Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
W hat had started out as a semi-private audience with the king had brought Flavian Talius, his sons, and a good many other courtiers through the doors of the king’s council chambers, where Caisa had initially received Leander.
Leander had been summoned by the king late afternoon a few days later, luckily after he’d had enough time to sleep off his alcohol-fuelled headache from the night before. Leander had diligently avoided drugs since his dressing down from Verin, sticking to drinking instead.
Now, however, he was sober, and had been enjoying the opportunity to get to know Vyrica’s monarch without the ears of every single Saerian courtier listening in.
“This cannot go on, Your Majesty,” Flavian stormed through the door, stopping Leander mid-sentence as he spoke to the king. Flavian cast his gaze over his youngest son and obviously decided not to apologise for his interruption .
Leander decided to stay quiet, given the irate look already on his father’s face. He did not need Flavian’s anger turned on him, not with an impressionable audience, as other members of the council had trailed in behind his father.
“What do you mean, Lord Talius?” Caisa looked over his steepled fingers in mild interest.
Leander had to keep from flinching as Flavian fixed him with a stare. The air was suddenly thick with animosity, a palpable hostility that had been building for weeks.
Turning away, Flavian bowed towards the king and announced that he had already requested Prince Jarryn’s presence, and then explained the situation: the very imminent reality of King Nevari’s threatened invasion into Vyrican lands.
“Perhaps Leander should return home, Father?” Venser suggested.
“No,” Caisa interrupted Leander’s turn to leave. “His insight may be of some use to us. Lord Leander stays.”
It didn’t take long for Prince Jarryn to arrive, escorted by none other than Prince Lucien. If Jarryn was surprised to see so many people gathered there waiting for him, he didn’t show it.
Flavian made short and efficient work of bringing Jarryn up to speed.
The prince nodded, his expression growing darker the more he spoke.
The reason for the impending invasion was Jarryn himself.
The prince had been accused of regicide and Nevari wanted his brother brought to justice for his crime.
The fact that Vyrica was harbouring the prince in Saeren threatened to break what was once a very strong bond between the two kingdoms .
“You say Eleinium banners have already been seen on the western borders?” Jarryn repeated, and when Flavian nodded, he said, “They don’t come for negotiations. They come for vengeance.”
There were murmurs of assent around the room from the courtiers gathered.
Flavian inclined his head again. “Nevari’s wrath does not frighten us, you were always the more formidable opponent,” he added with a wry smile. “But his legions outnumber us three to one.”
“Yes, this is not some mere border skirmish—they mean to attack with fire and steel, to bring ruin upon our lands,” Lord Haldon added. “The question is, do we stand and fight, or do we give up the prince and sue for peace?”
Silence met this question, uneasy glances shared around, because the king had already awarded Jarryn asylum and would not listen further about the matter.
“If you hand me over, Nevari will see it as a weakness, and your lands will burn regardless simply because you dared to defy him.” There was no fear in Jarryn’s voice as he spoke, only a statement of truth. “You may as well strike me down now if you are willing to gamble with such cowardice.”
Haldon’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the prince. “Bold words for a fugitive. Perhaps you would enlighten us on the way best to defeat a kingdom hellbent on seeing us crushed beneath its heel then, Your Highness?”
King Caisa raised his hand, bringing the room to silence. “If war is inevitable, as the prince suggests, then let us determine how best to fight it.”
“But is it… is this man worth the bl ood of all our soldiers, the tears of the wives they leave behind?” Haldon said softly, beseechingly.
“My life is not a bargaining chip,” Jarryn’s voice was steady, though there was an edge to it. “Nevari’s wrath is not only about me. I am merely an excuse.”
No one spoke.
Caisa turned to Leander and asked, “I am led to believe you are friendly with the God of War, Lord Leander. Tell me, what is his understanding of war between our two great nations?”
Leander hesitated, fearing the consequences of what he could admit to.
But he couldn’t directly refuse the king’s request. “Prince Jarryn speaks fairly. King Nevari will not be sated in his appetite if you just hand over Jarryn. He wants conquest, and surrendering the prince will only embolden him.”
Gaze sweeping over the gathered council members, Leo drew breath as he paused, wondering just what he could reveal without gaining the displeasure of one or more of his uncles and aunts. “If you wish to preserve your way of life, you cannot treat this as a matter of mere politics.”
“Then what is it?” Jarryn returned acidly.
Leander was not deterred. “All I mean to say is that this matter will not be resolved through diplomatic envoys and attempts to reinvigorate trading agreements.”
“But we are outnumbered,” Lucien repeated what Flavian had already said. He spoke in barely a whisper, but that didn’t stop everyone in the room from hearing him.
“You don’t need numbers to beat him on the field of battle. Nevari, bold as he is, was never a great tactician. Everything he learnt, he learnt from me and I know how to best him.” Jarryn turned to face the king. “If war is coming, then let it come—but let it find us standing together?—”
“Lest we fall divided…” Leander finished an age-old saying.
Jarryn scowled as Leander interrupted him but otherwise chose to ignore him. “This fight is not just about my survival. It is about the future of your kingdom. So… make your choice.”
Flavian, taking a moment to sit down in his chair to the right of the king, said, “You speak passionately, Prince Jarryn, but that cannot stop the waves of legions threatened by your brother. Can you offer a strategy? Tactics? Because hope is not a plan.”
“I don’t just know their tactics, Lord Talius, I know their weaknesses. Nevari’s generals are arrogant, blinded by their sudden rise to power after my father’s death. They are all his personal friends and are as green as the day they were born.”
“I can confirm this,” Venser said when the king looked his way. “The military is run by children, each of whom has a superiority complex larger than the next.”
“They also rely on overwhelming force and are slow to adapt when their plans go awry. If we strike swiftly, unpredictably, we can cause chaos among their ranks.” Jarryn sounded much more confident now, talking about what he knew best. “The Desannian armies are vast, yes, but their cohesion is fragile. Break it, and their numbers will count for nothing.”
“And what of your brother?” Caisa asked.
“Nevari will hide behind his court. Strike him where he feels safest, and his kingdom will crumble from within. ”
“A bold plan…” Lucien nodded.
“And a dangerous one,” Verin agreed. “You would need a small force, one capable of slipping into the palace unnoticed.”
“You are willing to risk your life for a kingdom that is not your own?” Lord Haldon asked dubiously.
Jarryn’s expression hardened as he met the lord’s gaze. “I was given shelter here and I owe my life to the generosity of the king and his people. If I must risk it to repay that debt, then so be it.”
The corners of Haldon’s lips curled up into a smile. Leander instantly disliked the man as he felt contempt radiating away from him, clearly not a practiced Aesthesic… or perhaps he simply didn’t care.
But it wasn’t Haldon who spoke next, even though he looked like he wanted to say something.
“And what of your mother, Lord Leander?”
Leo turned to face the king. “You have probably spoken to her more recently than I have, Your Majesty,” he responded bluntly.
“Even she knows some silences are better left unbroken,” Jarryn muttered. “Seems the divine court thrust you out for a more emotive reason than the one you are letting on.”
“What, exactly, are you accusing me of?”
“Nothing good, I’d wager,” Jarryn shot back. “Your presence in this very room suggests malcontent amongst the Nine, a displeasure for something you have done.”
All the while Jarryn was verbally sparring with him, Leander couldn’t quite get over the fire in those cobalt eyes, so intense. “If the Nine wanted you to know, they would have told you. As it is, your existence is insignificant enough for you not to top the list of those who deserve to know.”
Courtiers exchanged uneasy glances. Jarryn, a powerful Aesthesic and well-educated in royal ways, kept most of his emotions in check, or at least hid them to the degree that they were not radiating around the room.
But the other members of the court were not so adept, and Leander could sense their excitability for the public argument he was having with Jarryn.
The disquiet radiating throughout the chambers was starting to have an impact on Leander’s own emotions. His own agitation was building, and not just because Prince Jarryn had sought him out as his prey.
Leander didn’t really understand how Prince Jarryn had recklessly and rapidly progressed from polite and demure to something best described as wildfire in the court meeting in all of three seconds, but here they were.
“If we are not to know their intentions,” Jarryn uttered, his voice quiet but carrying to all in the room in the uncomfortable silence. “Then telling us your own would be enough.”