Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

Ch2.2: Iron-clad fists

CW: For violence! Continuation of Aedion's POV

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People had a funny way of acting during trying times.

It would have been expected for everyone to be devastated at the imminent chance of war, to drop whatever they were doing and panic, but that wasn't the case. The sun rose, fields were tended to, beds were made, animals were fed, and everyone continued with their duties. Life stopped for no one.

So it wasn't much of a surprise to Aedion when he arrived in Cereas to find that despite the high tensions, everyone did what they did best--gossip.

Nobles and courtiers whispered as he passed, some even gawking, as if they had nothing better to do. Rather than war-time preparations, they were more concerned with the presence of the deposed Prince Aedion, notoriously vicious High Chancellor. By the time Aedion had worked his way into the upper floors, the rumours varied in ridiculousness. He's come to ask for Princess Briar's hand! some said. No, no, he's come to declare war on behalf of King Callan! Gerrathea is going to invade Cereas.

Aedion knew he didn't have the best reputation, but honestly.

He paid them no heed and continued, until he found what he was looking for, after asking around and being sent to fifteen different locations--Gidden Blackthorn.

He stood there, speaking with a guard, but no sooner had Aedion gotten two steps close, he abruptly turned to face him, a scowl transforming his previous easy expression.

Aedion didn't get the chance to speak, before Gidden murmured a low apology to the guard, levelled Aedion with a final glare, and promptly scuttled off, leaving Aedion to chase after him like a nanny after an unruly charge.

Already, he could tell this wasn't going to bode well. Gidden wasn't going to make this easy on him. With a tick in his jaw and a low hum in his blood, Aedion resigned himself to following him into a parlour.

Before he could chase after him though, a hulking guard planted himself in front of the door. "You can't go in there, sir."

He was large, but young, and not quite as tall as Aedion, or half as hell-bent. He also wasn't prepared to handle Aedion's foul mood. Aedion lifted a single brow, and the guard paled. Young and inexperienced, just as he'd thought. Gidden Blackthorn was a monumental prick.

Aedion looked at him from under his nose, attempting to draw some patience into his exasperated drawl. "Is there a reason you're in my way?"

The guard blanched but held. "You cannot go in there--" He paused at Aedion's dark scoff, almost bleating like a lamb headed for slaughter. "I--I have orders..."

Poor sod. He really was out of his element. Aedion had to so much as twitch, and the boy was seconds away from pissing himself. It was a shame. With his size, he ought to have been able to assert himself better. He was a royal guard, for heaven's sake.

Before Aedion could say anything else, another man quickly dragged the guard away.

"Out of the way," he hissed under his breath. He dipped his head towards Aedion and opened the doors. Aedion vaguely recognised him from his years at the war camps, another soldier.

"I suggest you either learn to stand your ground, or listen to your elders next time," he drawled, moving past them and stalking into the room. He would need to wisen up, or they'd eat him alive at the palace.

As he shut the door behind him, he could hear their mumbled argument. The elder guard whispered, "Do you know who that is? That's Aedion fuckin' Eagan."