"Go. Flee. Go west.
Wait for the King to die.
Then return with a new name.
A nobleman's name.
Bide your time until there's a problem only Grisha can solve.
Then the King must embrace us"
Aleksander had been in exile for too long, following his moth...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
In the following day, he was introduced into the palace thanks to the letter that he had been carrying with himself for a while. King Melech, ruler of West Ravka, dedicated one day each week to listen to petitioners. Kiril waited patiently for some hours before he was allowed in the throne hall. It was more crowded than he expected. A peasant like Kiril should have felt intimidated. But for Aleksander it was just a crowd of people, of children to his eyes, that weren't more than just shadows to him. He had nothing to fear, in his endless eternity.
When he focused on the bored faces of the royalties, the corner of his eyes spotted some familiar light hair, so he moved his gaze and amongst the courtiers he recognized the mysterious girl he had met in the pub. She wore noble clothes with an admirable confidence, like she totally belonged to that place. She slightly winced when their eyes met, then composed herself and shot him a faint grin. He couldn't afford distraction, so he focused again on the king, a man in his fifthies who looked overly bored. He read the letter quickly, asking some predicatable questions, then waved for his war ministers to take care of the new guest. Kiril had heard that the general had been badly wounded in one of the latest bloodied battles. He felt ambitious enough to hope to gain that title soon. With patience he could lead the wars, make Ravka a united country again, stronger than it had ever been, and make people understand the value of Grisha.
Kiril focused on the people that were introduced to him, focusing on the titles, already choosing who could be a potential ally in the big dream that was taking shape in his mind. One of those faces he didn't select stood in front of him, trying to tower him, although they were equally tall. "Colonel Hector" he introduced himself with arrogance, like he was a prince wasting his time to talk to a filthy commoner "I hope you didn't dare to lie about your achievements. But I guess we'll find out soon, when your skills will be tested". Kiril peered at him. That colonel didn't look older than himself. He hoped to dismiss him with a sharp scowl. Instead he breathed and replied politely "I won't disappoint you". The colonel chuckled quite rudely "We'll see". Meet me on the battlefield, Aleksander mentally said. He looked around, replying to the many questions that were asked him by the crowd of strangers who were trying to make him feel welcomed or out of place. After a while, he didn't mind being a little rude and dismissed the people to make his way through the crowd until he met his target.