Chapter 4

In Name Only

Zefran straightened his jacket for the third time as he sat across from his father, and sighed audibly as the old king of kings pulled yet another document from the pile on his desk. It had been nearly a quarter of an hour and the only sound passed between them was the quiet scratching of quill on paper and the tweeting of birds outside on the balcony. Zefran opened his mouth to speak, and without a word or glance, the Emperor Magnus III raised a single finger.

Zefran closed his mouth again and remained frustrated in his silence. He shifted in his chair and eyed the books on the desk: a few ledgers from around the kingdoms and fiscal reports from past years, a history of the previous ruler Emperor Magnus II, and a unnamed book with a blue cover that Zefran assumed to be a journal given the ink stains on the pages.

The Emperor folded the paper and sealed it, the small brass stamp pressed firmly into the golden wax. He set the sealed document aside and picked the round glasses from off his nose. The cold sunken eyes of Zefran’s father borrowed their way into his soul, “Do you know why I asked you here?”

Zefran shifted in his chair, the words had never preceded a good conversation with his father, “Not so much asked, as ordered.”

The Emperor did not react, only the normal icy steel of his eyes demanding obedience.

“No, I don’t know why I’m here.”

The Emperor leaned forward and focused on Zefran’s chest. “That little steel shield on your breast, that was my father’s sigil and his father before him going back to the founding of our house. The fact that your nocturnal activities tarnish it is why you are here.”

“That’s a amusing way of putting it,” Zefran spouted.

An old wrinkled hand slammed the ledger on the desk shut, “This behavior will stop!” The small tufts of the Emperor’s short beard jostled as he spat the order across the large ornate desk.

Zefran’s thin jaw set as he stared at the floor from his seated position opposite the raging monarch, “Father, if I could only be allowed to-”

“No.” The Emperor shot out of his chair, his thinning frame still formidable despite the slow march of time. “Do you wish to say something?” He asked, quirking a bushy eyebrow, “Go on, say something clever.”

Zefran swallowed his words and shook his head.

“Good.” His father said, rounding the table till he was mere inches from Zefran. “The fact that your my son has saved you from the worst of the punishments that could befall you. If you were any noble under my command I would have had you castrated and flogged naked through the streets already.”

Zefran turned his head more downward, pulling away from his father’s anger. He imagined the heads lining the stockades in the Temple District, and how much he didn’t want his own head rotting alongside them. He watched his father’s boots turn and retake their position underneath the desk. Zefran raised his head and met his fathers gaze resting on his interlaced fingers.

The Emperor measured Zefran with his eyes then leaned back in his chair, “I would have thought you learned your lesson during your exile. You recall how that happened?”

Zefran raised his chin, “I gave justice to those men.”

Darkness lurked its way into the Emperor’s voice, “You murdered men under your command, for doing their duty.”

Zefran's face flushed and boiled, “Those men burned and pillaged innocent women and children. They deserved worse than they got.”

His father’s gaze narrowed and Zefran felt fear creep its way into his heart. “I can see now you came back too soon from your exile; but that’s the past, we’re talking about current transgressions.”

Zefran leaned forward out of his chair, “It’s only a transgression because the church says it is.”

A long pause passed between the pair staring each other down, till Zefran was forced to look away. His father’s tone turned low and stern, “On this matter the church and I agree on what is and isn’t natural behavior. You are a Prince, start acting like one?”

Zefran’s tone turned to bile, “To what end? You’ve already practically disowned me. I’m not the Crown Prince, I’m your second son by your second wife. The one no one gives any heed. I was stuck in some dark part of the castle so that I didn’t bother anyone.”

The Emperor got up from his chair and approached a small table that had an assortment of different wines and liquors on it. He picked up a honeyed rose wine and poured two cups, “you feel you’ve been unfairly treated?” He picked up the cups and offered one to Zefran. Zefran looked tentatively at the cup then up to his father. The Emperor quirked an eyebrow and set the cup down on the desk.

His father took a sip of wine, “You will be given more adequate accommodations in line with our house and name. You will be given an opportunity to prove your worth in a position commensurate with your talents. If you prove yourself faithful, you will be rewarded with an appropriate wife, and you will remove the stain from our family name. Am I understood?”

Zefran nodded his head, “Yes father.”

The Emperor circled back to the other side of the desk, “now out of my office, before I have cause to throw you to the wolves.”

Zefran stood, bowed slightly, and turned to leave. The Emperor stopped him just as he was stepping toward the door, “And one more thing,” Zefran looked back at his father.

The Emperor set down his wine glass, and leaned on the desk, “the next boy I find you in bed with I hang.” Zefran rolled his eyes and left the Emperor to his bigotry.