Chapter Thirty-Six

Am I In Trouble?

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Many centuries ago, Dahyran, chieftain of the Valekh tribe, set about conquering as many tribal territories north of the Khasavin mountains as he could, collecting them all under the banner of a new nation called Valesk. He married a woman from every tribe that he conquered, and fathered six children, each from a different mother. These were Vysda, Mera, Goska, Devra, Yldra, and Urska.

Dahyran didn't want to see his descendants fighting each other for the throne. He divided the country into six Principalities, governed by each of his children, and decreed that the royal succession would rotate through their descendants, family to family, in the order of their birth. He also established the Noble Council, a parliament of representatives from each Principality, tasked with ensuring that any future monarch would be a just and competent ruler.

Through the ages, this system worked smoothly as the people of Valesk proudly upheld the traditions established by their founder - until ten years ago.

The old King Kerthan Vysdatha had suddenly died of a heart attack, and then Prince Daryan Meratha, who should have succeeded Kerthan, perished with his wife and his oldest daughter when their manor burned. Daryan's younger son was an Alchemist, barred from holding office in government. The only remaining direct Mera descendant, the daughter of Daryan's deceased sister, was still a child.

In the midst of this chaos, Prince Halany Goskatha was able to drum up enough votes among the Noble Council to bypass the Meratha family. It wasn't the first time a Principal family had lacked a suitable candidate for monarch, and it wouldn't be the last. Over the objections of those who held suspicions that Halany may have orchestrated that chaos himself, the Noble Council - most likely bribed and manipulated - installed him as King.

It was this very “King” who sat in Prince Gorvan's high seat when Yilina led Kelvaran into the great hall of Devratha Manor.

Kelvaran froze momentarily, until Yilina prodded him with a soft clearing of her throat. He looked at the floor - a standard gesture of deference to the monarch, but it also gave him a few minutes to collect himself as Yilina led him forward. They stopped a respectful distance from the dais where Halany sat flanked by Gorvan and Abrizhen.

“Lord Kelvaran Meratha, Your Majesty,” Yilina said aloud, giving Halany a curtsy before leaving Kelvaran there to take her seat with Gorvan's Alchemists at the side of the room.

Kelvaran knelt, still staring at the floor. He endured a very long silence, sweating and barely containing a tremor as he cursed himself for suddenly feeling like a child again in front of this man, these men, he so despised.

“Raise your face, son,” Halany said in a surprisingly mild and sonorous voice.

Kelvaran obeyed, keeping his expression carefully neutral.

If all one knew of Halany Goskatha were his deeds, both rumored and confirmed, then one might expect to see the face of a cold brute, to feel the cruelty oozing off of him as one could with Gorvan Devratha. But Halany's appearance showed none of that. He was in his fifties but looked much younger. His soft honey hair curled around a chiseled jaw. His brown eyes exuded warmth and mirth, the lines around his eyes crinkled in a way that made him seem to be always smiling.

He was widely considered to be one of the most handsome men in Valesk, and his powerful, protective presence filled an entire room to itself, making people want to be near him and to hang on his every word, to do anything for him, even give over their country to be remade to his liking, give up centuries of proud traditions, give over their very lives to him, give up their neighbors to be dragged from their homes and imprisoned, tortured, put to death.

Kelvaran almost lost his stomach right there on the floor at Halany's feet.

He took a glance about the massive Great Hall, taking stock of his surroundings. On the dais, Gorvan sat to Halany's right hand, stern as ever and looking none too pleased with Halany's presence. Abrizhen, at Halany's left hand, would plainly rather be anywhere else, but managed to shoot Kelvaran an occasional look of sheer contempt.

At floor level, to the right of the dais, Yilina sat with about a dozen Alchemists, watching Kelvaran closely and not without some apprehension. She gave him an encouraging nod as their eyes met briefly. The only other people present were a very heavy Royal Guard, a man stationed every four feet along the surrounding walls. Kelvaran eyed these nervously.

“Your Majesty...” he said quietly.

He'd like to think he was only putting on an act of intimidated deference, but the quaver in his voice seemed to expose the fifteen year old boy inside him who had just lost his family and his home, whose life may be endangered if he put a toe out of line, and who had never really found a place to put all of that pain and anger and fear.

He slowly pulled his gaze away from those Guards and returned it to Halany, who still smiled at him with that sickeningly kind expression.

“...am I in trouble?” he whispered.

“Not at all, son!” Halany exclaimed with a tone of delighted surprise. “Not at all. We are quite pleased that you've found your way back to the fold. I only wished to lay eyes on you myself. Come, kneeling is bad for the knees.”

He stood and gestured for Kelvaran to do the same. He indicated a grouping of chairs and tables near the massive fireplace of the Great Hall.

“All of us here are descendants of Great King Dahyran, there's no need for all this ceremony among family.”

As Halany stepped off the dais and brushed past him, Kelvaran hazarded a confused glance over to Yilina, who returned a look of both worry and vexation that she was apparently not invited.

Gorvan and Abrizhen both rose as well, and Kelvaran could only follow warily. They all took seats around a small table before the fireplace and a servant brought wine, passing empty glasses around to them and leaving the carafe. Kelvaran observed the other men as Halany poured for everyone, Gorvan leaving his glass untouched, Abrizhen practically draining his at once. Kelvaran followed Gorvan's suit, but toyed with the stem of his glass nervously.

“To homecomings!” Halany said jovially, raising his glass.

Kelvaran and Gorvan clinked their glasses to his then sipped the wine gingerly. Abrizhen half-heartedly waved his glass in their general direction before swallowing the remainder while Gorvan scowled at him.

“Lord Meratha, you have grown into a fine young man,” Halany said, sitting back in his chair casually. “Gorv tells me that you've come in pursuit of Madame Vysda. You two had a relationship in your school days, right?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Kelvaran answered quietly, “but...”

“You may have to fight our young Lord Devratha for her,” Halany went on with a chuckle.

Kelvaran turned to Abrizhen, opening his mouth as if he didn't know how to answer. Abrizhen just returned an arrogant smirk and reached for the wine carafe, but jumped as Gorvan apparently kicked his chair.

“That wouldn't be much of a fight,” Gorvan grumbled, staring his son down with disdain.

“I'm also told that you are quite eager to show us your loyalty,” Halany continued, ignoring the others.

“In any way that I can, Your Majesty,” Kelvaran replied, “although my uses may be limited. If you have need of another Alchemist, I'd-”

“After the unfortunate passing of your parents, you were taken under the wing of Mistress Amelys Thanelin, yes? Would you like to tell me what has happened there?”

“She deceived me,” Kelvaran said sullenly. “She told me we would stay out of politics, but then she moved us to Caedra and became the Queen's Mistress of Alchemists. That's not staying out of politics.”

“And yet, returning here lands you in the deep of politics nonetheless.”

“At least here it's for my own country,” Kelvaran said with conviction, sitting rigidly in his chair and allowing just a touch of anger to show.

“You were twenty years old when Mistress Thanelin went to Caedra,” Halany said with light suspicion. “Why did you go with her?”

Kelvaran sighed in a self-deprecating manner.

“She had me convinced that you would want to kill me. But the more I've thought on it, I've realized that you have no reason to do so. I have no claim or inheritance, even in Meratha let alone nationally. I'm just an Alchemist, and quite content with that. I'm no threat to you.”

“It would be a great help to me in some quarters if you were to publicly swear your fealty. You're willing?”

“I am,” Kelvaran answered enthusiastically.

“You'll come tomorrow, then. Gorvan will bring you to the Capital.”

Kelvaran shot a look of surprised confusion to Gorvan. “But, Lady Devratha...”

“Pfft,” Gorvan said with a dismissive wave. “You've said Mistress Thanelin is keeping her under guard. We'll find another way. If we keep you here, perhaps she'll come after you again.”

Kelvaran weighed all possibilities. Kazia had no means of returning, so he knew she was safe, but for the benefit of deception, he nodded his head thoughtfully. “Yes, I think she just might.”

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