An Angel Called Eternity

To Bet On Losing Dogs - Prologue

Prologue

The Fourth Day of the Second Moon, 873 AD.
Anaria, Western Teleytaios, Klironomea.

Angels, but he was tired.
Romanos ran a hand through his hair as yet another council meeting was called to its end. He wasn't built for this sort of work. The last month had seen him age about a decade, if the gaunt face and hollow eyes that looked at him whenever he passed a mirror were anything to go by. Oh, for certain, he was fine with administrative duties and seeing to the running of the Order of the Violet. He'd been doing it for more than a decade, after all. But this was different; he'd spent all of that time preparing to see his young friend on the throne, and now all of that work, all of that time spent hoping...

He closed his eyes and let out a deep, slow sigh. It didn't matter now. Lykourgos was alive. Asleep, but alive. Nasos had been a most thankful presence; his skills in the medicinal arts were likely all that had kept his prince alive in those dark, terror filled days. For almost two weeks after his friend had taken to sleep he, somewhat ironically, hadn't been able to sleep almost at all. He barely could stand sleeping now. He just... every day that had passed for that fortnight he had dreaded the news he was certain would come to him soon, news that his beloved friend and in some ways protégé was dead, that he would be interred into the Westcoast Church and rest with his father and sister for an eternity, leaving only his brother behind to bear his family's name.
But that news never came.
Instead Nasos had told him that the worst was over; Lykourgos, though it was unlikely he would wake for quite some time, was unlikely to perish from his wounds. He could have cried upon hearing those words, but he had forced them down. He was a knight of the realm. He could not be seen as being weak, no matter the circumstances.
He had smiled and nodded, thanked the healer, then sent them on their way. If Nasos noticed that the smile never reached his eyes, he hadn't mentioned it.

The other members that sat the council at the moment were an eclectic, if loyal, bunch. He sat it, of course, and besides him were Master Elikoidi and Mistress Crowe. The three of them formed the core of their prince's supporters whilst he was... indisposed. There were two others of note that ruled alongside the three of them in Lykourgos' name. The first was Lykourgos' beloved brother; Prince Rhema had, to most people's surprise, taken an active role in running the kingdom. He dispensed justice and did his best to keep the unrest from the lowborns from boiling over, a fair few of which believed that Rhema had ordered his brother killed to take the throne. Now, Romanos didn't exactly trust the youngest of the two princes, far from it, but the idea that he would sabotage his own war effort only to then mortally wound his brother, and then not have him finished off in some way, was beyond absurd. No. Mad he might have been, but not that insane.

Although it appeared that recently many in court had begun to doubt even his madness. Rhema seemed to be holding himself together well in the days since his brother had been discovered bleeding upon the battlements, driving himself to keep his mind free from the taint of impulse and intrusion, but where most saw it as a permanent shift, Romanos held no such delusions. He would watch the youngest brother, and he would wait. It was only a matter of time until the madness unveiled itself once more, and he would have to make sure that the wild prince didn't do something stupid when it did. He'd made a career out of keeping one prince from trouble, it shouldn't be too hard for him to do the same for a second. Master Yzaldae was the last of their council, but Romanos didn't know him well enough to form a real opinion of him in his tired state.

Elikoidi was... well, he was Elikoidi. He was lying to them all, in a way. He still tried to pretend what had happened hadn't shaken him, and some of the other councillors may have even brought it. Romanos didn't, couldn't; he'd known the scarred one almost as long as he'd known Lykourgos. No, Elikoidi was doing just as badly as Romanos himself was. Crowe was too busy looking after Rhema and doing her job to worry about their fallen monarch, and the last council member had only just arrived in the country, so it wasn't as though he'd had the time to form an attachment to the boy who should have been crowned king by now. Romanos was sceptical of the man, and he knew Elikoidi was as well, but Crowe and Rhema had convinced them that, since none of them really administrated over everyday civilian affairs, at least one council member should be brought on to at least make a start of reconstruction. Romanos didn't particularly like it, in his mind they should just let the lowborns get on with bringing in the harvest instead of sticking their noses into every farmhouse and village granary, but then he had to concede that he didn't really know anything about these matters.