31. Benjin #2
“To that end,” Haldric continued, “I also propose we grant the people a voice in our new government—a secondary council to parallel your own, consisting of an elected representative from each province to embody the people’s interests and ensure their concerns are heard, both by their governor and the rest of the kingdom. ”
Based on the general outcry that erupted from the governors, they were as caught off guard by the proposal as Benjin. A council elected by the people… To his knowledge, such a thing had never been attempted in Allaria, though Sanjarka’s Pentarch came close.
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, have you lost your Void-cursed mind?” Duke Westley sputtered.
“You can’t honestly expect us to hand over such power to random commoners?
” He fixed Katalin with a disdainful glare.
“This is not how things are done in Khordan, my lady, nor in any other nation of which I’m aware. The very idea is preposterous!”
Haldric’s face remained an imperious mask, the cold smile he gave Westley laced with hidden meaning.
“I thought you a man of the people, Duke Westley, sympathetic to their demands. Surely after so many bandit attacks in your lands, you understand the importance of keeping our roads safe more than anyone.”
Benjin fought down a grin as Westley paled at the veiled reference to the attack on their carriage. Good—let the Void-eater squirm. They might never be able to prove his involvement, but that didn’t mean they’d forget either.
Clearing his throat, Westley recovered, regarding the other governors with a raised eyebrow.
“While I appreciate our new king’s earnest efforts at reform, I can’t help but feel they are woefully misplaced.
This ‘council of peasants’ goes too far.
None of us can support such a measure in good faith.
Why, the average commoner wouldn’t have the first clue how to govern! ”
There were general murmurs of agreement at that.
“Can you imagine what kinds of disasters we’d face at the western border should they compromise our defense against Nalax?” a hard-faced woman in uniform demanded.
“Or the potential harm to our crop production in Leonia,” a plump woman in a voluminous green gown tittered. “Why, I can picture it now: demanding their weight in gallants to labor in the fields for a half-day’s work. Our economy would collapse within a season!”
“Not to mention our mining operations,” a burly man growled, the scar on his face stretching around his thick beard as he grimaced. “The instant you give them the barest leeway, they’ll take every advantage they can.”
Benjin grew more and more tense with every word. As if these nobles had any notion of what it was like to work in the fields or mines they owned? Perhaps the commoners should demand better wages and treatment.
A slam shook the table, causing Benjin to jump.
All eyes fixed on Duchess Janelle as she lowered her fist, her face a frown.
“I don’t like the precedent this sets any more than you do,” she said, her gaze sweeping over the other governors.
“But we need to face facts. Unrest has grown so bad that rebels almost seized the Void-cursed palace. If a handful of them could manage that, think of what they might do to you? To your families or your lands?”
There was another uneasy murmur at that.
“Perhaps King Haldric is right,” Janelle continued.
“Perhaps a little appeasement is for the best. Grant the people increased visibility, make them feel like their voices are being heard. And if things still don’t go as they like, well, then they have one of their own to blame, don’t they?
Besides, you need not listen to everything they suggest.” She glanced at Haldric. “Right?”
He hesitated a moment before nodding. “We’ll need to negotiate the precise details, but in essence, yes. Think of them more as…advisers. They may set agendas or raise concerns, but the final say remains yours.”
That seemed to alleviate much of the governors’ outrage.
From the fresh wave of whispers that arose, Benjin thought they were beginning to bend to Haldric’s wishes.
It was, after all, exactly the greater independence they’d craved…
albeit with a catch. And no doubt Westley and the others were already plotting how they might circumvent it.
Benjin glanced over at Katalin when he heard her soft chuckle.
She leaned across the table in front of Haldric and whispered, “The good king conveniently left out his intention to include certain measures that might be taken against the governors should their people’s voices go unheard for too long.
Good thing none of them thought to ask.”
Benjin grinned at that, heartened to hear that the lowborns like him would be afforded at least some level of protection from the governors’ greed.
Yet, this fresh reminder of what a good match Katalin and Haldric made also left him with a deep melancholy.
She’d do more to help him rule than Benjin ever could have.
The meeting turned to discussion over the specifics of Haldric’s proposal, and Benjin found himself tuning out. Again, he wondered why Haldric had even bothered asking him to attend. Compared to everyone else here, he was nobody.
As the words and ideas washed over him, Benjin found himself watching Haldric. The longer the meeting went on, the more comfortable Haldric seemed to grow in his new role as ruler. Though he fumbled now and then, each time either Katalin or Janelle had his back.
Thanks to their support, he managed to convince Westley and the other four governors to seize the dangled promise of increased independence and fall in line with his reforms. Benjin had been right all along—now that he’d embraced the position, Haldric would make a great king.
The meeting concluded, the governors rising to depart. Benjin did the same, moving swiftly toward the door. He jerked to a surprised halt when he heard Haldric calling after him.
From beside Benjin, Katalin gave him a smile that seemed a touch wistful. She reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”
Then, she slipped away, leaving him staring after her in confusion. What the Void was that supposed to mean?
When Haldric reached him, Benjin tried to decide how to address him before opting for an awkward bow. “Your, um, Majesty. How may I assist you?”
Frowning, Haldric waved a hand. “You can dispense with the formalities, Benjin. Such isn’t required—not between us, at any rate. Now, please, follow me.”
Benjin obeyed, his stomach a nervous wreck. At first, he wondered where Haldric was leading him. Then, he realized it was to the Grand Magus’ old tower.
Looking about the cluttered chamber, Benjin felt a deep sorrow he hadn’t expected. He’d avoided coming here since regaining his memories, relying on servants to retrieve what he needed to complete his work.
This had been where Dexil betrayed him and locked him away, where both he and Haldric had been cursed and stripped of their memories. Yet it had also been a refuge for him during his early days in the palace, and the site of many of his fondest memories here.
It’s also where I first met Haldric.
When Haldric didn’t immediately speak, Benjin approached the Grand Magus’ former workstation and rested his palm atop the surface. He thought he could still make out a few scorch marks from his failed lessons that the Grand Magus hadn’t been able to fully repair.
“I never expected to be chosen as the next apprentice,” he told Haldric quietly.
“I was so happy when the Grand Magus saw something in me.” His fingers tightened into a fist, and he snorted, shaking his head.
“Now, I know the only reason he picked me was because I refused to bow and scrape before you.”