Chapter 14

North Bank of the Thunderhorn, Kingsheart, Sidor

Aldric stared out the farmhouse window, finally giving up on his pacing. He had arrived early and, in spite of Alyssa’s protests, without guards. He needed to convince Edmund that he was being sincere and was a reasonable intermediary. Worse, he had to convince Serwyn who, by all reports, was becoming more insatiable and bloodthirsty.

He knew Alyssa did not trust Edmund, and to be honest, he didn’t either, but he trusted Edmund’s sense of self-preservation. He knew Edmund did not want this war any more than he did. There had been signs. Orders later countermanded by the king, offers for negotiation not taken up, all of which told Aldric what he needed to know. Edmund was smart enough to see the situation was gaining momentum and would soon have too much to stop. He would need Aldric.

Although, to keep convincing him of that was going to take every ounce of skill Aldric had ever developed. It was already going to be difficult, but Garris’s decision to not attend made it harder. He understood the baron’s refusal, to a point. Garris was right that he could not trust Edmund not to make this into a trap. He had tried to provide a scenario that minimized that risk. He had suggested an equal number of guards on each side, he had arranged for the meeting to be close to the Hornbridge, to give them a quick escape route to River Mark, and he had positioned a large force of guards on the River Mark side of the Thunderhorn.

Garris had not been mollified and Aldric had been forced to come alone.

Movement in the distance brought Aldric back to the here and now. Edmund and Serwyn were on horseback, followed by five guards. Aldric was surprised that Edmund had honored his request for a minimal guard contingent, even if that was no longer necessary since Garris was not going to join them.

Serwyn, Edmund, and four of the guards dismounted, tying their horses up next to Aldric’s, while another one seemed to be riding around to the rear of the building. Aldric stepped back from the window, positioning himself in the middle of the open room as they entered. Most of the guards stayed outside, with only one following Edmund and Serwyn into the small farmhouse.

Colm, Aldric thought. The hawk-faced man whom his brother liked to use as his personal errand boy.

“Edmund. It seems we are just family here today. I have come without guards, as a gesture of trust. Perhaps...”

Serwyn turned to the guard and said, “Wait outside.”

Colm hesitated, glancing at Edmund, who gave the slightest nod, as if to confirm it was safe.

“Where is Garris?” Edmund asked.

“He sends his regrets. He felt ... uncomfortable with the arrangements.”

“Afraid to stand up for his actions? To face justice?” Serwyn demanded.

“I think he might have been afraid to face that justice here, in this room, instead of negotiating an end to this. You have to admit, there have been actions of late that would make it hard for those who question the crown to trust its good intentions. I think he was afraid that this might be a trap.”

An expression passed between Edmund and Serwyn, telling Aldric all he needed to know. Garris had been right to worry.

“Anyone who questions the crown should...” Serwyn started, taking an angry step forward.

A fumbling attempt to seem angry to hide his surprise. He allowed himself to be stopped when Edmund held him by the elbow, stopping him.

“If Sinclair is not here, then what is the point of this meeting?” Edmund asked.

“There is still a purpose. Garris is willing to negotiate. He even believes peace can be achieved, although only if the crown reconsiders some of its recent ... decisions.”

“Reconsider? That traitor dares to make demands!” Serwyn screeched.

“Your Grace,” Aldric said, addressing Serwyn formally, “these are not demands. They are suggestions to prevent further unrest. The rebellion has been bloodless ... so far. There is an opportunity here to end this peacefully, to show mercy and wisdom.”

“Mercy?” Serwyn said, spitting on the ground to show his contempt.

“Serwyn, we could end all of this. Consider offering clemency to Garris and those who have supported him. It would go a long way toward healing the rift in our kingdom. Garris will come back into the fold. It will be tense, but ... things can be better. Reinstate the Council of Commoners. Formally guarantee the rights of the barons. These actions would preserve peace in Sidor and strengthen your rule, Your Grace.”

“I will never negotiate with traitors!” he shouted, stabbing a finger at Aldric. “They deserve to burn for their disloyalty!”

Edmund moved behind Serwyn, placing a hand on his shoulder again. “Your Grace, perhaps we should...”

“No! I am the king! I will not be lectured on leadership by those who would undermine my authority! Perhaps both of you are traitors. Perhaps you should both suffer the same fate as Sinclair.”

Aldric had heard of Serwyn’s rages and that they had become wilder. More uncontrolled. More so, it seemed as if Edmund thought the same thing, his expression turning dark. Troubled. He took a step back, his eyes on their nephew. Aldric could see him working the situation, trying to figure out how to keep this from turning into a disaster.

That was what Aldric had hoped for. Edmund was a better manipulator than he would ever be. This was normally something Aldric was proud to say, preferring a more straightforward approach, rather than always twisting the truth and lying as his brother did.

He hoped that Edmund could calm their nephew down. Keep this from getting out of hand.

What his brother would do, however, he would never have guessed.

Moving much faster than he thought Edmund was capable of, his brother moved up right behind Serwyn, his hand snaking around in front of Serwyn, a blade Aldric had not seen in, it slicing across the boy’s throat.

Blood sprayed across the space between them, splashing Aldric’s tunic and face. Serwyn’s eyes went wide, his mouth forming an O as he grasped at the wound. Time seemed to slow as Serwyn crumpled to the floor, gurgling his last breaths. Aldric stood frozen. He had been in dozens of battles, watched hundreds of men die close up, many by his own hands. But this, he was not prepared for.

Edmund, who was mostly clean, his body blocked by Serwyn’s, threw the knife to the floor at Aldric’s feet and took several steps back.

He gave Aldric a cold smile before he screamed, “Guards! Help! The king is slain! Aldric has murdered Serwyn!”

It was an impressive act, his voice sounding panicked and afraid, as if he had seen his king murdered in front of him. Realization struck. This might not have been his initial plan, but it had been something he had considered. Been prepared for. When he saw no Garris, he had settled on his play. Serwyn had been growing increasingly erratic. With him dead, and Aldric framed as the traitor who killed him, a member of Garris’s revolution, it cleared the way for Edmund himself to take the throne.

Aldric had always known Edmund was ruthless, but even in his wildest dreams, he could never have imagined him capable of this.

Edmund bolted for the door, his cries for help growing more frantic. “Treason! Seize the traitor!”

Aldric could not wait. He knew staying to defend himself was not an option and that there was no time to waste. It explained why Edmund had only brought a few guards, headed by his lackey Colm. The other men were probably equally vetted. Aldric knew the easiest outcome for Edmund would be for Aldric to be dead, allowing Edmund to describe the events any way he chose.

Aldric was left with only one option; he drew his sword and ran for the rear of the farmhouse, out the door he knew was there. As he burst through the door, a guard stood there, waiting, his blade already drawn. The only thing that saved Aldric was the man clearly did not expect to see anyone, let alone a duke covered in blood.

The hesitation allowed Aldric to step back and bring his sword up in time to parry the blow that came, instead of being cut down as he came through the door. He countered with a swift riposte, his blade finding purchase in the gap between the guard’s cuirass and gorget. The man fell, clutching at his throat.

Aldric wasted no time. He vaulted onto the fallen guard’s mount, spurring the beast into a gallop. As he rode hard for the Hornbridge, shouts followed him as Edmund’s men mounted and gave chase.

Aldric had enough of a lead to know he was safe. The kingdom was another question.

Civil war was now inevitable. Edmund would use Serwyn’s death to consolidate his power, painting Aldric as a traitor.

Starhaven, Kingdom of Sidor

The docks of Starhaven were all but barren. Edmund had not seen it this bad since the peasants had all but encircled the capital during their revolt. People were scared then, and they were scared now. After Colm and his men failed to stop Aldric from escaping, and they had seen the several hundred men Aldric had pre-staged on the other side of the Hornbridge, Edmund had come straight back to Starhaven.

He needed to rally the banners and for that, he needed to be officially recognized as the proper ruler of Sidor. Even if there were no other options, with Serwyn dead and Aldric guilty of his murder, there should be no question as to his being crowned. With the amount of unrest already in the kingdom, and so many barons on the fence, it was important to follow the precedence of coronation.

Even with how quickly he made it back to the capital, word seemed to travel ahead of him, as it always did. Carried on fear and the wind. If tensions among the barons were high, it was more so among the populace. Every village and town they had passed through had shuttered itself, afraid of soldiers marching through their homes, fighting in their streets.

Things had gone so badly. He had known this was coming. Serwyn had become unstable. Dangerous. All the turmoil across the kingdom could be traced back to his inability to control himself. Every plan Edmund had, every chance to get things back under control and start exerting their will over the barons, the boy had disrupted in a childish tantrum.

If it had remained at that, Edmund would have found a way around it, but he had been escalating. Feeling his power. The killing of Fletcher was surprisingly well done, but executing Thurston and the business with the Council of Commoners had been devastating mistakes. Worse, he had become aggressive with Edmund himself. His threats to have Edmund join Thurston had become more frequent and believable.

Edmund knew he had acted rashly. He had seen Serwyn raging, recognized that it was only the three of them in the farmhouse, and had made a snap decision. At that moment, it had seemed the right one but ... time would tell.

Edmund had started up the road to the palace when his scribe, Orlan, came running down the road, skidding to a stop in front of him.

“Your Majesty,” he said with a low bow. “I am sorry. I did not know you would be here so soon.”

“It is fine, Orlan. And it is not Your Majesty. Not yet. I have to be sworn in first.”

“Of course,” the scribe said, bowing again.

Orlan fell into step next to him as Edmund continued his path up the road from the docks to the palace, guards fanned out to either side of the street and ahead, clearing the way.

“Have the wyverns been dispatched to the barons?”

Edmund had sent a wyvern ahead as soon as it was clear Aldric was gone, and almost certainly the south with him, to start shoring up his support.

“Yes, Your Grace. Most of the barons in western Kingsheart have replied, pledging their support. The Duke of the Icelands has responded on behalf of all of his barons, although many of those have added their voices to it since.”

“Only western Kingsheart?”

“Many of the eastern barons have responded favorably, Your Grace. However, those closest to the Shatterstone Mountains have been ... quiet.”

“Shalesport, Deepford, Harlington, Cragshand, Penshaw, Yorwick, Darrington?”

“Most have given no response. The Barons of Shalesport and Penshaw have asked for ... clarification on what happened at the Thunderhorn. Most had heard of the peace meeting, but accounts of what transpired are ... varied. Rumors already run rampant through the kingdom.”

They passed through the merchants’ district, the constant haggling and dealing pausing as Edmund and his retinue passed.

“That happened faster than I expected. An official proclamation must be issued today. Announce the murder of King Serwyn at the hands of his uncle, the usurper Aldric Whitton. Make it known that Aldric acted in support of his co-conspirator, Garris Sinclair, in an attempt to seize the throne.”

“It shall be done, Your Grace. I will see to it personally.”

“Good. While we are at it, I think we need to start swaying some of the public sentiment. I want you to begin paying certain individuals to spread additional rumors about the true cause of this conflict.”

“What sort of rumors, Your Grace?”

“Be creative. Perhaps Sinclair is in the pay of the Lynesians, sowing discord and plotting regicide. Or maybe Aldric has been infected by curses from the Maw, driving him to madness and treachery. The more varied and outlandish, the better. As long as they keep the theme of Aldric and Sinclair’s evil and possibly Maw-spawned intent.”

“I understand, Your Grace, it shall be done as you command. There is, however, worse news. It seems the nobles in Lindenwood have risen up and overthrown the newly installed baron. He is missing, and they have declared for Sinclair’s rebellion.”

“Damnable fools,” he hissed. “Send a second wyvern to each baron who has not given clear, unequivocal support. Make it clear they have this one chance to prove their loyalty. If they fail to do so, they will be counted among Sinclair’s followers and dealt with accordingly.”