Prince Kristian's Honor

by Tod Langley

Chapter 8

  Deliberations

  Mikhal sat slumped in a large oak chair within the council chamber. This was where the advisors informed the king of the problems the territories faced. At any other time, it would have been a privilege for him to be included among the men seated in the room, but after the attack, he could care less. After the murder of the king and the kidnapping of his daughter, the room was now being used to determine what should be done next. Alek sat next to him but was even less aware of his surroundings than his lieutenant. A bandage was wound tightly around his head. He tried to maintain focus on the problem, but ever since the demon had thrown him against a pillar, Alek had faded in and out of consciousness. The commander managed to order Romlin and Hanson back to the barracks to alert the men and prepare them for whatever orders might soon be coming, but that was as much strength as he could muster. Mikhal had started off with them as well, but Alek quickly stopped him and requested he stay in case he passed out again. The young officer was reluctant to sit in on such a meeting but decided that waiting for hours with the others in the barracks would be much worse.

  Now he sat at a long polished table watching Duellrian officials argue with the Erandian prince about what to do. The kingdom’s resolve to fight Belarn had significantly diminished with the death of their king. The councilors now argued that both time and deep thought were needed before committing to anything.

  Kristian paced the length of the table, shaking his head in disagreement to the suggestions of the old men across from him. “No, no, no! We can’t wait. Even now we are wasting time. As we debate about what to do, this demon is probably taking the princess to Belarn for who knows what purpose. I have only a small force with me, but I am willing to ride with them to free her. How can you calmly suggest we wait and see what this madman’s plans are?”

  The king’s chief advisor stepped forward, trying to assure the prince. “My Lord, please understand. We have lost our king. His son is still in shock and unable to make such a heavy decision.”

  “He’s likely cowering instead of taking on his responsibilities,” Kristian replied under his breath.

  Mikhal was disgusted with Kristian. The prince had continually insulted their hosts instead of trying to find a viable solution to their problem. He did not know what Kristian was thinking, but Mikhal thought he was too ready to attack with no real plan of what to do. Kristian seemed to have changed for the better in the last few days, at least toward the cavaliers. He was more open and concerned about the challenges of leading. Maybe the positive change was the influence of the princess, Mikhal thought.

  Mikhal noticed that Kristian was even personable with the officers, and he began talking with Alek about the current affairs of Erand. The young officer and his captain both hoped their prince was finally coming around. Now, Kristian was even more bitter than before. He was quick to anger and even quicker to judge the actions of others.

  Mikhal feared the demon’s attack had permanently and irreversibly changed their prince. The cavalier saw how the prince had frozen when the monster looked at him. They did not know what Kristian had seen. Maybe it was his death or his inability to destroy the monster. Whatever the prince saw, it had left him feeling inadequate in some way. His failure was an insult to his sense of honor. Perhaps, Mikhal thought, Kristian felt like a coward, and it was that feeling more than anything else that was driving him to encourage a hasty attack. Mikhal feared the cavaliers and all of Duellr were about to march for the sake of his prince’s honor rather than to save the princess.

  “But how was I able to resist the demon?” Mikhal asked himself. Everyone commented how it had struck such a terrible fear into them that they could not move. Even Alek asked Mikhal if he had looked into the demon’s eyes.

  “I’ve never seen anything more terrible. Ever. It was like looking into the depths of hell,” his captain commented. Mikhal had no answer. He had simply acted to save the prince by attacking the monster. Mikhal tried to remember the demon’s eyes but could not. He did not remember anything terrible like Alek or Kristian. In fact, whenever Mikhal thought of the demon, he found himself thinking of the beautiful woman he had seen earlier.

  “Besides,” one old man attempted to point out to Kristian, “this direct act to destroy the entire leadership of our kingdom indicates to me that Belarn plans to attack us, very soon.” Several other officials nodded in agreement. This time even Mikhal sneered in contempt. For Belarn to attack Duellr, they would have to either sail across the Forsian Sea and then along the Jennd River to Duellr or cross the largest kingdom in Erinia … Erand. In either case, Duellr would not be surprised or overwhelmed by Belarn. These old fools were using their fears as an excuse not to act.

  The advisors seemed relieved when the kingdom’s highest ranking officer, Admiral Clarind, finally entered. The old seaman looked weary as he introduced himself to Kristian and his officers. His eyes reflected a doubt that Kristian did not understand. Finally lowering his eyes, he sighed and then turned to the table and spread out a large map of the eastern coastline and the adjoining territories to the west.

  “I have twenty ships that can be ready by tomorrow evening. If we act now, we can reach far inland before the winter storms arrive.” The gathered councilors gasped in shock as they listened to one of their own suggest they invade Belarn. They shouted in dismay, demanding to know on whose authority he planned this outrageous scheme. Duellr established a policy of non-involvement after their lands were devastated by the Kingdoms of Mesantia hundreds of years ago. As an active trader between the old and new worlds, they had learned to prosper without incurring the wrath of any kingdom that could someday come back and destroy them again. The people only supported the king in his initial decision to stand against Belarn because they believed they could get away with supporting Erand with just war materials and gold. They did not want to commit their own forces in a direct conflict, which might put them at odds with other kingdoms they traded with. Now, one of their most trusted and respected advisors was recommending their ships and men be used to attack another, more powerful, kingdom.

  “The heir has completely left the decision to me. He is quite incapable of making any decisions on his own at this point, and I am afraid that even when he recovers, he still might not be able to act in time to save Allisia.” The great seaman towered over the assembled men, his chin jutting forward, challenging the advisors to argue with him on his right to act on behalf of the new king. His eyes sharpened and seemed to regain clarity, and he wished he could smile. For years these politicians had delegated and deliberated, always opting to wait for further developments rather than take the initiative and act in the best interest of the kingdom. Admiral Clarind counted his navy as one of the finest in the world. They knew the waters between Erinia and Mesantia better than any other force. They constantly risked their lives crossing through terrible storms and defending their cargo against Mesantian pirates, and they rarely surrendered the latter to those who tried to steal it. He was outraged by the audacity of one evil prince who thought he could cripple a kingdom by killing its king and stealing their princess. He did not plan to let the king’s death go unanswered, nor did he plan to leave the fate of the princess in the hands of these fickle fools.

  Kristian’s concentration began to waver, and his memory of what had happened when the demon attacked began to resurface. When the demon had come for him, he could not move. He wanted to, he knew what he had to do, but he could not move. Kristian was paralyzed with fear. If Mikhal Jurander had not acted quickly and bravely, the demon would have torn him apart as easily as it had killed the king. Kristian was embarrassed and ashamed of his inability to save Allisia. The acknowledgment made him angry, and he swore that he would find a way to fight back against the demon and the Belarnians. He owed it to Allisia and to himself.

  Kristian also wondered what his father would think of all this. Was he right, after all, about the threat from Belarn? he asked himself. Will he think his son somehow failed hi
m? Kristian wondered if there was anything he could have done different to help Allisia. Couldn’t he at least have found enough strength to break the demon’s spell so that Mikhal would not have had to save him? He was sure it made him seem like a coward to the young lieutenant.

  He knew they were judging him; their eyes told him that he had not lived up to their sense of duty and honor. There was something to that, Kristian realized. He did not truly understand those concepts. They eluded him, and it was frustrating that others seemed to accept the terms so blindly. But his heart told him his anger and frustration were about more than just his slighted honor. Allisia was the closest thing to a friend that Kristian ever had. She was willing to give him a second chance when no one else, including his mother and father, were. The prince was not sure if his feelings for her were love, but there was something there to build on, and he did not want to lose her. Allisia deserved better than this, and he would continue to fight for her.

  Admiral Clarind looked back at Kristian and his cavalry officers. “These ships are fast and capable of carrying all of your men and horses plus most of our army. If we sail tomorrow and head north toward the Jennd River, we should reach the Forsian Sea within a week. From there, we will move quickly to seize a port on the west side of the Forsian and land on Belarnian soil. Within two weeks, we can be at the gates of Belarn, tearing down the walls around that evil man’s castle.” Kristian nodded, admiring the man’s boldness.

  “Excellent. I’m sure that Captain Hienren and his men will be ready well before tomorrow morning.” Kristian hesitated as he heard someone cough beside him.

  “We have a small army in comparison to our ally, Erand. We do not have the power to attack Belarn on our own,” one of the ministers told Clarind.

  “Erand has thirty thousand soldiers that it will commit,” Kristian promised. “I swear that my father will send them to reinforce you. Together we will remove the evil men responsible for this attack, and we will form a new government in their country. A government that will ensure peace and stability in the region.”

  “Are you sure Erand will send soldiers? It will be a bloody day for us if they do not,” the minister declared. Everyone leaned forward eager to hear what Kristian would say, including the cavaliers.

  “I speak for my king and my country. We will fight with you to get Allisia back,” Kristian swore.

  “Excuse me, Your Highness, but may I suggest something?” Mikhal asked, trying to keep his voice steady as he spoke to the gathered officials.

  Turning to see what was wrong, Kristian saw the cavalier anxiously waiting for permission to speak. He quickly nodded for the officer to address the council, wary of what the cavalryman might say. “There is no doubt we can be ready by tomorrow, and the speed of your ships can’t be matched by a forced march back through the mountains and Erand all the way to Belarn. But once we reach the Forsian, the cavaliers should disembark.”

  Kristian was about to dismiss the plan, but Mikhal continued before he could be stopped. “We should disembark for two reasons, Your Highness. First, Brekia is only two days ride from the river. By sending a messenger to your father, he could be made aware of our intentions and possibly send reinforcements in case of a long siege. Second, and more importantly, the cavaliers could ride ahead of the main force and secure the port before the ships arrive. We can use surprise and speed to our advantage, saving many lives that would be lost in a battle at a hostile harbor. If the ships attempted to seize the port without the support of ground forces, the battle could turn disastrous.” Mikhal finished his proposal looking first at his commander and then his prince for approval. Alek smiled weakly and nodded, impressed by Mikhal’s quick thinking. The prince, however, seemed doubtful.

  It was the Duellrian officer in charge of their army that influenced the acceptance of Mikhal’s plan. General Aphilan nodded insightfully. He smiled as he saw the events unfolding in his mind. “Yes, it’s a good plan. We will need to preserve our forces for taking Belarn. The quicker we take the port, the quicker we can reach the enemy’s capital.”

  Clarind looked around the table at the other officials to answer any remaining questions. The feeble council members frowned and murmured, but they had lost the argument, and they eagerly waited to be released. He was about to dismiss everyone when the main door opened and the new king walked in.

  Concern flashed across the faces of the Duellrians as they looked at the ashen and pale color on their new sovereign’s face, King Justan the Eighth. Stumbling into the room, the new king looked around to see the faces of his father’s aids. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hands trembled visibly as he approached the table. Leaning against the back of a chair for support, the young man swallowed to moisten his mouth before addressing them.

  “It is true that I have authorized Admiral Clarind to act on my behalf in this matter.” He smiled wanly at his father’s friend. “I have come here to ensure that his judgment is not questioned on this matter. I have come to say that I will be going as well.” The officials shook their heads in disbelief. Even the admiral felt it was not a good idea for the new king to accompany them. The seaman gently clasped his hand and urged him to reconsider as he moved closer to the grief-stricken youth.

  “My King, I understand your reason for wanting to do this. I know how much you want revenge, but the kingdom needs you to give them hope. I fear this is not the end of the bloodshed in Duellr. If you leave, no one will be able to stand up to those who would destroy us.” The advisors and even Kristian and his officers nodded in agreement.

  Color briefly returned to Justan’s face as he chuckled at the thought of the kingdom’s dilemma as his personal responsibility. “No, Admiral Clarind, you are wrong. You were a great friend to my father,” he paused to steady himself, afraid that he might pass out, “but I’m sure everyone is aware that I am not fit to be king. Not now, maybe not ever. It was my father’s hope that Kristian and Allisia’s child might succeed him on the throne with me or even Allisia acting as regent until he was old enough to rule on his own. My father dreamed of a stronger kingdom able to influence the Old World and, thereby, increase our wealth and power. Now that Allisia is gone, it cannot happen, and that is why we must get her back safely. The kingdom will be best served by these officials until we return.”

  Turning to Kristian, he looked directly into the other man’s eyes, judging the motives locked inside. “I loved my father and love my sister very much. I know I am not anything compared to you as a great leader … but please understand that I have to go with you. She is my sister.”

  Looking at Justan, Kristian could not help but see the poor young man trapped beneath the weight of his responsibilities. Justan was truly not fit to accompany them, and Kristian was concerned he would slow their progress down. He thought about Justan’s right to see his sister rescued, and a part of Kristian urged him to accept the new king. Without knowing why, he shook his head in approval. Admiral Clarind reluctantly agreed.

  The gathered assembly closed by shaking each other’s hands and wishing them good luck. Mikhal and Alek were the last to leave the room. Mikhal felt a slight chill along his neck as they looked at the map that was still laid out on the table. The two seas, the Forsian and Utwan, took up much of the drawing. A black dot along the eastern coast of the Utwan made his stomach turn. It was Ferral’s stronghold, Belarna. He quickly turned to help his commander back to the barracks. There was a lot to do before they sailed the next day.