Except for Caden, a table and two chairs, the ballroom was empty. It wasn’t too large – perhaps half the size of the great hall – and Caden couldn’t help but wonder how any event of high status could be held there. He could only assume that it was for private parties; for the most powerful and influential of guests to wallow in a privilege that not even nobles could afford. It was not out of character for Armand to privately entertain the cream of society and leave the rest outside like lepers, and Caden found it amusing that despite Armand’s hatred for him, he was the one guest he would never dare exclude.

Caden approached the glass doors that led to a small outside balcony and looked out over a part of Chaverne that he had rarely seen. The poorer members of lavellan society lived on that side of the city, and Caden couldn’t help but notice how they were afforded the splendid view of the ballroom looking over them from on high. A reminder of their lesser place, or an example of what to strive for.

For over an hour Caden waited there, watching the city and the distant scenery. The more he watched, the more he began to miss his home, Sovereign. Chaverne was more picturesque than Sovereign was, but Sovereign had a humble, homely quality that the capital of Lavell sorely lacked. Sovereign was a place of honest work, of loyalty; the people of Chaverne seemed to care more for acquiring wealth, and living lifestyles of hedonism.

It began to occur to him that he had no idea when he would next see his home. Even if his father’s plan to unite the two crowns could be achieved in a timely manner, it could be further weeks, or even months, until the bureaucracy and organization of the new territory could stand on its own without falling into anarchy. More than that, positions would have to be created and filled, and positions of power shifted into new or old hands. Taxes would have to be newly managed, and dissent would have to be smothered before flame became wildfire.

Then there was Jaqueline, his future bride and queen. The time he had spent with her had been little, and he could not imagine that she felt any fondness towards him as a result of their war and diplomacy. Even so, he found himself growing fond of her with the knowledge that she would soon occupy that intimate position of spouse, and her beauty only encouraged it. Whether he could trust her was another matter.

Behind him a door was carefully opened, and in walked a sharply dressed steward of the chateau. Caden did not know the man’s name, but had seem him before, and for a moment wondered why he had been trusted to keep his position under foreign occupation.

“Sire, the Philosopher King is here,” the steward said.

“Send him in,” said Caden as he made his way back inside.

“At once. Allow me to also inform you that his own guards, as well as the kingsguard, stand watch outside.”

Caden nodded, then watched as the steward turned and held the door open. Did the Philosopher King not trust him?

A moment later the figure in the dim silver robes entered the room, his face still covered by his mask. The steward bowed and closed the door behind him, and Caden finally found himself stood in front of the most powerful man in the world. “Greetings, Philosopher King,” Caden told him, specifically going out of his way to sound as formal as possible. He considered bowing for a moment but decided against it, as it was improper for a king to bow to another man.

“But you are not a king yet,” the Philosopher King answered. His voice was smooth, like silk, and somehow lacked any recognizable accent. It was as though he spoke in the purest, most original form of their shared tongue. More than that, his words were chosen as though he could see into Caden’s mind, causing the prince to stammer for a second and then, after a delay, give a slight bow.

“Do.. You have a name, or title, you would prefer to be called?” Caden asked as he straightened himself.

“Philosopher is fine,” he said as he reached up to take his silver, expressionless mask. He removed it, then lowered his hood, revealing a young, pale face with a narrow chin, and shoulder-length hair as black as charcoal. What caught Caden’s attention most, however, was the Philosopher’s golden eyes – even more golden than Ethelyn’s – and a strange, line-like crack down the right side of the Philosopher’s face. Almost like a crack in a statue.

“In that case, Philosopher, I must ask… Are you truly him? The Philosopher King?” Asked Caden.

“What reason do you have to doubt me?” Philosopher replied.

“Enough that I would be a fool not to question it. The Philosopher King who conquered this world would be over a thousand years old, yet you stand before me a man not much older than myself. In addition, rumours from beyond the mountains suggest that his empire has been in decline for generations, and that anarchy becomes more common than order.”

“You believe that no man can live so long.”

Caden nodded and said, “I have to conclude that your title is inherited, and that you are only a distant ancestor of the original.”

“That would be the simplest explanation, yes. And by the law of averages, the correct one.”

Caden sighed. “Then what is your true name, Philosopher? At least allow me the dignity of knowing who rules nearly every land.”

“I have no true name,” the Philosopher King replied. “Or rather, my title is as close to my truest name as one can get.”

“Then why have you travelled to the southern realms?” Caden asked. “The Black Mountain passes are difficult, and the seas too dangerous to sail. You spend so much time, and risk so many lives, just to get here. And why?”

“Because of war,” the Philosopher King replied. “Because I want to see peace in these lands again, and because I am here to collect a debt.”

“Peace? A debt? I cannot believe you, Philosopher,” Caden answered, his white eyes flaring slightly in frustration. “Your desires are greater than you let on, for why else would you travel to this isolated place at the edge of your world? A diplomat would have surely been sufficient, but instead you come in person, and with such a small number of guard.”

The Philosopher King looked into Caden’s eyes, and soon Caden’s frustration began to fade away in place of fear. “Have you seen her yet, Caden?” The Philosopher asked. “The pale woman with white hair?”

Caden froze. “Who is she?” He asked.

“One who will be with you for the rest of your life, until she can claim you as her own.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“When Arian asked Ethelyn to bring you back, you were cursed with unnatural life. Part of Ethelyn’s own life-force was used to save you, and now it clings to your own. You are connected to her, just as she is connected to you. Ethelyn’s life will mask the presence of your own, for a while… But eventually the white-haired woman, and her servants, will find you again.”

“Servants?” Caden asked. “You speak as though I am in great danger. How can I remove this danger from me?”

“You cannot. You can only keep moving forward. You can only keep achieving your victory, so that Ethelyn’s great risk was not for naught.”

“My victory?” He asked again, so many questions filling his head. So much confusion. “Why would the Philosopher King support Sarkana over Lavell?”

“I am not. I am supporting you.”

Caden stared at the Philosopher’s face, at the strange crack that only slightly marred him. His thoughts returned to Ethelyn, and how she had the same gold eyes that he did. “Who is she?” He asked, not mentioning her name out of a desire to test him. “She is a witch, isn’t she?”

“No,” the Philosopher replied. “Not a witch. There is little magic in these lands and comparing her to a woman of the woods is a disservice to her abilities. She is a sorceress, young but powerful, and a loyal retainer in my court.”

“Yet you send her to my father, and to me, as a messenger. Why?” Caden asked him, his test completed. Somehow the Philosopher King could see into his mind, or anticipate his questions.

“Because you needed her. And will need her. If you and your southern realms are to survive what is to come, you will need an advisor who can do what she can do. I’m giving her to you; not only for council, but because her proximity will delay your discovery.”

“Give her to me? You talk as though she is a toy, but she is a person whose loyalty belongs to you. What use do I have for someone like that? I need loyal advisors, not spies.”

“Are we not on the same side? She is loyal to my empire – just as you should be as a subject of it. In time her loyalty will be yours, but it would make no difference. My command is for her to aid you, and she would do so no matter her motivations.”

Caden sighed, unsatisfied. “There is something happening here that I cannot see. A plan beyond me, for you will not share the knowledge. For that reason, I find it hard to trust you.”

“Understand me, Caden, that there exists certain information that is more dangerous to know than to not. We are all part of plans and stories woven on another’s tapestry, and even I know things I would rather forget. But trust in me that I have a vested interest in your victory, and in the stability of the southern realms. There must be peace here.”

“Stability? Peace?” Caden asked him, perplexed. “You are aware that my father started this war, aren’t you? I am merely forced to finish it.”

“And not all aggression is evil. I know how this King Armand is, how he is a betrayer, and plays with lives more than he respects them. He is crafty like a rat, but without the honour needed to make his plots reputable. It is one of the reasons I choose you over him. Your father’s plan is based on honourable conduct and ends in unification, while Armand’s ends in anarchy and tyranny.”

Caden wondered how he knew of his father’s plan, but then remembered how Ethelyn had stood there in the tent and listened to them. Listened to them as they spoke as though she was not there, and how for some reason neither he nor his father had the inhibition to be secret. She could play with their minds, and even their behaviour. In many ways she could pose a greater threat than an army.

“I need to… Process all of this,” Caden told the Philosopher King, who gave him a nod of understanding.

“I will meet with you again tomorrow, Caden,” the Philosopher said. “And our conversation will be much more uplifting.”

Caden gave him a slight bow and watched as he put his mask back on. Why did he hide his face? He wanted to ask, but more than that he wanted to leave, to retreat to his private chamber and sleep. He turned around and made his way towards the door of the ballroom, then opened it to find two of the kingsguard, and two of the wolf guard, stood statue in the corridor outside. “We’re finished,” he told them.

He took one step out, then suddenly heard the Philosopher call back to him. “Caden.”

Caden paused and turned his head. “What is it?”

“For the sake of our future collaboration, I feel I must warn you. There are only two people here that I recommend you trust completely: your younger brother, and Ethelyn.”

Caden didn’t answer him. He turned to the door and stepped through it, then made his way back to his quarters.