"So your best plan is to remove any of the royal family who will stand in the way. I guess that we need to look at who is vulnerable and start from there. If we can take out your older brothers and nephew, then maybe we should start with them. Eventually you will need to get rid of your father, you understand?"
Another dismissive grunt preceded his final verdict, "Maybe he should be left alive long enough to know that his son will still take the throne. It just won't be the son that he figured it to be."
"Well, there you go. We have another goal and result to plan around then. Orlaan should know who is destroying his family first before his death," Caldrefan stated coldly. Death no longer had much meaning to the leader of the brothers. His heart was steeled against such emotions, since he had lost his brother long ago. Now was a time for thought and reconnaissance also, the man thought.
If Malaiy fell, he could also choose who among the royals paid the blood price for Orlaan's indiscretion. Karlaan would become king and the brotherhood would gain greater power as he continued towards the ultimate goal that he had set for himself. It would take time, but he had time.
Caldrefan left Karlaan to his own devices moving to a room said to be for meditation. Few would dare bother the man there. He was a leader of the brothers, a spiritual and physical leader that had been around longer than anyone could remember. It was his voice that they repeated in the streets and in the sanctuary of each temple throughout the nations. He was a king among the brothers, but not their god.
A statue standing eight feet tall of Sordrian, the chosen god of the Brothers of the Blood, stood near the far wall from the only noticeable door leading into the room. It was an inner sanctum. No outer wall lent vulnerability to the god's room, but the man standing across from the bronzed statue wasn't looking on this as some idol for the masses to believe in.
Caldrefan looked at the face, created from his memory by artisans long ago, when the memory of his brother remained stronger in his mind's eye. Now this was the way he remembered Sordrian and the man could no longer see the color of his brother's eyes or the exact shade of his skin. He no longer smiled in his mind, but was this solemn metal figure looking down on him.
A dark shape slipped from behind the statue. Most would have been startled by the silent figure, but Caldrefan had been expecting him and had felt him through his use of magic. Wards had been set. No one would sneak up on him while the next conversation began. No one needed to know of this branch of the brothers, but him. Caldrefan had chosen this bit of darkness as he had others, but they were the hand that the others didn't see.
Kneeling on one knee, the figure in black even had his head wrapped in a cloth without revealing his face to the man who knew him whether he was masked or not.
"Father Caldrefan," the man's voice was deep, yet subtle like the movement of a snake through dark swamp water.
His title varied amongst those who knew him. Caldrefan was brother, father and even lord to those who revered him most.
"Brother," he acknowledged the man without calling his name. No one could hear it if he slipped, but it was best to let the man in black remain nameless. He wasn't known to his local congregation and had disappeared from notice from the temple in Daria years before making most of the brothers believe him lost or dead.
The man's eyes lifted to his leader receiving a nod to stand. "You really should teach that young man more humility. If he continues to speak out, even in small circles, the others will have trouble following him."
"Karlaan gets impatient. I have him in hand. He will fit his role when it comes down to it, even if I need to exercise a tighter rein in the future," Caldrefan replied coolly. The man in black had been a close confidante in the past and remained so, even though his skills had been put to use in a different way from his time as a brother serving the temple.
"Impatience can lead to foolishness, but I know you have seen that and know that you will keep the boy in check."
A nod from Caldrefan was the only other gesture, but it didn't add any acceptance of other faults in the future king. "Duke Amaan is dead. Has there been any interest in his castle or lands since the funeral?"
"Just the usual visits from the king's envoys. Without a wife still alive or heirs of his own, the Duke's death has left a void that isn't easily filled."
"He was a general also."
"In retirement, though he continued to visit his replacement and other key officers," the shadow nodded.
Caldrefan raised a hand to tap a finger against the tip of his chin as he crossed his other arm for support. "Perhaps we need to send someone to see if they plan to donate the man's castle to the people. It would make an excellent sanctuary and temporary home to those in need."
The other man said nothing. He was a man given to silence. It was one of the traits that made him good at his job. He was also intelligent enough to realize the rhetorical nature of Caldrefan's comment. No one would expect a king to give away one of his fortresses for free. The duke's castle held the northeast point of the city, and he had both titles and land beyond that which would require tending. Both the castle and land were important to the defense of Malaiy and Yalan, so Orlaan was likely trying to decide his best way of coping with the loss of his brother, a loyal supporter of the king during his entire reign though now more than a year had passed.
Caldrefan could still try to incite the people of Yalan by having his men suggest the idea during their speeches. It might light a fire under the king and help to disrupt Orlaan's plans further.
"Have the Shadows reported back on the other families' protection and defenses?" he asked a more pertinent and immediate question of the silent man.
A nod was the only answer from the cloaked figure. Given a moment's stare, the shadow added, "They have begun mapping openings and movement within the castles and homes. Do you plan to try putting them all to sleep like Amaan?"
The term was a kind way of putting it, Caldrefan thought of the shadow's words. "Not all of them," he replied thinking what threads needed to be pulled for a coup to sink its teeth into the jugular of this country.
Enswere had been their biggest move and royalty hadn't been a true obstacle. Racial groups had been slowly breaking that country apart for centuries. A little pulling at a few loose threads had made the whole thing fall apart in a matter of a couple years.
The masked man sensed his dismissal and slipped away into the shadows behind the statue once again. Caldrefan's thoughts were no longer on the man, but on the one he hoped to pull into this country's problems. His enemy had ties to the royals of Malaiy. Making him come to his descendants' aid was the wizard's true reason for stirring up the city and putting Karlaan on the center stage of it all.
Karlaan's reveal as the son of Orlaan and a legitimate heir had to be done at the right time. The people weren't ready and neither was the boy. Caldrefan still had work to do there, but there was time yet. His movement of each cog in the mechanism of his plan had to be set just right or his end goal wouldn't happen. He had failed in Enswere even if the country had broken in two. This time he would make it more personal.
Alexander's carriage pulled up before the gates to the king's castle. After a moment to assess the count's identity and reason for coming, the four ebony horses pulled the equally black carriage into a yard where men came to see to the horses.
The young count had been pulled aside by Prince Jeremiah and asked to come to the castle to visit the prince before returning to his home in Patris. Both men were near enough in age to have been close as children as well. They had other cousins close in age, but the sons of his mother's elder sister weren't in western Yalan. The Marquess' family had been raised away from the king's castle where she governed another part of the city in the east, while the king's younger sister's sons had been raised in Teyas far to the south.
With Wylaan being a bit older, the two younger royals had been trained to the sword by the same teachers at the same time. Prince Wylaan had spent little time with th
e younger boys as he had moved on to other training as the future king for when his father would pass the throne to him. Alexander and Jeremiah were enough years apart that early on the prince's age put him ahead of his younger cousin, but eventually the younger boy had become a man and held his own with the prince.
Offering a hand to Heralin, the count escorted his wife behind the man in charge of coordinating visitors. They weren't taken inside to some stuffy office or meeting room, but to another courtyard hidden by another wall. A gate opened up on an area lacking in the gardens many other parts of the castle had.
Men were already there before them. Soldiers, officers to be more accurate, and not only Prince Jeremiah but his elder brother were already in attendance. A raised, viewing box of seats sat to one side looking onto the stone pavers and packed earth of the castle's training ground. Only the most elite of the military practiced here by invitation. Many here were also part of the royal guard. Other royal gentlemen could be found here as well practicing with the princes from time to time, though there were less of them in Yalan now who were old enough to truly wield a sword. The next generation would follow in their fathers' footsteps soon enough, Alexander thought looking at his cousins and remembering their childhood days together here.
"I am glad that you could come, cousin," Jeremiah greeted noticing the pair entering in front of just two guardsmen. The two men wouldn't be needed to protect him here, of course, but were more likely to join in the training. That was what Jeremiah had invited him to come to the castle for after all.
"Well, it's been too long since I've been able to beat you in a duel, my prince. The invitation to do so again was just too tempting to ignore."
The princes laughed at the verbal jousting of their younger cousin.
Wylaan returned the volley first saying, "With you holed up at Patris, I would say that you have more likely gotten rusty, Count Alexander. What kind of sparring partners could you possibly have so far away from court?"
"Good ones?" Alexander shrugged with a smile. Two of his regular partners had his back now, and they had been picked from his father's men as part of his personal guard before the count had left for his post in Patris. They were well trained and expert swordsmen as well.
Again the princes laughed.
Jeremiah walked forward saying, "Well, I guess that we will find out if that is true. You do remember how to put on your fencing gear, don't you, Alex?"
Giving Heralin a hand stepping up into the viewing box to join the wives of the princes and their maids, Alexander answered the prince. "Oh, I am not that rusty, though we use long swords more often in Patris. Pointy, little rapiers aren't nearly as useful in real combat."
"Like any of us have needed to go into combat," the elder prince, Wylaan, commented. He didn't seem disappointed with the fact that Malaiy had been at peace during their lifetimes. The country had rivals, but even they were bound through marriage, trade and other agreements. Tseult and Kloste were closest and larger lands, but the wealth of Malaiy was built on trade and brought enough to the table that more than a century had passed since the three had been at odds with each other.
Alexander already had his weapon at his hip. The chest guards and mask would keep anyone from being maimed. Losing an eye to casual dueling had been eliminated nearly exclusively with the advent of safety gear. Training with standard military swords was still much more dangerous when using heavy steel.
"I have heard that congratulations are in order," Alex said to his cousins. "Both of your wives are pregnant at the same time?"
Wylaan nodded and smiled at his wife, Princess Galina sitting beside his sister-in-law and their ladies who were already beginning to ignore the men as they talked amongst themselves. The women were an interesting trio, he thought. Most men would call them pretty or beautiful and no two were close to being alike in appearance beyond that. Princess Galina, already beginning to show in her pregnancy, though barely; was the daughter of a lord of Malaiy. Royal though her family was, it was a line descended from a former king of a different family. Malaiy had not always been controlled by Orlaan's line, but there was no true contention as far as Alex knew. Even so the brunette princess with her brilliant blue eyes had married Wylaan as a way to strengthen the alliance of the two families.
The other princess, Deeanne, had been a marriage to form a different bond. Blond haired with green eyes, she was in the minority for her looks in Malaiy since she was a princess from their neighboring country, Tseult. A princess before her marriage, the youngest daughter of the foreign king put the other kingdom's crown in close proximity to the possibility of an heir to both thrones through Jeremiah's future children.
She was younger than the prince by enough years that Alex was still older than her as well. The two had been married for less time than the count who was also married to a woman with foreign royal blood. He quickly noted that the princess looked a little tired and pale thanks to her first few months of pregnancy that had been harder on the girl than for her sister-in-law's second time in the same condition.
Alexander was far enough removed from the throne that Rhearden's king had arranged for a marriage to Heralin who was just the daughter of a count there. The thought made him smile that she had merely moved up from being the daughter of one count to the wife of another.
Catching his look, Heralin smiled at her husband. Her dark hair and brown eyes were common enough in Malaiy, though the lady came from further to the east; but he found her beautiful and was lucky that she was someone he could love. The arrangement hadn't been forced and the two had met before setting the wedding; but their first meeting had made it easy for the couple to agree to it.
She was three years younger than him, but intelligent and with a quality of empathy that Alexander found drew him to her. If they had met by chance at a royal ball, he would have wanted to know her. Once he had talked with her and danced, his younger self had been hooked. His title had been half a year away at the time, both were younger, but that spark hadn't faltered over the three years they had known each other.
Pulling his eyes away from his wife, which made her amused by his look; Alexander finished dressing in his protective gear. Wylaan typically would ignore the two younger men even if age had put them on a closer playing field as men. To the count's surprise, the elder prince moved to join him as they entered one of the sparring rings.
Jeremiah stayed near the table talking with a couple of the officers gathered to help with their exercise, but his eyes glanced to the two in the ring occasionally as if there was more to it than just a fencer's duel. Alexander noted the exchange and asked before the men placed their masks, "You wish to duel me first, my prince?"
Giving a slight smirk, Prince Wylaan replied, "I was just curious to see what your time in Patris has done for your skills. You don't mind, do you? I tire of beating Jeremiah myself, so it is nice to have you back to test my sword against again."
"Your brother isn't a slouch at fencing and you have access to the best swordsmen in Malaiy here, but I will do my best," Alexander answered with a nod before placing his protective helmet and mask on his head.
Made of light metal mesh, his mask was both strong enough to protect against a rapier and thin enough to see an opponent through though the view was a bit fuzzier than it would have been without it masking his eyes. Hardened leather held the mask in place and protected the rest of his head. It would be rare to be stuck from the side as it was an illegal move in fencing, but stranger things had happened in the history of the sport.
The prince was taller and outweighed him by about thirty pounds. Were this a wrestling or boxing match, most gamblers wouldn't give the smaller man a chance; but this was fencing and Alexander knew that he was lighter on his feet than his older cousin. Age wasn't enough to truly slow Wylaan, but his size made him a little slower.
Giving a brief salute of their swords, the two men came together. Their off hands were kept back and their bodies were turned to give their opponent less o
f a target for the point of their sword. Alexander's blade met and riposted the prince quickly making the bigger man jump back a step. There was no referee or judge for this match. A gentleman's sport, the two weren't trying to win a competition, but to test each other's ability.
The count didn't chase. There was no point in trying to finish his cousin off so soon. No points would be given or lost, so the match continued with Wylaan trying again though his movements made the younger man believe that he was playing for defense already. The prince wasn't tentative in his attacks, but each strike was just a bit shorter than someone with confidence in his ability over his opponent.
Alexander didn't care if he tagged the prince on his torso guard. The chest piece had places to touch to get a score in a competition, but the count was just extending the exercise to make it last longer. It wasn't that he was so cocky as to believe that the prince would make scoring easy in truth. He saw a few openings, but Wylaan was an expert swordsman and capable of leaving openings intentionally to bait him into making mistakes. Those mistakes would turn a supposed gap into a trap that would put a sword on his chest instead.
"I think that you have kept training in your castle, cousin," the prince stated after nearly a minute of practicing.
"Managing a town like Patris isn't too difficult. There is time to train and also to sail or otherwise enjoy the many nice days we have there. The king gave me an excellent place to live when he granted me the township."
"Well, I am glad that you like the land given to you. My father doesn't always worry over whether a noble will like the position given to them. He expects his family to serve and do their duty regardless," the prince said breathily.
Alexander was still breathing through his nose easily. When first getting used to these masks, some young men had found them claustrophobic causing panic attacks or making them breathless as if there was actually less air to breathe because of the mesh. His breath's warmth did get trapped to a degree making each released breath maintain the heat inside his mask.
The Unexpected Heir: A Tale of Alus Page 5