The Winds of Crowns and Wolves

by K. E. Walter

  As he sat down atop his new, soft bed, Neach could not help but smile. Though he ascended to this position by betraying his blood, the King was doing very well for himself. Lathered in the richest foods and materials, King Henrig existed as a deity within the borders of Duncairn. People genuflected as he walked by and praised him in the highest when any good resulted from his reign. A peculiar thought, that the man who had killed his brothers and sisters was living a better life than everyone surrounding the great stone castle.

  A few minutes passed before Neach decided to exit the room to explore the castle himself. He had only seen what little of the megalithic structure was in sight whilst walking through the front gates. There was bound to be more adventure abound throughout the grounds of King Henrig’s fine estate.

  He thought he would start with the watch tower, which existed right above where he currently resided. The staircase was located near the kitchen, and Neach had seen it when he entered the living quarters, guided by Henrig. Neach took a sharp left, as he left his bedroom and headed in the direction of the staircase that would lead to the watch tower.

  It was difficult to imagine what he would find upstairs. Thoughts of ironclad warriors guarding the city’s center sparked to mind, and Neach could not help but contemplate the battles which they had fought before coming to service under the King.

  When he arrived, however, he found none of that. Up the spiral staircase he travelled without pause, not a single guard in sight. He continued up the narrow entry point for what seemed like an eternity, before the first glimmer of light cracked through the stairwell. Bits of red and brown broke up the otherwise gray walls inside of the somewhat claustrophobic space that Neach stumbled upon. Heavy brick cemented together with clay was the main material used for buildings in the city. He took notice of the stark difference between the thatched huts of his village and the more modern stone look of Leirwold whenever he ventured out of the craftsman’s district, and into the heart of the city.

  At the top of the stairs there lay an inscription:

  From the tallest peaks we seek our shortest comings.

  It was written in what appeared to be an ancient calligraphy of sorts, and Neach marveled at the time it must have taken to carve it into the hard stone.

  Not much time was spent analyzing the writing, as Neach bounded past it toward the ledge. In the watch tower, the true height at which you resided was unknown for the most part. It wasn’t until you reached the summit of the large and arduous hike that you found yourself with the most stunning view of Leirwold that could be seen with human eyes.

  Panoramically, Neach spun himself looking in every direction at the mass of homes and businesses that comprised the city. He swore he saw Daniel’s home in the distance, but convinced himself otherwise before long. From his new vantage point, he could see all of Leirwold, from the poor to the wealthy and back again. The thick early summer air seemed to get caught in his throat as he coughed.

  Heat was like an old friend to his body. The winter had been long and only recently subsided, and though he spent a fair few weeks on Rosalia, he still found himself savoring every drop of sunlight as if it were a frond of water in a desert. He wiped the sweat from his brow, as he peered down into the castle’s courtyard. From above, it seemed much smaller than he remembered, but he could just about make out all of the businesses that were placed in house for the King’s benefit.

  Duncairn had seen its fair share of Kings in the past, but none like the man Henrig. He was attractive for a man of his age. Dark, chiseled facial hair outlined a strong jaw line and provided a pattern for the grooves of his face that were so prevalent. Though his eyes were now sunken from age, their deep blue coloration was poignant. He had ascended to the throne because he seized it for himself. Before Henrig, the people had ruled themselves for nearly two hundred years, but he felt there needed to be a change. With an army funded and prepared by himself and a few friends from his home, Henrig marched into Leirwold and seized the castle which had been acting as a democratic stronghold for the last few hundred years. The tales of his treachery were unparalleled throughout the Kingdom. Neach heard from a young age that the King had raped and slaughtered all who existed within the castle’s walls, calling them “naïve and brutish children”. The violence was far removed to this point, as Henrig had remained on the throne for nearly fifteen years to the day. With his father’s birthday approaching, Henrig would also celebrate his victory, but in a much more reserved way.

  It all puzzled Neach as he stood atop the watch tower peering out over the old city. This collection of people and establishments must have existed for a thousand years, yet they all fought the same battles as their predecessors and never learned from their mistakes. He thought about the King and his sudden campaign against the House which had nurtured him so and taught him everything he knew. Why would he go on the offensive now, after so long? Neach thought. The answer never came to him and he was left to ponder a variety of issues for the next hour or so. In truth, it could have been much worse as he did so while watching the sun sparkle off the tops of homes around the city. He could heard faint laughter and shouting from all the up in the tower, but nothing distinct. The city coalesced into a melded pot of stew for him to indulge in and he did so heartily. For the first time since he left Spleuchan Sonse, Neach felt at ease.

  The descent down the staircase was much smoother than the trip upward. He skipped and ran down the stairs as the new found bliss derived from the beautiful day radiated throughout his body. His feet hit the castle floor with a thud as he reached the main level.

  His body felt lighter than it had ever felt before. As he entered his room, he thought he would fly away into the grasp of his linens. Unfortunately, he never met the respite of his bed. En route to his inevitable comfort, he heard someone approaching from the hallway.

  “Coinneach, my boy, the King requests your presence,” a fat man with a balding head yelled into the room.

  “Where am I to go?” Neach asked innocently.

  Laughter rose from deep within the man’s belly.

  “Why, the hall, young man, where else would His Highness eat supper?”

  XVII

  He smelled it before he arrived in the room.

  The aromatic pleasure of the finest spices in the Kingdom wafted past his nostrils, as he ventured toward the hall to sup with the King. His stomach growled in response to the impending meal, but he postponed the outbreak of hunger for the next few minutes as he made his way through the castle.

  Near his room, the cloisters created an open air environment, which functioned as a breezeway on the warm summer day. Neach was grateful for the slight wind that blew across when he made his way down the hallway. Various geometric patterns were cut into the wall and left open to view out into the courtyard, where the final shop keepers were beginning to pack their belongings up for another day.

  As he glanced out into the marketplace, he felt strangely at home. The community which existed within the castle walls was cohesive and well taken care of. The King made it his priority to see that his subjects were treated with the utmost respect and care.

  The breeze came to a quick halt as he reached the humid darkness of the enclosed hallway again. Scents of rosemary and thyme grew more prominent the closer he came to the hall. Located at the edge of the secondary ring, he had heard stories from Tyrin the night before about its beauty.

  He hoped he was not late, as a few minutes had passed since he departed his room. He had found himself caught up in the beauty of the precisely carved cloisters, and had spared quite a few moments admiring them.

  Nevertheless, he entered the hall just as one of the King’s advisors did simultaneously. Neach was able to identify his by the King’s crest, which he had emblazoned on his robe, much like the boy from the forest.

  What he saw in front of him was astounding. The ceiling rose at least thirty feet to the ceiling and every inch of wall space was covered with portraits of some of the most fa
mous and infamous citizens of Duncairn throughout the Kingdom’s history. Long oak tables were arranged in rows and placed parallel to each other, leaving little space between them for walking. Though the area appeared crammed at first, it had actually been exquisitely organized. Not a single square foot of space was put to ill use in crafting the most insanely detailed hall Neach had ever laid his eyes upon.

  At the end of the line of tables there sat a high table that was raised a few inches off the ground to denote a higher stature of importance for those who dined at its quarters. From his best count, fourteen places had been set, and only his remained empty. The head of the table was reserved for the King, as Neach had expected, and he approached his side with caution.

  “I apologize for my tardiness, your highness,” Neach said tepidly.

  The King smiled a slightly irritated grin, and extended his arm to touch his shoulder.

  “It’s alright, son. Now be seated, tonight we eat up in honor of your success today!” the King exclaimed to quiet grunts from his men.

  And then he saw her.

  Seated at the head of the table, a few seats from the King, was none other than Jenos. Her striking green eyes stood out from all of the others who sat at the high table, and Neach could not take his gaze off of her. Henrig seemed to notice almost right away, before Neach had even reached his seat.

  “Ah, Coinneach, you have not had the pleasure of meeting my daughter, Jenos, have you?” the King boomed from the tip of the long, dark table that looked like a pillar laid on its side.

  Neach froze.

  The King’s daughter; he had fallen for the King’s daughter.

  “I don’t believe we have met, your Grace; Jenos, it is my pleasure,” Neach said with a wry smile.

  She replied with a seated curtsy, and Neach immediately stared down.

  Great cheer erupted from every corner of the hall, as food and drink were passed around liberally. Neach felt uncomfortable in his own skin after making the revelation. His appetite was all but gone when the advisor who sat directly across from him demanded his attention.

  “Lady Jenos is indeed a fair maiden, no?” the older man said. His eyes and face gave no hint of sarcasm or jest, and he appeared to be stone serious in his inquiry.

  Neach swallowed hard on the roasted duck that had been prepared for the occasion.

  “Yes, she is. Quite beautiful,” Neach responded coyly. He had a habit of growing in comfort as time passed in places.

  The man nodded in agreement and continued to devour the food in front of him. The King had ordered the preparation of the freshest vegetables and meats that the castle could muster for tonight. As he overheard from the others at the table, today was the beginning of a weeklong celebration for Henrig’s father, which would culminate with a grand ceremony the following weekend. The nature of his employment now appeared to be quite clear, as he contemplated the next few days.

  But his mind continued to go back to her.

  Jenos, the “fair maiden”, the black haired she-devil who had bewitched his heart with her beauty and wit, was the daughter of Neach’s mortal enemy: the bastard King.

  He could scarcely understand the predicament he found himself in, and his adolescent hormones did little to alleviate the pain he felt deep within his heart. After an hour or so, the King rose from his seat and began to speak to the collective hall, which now numbered in the hundreds.

  “Friends, family, new subjects,” he said with a glance toward Neach, “we are gathered here tonight to start the celebration of the grandest period of our year here in the Castle. My father, Filep of Endal, lived a life that was held in revere by all of the finest musicians of the land. He fought for the crown, and helped eradicate many plagues that threatened to destroy the fabric of our Kingdom. And so, for the next week, we will drink merrily, sing merrily, and play merrily in the spirit of his good faith. For without remembrance, we cannot understand the sacrifices of the past. Without remembrance, we cannot move forward to pursue greater things. So, we drink to the memory of my father, and all of those who gave the ultimate sacrifice for the flag which flutters atop the castle wall. Drink up, friends, family; tonight we begin a journey that will end in our ultimate education and appreciation by week’s end,” the King’s speech was met with an uproar of applause and cheers. The people seemed to genuinely love their ruler, a far cry from the monster Neach understood the King to be before coming to his home.

  He sat down again and began to eat voraciously. Pausing momentarily, he looked up at Neach.

  “Have you ever seen the city at night, Coinneach?” the King asked.

  Neach was taken aback by the King’s forwardness.

  “Yes, sir, from my home I have walked the streets under the light of the moon,” he responded attempting not to sound ignorant.

  The King chuckled to himself and looked toward Jenos.

  “That is nothing, my dear son, whence we finish our drink and food, I will take you to the battlements so you can lay your eyes upon the most stunning view in all the city,” the King said.

  Neach graciously accepted Henrig’s offer and continued to eat all that was left on his plate. By the end, Neach felt as if he had been stuffed like a winter chicken. Never in his entire life had he eaten the amount of food that was provided by the King’s grace the first night in Castle Leirwold.

  A few minutes passed before a single voice broke out from the crowd.

  From the wooded shores of the East land, to the western cliffs of yore, from South on Cyll’s great mountains, to the Northern village whores, from the fairies of the forest, to the stone laid castle’s core, there are bird singing above us and snakes squirming below, but the summer breeze feels warmer than the cold of winter snow.

  He finished the first verse as the entire congregation joined in.

  The Kingdom burns aflame, oh the Kingdom’s glory holds. As the vultures fly above our enemies, only the Gods will know. Oh, only the God’s will know the harshest deeds of old. When we fight in battle and take up the saddle, oh the Kingdom is our home.

  Some of the older men around the room began to well up with nostalgia. Most of them probably hadn’t fought in some years, but the memories burned vividly in their minds.

  Such camaraderie was unseen before this moment. Never before had the love and loyalty of the Kingdom’s subject been on such full display for Neach to experience. He found himself singing and clapping along with the grizzled men who surrounded him, and questioned again how the King could garner such support if he were as ruthless as they said.

  Nevertheless, he cleared his mind momentarily, as he finished a glass of wine with a large gulp. His lips had turned a dark shade of purple, but nothing could take away from the fire which was being ignited deep within his soul. It wasn’t long before the King approached his side and offered his hand in friendship.

  “Come with me, young man, for I wish to show you a sight you will never forget,” the King said joyfully, a grin beaming from ear to ear.

  Neach had no choice but to oblige and follow Henrig out of the hall and back toward the cloisters. The breeze which comforted so during the day sent a shiver through Neach’s spine, and if not for the alcohol, his teeth may well have chattered. Though the summer was upon them, the night still clung to the winter’s cold with a vice grip.

  “Do you go to the battlements often, your highness?” Neach asked, his courage no doubt brought on by the cup of cheer he had consumed a few minutes earlier.

  Without pause, the King nodded his head in confirmation.

  “Indeed, I travel here most often. It is nice to remove myself from the fracas of daily life within the Castle every now and again,” he added.

  Neach absorbed the words as if they were water to a rag, and added them to his growing encyclopedia of knowledge that he held about the King. Painted as a vagrant by every member of the House Goedwig, Henrig seemed a young man, as they bounded up the steps to the summit of the secondary ring.

  For his age, the
King moved quite nimbly. Neach questioned whether the King could beat him in a race if it came to it, but left those thoughts for another time. He trailed behind, as he struggled to keep his balance: a result of both the narrow stairs and the intoxication.