Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

The heir apparent and the Legate of the Fourth spent a fine hour wandering the maze-like paths of the royal garden. At intervals, a guard on patrol or a servant carrying a tray of linens would cross their path; they would drop into a deep, reflexive bow and their eyes linger a second too long on the pair.

Edric was in his own world, gesticulating wildly as he spoke with a rustic, animated fervor. Beside him, the boy moved with an inherited poise, nodding at the right moments and granting the commander plenty of leeway to continue the conversation.

It took Edric quite some time to realize how ridiculous he must have appeared to an outsider. Here was a battle-hardened commander, laughing and waving his arms about like a common tavern-bard, behaving with more boisterous energy than the very child he was meant to be entertaining.

The apprehension that had gripped Edric’s chest at the start of the meeting had evaporated within minutes of his being with the lad. Basil was a strange but pleasant wind; he lacked the overbearing haughtiness Edric had expected from a boy born to inherit the world. There was no arrogance in his stride, only a quiet, watchful respect which made the adult think he was an endearing presence to have.

More importantly, the boy was present. He replied point-for-point to Edric’s rambling stories, ensuring the conversation never felt like a one-sided chore performed to please a senior officer. The flashes of genuine childishness Basil allowed himself to show weren’t annoying or forced; instead they were strangely delightful to have.

All in all, the boy gave the impression of a mind that was both energetic and oddly reserved.Which was strange to feel in a boy of twelve summers.

Edric had heard his colleagues speak about the boy’s quirks, how he found the company of his peers off-putting and preferred to orbit his father’s generals, which when not possible would usually leave to be on his own reading and lingering in the sun like a cat. The ”uncles,” as the boy called them, had long ago been charmed by this miniature sovereign who treated their war stories with the reverence of holy scripture.

Edric looked down at the boy, who was now carefully inspecting a ladybug on a leaf, and felt with great reassurance that he was a good and respectful lad.

”I must say, Edric, you are pleasurably different from the initial impression I had of you,” Basil murmured. He had crouched down, extending a steady finger toward a ladybug perched on a broad leaf. He waited with the patience of a statue for the insect to climb, but it merely scurried further into the shade scared of the boy’s shadow.

”Oh, is that so?” Edric asked, a flicker of genuine curiosity cutting through his rustic exterior. ”And what exactly was the image of me that lived in your head?”

Basil turned to the man, his expression one of mild surprise, as if the answer should have been obvious. ”Well, you were the storm of the last campaign. You led the vanguard that shattered the Gods’ Fingers. You faced the Pretender’s Hammer in single combat, broke him, and took him alive. Your martial prowess is not whispered,Edric. I am surprised you remain unaware, considering even the Voghondai have given you a name, isn’t that right Puka Sinqa.”

Edric straightened his posture, his chest swelling with a pride he couldn’t quite hide. He wiped his nose with his index finger, looking away with a sudden, uncharacteristic shyness. ”You know what that means?” he asked suddendly in the mood to boast.

”Red Breast,” Basil replied instantly. ”The little ritual you performed in the thick of the slaughter was found particularly endearing by the proud and martial servants of the crown. They see you as one of their own.”

Edric stared at the boy, his jaw dropping slightly. ”You speak the Voghondai tongue?”

With no trace of haughtiness, Basil gave a simple, elegant nod. ”Father assigned me a tutor three years after their settling. He was adamant on that.”

”That’s... surprising,” Edric commented, his mind racing. ”How much of it do you truly know?”

”Enough to strike a meaningful conversation and not make the mistake of calling a man’s mother a goat,the word is similarly close...” Basil said, flashing a quick, sharp smile that earned a bark of laughter from Edric.

”Can you write it too?” Edric asked, trying to catch him out.

”That is a trick question,” Basil countered, his eyes twinkling with a victorious light. ”They possess no written alphabet. Admittedly, that admittedly made the mastery of the phonetics far more grueling.”

Oh shit, they don’t?! Edric realized, feeling a bit foolish.

”Initially, I questioned the necessity of it,” Basil continued, his voice becoming more thoughtful. ”There is only one Voghondai for every two hundred of our own. I wondered why they weren’t the ones forced to learn our speech. It felt like a reversal of the natural order.”

”But you changed your mind?”

”I realized that my father’s plans for them are far more expansive than simple servitude. He wants me to continue the protective mantle he has draped over them. I am curious to know the true extent of his designs, though he is... guarded. He keeps his secrets like a miser keeps his food.”

Edric felt the conversation drifting toward political waters he wasn’t equipped to swim in. He searched for a lighter shore. ”Well, regardless of the secrets, your father must be immensely proud of you.”

Basil’s eye winced. ”You truly think so?”

”Of course! Half the time I spend with him, you and your sister are all he can talk about. He’s obsessed.”

”That is love’’ Basil said, his voice turning quiet ”Not pride. He has been expressive enough on the distinction.Well not with words...I mean.”

”Come now, you’re taking the man out of context.”

Basil put a finger to his chin, his gaze drifting to the horizon as he contemplated the thought. After a moment, he shook his head. ”I don’t think so. Ask yourself: have I truly done anything worthy of praise? Given the infinite resources entrusted to me, the best tutors, the finest food, do you not think any child would reach this point? Take five boys from the street, give them my life, and four of them would be standing right where I am, the latter, perhaps, would grow to be conceited. He is pleased by my behavior, yes, but pride? I believe that is a summit I have yet to climb.”

Edric shifted his weight, a cold knot of discomfort forming in his gut.

”What my father did, coming from nothing, achieving everything through sheer will, that is a legacy a man can be proud of.

But a boy who learns a few languages and spends his days in a garden? What part of that is extraordinary? What part of that is skilled?”

Basil looked up at Edric, his emerald eyes searching the veteran’s face. ”What you did on the field at the Fingers... that was worthy of praise. What Uncle Asag did at Aracina... that was worthy of pride. But listening to a tutor and memorizing words?” He shook his head again, his voice echoing with a hollow, crushing humility, which his father had praised him so much for. ”That is merely expected.”

For a long moment, Edric remained silent. The air between them had grown heavy, no longer vibrating with the light mischief of armpit farts and garden games, but thick with the stagnant pressure of a storm about to break.

”Father is not well... you are aware of that, yes?”

Edric hesitated.

After a beat of uncomfortable stillness, he gave a slow, reluctant nod.

The boy turned his gaze to a bumblebee, watching it labor heavily onto a nearby bloom. His young face settled into a mask of analytical sorrow. ”He has been unwell for some time. He tries to bury his discomfort, but the scent of stale wine on his tunics in the morning speaks of long, sleepless nights.”

Basil turned back to Edric, his emerald eyes searching the soldier’s face with a frightening intensity. ”It has grown worse recently. He rarely leaves his office, and when he emerges, he looks at the world as if he no longer recognizes it. The hours he spends with Rosalind and me have withered. He is trying to be better, but he is failing”

”Why are you telling me this?” Edric asked voice suddendly cautious and ashamed ”Do you want us to intervene?”

The boy gave him a long, leveled stare that made Edric feel transparent. ”I think you have already tried, haven’t you? I doubt that if a child could read the cracks in his armor, the men who bled with him would be blind to them. No, I am not asking for a rescue.” He paused, his voice trembling slightly. ”I simply wish to understand him. He loves us, but he keeps his secrets like they are poisoned daggers he doesn’t want us to touch.”

Edric narrowed his eyes, his hand tightening slightly on his tunic.

Basil understood he was digging too deep.

”I am not trying to fish for state secrets, if that is your worry,” he said, noticing the shift in the soldier’s stance. A small, saddened look flickered across his face, a momentary glimpse of the child. ”If Father doesn’t trust my mother or me with the truth, it would be a betrayal to squeeze it out of you.What would that even achieve but not meaningless and empty satisfaction of misplaced.... curiosity?Yes...curiosity. ’’ He suddenly grew quiet for a moment, perhaps wondering if it really was that meaningless to try and find more about him.

’’It was him, wasn’t it? The real culprit of what happened in the Romelian rebellious province... it was Father’s hand on it, right?”

The air in Edric’s lungs vanished.

”I...” Edric started, his voice cracking. He looked away, his jaw working as he struggled to find a lie that wouldn’t die in his throat.