(THOB) Chapter 129: First Of His Name (Patreon)

He didn’t know it. In fact, this was the first time he was hearing of it. He hadn’t even known it was possible to have it done at a city court, or that his name was in any official register. But if he did, what would he have done? Would he have gone to…?

The king wrapped an arm around Ezril’s shoulders, pulling him down to his height. “You must forgive me, Father. Age doesn’t allow me stand so tall for so long.” He grinned from ear to ear. “So how does it feel being the grandson of the royal advisor?”

“Adopted grandson,” Ezril repeated, adding quickly: “I try not to dwell on it.”

For a moment Crivers seemed crestfallen. But then he shrugged.

“In the eyes of Vayla, you have no parents,” he lectured. “A true orphan, seeing as they failed in the responsibility she chose to give them.” He spun him around and fell into step, giving Ezril no choice but to follow, his shoulder still in the king’s clutch. “In the eyes of the realm,” he pointed to himself, “that’s me, for now. You are son and grandson to the great Antaris. But in the eyes of Truth,” he chortled, “you aren’t even human, you’re a sacrifice. I’m sure your education covered all that.”

The Seminary made it part of its mission to make sure they never forgot.

“So, when I call you the grandson of the royal advisor…” For just the briefest moment the old king seemed worse than what he was, he seemed dangerous. “It would be wise not to correct me. Now, speaking of your father,” he continued, joviality returning to his voice. “Do you know that when he got into his little squabble with the church I sent Dragmund to aid in his ‘return’.” The man made actual air quotes. “Do you know what the great hero told me?"

Ezril said nothing.

"Oh, don’t be a spoil sport, do take a guess. Never mind, I’ll tell you. He actually rejected my request. Can you imagine that? The hero of the realm would’ve rather faced my wrath than ‘return’ your father.” He scoffed in mock shock, as if reliving an unbelievable memory. “Apparently, he’d watched your father fight once before. Said he was a man who fought with a skill and experience no man should have. Speaking of which,” he released Ezril’s shoulder, only to whirl on him, grabbing both shoulders in his hands. “Your grandfather almost lost it when he heard his youngest child had a son. Threatened fire and brimstone on the both of you, he did. I spent two days and nights calming him. I almost thought he wouldn’t listen. I feared he’d send someone to snuff out your life in secret. Or even worse; storm the seminary asking for your head. Thank Truth he listened.”

Ezril found himself perplexed by two things. First, how was storming the seminary and asking for his head worse than sending someone in secret? If anything, he felt the gravity of the two had no care for the outcome of his life. And why was the king talking down his own royal advisor? For two days and nights, no less. Wasn’t it designed to be the other way around?

Crivers chuckled. “I know, I know. Why would a king be trying to calm his advisor? Its unheard of. But actually, Lord Edavi and I have been friends most of my life. Your great grandfather tutored me within the castle walls. And your grandfather, being an only child that he was, took the liberty of always accompanying him. Never could win the man in a fair fight. You can’t believe my happiness when I learned he was Hallowed too… did I tell you I was Hallowed? Maybe not. Well…” he stepped away, raising both hands in self-presentation. “Your king is a Hallowed.” Then he pursed his lips, looked away, and whispered mischievously. “But his first son isn’t.”

The prince sighed but said nothing. Still facing them, Crivers began walking backwards without care of what was behind him, and they followed.

“But that matters naught,” he continued, leading them on an arguably blind journey. “The boy—I meant to say man, forgive me, son—already has the trust of most of my military might. They trust him more than even I. I know I should be worried, but what can I say, he’ll need it more than I, soon enough. It’s why he was so eager to bring up my military advisor. He practically has the man in his pocket.”

Then why bring him for the meeting?

“Now, I know what you’re wondering; why bring him for such things, considering his might seems to surpass mine? Well, the answer is simple. Whatever we would’ve discussed, he would have learned of it before I return to the castle. He’s always had the uncanny habit of knowing things he shouldn’t.” Crivers stroked his beard, his gaze unfocused in thought, then it returned to them in a snap. “I wonder how he does it sometimes.”

Ezril doubted there was much Crivers didn’t know. The king struck him as the kind of man who said a lot just to hide a lot more.

Mardin ran a careful hand through his hair.

“Father, I think it’s time we left.”

“Alright, you have me on that one, Father Antari.” Criver chimed in with a coy smile. “I actually know exactly how he gets his information. I apologize, my son,” he added to a confused Mardin, “I just felt like if I let you believe you were secretive enough, it would keep your confidence high. Sadly, I can’t be caught in a lie by a priest, no matter how young he is. I actually know everything you do. Your brother on the other hand, I often do fear for him. He has his hands in things a prince should not. Your mother would cry in Truth’s embrace if she knew some of the things that boy—I meant to say man—was up to. Father Antari, remind me, how did you end the Broken.”

“Eh… I actually…”

“Take a deep breath, Father. There’s nothing to be confused about here. You’re in the midst of friends, even if you don’t like my son.” The king leaned in, barricading his mouth from the others with a conspiratorial hand. “Truth be told,” he whispered, “Father Tenshaw doesn’t like him either, and neither does Dragmund. I’ve always found people with a good head on their shoulders don’t like my son very much, which means you are a man I can count on.” He stepped away, a playful smile on his lips. “Now,” he clapped. “About that dead Broken. How did you do it?”

“I took its head, your highness.”

“Just like that?” Crivers voice dropped in disappointment. “Sounds easy enough.”

“Not entirely, your highness.”

“Why would you say so? Take the head and its done.”

“Because it took me a while to take it, your highness.”

“So? It just takes a little longer than it should. What else makes you say it’s not easy?”

“I was bedridden for a week after the fight.”

“Bed ridden.” The king jumped on the words. “That’s quite the choice of words, do you think? Anyway…” Crivers halted before a door and turned to his son. “Time to go, my child,” he chimed.

They were at the end of the hallway. Ezril wondered how the man had known they’d reached the end without looking behind him, he hadn’t even bumped into the door on accident, By Vayla, Ezril hadn’t even known they’d reached the end.

Crivers patted the prince’s shoulder when he reached him. “We don’t have to leave,” the king told them in a singsong voice, “but we can’t stay here.” He turned to leave and the prince held the door open. “Oh!” He paused, turning to them again. “Before I go, I’ll leave this with you Father Vi Antari: is our god almighty because he is right or is our god right because he is almighty?” He did a little jig, seeming pleased with himself. “Now isn’t that a conundrum for you. Mika, how’s my crown?”

The prince spied the crown and nodded. “It’s perfect, father.”

“Good.”

This time he left and Mardin followed, closing the door behind them. Ezril found himself exhaling, unknowing of when he had held his breath.

A good number of questions raced in his mind. It had seemed as if through the conversation the king had been reading his mind. Then there was the walking without watching. The man’s keenness. The man’s power. Then there was the feeling he’d gotten when the man had warned him not to correct him in his genealogy under the law. In most people there was emotion regardless of how tight they held it. Since his time in the village he could perceive such things. He might not know what the emotion was but there was always bound to be emotion. But in that moment, the king had had none. He’d been empty, and the emptiness had been domineering.

“So that’s our king,” he said to his brother. He wasn’t sure if it was a question. But Darvi, sighing in relief, answered him nonetheless.

“Yes,” he said. “King Crivers of Alduins. First of his name.”