The North Night War

The North Night War Part 1

                                                                          CHAPTER ONE

Noah sat gently in the throne as if upon an unbroken egg. "I don't rule by the rights of my family or my father," he paused while practicing his speech, biting his lip in regret at that choice of words.

"It's alright," the Bellringer encouraged him, "try again."

Sucking in a breath of forced patience, Noah continued to draft his speech. "Citizens of the North Kingdom," he shifted in his seat of authority, "I rule by your permission and your faith in me."

Nodding with approval, the Bellringer smiled at his young friend. "Much better."

Noah realized it'd take more than smooth words and kind speeches to protect and govern the North, especially with the Nights fast approaching, but just for today, he was determined to remain untroubled. He thought briefly of Daniel, son of Charles, living in exile. Even he wouldn't oppose the stability Noah's family had established since assuming the rule of the country. Well...he might.

Looking over at the Bellringer where he lingered by a wall tapestry, Noah saw concern on his face.

"What are you worrying about?" Noah knew the Bellringer's thoughts had drifted into unpleasant territory, as he always did when that happened.

"I'm worrying about where your son might be," the Bellringer teased him, wandering away from the wall, pretending to be busy straightening the runner leading up to the throne.

Noah blinked at the floor and didn't answer. He wasn't ready to begin thinking about a wife and a family, but nineteen isn't nineteen when you're a King. And we all know what happens when a King dies without a grown son.

"What?" the Bellringer turned to look at him as if he'd heard him speak.

"We all know what happens when a King dies without a grown son," Noah repeated himself, realizing he'd spoken out loud.

"What do you expect me to do?" Daniel asked the dirty dishes in his sink as part of his daily ritual. Thoughts of who he was--who he was expected to be--overwhelmed his mind constantly, never letting him go. "I'm seventeen, living alone in exile." His right hand hovered uncertainly over the left one, not quite touching the skin. "And I'm not exactly welcome in the North." With a mother from Africa and his grandfather from there as well, he was in fact only one fourth descended from the peoples of the North. Only one fourth white. And yet, he was their rightful ruler. Their true King.

"They didn't fight for you Father," his eyes drifted away from the mess in the sink to the dirt encrusted floor he'd never washed since moving in. "When Robert snatched the crown off your head as a helpless baby, your own citizens looked away and did nothing." Daniel hated them for their apathy and disloyalty. "Do I even want to rule over a people I hate?" With young Noah ascending to the throne in an apparently seamless line, Daniel wouldn't need to answer that question to himself or the North. But he would have to answer to his boss if he was late.

Opening the thin door to the constant din of police sirens he'd grown accustomed to, the smell of rotting garbage assaulted Daniel as he hustled down the dark hall of the tenement building and emerged into the cold dusk of South Bronx. From the flow of the sidewalk, the King that never was caught the slipstream of janitors and busboys, riding the current south.