Heir

Chapter 3, Scene 6

Aldric and Neirin stood at separate windows of the king’s council chamber, gazing out at the bustling city beyond the castle walls. They had greeted each other when Aldric arrived, but now they stood in silence. They were both tired. Aldric was exhausted. He hadn’t slept in two days, and in that time he had endured a tough battle – he’d seen good men die – and a difficult ride. His brow was perpetually furrowed, his mouth turned down into a constant frown. He had hoped to arrive in time to speak with his father again, but instead he found King Caiden dead. His nerves were raw and his heart felt as if somebody had grabbed hold of it and was squeezing it dry.

Seimon and Balderik entered the room at last. Seimon carried three heavy-looking tomes under his arms. He set the books down in a stack on the long, rectangular council table.

“I’ve been through all of the annals.” He said. His voice betrayed his own exhaustion. “Have a seat, and I’ll show you what I’ve found.”

Aldric left the window and sank into his customary chair to the right of the head of the table. Seimon and Balderik sat across from him. Neirin remained standing at the window, seemingly ignoring them. Seimon eyed him for a moment, wondering if he was going to take part in their discussion, before continuing. He opened up one book to a page he had marked and began summarizing a passage from it.

“A little over three hundred years ago, King Finnian died suddenly in battle without naming an heir. He had three sons, but the oldest was an invalid and the youngest was only five years old. His second son was crowned king, and there is no record of any dissent over the decision.”

“Makes sense.” Aldric observed. “Of course, Roan would be too young to rule the kingdom. Maybe even Kylian.”

“Kylian has proven himself with how he’s managed Darkmoor.” Seimon interjected.

“Yes, but we both know there isn’t a lot to manage in that shire.” Aldric countered. “It’s certainly nothing like ruling the entire kingdom.”

Seimon offered no counter argument. Pushing the first book aside and opening the second one he continued.

“King Heinrich died seventy-two years later without naming an heir. At first it was believed that he had no sons. There was some debate over who should take the throne. Eventually, a son was discovered – an illegitimate child conceived while the king was on a military campaign against the Aldmen. There was still some disagreement over whether a bastard could take the throne, but ultimately, the boy was crowned and the dissenters were silenced.”

“Well, that isn’t very helpful.” Balderik said.

“Agreed.” Aldric was rubbing his forehead now, trying to ease some of the tension he felt there. “What else do you have?”

Seimon pushed aside the second book and opened up the final volume.

“About one hundred fifty years ago, King Barand died without naming an heir. He had two sons, both of whom made a claim to the throne. The kingdom was almost split in two over the conflict. Finally, one brother attacked the other brother. The other brother killed him in self-defense, and was crowned shortly afterwards.”

There was a long moment of silence after that. Aldric and Seimon stared at each other. Balderik’s eyes flicked from one to the other. Neirin stayed at the window with his back to the rest of them.

“Let’s not let it come to that.” Aldric finally spoke solemnly.

“I agree.” Seimon let out the breath he’d been holding in. “I’m sure we can come to a rational decision on this.”

“For starters, in the case of another untimely demise, I think we should make sure that the next king has an heir of his own already appointed to avoid repeating this scenario again.”

“Of course.” Neirin suddenly spoke up, turning away from the window towards the rest of them. “That would make you the obvious choice, wouldn’t it?”

“Not necessarily.” Aldric protested. “Seimon has Dace and Darrin.”

“I…” Seimon hesitated a moment before confessing. “I have no desire to be king.”

“That might very well make you our best candidate.” Balderik suggested. “A man without ambitions will not likely abuse power.”

“I have a son.” Neirin interjected. Aldric ignored him. Seimon was still digesting what his uncle had just said.

“Pardon?” Seimon finally turned to Neirin.

“I said, I have a son.”

“I don’t care to hear about your bastards.” Aldric grumbled, still staring straight ahead at the space between Seimon and Balderik.

“I’m sick of you, Aldric.” Neirin snapped. “We all know that Rockisle has become the most prosperous shire in the kingdom under my governance. There is no denying that I could rule this kingdom well. You feel that having a ready successor is important. Well, I’m telling you that I have a son who could succeed me. Maybe he is a bastard, but what of it? You can’t tell me the high-and-mighty Aldric doesn’t have a bastard or two. You can’t expect me to believe it was a coincidence that stewardess in Silvervale gave birth less than a year after you sent her husband to his death on a scouting mission.”

The words were hardly out of Neirin’s mouth before there was a crash as Aldric stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. His hands curled into fists until his knuckles were white.

“You want to back those words up with steel?” The warrior growled.

“Yeah, that’s just what this nation needs,” Neirin scoffed, “a king who settles everything with a show of force.”

“Better than a thoughtless, spoiled, self-serving knave.” Aldric spat.

The two of them were on each other in an instant. Neirin took the first swing and missed. Aldric seized his brother by the front of his tunic and dashed him against the hard stone wall. Neirin managed to keep his head forward and protect the back of his skull, but the wind was knocked out of him, and he felt Aldric’s knuckles digging hard into his collar bone.

“That’s enough!” Seimon yelled, as he struggled to interpose himself between his older and younger brothers. They didn’t give up right away. Aldric pulled back one fist to strike Neirin in the face, just waiting for a clear shot if he could get around Seimon. Meanwhile, Neirin kept kicking at Aldric’s shins while he tried to break away from his brother’s grip on his tunic. Balderik watched the altercation with analytical interest.

“I said, that’s enough!” Seimon yelled louder, as he finally managed to tear the two apart. “We won’t get anywhere like this.”

All three of them stood breathing heavily for a few moments.

“Get him out of my sight.” Aldric finally demanded.

“Already giving orders, King Aldric?” Neirin’s tone was accusing. He tugged the wrinkles out of his tunic before leaving the council room with agitated strides. When he was gone, Aldric collapsed into a chair. He ran his hands anxiously through his hair. When he looked up at Seimon, his brother was scowling at him.

“What?” He asked earnestly. “You’re not going to tell me he doesn’t deserve a beating.”

“You’re not helping anything.” Seimon said flatly before gathering up the history books and leaving.

“I need a bed.” Aldric told his uncle.

“Of course.” Balderik replied. He couldn’t keep the corner of his mouth from turning up in just the slightest hint of a smirk as he mused over what had just transpired.

*****