The Balance (First Draft | Discontinued)

Chapter 10 (Ari)

It didn't take Ari long to figure out that old Rikensk sagas were some of the most depressing and gruesome works he'd ever heard in his life. He was sitting in the library, listening to Herr Hallessen read it aloud. Herr Hallessen was purposefully making his voice deep and dramatic, although it was hard to take him seriously— a portly man who had less inclination toward violence than a newborn child, reading a story about a vengeful warrior. The warrior's name was Einar, and he spent half of the saga lamenting over the deaths of his sons and the other half cutting down their murderers like a woodsman would trees.

"And when Einar found that he was alone on the hill, he went into the woods and took in his hand a pole of hazel," said Herr Hallessen, pushing his reading glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Then he took a horse's head and affixed it to the pole, cursed his enemy for a coward, and stuck the pole deep into the earth."

Ari cringed. A horse's head? he thought. The horse didn't do anything wrong. At least they didn't do that anymore, although duels were hardly any better.

Herr Hallessen looked over at him. "I think maybe that's enough for today."

"Thank you," said Ari, reaching over to close the book.

"Violent man, that Einar. Although they did kill his sons."

Not as violent as Aleksander. He was still shaken by that, if he was honest with himself. He'd almost gone to meet a killer— a butcher— and all he'd thought was how clever he was to find a way around his mother's rules. He'd had to rely on the word of a man he hadn't spoken to in years to find the truth.

Not that he necessarily trusted his father, but even when he had first seen Aleksander, the man had made him wary. The eyes... flatter than a river pebble and so very cold. He had dismissed it, especially once his mother began to torment the man, but there was clearly something to it. Was that 'something' what his father had said? Now that was what he intended to find out.

"Are you all right?" asked Herr Hallessen, which startled Ari a little.

"Yes, I'm fine," he said.

"Are you sure? You look a bit pale." When Ari nodded, he smiled and said, "The old stories make me a little ill too, if it makes you feel better. But it is part of our history, and so it's important to learn."

"But how will I use this when I'm king?"

"Well..." Herr Hallessen looked up toward the ceiling in mock thoughtfulness. "Imagine that you decide to duel someone, but they aren't there and you need to tell the community of their cowardice."

"I'm not going to duel anyone! I could kill them." Or they could kill me.

"That's true. And in seriousness, there is a purpose to reading old tales: maybe technology and ideas advance, but people do not, and we often find ourselves in the exact same type of conflict. If you can put yourself in Einar's situation, you can compare how he reacted to how you would react, and you can learn from it."

Ari didn't think he'd ever be in the situation of holding four dead sons in his arms, but he nodded anyway.

"Now, off with you," said Herr Hallessen. "It's time for my breakfast."

Breakfast was a sacred tradition as far as Herr Hallessen was concerned, second only to church. Ari grinned a little and left him to it. He had his own plans for the day anyway.

The council room was upstairs, so he took the steps two at a time until he reached the landing. If he hurried, he could put his ear against the door and catch the end of the meeting, so he ran down the hall, taking care not to slip on the marble floors. He could hear voices drifting out from underneath the door at the end of the hall; whatever they were discussing must be heated. There was no doubt in Ari's mind that his mother's opinion would come out on top. It always did.