain overhearing their conversation. When he finally deems them safe and out of earshot from other beings that may or may not be present, Killian lets out a sigh and once again sinks into his chair hopelessly.
“Am I simply to sit and watch your execution, Cer?” he asks quietly.
“If you don’t want to, then don’t come,” Cero replies with a light chuckle. “In fact, I rather you remain on the ship, anyway.”
“Why?”
“Those Guardians might attack the moment the ship is in no position to run,” Cero replies, pressing the tips of his fingers together. “I’ll have to bring it up with the Captain, but as soon as I step foot inside the fort I want this ship turned around and sailing away immediately.”
Killian just stares at his friend. For the first time in quite a long time, he is lost for words. If he didn’t know any better, this would be the end of their monarchy. The war would be over after only a single season. With Samuel, however, they might last a little longer. But he’s still young; no doubt the Guardians will be able to easily break him so hard he’ll do whatever they ask of him in order to end what his father started. And when he hears of his father’s death…
Stars above, how will he be able to explain all of this to him after the fact?
“Now,” the king says, rising from his chair, “I should go inform Edwin of my plans before we reach the fort.”
“Right… I’ll be… here.”
“There she is,” Lorn grins, clapping a heavy hand down on Mathew’s shoulder. “Unnamed. Hardly a proper farming settlement. How many houses is that?” He falls silent, counting the rooftops.
“Ten,” Mathew just replies. He was counting them over and over and over again the moment they could all be seen.
“Right,” Lorn nods. While he grins on the surface, his eye betray something else. Something… dark. He turns to look at Mathew fully, leaning against the ship’s railing. “So… ye comin’ on the drop ship?”
Mathew remains silent, turning his gaze from the island to the small vessel that approaches the fort to their right. It’s not their target, but he’d not be surprised if it soon becomes one since they’re in the area. And there’s a smaller boat in the water, between the ship and the farming island. The bright spots of color he can see in the little rowboat from where he stands can only mean one thing: Wizards.
His gut boils with eager anger.
“Sure,” he finally speaks, nodding his head, “I’ll come.”
“Great,” Lorn smiles wider. “Make sure ye bring a blade. There might be some slaughterin’ to do, and we’re not bringin’ extras.”
“Aye, mate. I hope so.”