The Frozen Throne

Ring's Memories Part 4

A knight ran through the citadel, bringing a report to Somnus. “Milord! We have yet to locate your brother. However, we continue to scour the area, and―”

Somnus waved the man away, interrupting the report. He’d heard enough. Over half a month had passed since his last argument with Ardyn. His brother seemed to have determined that further talk would be fruitless, stealing away to gods knew where.

Irritation, resignation, scorn―Somnus bitterly recalled the final expressions he’d seen cross his brother’s face. Ardyn was a man beloved by the people. They would have him as their king, leading their newly founded nation with the favor of the gods. Perhaps Ardyn’s anger and frustration were a sign, reflecting feelings hidden in the hearts of the people.

However, despite the hope placed in him, Ardyn was woefully unsuited to rule. He lacked the ability to see the world for what it was. He was too trusting, not just of his fellow men but of the world itself. His eyes were ever fixed upon the good. Admirable, perhaps, but it kept him blind to less desirable truths. Of beauty alone was no man or object sculpted. Kneaded in with the clay were cunning, ugliness, and filth. Was that not why the rule of law was needed?

Such dark strains had to be kept in check. Was that not the duty of a king?

“That’s precisely it,” he muttered to himself. “The quality most needed in a king is a firm hand. To dote upon the people only ensures that the nation shall
be forever weak.”

And a nation had to be strong. It had to be secure. For the sake of its subjects, it had to be ready to repel any incursion. A clan of men gathered in one place did not a country make. But a clan was still all they had, and that under constant threat of these cursed daemons. The promise of safety required troops who were prepared to wipe evil from the world. Somnus was the one to raise those troops. To harden, hone, and lead them.

“My feckless brother is blind to the truth before his eyes...”

Ardyn always talked of another soul delivered, saved by his own two hands. But his method would not suffice to save them all. Only some saved meant
many more were not, and in the end, Ardyn’s path served only to put the choices of fate in the hands of man. His was the way of one who had never doubted his own position in the eyes of the gods. A man in whom all others placed trust and saw promise. A man chosen for everything. To Ardyn, the thoughts of those who had not been so blessed were and would always be a mystery. He would never know how it felt to be passed over in favor of another. He would never know how the forlorn gazed upon the chosen.

And so you would take the easy way? The coward’s path?

Somnus scoffed. Why should ease be equated with cowardice? His was the way most just. He would not choose whom to deliver or cast aside from among those touched by the scourge. He would not foster despair and envy in those condemned to a horrid death. No one would be forced to wonder why they had been abandoned when others were not.

It was cold, yes. But it was fair.

Somnus stood to leave.

“Lord Caelum, shall I accompany you?”

He did not turn but replied, “Stay. I’ll not need an escort.”

The woman he sought would be in the sanctuary, the gods’ words perhaps gracing her ears at this very moment. Elicia, the Oracle. Somnus needed to speak with her, and with haste. He had to ascertain the truth and then plot his course.

Somnus clenched his hands into fists. The thoughts hung heavy in his heart. But there was no other choice. It was something he needed to see through, even if it meant dirtying his own hands.