VI: Caedric

They finally announced the King and his son’s death a week after it happened. Most already knew by the time the news broke, though some denied it, claiming that a new bout of the Densen Sickness had bedridden them for the time being. Eventually, however, there was no denying it.

The few at High-Mountain that knew Caedric had learned what happened from his own mouth, but those that hadn’t only heard the distorted whisperings of those that passed the news on. As more time passed, the more contorted the whisperings became.

Officially, he was the knight that ran from his duty and abandoned the future King. Unofficially—and in the only way that mattered—he was the coward that chose his own life over the noble man’s. Coward. That was the word that hurt him the most.

He couldn’t live with his sister, she had a room in the keep. Even if he could, Caedric didn’t think it would feel right to sleep under the same roof as the Prince he failed. Instead, he found a room in a small inn close to the docks at the bottom of the mountain. There wasn’t much to do that far down. If there was, Caedric wouldn’t be welcome anyway. Not everyone knew his face, but it only took one person to recognise him and it would all be over. Some would insult me, but others would rather see me dead.

It didn’t take them long to recover the bodies of the Prince and those that fell that same night. The caravan rode Cormac Din Trellis through the street in a golden coffin—its lid covered. Caedric had wept in his room, too afraid to go out and see the man whose life had paid for his.

The next day, he dared to venture down below for some food. The innkeeper, a bald man with harsh eyes, looked him up and down with curiosity before shoving a bowl of stew his way. Caedric returned him with a few gold Han pieces. And more, just to keep him from telling anyone about my being here. The stew was hot and delicious and he had to fight to not pick up the bowl with both hands and drink straight from it. Not eating for almost a week had more of an effect on him than he thought it would.

Behind him, two tall men in shining red, black, and white armour strode in, their hands resting on swords strapped to their sides. Caedric turned, noticing the innkeeper’s eyes widening. One of the men spotted him and signalled to the other. ''Shit. This is it. They’re here to take me. Can’t have the coward knight walking about in place of the Prince. I wonder if they’ll ever find my body.''

“Everybody out,” one of the men said in a harsh, grating voice. There were only a few others in the room with him, but they had already begun to rise from their chairs. The man looked at Caedric. “Except for you.” He didn’t need to tell me that. Caedric rose to his feet but didn’t try to leave. No use in trying, this place is surrounded, more than like. When the room was empty, the other man walked out of the door. He heard talking on the other side, but couldn’t make out any words.

“Any weapons on you?” the remaining man asked, his eyes bored into him. Caedric shook his head. Dorter Van Harris and Cigam Van Pinth had taken Forrin’s Gift and his armour the day he arrived. ''Gods know where they are by now. Probably melted down and forged into something new. Would that I could do that to myself.'' Behind the man, the door opened once more and the other returned, with another trailing behind.

Caedric had never met Orsella Din Trellis in person, but there was no mistaking her as she stepped into the room. She wore a crimson dress with golden streaks that shone in the light coming in from the window. Her dark hair had been straightened and fell until it just touched her shoulders. Her hands were holding each other and rested in front of her as if to appear calm, but Caedric could see the way her fingers were white from holding them too tightly.

“Sir Caedric,” she said finally, though he assumed that the ‘sir’ was only to be polite. He dropped to his knees, too shocked to manage to make a word leave him. The two guards moved back to the door but didn’t make to leave. She turned to them. “Leave me with him.”

The men looked at each other for a moment. “Your Highness—”

“Now,” her voice was almost a whisper as she said it, but commanding all the same. Reluctantly, they obeyed. As the door closed, she turned back to Caedric. “Rise.” He, too, obeyed, still unable to speak. “You are the one who was with my brother.” The words hung in the air for a moment and Caedric held back the urge to look away. ''I will not look away from her. She deserves that, at least.''

“Yes, Your Highness,” he said, his voice almost as quiet as her’s. He didn’t know what to do with himself. His hands. What did he usually do with his hands at a time like this? He resolved to holding them behind his back and swallowed the rest of his fear down. “I was a coward, I know that. The Prince gave me an order to run and save my own life, but I shouldn’t have obeyed it. I should have insisted.” Her expression didn’t change. In fact, it hadn’t changed since she arrived. And her eyes…her eyes were just…dead.

“Yes,” she was a little louder that time. “Yes, you should have.” The words stung. He knew they were true, but he had hoped they wouldn’t hurt as much as they did. The tears began forming in the corners of his eyes once more. What kind of a man am I? About to weep in front of the future Queen. “Tell me what happened.”

He looked up, unable to contain his surprise. “Tell—”

“I want to know,” she told him, growing firm. “I want to know everything that happened that night. I want to know who killed my brother.” ''Me, Your Highness. It was me.'' He struggled through the story of how it happened. The men attacking in the night, slaughtering those in the caravan, how Cormac Din Trellis fought with his dying breaths until someone plunged a spear—

“Stop,” she said, closing her eyes. “I’ve heard enough.” She swallowed, then looked at him. “You’re right, Sir Caedric. You are a coward. If not for you, my brother may still be here. Or maybe he would have bled out long before reaching High-Mountain. We shall never know. Your sister, Terissa. She’s one of my maids. Used to talk about you often. For her sake, I won’t have you killed. I won’t have another brother’s life ripped from their sister.” She turned and began walking to the door, then stopped a few paces from it. “My coronation is on the day after next. Don’t be in the city after then. Go home Caedric Kinkaid.”

''Home. Yarina. I can go home.'' The thought made his head spin. He wished he could repay the Princess’ mercy somehow. Orsella reached the door and pulled it open.

“Happy birthday,” the words left his mouth before he could stop them. She froze in place. “The…the last words your brother said to me. He asked me to wish you a happy birthday for him.”

She never turned back to look at him, but Caedric saw her shoulders relax a little before the door shut behind her.

*

“Bless her. Amatera, bless her,” Terissa said as she helped him load his horse. It was early in the morning, the sun’s rays had just begun to poke out from the west and the smell of food coming from the market was beginning to waft their way, even from as far away as the eastern gate. It made his mouth water, and he had to feel sympathy for the guards atop the wall, who probably wouldn’t be eating until their shifts finished.

“Yes,” he said. “It was a great kindness, she did me, but I don’t know how I will be able to live with myself.”

Terissa frowned. “Hush, now. After how long you’ve served, you deserve this,” she told him, but Caedric merely shook his head.

“You don’t understand,” he looked at his horse and brushed a fleck of dirt from its mane. “This isn’t a retirement, Terissa. This is a sentence.” ''I have to go home and face them. They will know what I have done by the time I get there. But still…Yarina…would she forgive me?'' His sister’s face softened.

“Caed…” before he could weep in front of her, he pulled her into a hug. “You still have time.” She told him, her voice muffled as she talked into his chest. “The coronation isn’t until midday.”

“You have a Queen to prepare,” he said. ''When will be the next time I see her? When was the last time she was home? When I was home, even? “Go.” I’m sorry.'' For a few moments, she hung onto him. Then, she slipped away and walked off—her head low—headed back to the gates. He watched as she disappeared behind the white stone and took a deep, shaking breath. Half of the sun was now up and the smell of food was growing stronger. Even in his loose clothes, he was beginning to sweat as he stood in the light. “Get up, Kinkaid.” He whispered to himself. “Get up and go. Just go.” When his legs didn’t answer him, he grabbed the saddle on his horse with both hands and squeezed his eyes shut. “Go, damn you.”

''You’re right, Sir Caedric. You are a coward.''

“Kinkaid,” a voice behind him called out. Caedric whirled around, his hand touching where his sword once lay. In front of him, Dorter Van Harris wore almost the same clothes as he had the last time he had seen him. Though now, it was adorned with a single black rose on his breast.

“You,” Caedric said. Van Harris raised an eyebrow. “My lord.” He corrected.

“I hope you know that I took no pleasure in taking your armour. I know that to a knight, one’s armour is akin to their title. That being said, what you did…never mind that. Are you planning on going back to Vaerill?” he asked, nodding at the horse behind Caedric.

“Yes, my lord,” he nodded. “I have nothing left to give Her Majesty.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Dorter told him. His heart gave a little squeeze. “Tell me, do you truly wish to serve the Empire?” ''I always have. I always will.''

“W-What do you mean?” the spymaster looked him up and down for a moment.

“I need something done,” he said finally, approaching Caedric with curiosity. “Something that our new Queen needs not know about. You can never be thanked or rewarded for it, but you would be doing the Empire a great service.” ''Something the Queen cannot know about? What is so important that must be left out of her knowledge?'' He straightened himself up. Something didn’t feel right, but it was all he had, at the moment.

“What is it?” he asked. Dorter’s lips twitched into a smile, just for the slightest moment.

“Follow me,” he told him. He began leading Caedric back into the city, through the now-bustling streets as the coronation drew near, and down the slope of Mount Takai. Dorter walked slow and purposeful with his hands behind his back, as if unaware of the growing crowds. Afraid of being recognised, Caedric had pulled his hood up over him and kept his head low. He kept a few paces behind the spymaster so as to not look like the two were together.

When they were nearing the docks, Dorter stopped at a dilapidated building made of old, chipped bricks. Like the others around them, it was narrow and tall to save space. What are we doing here''? The man cannot be living here, surely?'' Dorter produced a key and pushed open the door with effort. Before he could step inside, Caedric grabbed his arm.

“What is this, my lord?” ''has he brought me back into the city to kill me? Was the Queen’s kindness a farce?''

Dorter wrenched his arm free. “Touch me again, and I’ll slit your throat where you stand, Kinkaid.” He stepped inside, lighting a lantern to the side of the door. Caedric hesitated outside for a moment. ''Home. I could go home.''

And do what?

He closed the door behind him as he walked in, leaving the only light in the room to come from the lantern. It was a dusty room with no furniture to speak of. On the far wall, a set of stairs led up. On the wall to the left, another set led down.

“Come,” Dorter commanded, raising the lantern in the direction of the stairs leading down. Caedric obeyed, following the man down into the dark until they reached a tall oak door. Another key was used to unlock it. Inside was a dimly lit chamber with a wooden chair in the centre. Sat on it was a small child.

Dorter walked in, but Caedric stood frozen in place. The boy was a tiny little thing with thin arms and legs. His head was lowered and his hands bound at the back. the only clothes he wore was a grey shirt and a pair of dirty brown trousers.

Dorter walked behind the chair. “Kinkaid, I’d like you to bring this boy to Ytterbron.” Caedric looked up at him. ''Ytterbron? The Sun of the South? What is going on here?'' Van Harris tilted his head a little. “Is there something confusing you?”

“What is…who is…I don’t—”

“You don’t need to know the details of who this boy is,” said Dorter firmly. “He is, however, dangerous. Take him to Ytterbron, give him to their King, and you will be saving the Din Trellis Empire from a great world of trouble.”

He finally found his voice. “The Yllliadene…they’re a ruthless people. Slavers. If they know how important he is—”

“They won’t,” he cut him off again. “Not the common folk, anyway. Very few know of this boy’s existence. Take him to King Flyar and your job will be over.” The boy shifted a little and his head rose. He made a small groan and opened his eyes. One was green, the other blue. The rest of his face was covered in dirt and dust. ''He hasn’t been hurt, it looks like. Thank the Gods. Not a scratch on him.''

“Hello,” he said softly. “Are you taking me to the south place?”

Trivia

 * This chapter marks the first time that two main POV characters meet.
 * This doesn't count the prologue, as Cormac is only a secondary POV