31. Benjin
thirty-one
Benjin
Benjin glanced nervously about the table, wondering what in the Void he was doing here surrounded by all these important people. Perhaps Haldric had wanted him to represent the Grand Magus’ office, no matter how poor a replacement he made.
While he hadn’t attended the previous Summit, based on what he’d seen of the preparations, this one appeared far more restrained. There were no banquet tables or lavish feasts, only a simple tray of glasses and water.
Nor were there spots reserved for servants or advisers.
The cavernous hall felt eerily empty with nothing save the sole table set amid the massive space.
Haldric sat at the table’s head. Benjin sat to his left, in the spot previously reserved for the Grand Magus, while Lady Katalin sat to his right.
Benjin glanced across at her, his stomach twisting.
A fitting spot for the future queen. He felt a little ashamed for avoiding her after how nice she’d been to him in Luxem, continuously postponing her attempts to meet him for lunch or a walk.
But she was a painful reminder of everything he couldn’t have.
The past few days had been a mess. He’d done his best to finish Dexil’s remaining works in progress and handle the few new minor orders he felt qualified to tackle. Most of his old duties, however, had been put on hold pending Dexil’s trial and execution.
He’d found it near impossible to see Haldric more than the occasional stolen glimpse from afar. As the new king, Haldric had been far too busy attending to Lady Katalin and preparing for this impromptu Summit to spare time for him.
Though maybe that distance had been a blessing in disguise. It left him little time to dwell on what was happening between him and Haldric—or, rather, what wasn’t.
More and more this past week, Benjin had found himself reminiscing about the idyllic life they’d shared for those handful of months and wishing they could somehow return to it.
Dexil’s spell might have rewritten their memories, but Benjin refused to believe their happiness and love had been fake.
That had been all them. And if it was a lie, well, at least it had been a beautiful one.
Deep down, however, Benjin knew there was no going back. Haldric had embraced his responsibilities as ruler. What place was there for Benjin in that new life? The kiss they’d shared during Dexil’s failed rebellion had been their last.
The other five governors filled out the remaining spaces at the table, Duke Westley perched at the end opposite Haldric.
Though Benjin hadn’t personally met the duke before, he still fought the urge to glare after what Haldric had told him about his suspicions concerning Westley, the ambush, and his sister’s death.
Of the rest, he only recognized Duchess Janelle. She caught him staring at her, and he quickly averted his eyes. Before he did, however, he was surprised to see her give him a brief nod that was almost friendly.
That was a new development. Perhaps she had warmed to him now that she knew he hadn’t been the one to curse her nephew. Or perhaps it was the role he’d played in helping Haldric defeat the Grand Magus. Either way, he’d gladly take it.
A loud clearing of a throat echoed beside him, and Benjin glanced over to see King Haldric rising.
“Welcome, esteemed governors,” Haldric said.
“Thank you for attending this Summit on such short notice. Your condolences when you arrived were most welcome. I’m certain King Roland would have appreciated them, just as he would appreciate you taking the time from your busy schedules to attend his funeral tomorrow.
Yet, my father was not one to stand on idle pleasantries or ceremony.
He was a man of action. Thus, shall I endeavor to be one as well in his stead. ”
“A worthy goal,” Duke Westley said with a simpering smile that made Benjin want to curse him. The duke gestured about the empty chamber “Yet, you have deprived us of our usual attendants. That will make it exceedingly difficult to iron out any new treaties.”
Haldric scrunched his brow in a puzzled frown. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Duke Westley. You met with me and my father in this very chamber less than four months ago. I believe those agreements shall suffice until our regular meeting next year.”
There were murmurs around that table at that. A gruff, bearded man seated beside Benjin scowled.
“I believe I speak for my compatriots,” Westley said smoothly, “when I say I’m surprised. Given recent circumstances—and our previous discussions—I’d expected certain changes might be in order. To better recognize the shifting realities of Ilthabard’s situation.”
Westley’s every word dripped condescension. By a slight tensing in Haldric’s posture, Benjin could tell he wanted to punch the smarmy noble as badly as Benjin did. Yet, the king’s pleasant smile didn’t falter.
“You’re quite right, Duke Westley. There are matters I wish to discuss. New reforms I thought better to bring up with you in private so that we could ensure we’re all in accord before we muddy the waters with scribes and attendants.”
Duke Westley leaned back in his chair with a smirk. He waved a ring-encrusted hand. “By all means, please proceed then, Your Majesty.”
Haldric nodded and paused, seeming to gather his thoughts.
Something about the king’s posture sent a thrill of anticipation through Benjin.
He had a sudden premonition that the duke wasn’t going to like what Haldric said next.
Glancing across the table at Katalin, he caught her small grin as she watched Haldric.
“As has been pointed out to me, the time of strong centralized rule in Ilthabard is fading, which means the role of an elevated monarch must change as well.” There were collective murmurs at that.
Haldric’s expression gave away nothing as he continued.
“While I intend to retain the title of king along with certain privileges it extends, I recognize that you also deserve more of a say in how your provinces are governed. Thus, do I propose a new system of rule—one in which a council of six governors for the six provinces meets and decides together on the best course of action for Ilthabard.”
The murmurs faded to stunned silence.
It was Duke Westley who broke it with a haughty frown. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. While this seems a step in the right direction, I fear it retains the same fundamental problem. What happens when we disagree on how each province should be run? What works in Weatheford may not work in Zaros.”
“Here, here,” a hawk-like woman seated across from Benjin agreed.
Katalin spoke up then, her voice crisp and polite.
“Esteemed governors, for those of you who do not know me, I am Lady Katalin au Galax, here representing House Galax of Khordan. This new system proposed by King Haldric is similar in many respects to how the Forum governs Khordan. And while we have far more seats than six in our own council, we still manage well enough.”
“Obviously, not every minutia of governance can be decided by committee,” Haldric added.
“As governors, you will retain control over most decisions affecting your province—even more than you do now, in fact. Rather than a direct monarchy, Ilthabard shall become a loose affiliation of states united by common purpose.” He met and held Westley’s gaze, arching a brow.
“Isn’t that what you wanted, Duke Westley? ”
The duke hesitated. “It is…in theory. Yet, I struggle to understand how it will work in practice.”
“We can iron out such details to our mutual satisfaction at a future date,” Haldric said.
Katalin jumped in. “As one intimately familiar with the workings of my own country, I am happy to assist however I may. Further, as a gesture of good will, House Galax is willing to help forge an official declaration of friendship between Ilthabard and Khordan—the first step toward a true alliance.”
Haldric gave Katalin a grateful smile. Benjin’s gut twisted as the king returned his attention to the restless governors.
“I assure you that you will largely retain independent rule within your borders. And all will have an equal say in how the kingdom is run, working together toward roads and other common infrastructure. It is the best of both worlds. If you truly wish to govern yourselves, the needs of your people will also fall to you.”
“And what of the people?” Benjin demanded before he could stop himself.
He wilted as all eyes in the room fixed on him but forced himself to continue, keeping his gaze solely on Haldric.
“There are still whispers of rebellion. The Grand Magus was far from the only one dissatisfied with how things have been.”
Haldric flashed Benjin a soft smile that set his heart racing. Haldric hadn’t looked at him like that since…well since that final shared kiss. A flush colored Benjin’s cheeks as Haldric turned back to the governors.
“Benjin raises a valid point. While empowering the Provincial Council may assuage many of your own concerns, it does little to appease the commonfolk. And before any of you protest again about how that doesn’t matter, recall what transpired here in the palace.
Had we not stopped Grand Magus Dexil so swiftly, you might even now be facing your own rebellions at home…
or already have your bloody heads mounted on spikes. ”
There was nervous shifting at Haldric’s pronouncement, none of the governors daring to contradict him. Even Duke Westley appeared ill at the graphic image.
His pallid face gave Benjin a savage spike of satisfaction. These nobles had thought themselves above such petty things as the people’s happiness. If nothing else, the tragedy here had served as a rude awakening for them…though who knew how long the lesson would stick.