Caudin had never worn the uniform he was in before and it chafed and itched. He stole a moment to hook his high collar from his neck for a moment of relief. There wasn’t much he could do about his trousers nor the blue plume on his hat that kept blowing into his eyes, but at least he found a tiny bit of respite.

“Surprisingly warm for this time of year,” Jemerie said, his horse trotting next to Caudin’s. He had volunteered to accompany the King, since none of the other Principals wished to after he had confided what he had done.

“Wish for linen and it’ll be cold. Wish for wool and it’ll be hot.”

Jemerie leaned in. “It’s okay to feel fear in this situation. Chatting always helps me in times like these.”

“I don’t know what I feel. I think I’m a pearl right now, layers of different things. Fear, yes, sadness, anger…” He turned to look back in his saddle both ways. “Not things a king can feel.”

“Of course not, Your Radiance. I happened to realize that our king was riding by himself and perhaps he wanted a companion for some time.”

“Astute, but I’d rather no one overhear my internal dilemmas and have their hope and faith in me shaken. If nothing else I can give my men peace of mind.” He clicked his tongue. “Something else. Tell me, how did you wind up being a writer of novels of…questionable taste?”

“Your Radiance is displeased with my omnibus.”

“Your Radiance had to read a series of books where he acted like a love-smitten idiot fumbling his way through a half-baked plan in some land of perfect opportunities.”

“They didn’t start out that way. They were originally fantasies of mine, of you not being dead, of you returning, of things going exactly as planned. I shared it with Commres who said it was drivel, but that it might sell well. He published it. It did all right, well enough that he asked me to write another with some changes. A romantic interest, a solid reason why you hadn’t returned, things going exactly according to plan.”

“So, I should be thanking my grandfather-in-law for those masterpieces.”

“I know you dislike them. You’ve made that abundantly clear. But, they kept people happy and hopeful in trying times. And you keep saying that I’ve painted you unfairly, but would you say that you’re far from love-smitten? A king who rejected the idea of a mistress, who refused his crown without his wife as queen, who wanted to go to war when she was poisoned. And about fumbling into a half-baked plan…You recently acted a lot like the Caudin from my novels as opposed to a sensible king.”

“I suppose that’s fair, Jemerie.”

“I came today because I always promised myself that if you returned, I’d be there for you, even when your judgment was less than regal.”

“Not that it matters, but I was told that the only way out of that situation was to give Sayen the Mielsa as well as some of the coast.”

“He said that? The ambassador?”

“When I asked him what I should have done.”

Jemerie paused at this. “Why didn’t you say this at the Council?”

“The Council? You mean the same people who voted to ‘wait things out’, or even suggested the same thing? They wouldn’t have seen things from my perspective. It wasn’t their lives at stake, or the life of their spouse. It wasn’t their child who died. None of you would’ve understood. You all quietly hedged your bets over the years, making subtle political moves. What was the closest to danger you ever got, Jemerie? Was your house ever raided? Was your family threatened?”

“No, because I was careful.”

“That’s not how I work. I’ve never been ‘careful’.”

“But, that’s how a king works when he has the whole country to think of, not just his family.”

“Sometimes,” Caudin said, giving him a pointed look. “I know who I am and what I represent. But, sometimes it is wise to shuck off the weight of your station and act like a man. If my options were to give up parts of my country, cower in fear, or covertly stop things, then I’d make the latter choice again. And I will not apologize, however this day unfolds.”

“I am not the kind of man to wring his hands over decisions made, Your Radiance. I am, was always, secretly proud that you tried something rather than react to another grim situation. I just wish it had been more thought out and less antagonistic.”

“I suppose I could have asked Isken to assassinate him, but he would have likely suspected that as a possibility. He thinks things out, my grandfather. He’s very cunning. It’s like playing chess with a man who carved the pieces and the board himself.”

“Don’t lose hope. I know you were trained well in fencing and your style has grown since then. I have faith in your ability.”

Caudin looked ahead on the road and saw a small escort of Sayenese men, including the ambassador. Jemerie waved and moved back to his position. If nothing else, at least their chat had distracted him from the upcoming duel.

“Your Radiance, we meet again,” the ambassador said with a smirk and a bow. Caudin nodded at him, grim-faced. “I am to lead you to the appointed place for the duel, or battle should it come to that. As per the Noh Amairian Accords, your regiment is to wait back while your entourage of twenty-four accompanies you to the center of the grounds. There, we will discuss the-”

“I know the law, lackey,” he said, looking bored. He chose his men, sending Jemerie to the line as the batan-glage, the monarchy’s representative with the military. Finally, he gave the ambassador a withering glare. “Lead on.”

His stomach was in a knot as he trotted his horse from the road to the field. Caudin looked around, surprised at the choice. It was a naturally flat corridor, patches of high grass and wildflowers swaying in the breeze. There was no high ground and no advantage for the Sayenese. The eastern edge was still being cleared of trees, the lumberjacks taking a break as they watched the scene unfold. As far as he could tell, they were actually laborers and not Sayenese in disguise.

Caudin took deep breaths. The field smelled of freshly fallen rain and the horses. Their hooves fell almost silently in the muddy earth. In fact, the only sound he heard was the occasional murmur from his party or the sound of chain mail clinking.

Something seemed off as they reached the half-way point, but the retinue from Sayen began to move down. He saw a man in a violet coat with black trousers and gray embellishments. He held his breath. He hadn’t seen his grandfather in twenty-two years. What would he say to him? What look would he give or receive from the man?

Caudin’s eyes weren’t as sharp as Al’s were, but he could begin to make out finer details about his grandfather. He sat straight in his saddle, his conical woolen hat hiding tidy, black hair that had always been cut in the latest…

“Black hair,” he whispered.

The ambassador’s head turned sharply, having caught his murmur. “Ready!” he yelled, slapping a helm on that had been hidden under a saddle blanket.

“What?” Caudin asked aloud.

The retinue halted. A call cried out from the Sayenese side as the first two lines picked up something in the grass.

He heard another cry, then the sky blackened. Caudin didn’t even comprehend what was happening until the arrows were seconds from him.

His merit was not perfect. None were. There had been times when he had been held down and beaten by several men. He had taken the hits, the pain and injury lessened only slightly by his ability. In this case, where an arrow occupied every few inches around him, his merit could only help him twist in a way that avoided major organs and arteries. It could not save him from injury. It could not save him, period.

Thrice did he feel a concentrated sharp agony only partial seconds apart. He looked down dazed at the three arrows sprouting from his chest, violet and black fletchings. He fingered one before he slid from his screaming horse.

In the distance he could hear cries of anger and dismay from the Arvonnese. Nearby he heard the moans of his men as they died. He fell to his knees. Ah, now or then, here with arrows or in a painful, drawn out duel with a sadistic master, he had known he was going to die. He would have given his all for his country, he might have had a slight chance, but here was fine, too.

* * *

“They can’t do that!” the woodsman said, pointing at the center of the field. “I don’t know much about battles, but I know you can’t shoot a man in parlay!”

“Craven,” the man next to him said.

“Yellow-bellied,” another lumberjack said.

“Can anyone tell if the King is still alive?” said the first man. “Tall guy?”

Telbarisk pretended to look, instead using his kil to sense Caudin’s body. He was still warm and not yet laying on the ground. “The King still lives.”

There was quiet for a moment, then the man said, “We need to protect him.”

“How? With what?”

“Us.”

“What, we’re supposed to shield him with our bodies? We’ll die and-”

“Do you want to be ruled by Sayen?” the first man asked again. “Because that’s what will happen if the King dies. We’ve all heard the stories from our neighbors in the Mielsa. High taxes, edicts, pledges of loyalty. Our king has been fair and as kind as possible, and he’s our king. If he dies, it’s all over. Look,” he said, pointing to the Sayenese line. “They’re going to fire again.”

He moved forward, grabbing his ax, dodging around stumps until he reached the edge of the corridor. Then, he ran. Several men only paused for a moment, then grabbed their axes and joined him. All-in-all, two dozen men wound up leaving the sidelines.

“Tel,” Anla said, “you need to help those men. The Sayenese are nocking their arrows for another volley.”

He turned from watching the men run to the middle. A line of a hundred or so of the thousands were pointing their arrows down, shaking their shoulders to loosen themselves, waiting for the word. There were choices. How would he approach this?

A man yelled and the bows were pointed up. Tel closed his eyes and pushed the wind above the Arvonnese towards the archers. Another command and the arrows loosed. The woodcutters flinched, but they still stood in front of their king, grimacing in anticipation of the arrows.

The black cloud hovered. A groan escaped Tel’s throat as he kept the arrows in place, finally releasing the tension and his breath. The arrows fell straight down, all momentum spent. The woodcutters looked up and cheered just as the King fell over.

Anla watched as the bows and quivers were dropped. They must have realized they were useless, she thought. The soldiers began to march forward. “Tel, I know you must be tired, but you need to stop them from reaching the center. They’ll slaughter everyone.”

She saw the other problem. While no weapons and armor were allowed in parlay, the Sayenese escort still stood. They must have worn mail. And if they had armor, they likely would have weapons as well.

Having anticipated a need for mobility, she had dressed in traveling trousers and a bodice. She began running, hoping she could reach the center before it was too late.

The lumberjacks had their axes raised, using them partially as a shield as the Sayenese men tried to find an opening to the King. A few had broken ranks to tend to wounds inflicted, but the men closed any gaps.

“Ssayenesee men,” she yelled when she was fifty feet away. The entourage suddenly stiffened. “You will cease trying to kill the King of Aarvonnee.”

They stopped, bewildered by their surroundings. A few of the woodsmen took advantage of the moment and made impressive cuts to the Sayennese group’s necks and legs before they dispersed. They tried to head back to their army, but the ground had grown incredibly muddy and they stuck thigh-deep into it. Several horses from the other side had already tripped and thrown their men before the regiment had fallen back, looking for a way around.

The woodcutters parted for Anla, who threw herself into a kneel next to Caudin. He wheezed painfully, his breath dragging in and out as his gaze focused on the sky. “Ainler,” she said, taking his hand and kissing it.

It took a few moments, but he finally turned to look at her. He smiled. “I told you…to stay…in Dilves…trar.”

“Like I would listen to you.”

“Didn’t want…you to…see this.”

“You didn’t want me to be here with you, during the most important day of your life?”

“Lies,” he said, reaching for her face and wincing. “Meeting you…”

She lowered her face to his hand so he could thumb her tears away. “Ccaudinn,” she said, and he stiffened, “you can’t die. I won’t let you ddiee.”

“It doesn’t…work…that way. No…scratches,” he said, trying to hold up his left forearm.

“We never perfected our song. I’ll sing, but I don’t know…” she said, sniffling. He smiled as she hummed the notes he had taught her back in Acripla.

Alistad, out of breath, broke through the line and knelt next to him. She feverishly looked over his body as Anla continued to sing. Finally, she straightened her spine and looked at Anla, her eyes wide. “I don’t think I can do anything for him, Your Highness. He needs to be stabilized while the arrows are pushed through his chest. We need…a cyclical wizard.”

“And Al’s not here,” she said, sniffling. Caudin took in a ragged breath and relaxed, staring ahead.

“No!” she said and he looked back at her. “Please. Caudin, it’s still too little time.”

“I know.”

“I love you. You can’t leave us.”

“I love you. You’ll have…Al and Tel.”

“No,” she said sobbing. “I mean us.” And she moved his hand to her stomach. “Please hold on for us.”

“So soon?” he asked and gave her a radiant smile that faded quickly. “Take Tel…and your…brother. Go to…Kinto. Maya will…protect you…until…”

His chest stilled and his eyes glazed as he stared just beyond her. “No…” she moaned, pressing her face to his hand. “No. Please. It has to be enough. You can’t leave us.”

Sometimes there is nothing in the world, no matter how compelling, that can keep a man there. A beautiful wife, a child, all the happiness he had dreamed of for years was right there waiting for him to breath once more, twice more, until he was healed. But, it was too much. He had played his part. His last thoughts as the sky blurred were hopeful that his son could come back someday and right the wrongs that would have to stay for a little while longer.