Dryad Eyes, part 18
2,234.
Geez, I've sucked this week, and I don't quite know why. Ah well. Here is part 18!
Alone in the cramped, dusty library that Haron often used as an office, Geran was again reading the letter that had been sent to him by the City Council of Keeper's Gateway. Although he had been expecting this, or some other reaction from another quarter, it still stung for all the reasons one might expect. He was the Battle King of the Free Kingdoms, and had dedicated his life to defending them against the likes of Rejarza, Katharion, Kerim Thiath, and whatever other as-yet-unknown dangers might be hiding in the world. Why was that not enough? Intellectually, he knew that any man or woman that would lead others must always prove themselves to the people that depended on them. It was only right and fair that such was the case. Still, their inquiry, which was but a minor shift in tone from an accusation, vexed his ever-unreasonable heart.
Hearing the approaching footfalls that must have been a dozen or more steps from the door, he folded the paper and tucked it away inside the white, sleeveless jacket he wore. There was a time and a place for the Battle King to be frustrated, worried, and human, but that place would never be before the eyes of the man he had come here to see.
There was a small delay, and a bit of jingling, as Haron retrieved the key ring from his belt. Then the lock clicked, the knob turned, and the door opened, admitting the officer through the open portal. Spying Geran, who was sitting at the far end of the table in the chair he normally occupied himself, he missed a step and then stopped in his tracks. "My Lord. This is a surprise."
"Haron. Please, come in. Sit." Ordinarily, the man that was called the Battle King would never have been so rude as to invite a man to take a seat at his own table. Even previously, when his temper had often run hot and free before his extended stay in a higher plane of existence where he had learned to let go of all the anger and pain that once drove him, he would have balked at that. The tightly controlled, impotent fury that writhed across Haron's face in spite of the man's unsuccessful attempt to quell it was the reason why.
"I've been meaning to speak with you," Geran added. His intention was to reestablish his working relationship with this man. A number of things, recently, suggested that he needed to be reminded that there was but one King in this fortress. Would doing that in this manner alienate him further? The King hoped not.
"I am, as ever, at your disposal, your Majesty." This response came in a flat, angry tone.
There it was. That reaction was actually pertinent to what Geran wished to speak to the man about. He did not wish to be the sort of King that would cut a man's tongue from his mouth for speaking against him, but he could also not allow certain kinds of insubordination to go unchecked.
"You do not care for me," He began, keeping his own tone conversational, but firm. "You have your reasons, I am sure, and I can live with that. I have neither the need nor desire to be adored by everyone I meet. And we both know that you were promoted to your present position because you time-and-again proved yourself to be a capable, competent leader, not because you knew well the taste of my backside."
"On top of that," Geran added, "you were mentored by General Harryson of Camelot, who I greatly admired."
"He was a great man." The other man's voice remained tight and well controlled, still filled to just short of overflowing with anger. He was listening, however. Geran's invocation of Harryson's name had not been unplanned. The man had taught Haron, like so many others under his command, much about being a soldier, and a man, right up to and including his heroic death during the Fall of Camelot.
"Indeed." Geran agreed, setting aside the momentary regret that he had experienced. Had he not been away from Camelot during the Fall, then Harryson and a great many other good men and women might still be alive. Folding his powerful arms on the edge of the table and leaning forward against them, he looked more like a man sharing in a quiet conversation than a King about to dress down one of his officers. "You will say that you were but doing your duty, concerning the items you brought before the City Council's attention last night. I will agree, up to a point. As an officer in my army, as a man, you should have shown me enough respect to bring it before my attention as well. Instead, my first notice was a formal inquiry that you helped draft."
Pausing for a moment, he gave the bristling Officer a chance to start to respond. Then, before a full syllable could be uttered, he cut the man off. "Would Harryson have had it any different?"
"No." A flush of shame, mixed with yet another unhealthy dose of anger, touched Haron's face. "No. I can't say that he would have."
Several long moments passed, during which Geran allowed Haron to stew over all that had just been said. Bringing the Officer around would take more work than one conversation, especially of this nature. As the Battle King, he knew this. He had hope, however, that in spite of what the man was very clearly feeling in that moment, he had managed to reach him on some level.
Finally, satisfied that the silence had gone on for long enough, and that the point had been made, Geran asked a new question. "What do you know of the boy who brought that information to your attention in the first place?"
"What does he have to do with anything?" Haron remained inclined to be difficult for the time being, it seemed.
"That this particular attack would be made on my persona was not unexpected. You are aware of the attack on Treyp?"
"Yes, my Lord." The officer answered, hoping that his impassive face was not too impassive. "Pardon that I have not looked too deeply into the matter, but I had assumed that you and yours would pick up the slack. She is one of your number, after all."
"We did. And we learned that something was said, by her, that was overheard by her attackers, who carried word of it back to their employers, who creatively linked it to the information you presented before the council." Geran took note of the uncertainty that had risen alongside the anger behind Haron's eyes, and was disturbed by it. How deeply had this man been involved? "The boy may be our only link to discovering who these men are."
"The girl is alive, then?" The officer asked suddenly. "I am, of course, assuming that this was how you reached these conclusions. I had heard that she was at death's door."
"The boy." Geran insisted, suddenly finding himself made even more mistrustful. "I wish to speak of the boy, not the girl. Clear her from your mind."
"Oh. I just... Okay." Frustrated, and obviously so, Haron tried to present a facade of not being able to remember off the top of his head. In truth, he was considering the lie that he was about to tell. The boy in question was to leave the Keep in the morning, and if the Battle King discovered this deceit then that was likely it for him. It would implicate him in the attack on the dryad girl, who was apparently Geran's niece by blood. "My apologies, your Majesty, but if I'm not mistaken, that boy left the Keep sometime yesterday while I was speaking before the City Council. He was on his way to DarMinask, I believe. Something about a library there he wished to study at."
For a moment, given the way that Geran was looking at him, the officer wondered if he had skated too far out on thin ice. Had the King, perhaps, already discovered the boy? For his part, Geran was looking at this sometimes petty, but highly capable man in a new light. Suspicions had been roused that would not easily be put to bed. Finally, with no other recourse, he recognized that the officer was becoming a potential threat, if not an outright enemy already.
The door slammed open, and Thanik rushed into the room through it. "Emergency, Haron! It is Bawo, he...!"
The actor stopped in his tracks, his wide eyes locked on Geran's bearded face. This was, of course, not the company that he had expected to find in this room. In fact, it was the very last scenario his mind would have presented him with had he been told that he would find an unlikely scene upon entering the room. For a moment, as he was still dressed in his storyteller's garb, he feared recognition. The two of them had only met in passing, however, and he had not noticed the Battle King present at any of his tellings. Trying to relax, he took a deep breath and closed the door behind himself.
"By all means," Geran gestured, twirling his hand in the air to indicate an increasing pace. "Continue."
"What is it, Friend?" Haron asked, turning in his seat to regard his long-time companion. Though Thanik had steeled himself, he still looked as though he might bolt at any moment. "What news do you bring of good Bawo?"
"He has been arrested." The actor's eyes darted from meeting Haron's, to Geran's, and back again. "He is to be given thirty-seven lashes, delivered by Aorthain."
"On what grounds?!" The officer, whose temper had yet to find a chance to settle down completely, roared as he whipped back around to face his King.
"Does the name Andrek mean anything to you?" Geran asked.
"Should it."
"I thought not." From his tone, it was clear that there was yet another thought that the Battle King was leaving unspoken. Born of his newly found mistrust for this subordinate that he had once assumed to be loyal, he now guessed that Haron had had a more direct hand in what Bawo had done in his name. "Andrek is a boy that works as a courier. He came, at Aorthain's direction, to find me after the altercation between Pelessa and the Lithuain girl, Lithia."
"I suppose I remember him. What of it?" Haron growled, having forgotten himself and his station entirely in the face of his friend's plight.
"Bawo beat the boy senseless for that."
"And you have proof of this?"
"Only the boy's word, the thirty-seven bruises that still decorate his face and torso, and Bawo's own admission." Geran answered amiably. "That he manned up, preventing me from turning to either Kimera or one of my various other means of ascertaining the truth, is all that has saved his standing. He could have been exiled from this fortress. Sent home in disgrace. I can still do that, if you prefer."
"I... no. Damn you, Geran." The officer swore. Many were the responsibilities that had fallen to him since being promoted within the Battle King's army and good, strong Bawo had been his right hand man for years prior to that. Removing the man from Keeper's Gateway would cripple his ability to effectively execute his duties, at least temporarily, as well as strip him of the man's friendship and support. Neither he nor Bawo desired that.
"The punishment will be carried out at noon, Haron. Perhaps you should go and show your support for your friend." Pushing the chair he had been sitting in back from the table, Geran rose and walked around to the other side as if to join the two men. He paused beside the officer's chair. "Do not forget what we have talked about, Haron."
"I will not."
"Good."
Thanik stood with his back firmly pressed against the door, as if he might like to shrink back and through it. When the Battle King stopped directly in front of him, and simply waited while staring at him with those dark eyes, he wondered if he might lose control of his bladder. Confrontation with a man that had been called the finest warrior of an age was not a task to which he was well suited. Finally, then, realization dawned in the actor's eyes, and with an almost inaudible yelp, he lurched out of the way, muttering his apologies. Without another word in response, Geran departed the room.
"Gods, but how I hate that man." Haron lamented, his head in his hands, once the King had pulled the door shut behind himself.
"Shh! He will hear you!"
"At this moment, I do not care."
"Well, I should like to keep my head attached to my shoulders, thank you!" Thanik snapped. Then, he sighed. "Shall we go, then?"
"Go where?"
"It is almost noon. Bawo's lashing... "
"You go." Haron waved his friend away. "I am a more public figure, my friend, and by showing my face I would be showing my approval for the act taking place."
"But--"
"Bawo will understand.. Go!"
Without another word, but instead a disapproving scowl that said much, Thanik slipped out of the dusty, old library and walked away.
By the way, I've purchased and downloaded Write-or-Die's desktop version. It only cost $10 and was completely worth it, as it nudged me on over the hump in finishing this entry which I've been working on, bit-by-bit, over the past week.
Edit: I just noticed... 18 on the 18th. Ahahahahahahaha!
Geez, I've sucked this week, and I don't quite know why. Ah well. Here is part 18!
Alone in the cramped, dusty library that Haron often used as an office, Geran was again reading the letter that had been sent to him by the City Council of Keeper's Gateway. Although he had been expecting this, or some other reaction from another quarter, it still stung for all the reasons one might expect. He was the Battle King of the Free Kingdoms, and had dedicated his life to defending them against the likes of Rejarza, Katharion, Kerim Thiath, and whatever other as-yet-unknown dangers might be hiding in the world. Why was that not enough? Intellectually, he knew that any man or woman that would lead others must always prove themselves to the people that depended on them. It was only right and fair that such was the case. Still, their inquiry, which was but a minor shift in tone from an accusation, vexed his ever-unreasonable heart.
Hearing the approaching footfalls that must have been a dozen or more steps from the door, he folded the paper and tucked it away inside the white, sleeveless jacket he wore. There was a time and a place for the Battle King to be frustrated, worried, and human, but that place would never be before the eyes of the man he had come here to see.
There was a small delay, and a bit of jingling, as Haron retrieved the key ring from his belt. Then the lock clicked, the knob turned, and the door opened, admitting the officer through the open portal. Spying Geran, who was sitting at the far end of the table in the chair he normally occupied himself, he missed a step and then stopped in his tracks. "My Lord. This is a surprise."
"Haron. Please, come in. Sit." Ordinarily, the man that was called the Battle King would never have been so rude as to invite a man to take a seat at his own table. Even previously, when his temper had often run hot and free before his extended stay in a higher plane of existence where he had learned to let go of all the anger and pain that once drove him, he would have balked at that. The tightly controlled, impotent fury that writhed across Haron's face in spite of the man's unsuccessful attempt to quell it was the reason why.
"I've been meaning to speak with you," Geran added. His intention was to reestablish his working relationship with this man. A number of things, recently, suggested that he needed to be reminded that there was but one King in this fortress. Would doing that in this manner alienate him further? The King hoped not.
"I am, as ever, at your disposal, your Majesty." This response came in a flat, angry tone.
There it was. That reaction was actually pertinent to what Geran wished to speak to the man about. He did not wish to be the sort of King that would cut a man's tongue from his mouth for speaking against him, but he could also not allow certain kinds of insubordination to go unchecked.
"You do not care for me," He began, keeping his own tone conversational, but firm. "You have your reasons, I am sure, and I can live with that. I have neither the need nor desire to be adored by everyone I meet. And we both know that you were promoted to your present position because you time-and-again proved yourself to be a capable, competent leader, not because you knew well the taste of my backside."
"On top of that," Geran added, "you were mentored by General Harryson of Camelot, who I greatly admired."
"He was a great man." The other man's voice remained tight and well controlled, still filled to just short of overflowing with anger. He was listening, however. Geran's invocation of Harryson's name had not been unplanned. The man had taught Haron, like so many others under his command, much about being a soldier, and a man, right up to and including his heroic death during the Fall of Camelot.
"Indeed." Geran agreed, setting aside the momentary regret that he had experienced. Had he not been away from Camelot during the Fall, then Harryson and a great many other good men and women might still be alive. Folding his powerful arms on the edge of the table and leaning forward against them, he looked more like a man sharing in a quiet conversation than a King about to dress down one of his officers. "You will say that you were but doing your duty, concerning the items you brought before the City Council's attention last night. I will agree, up to a point. As an officer in my army, as a man, you should have shown me enough respect to bring it before my attention as well. Instead, my first notice was a formal inquiry that you helped draft."
Pausing for a moment, he gave the bristling Officer a chance to start to respond. Then, before a full syllable could be uttered, he cut the man off. "Would Harryson have had it any different?"
"No." A flush of shame, mixed with yet another unhealthy dose of anger, touched Haron's face. "No. I can't say that he would have."
Several long moments passed, during which Geran allowed Haron to stew over all that had just been said. Bringing the Officer around would take more work than one conversation, especially of this nature. As the Battle King, he knew this. He had hope, however, that in spite of what the man was very clearly feeling in that moment, he had managed to reach him on some level.
Finally, satisfied that the silence had gone on for long enough, and that the point had been made, Geran asked a new question. "What do you know of the boy who brought that information to your attention in the first place?"
"What does he have to do with anything?" Haron remained inclined to be difficult for the time being, it seemed.
"That this particular attack would be made on my persona was not unexpected. You are aware of the attack on Treyp?"
"Yes, my Lord." The officer answered, hoping that his impassive face was not too impassive. "Pardon that I have not looked too deeply into the matter, but I had assumed that you and yours would pick up the slack. She is one of your number, after all."
"We did. And we learned that something was said, by her, that was overheard by her attackers, who carried word of it back to their employers, who creatively linked it to the information you presented before the council." Geran took note of the uncertainty that had risen alongside the anger behind Haron's eyes, and was disturbed by it. How deeply had this man been involved? "The boy may be our only link to discovering who these men are."
"The girl is alive, then?" The officer asked suddenly. "I am, of course, assuming that this was how you reached these conclusions. I had heard that she was at death's door."
"The boy." Geran insisted, suddenly finding himself made even more mistrustful. "I wish to speak of the boy, not the girl. Clear her from your mind."
"Oh. I just... Okay." Frustrated, and obviously so, Haron tried to present a facade of not being able to remember off the top of his head. In truth, he was considering the lie that he was about to tell. The boy in question was to leave the Keep in the morning, and if the Battle King discovered this deceit then that was likely it for him. It would implicate him in the attack on the dryad girl, who was apparently Geran's niece by blood. "My apologies, your Majesty, but if I'm not mistaken, that boy left the Keep sometime yesterday while I was speaking before the City Council. He was on his way to DarMinask, I believe. Something about a library there he wished to study at."
For a moment, given the way that Geran was looking at him, the officer wondered if he had skated too far out on thin ice. Had the King, perhaps, already discovered the boy? For his part, Geran was looking at this sometimes petty, but highly capable man in a new light. Suspicions had been roused that would not easily be put to bed. Finally, with no other recourse, he recognized that the officer was becoming a potential threat, if not an outright enemy already.
The door slammed open, and Thanik rushed into the room through it. "Emergency, Haron! It is Bawo, he...!"
The actor stopped in his tracks, his wide eyes locked on Geran's bearded face. This was, of course, not the company that he had expected to find in this room. In fact, it was the very last scenario his mind would have presented him with had he been told that he would find an unlikely scene upon entering the room. For a moment, as he was still dressed in his storyteller's garb, he feared recognition. The two of them had only met in passing, however, and he had not noticed the Battle King present at any of his tellings. Trying to relax, he took a deep breath and closed the door behind himself.
"By all means," Geran gestured, twirling his hand in the air to indicate an increasing pace. "Continue."
"What is it, Friend?" Haron asked, turning in his seat to regard his long-time companion. Though Thanik had steeled himself, he still looked as though he might bolt at any moment. "What news do you bring of good Bawo?"
"He has been arrested." The actor's eyes darted from meeting Haron's, to Geran's, and back again. "He is to be given thirty-seven lashes, delivered by Aorthain."
"On what grounds?!" The officer, whose temper had yet to find a chance to settle down completely, roared as he whipped back around to face his King.
"Does the name Andrek mean anything to you?" Geran asked.
"Should it."
"I thought not." From his tone, it was clear that there was yet another thought that the Battle King was leaving unspoken. Born of his newly found mistrust for this subordinate that he had once assumed to be loyal, he now guessed that Haron had had a more direct hand in what Bawo had done in his name. "Andrek is a boy that works as a courier. He came, at Aorthain's direction, to find me after the altercation between Pelessa and the Lithuain girl, Lithia."
"I suppose I remember him. What of it?" Haron growled, having forgotten himself and his station entirely in the face of his friend's plight.
"Bawo beat the boy senseless for that."
"And you have proof of this?"
"Only the boy's word, the thirty-seven bruises that still decorate his face and torso, and Bawo's own admission." Geran answered amiably. "That he manned up, preventing me from turning to either Kimera or one of my various other means of ascertaining the truth, is all that has saved his standing. He could have been exiled from this fortress. Sent home in disgrace. I can still do that, if you prefer."
"I... no. Damn you, Geran." The officer swore. Many were the responsibilities that had fallen to him since being promoted within the Battle King's army and good, strong Bawo had been his right hand man for years prior to that. Removing the man from Keeper's Gateway would cripple his ability to effectively execute his duties, at least temporarily, as well as strip him of the man's friendship and support. Neither he nor Bawo desired that.
"The punishment will be carried out at noon, Haron. Perhaps you should go and show your support for your friend." Pushing the chair he had been sitting in back from the table, Geran rose and walked around to the other side as if to join the two men. He paused beside the officer's chair. "Do not forget what we have talked about, Haron."
"I will not."
"Good."
Thanik stood with his back firmly pressed against the door, as if he might like to shrink back and through it. When the Battle King stopped directly in front of him, and simply waited while staring at him with those dark eyes, he wondered if he might lose control of his bladder. Confrontation with a man that had been called the finest warrior of an age was not a task to which he was well suited. Finally, then, realization dawned in the actor's eyes, and with an almost inaudible yelp, he lurched out of the way, muttering his apologies. Without another word in response, Geran departed the room.
"Gods, but how I hate that man." Haron lamented, his head in his hands, once the King had pulled the door shut behind himself.
"Shh! He will hear you!"
"At this moment, I do not care."
"Well, I should like to keep my head attached to my shoulders, thank you!" Thanik snapped. Then, he sighed. "Shall we go, then?"
"Go where?"
"It is almost noon. Bawo's lashing... "
"You go." Haron waved his friend away. "I am a more public figure, my friend, and by showing my face I would be showing my approval for the act taking place."
"But--"
"Bawo will understand.. Go!"
Without another word, but instead a disapproving scowl that said much, Thanik slipped out of the dusty, old library and walked away.
By the way, I've purchased and downloaded Write-or-Die's desktop version. It only cost $10 and was completely worth it, as it nudged me on over the hump in finishing this entry which I've been working on, bit-by-bit, over the past week.
Edit: I just noticed... 18 on the 18th. Ahahahahahahaha!