Interlude – King Magnus Aaberg, The White Bear, Protector of Winter’s Realm #2
Magnus exited into a courtyard. A break in the clouds dappled the Crown Drassil with sunlight, a rare occurrence for the tree.
Magnus approached the magical tree of the realm, inherently linked to the magic of Winter’s Realm, the dead gods, and the Faetia in the starry halls of the afterworld. Perhaps other worlds too.
Standing before the tree, King Magnus placed a hand on the bark. Usually he did this to infuse magic into the tree, a cycle unbroken by those with the strongest winter magic since time forgotten. Instead of pushing his power into the bark, though, he closed his eyes.
“Mighty Drassil, Faetia, and powers in the stars, I’ve come requesting that you fully legitimize me as the King of Winter. To be given the full power I’ve been denied all these turns.”
Whispers filled his head, but one stood out. As ever, the whisper he heard sounded a lot like his mother.
Picturing the sad creature who had birthed him made the king squirm. He’d never had the courage to ask if the voice actually was the deceased Lady Aaberg or another fae soul or even a dead god speaking to him who was mimicking his mother’s voice. He didn’t think he ever would.
You finally have what we require of you? The voice separated from the whispers and spoke to only him.
I do.
Place it in the hole.
This Drassil, like many he’d seen, had a natural hole which no animals claimed. The king did as the voice requested, placing the item he’d risked so much for in the hole. The effect was instantaneous.
The purple leaves above glowed, the bark warmed, and a cacophony of voices louder than before filled the king’s ears.
Then suddenly, the tree drew upon his magic.
He stilled, wanted to pull away, but had a feeling that this was part of the ritual, one that was not written about or spoken of but just done.
Those who went through this ritual came out more powerful than ever before.
The only people who would have had experience with the Weighing of the Crown ritual were the rulers of the kingdom.
Son of Winter, the voices spoke in unison now. You’ve found what was long lost. For that, we respect you.
And? The pull of his magic was draining him more than he thought was possible. Do you bless me? Do you give me magic from the beyond? Magic to change the fate of this realm?
He pulled up his sleeve and stared at his pale forearm in anticipation.
Though the Blessing Mark had not been seen in two decades, he still recalled what it looked like on Harald Falk’s arm.
A silver crown with a sword and scepter crossed before the crown.
All three Hallows united, marking the Cruel King as the rightful ruler.
A pause in which the leaves dimmed, and the bark cooled again stole what little breath the king had. So when the tree spoke again, he sucked in air as though he’d been drowning in the icy depths of the sea.
You are not the only one who can change the fate of the realm. Nor save it. And we sense a new darkness in you. One your heart wishes to embrace. Though you have done as kings and queens long passed, we cannot give our full blessing.
The king’s face screwed up in anger, but he mastered himself. Had the tree felt that spike in fury?
We did, it answered his unspoken question.
I had to accept the darkness to get what you required.
Had to? Or wished to?
A low breath left him. I deserve this.
Two more might deserve it as much as you. Two whose magic might bring Winter back to the glory days. We refrain from choosing until those two hearts and souls are weighed.
Two?
In the meantime, to you, we give another chance. An opportunity to do what is right for the fae of Winter’s Realm. Show us, show them, mercy and righteousness. The entirety of our blessing may still be to come. We give you just enough power to make this a reality.
He wanted to say more, but a rush of magic filled him. Magnus tipped his head back, barely able to believe that the magic filling him wasn’t the full blessing.
The moment the magic ceased flowing into him, the king wanted more. Needed more.
The only way he would get it would be to right Winter’s Realm. Though he would kill the two threats the tree spoke of too, for good measure. Hopefully, his new allies could help him with that. Magnus only needed to do his part to lure Isolde Falk, and whoever the other threat was, to his allies.
He stepped back from the tree, a direction clear in his mind as he gathered the item from the hole and hid it in his cloak. Inside, the heat of the castle was welcome, though he found not just his Clawsguard waiting, but the High Councilor, brother to the Lady of Silks, was present as well.
“What is it?” Magnus asked. The High Councilor looked much like his older sister, but unlike Nalaea, Onas Qiren had tells. Whatever he had to say would not be good news.
“My king, I regret to inform you that there’s been a robbery at the coinary.”
“From my vault? Where is the thief?” There could be no question that he or she had been caught. The leprechauns provided many protections, and his vault possessed every single one of them.
“Not your vault,” the councilor’s dark eyes dipped, as if Onas wished to be anywhere but where he stood at that moment, “the Falk vault.”
Magnus stiffened. “Did they see who the thief was?”
“They did. Princess Isolde Falk and your son, Prince Vale, were there. Along with Sir Caelo and Lord Luccan Riis. Others too, though they were not recognized.”
She’d gotten into her family vault. Never had he imagined that she’d have the mettle to enter the Falk vault in Avaldenn, mere streets away from the castle!
And Vale helped!
Magnus’s jaw tightened. His son may be further gone than he thought.
“Where are they being kept?” the king asked.
“Kept, Majesty?”
“I will see to her execution now.”
As for Vale and Luccan, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was unwise to execute a son of a Sacred Eight. Particularly as Lord Riis protected Saga at this moment. And though Magnus was fuming at Vale, he was still the Blood of House Aaberg, and Magnus was no kinslayer.
“My king, they ran to the sanctuary at Lord Luccan’s home on Lording Lane. We’ve been unable to breach the wards since.”
“They escaped!”
“Yes.” The High Councilor bowed, and his curtain of black hair fell to cover his face.
“And was their heist successful?”
“An inventory is being performed now. It’s been difficult as the Falks had a draugr guarding their treasures. The undead creature is being troublesome.”
Yes, Magnus had met the creature.
“Do we know anything about what they took?”
“A crown, sire. And three swords. The leprechauns are uncertain about the gold or jewels. There are so many within that vault that gold and jewels will take some time to account for.”
A pit opened in his stomach. A crown. Could it be that hallowed crown he’d once searched for too?
“Continue breaking down Luccan Riis’s wards.”
“And if we cannot?”
A valid concern. The Riis family were wealthy and able to hire the best warders. They would have the strongest of wards around their properties.
Magnus considered the facts and possible scenarios before deciding on a course of action. “If our ward breakers haven’t succeeded in a days’ time, then call the fire fae at the Tower. They have stashes of riot fire. Use it.”
“But he lives in the middle of Lordling Lane! And your son is in there!”
The king had little doubt that when faced with riot fire, those holed up inside Luccan’s home would flee. Anyone who valued life would do so.
“Take precautions to protect others and the surrounding buildings, but if need be, burn Lord Riis’s home to the ground.”