Chapter 38: Sehn the Gentleman

“You’re not sure?” Patrick asked. “What do you mean, ‘you’re not sure?’”

Patrick’s voice was agitated, but he knew Princess Saerina wouldn’t hold it against him. She cared only about a person’s intent, rather than any words spoken or raised voices. Still, Patrick did not feel comfortable disrespecting the woman—he didn’t feel comfortable disrespecting anyone, for that matter.

“Based on everything I’ve seen since meeting Sehn and Cah’lia, one of two things will happen,” she began. “Without a doubt they will impersonate my brother and I, and it is for this reason I’ve asked us to put on these concealing robes.”

It grated Patrick how he was forced to disguise himself in his own city. Saerina fashioned the two of them dark blue robes, typically worn by the Monks of God Halinx. Even with the evening breeze coming off the valley’s surrounding mountains, the heat from the cumbersome robes drenched Patrick with uncomfortable sweat.

He was on edge, and how could he not be? Nothing gnawed at him more than the thought of an enemy force breaching his Kingdom, slaughtering his citizens and burning down homes. Such had already been taking place, only now he’d bear witness to it.

I’m going to give them hell, Patrick thought. When that man’s army arrives, I’ll cost him ten lives to our one.

“So, what are these two possibilities?”

At first it was discomforting to be traveling alone with Saerina. Kellar and Rillith were scouting the nearest villages recruiting able-bodied men and women to fight, while Daniel approached the nearby Kingdom Garrisons and prepared the men. Prince Saerith, true to his word, ventured off to rally the Elves. It was hard to believe—with each passing second, an army marched closer and closer to the Kingdom’s Pillar of Hahl.

My Pillar of Hahl!

“The two things should be fairly obvious, Patrick,” Saerina said. Between Patrick, Saerith, and Saerina, formalities were no longer spoken. “Sehn will either pull it off, or he won’t.”

“Forgive me, but these days my mind has issues forming logical thought.”

In some ways Patrick felt disappointed in himself. If the army invaded Hahl, then without a doubt they were heading to Elvadin, and Patrick’s people—aside from those in Hahl—were no longer in immediate danger. Patrick’s relief both shamed and disgusted him, but he fought through it. He would make sure the Elven people were supported, even if it bankrupted his nation in the process.

Besides, he thought. If the Elves fall…if that man succeeds, money won’t have value anyway.

*****

Calen Ariat, first son to chief of the Naris clan, second in line for sword-dominion of Elvar, carefully inspected the Elven steel before him. He refused to pay the outrageous prices in Elvar’s market—it was actually cheaper to venture to the Elven city of Helena, and purchase one from his clan, though it was quite the hassle. Still, if he had fallen for that seductress of a woman, his father’s blade would be the least of his problems. Wherever Sehn was, Calen hoped he was making good use of the weapon.

Helena was one of the few Elven cities not built around trees, resembling more of a Human city than anything. There were still planted trees, and a great deal more flora than what could be found in a Human city, but as a whole it was far-removed from Elvar.

“A shining light thou blade glimmers with,” Calen said. “Burning with the strength of its forger were it not, thy coin yet again thee would nay to be receiving.”

The merchant smiled, and extended his palm. Calen dropped the five golden coins into his hand and sheathed the blade. “Thee business hath left me most full of grate, good Elf. But should thine rump ever be again beaten most foul, and thy sword ripped free of finger from which father hath bestowed, too must you again return, that coin may be placed in palm, as such coin would make thee a receiver of this forger’s finest craft.”

Calen clenched his teeth and whirled around, filled with the desire to punch the rude merchant. No one seemed willing to let him live down his humiliating defeat to Sehn. The tale had spread among the Naris clan, and now he’d often find them offering him “care-cups,” or making quips about losing his father’s blade.

“Get thee to a nunnery!” mocked the voice as Calen walked away.

Calen couldn’t wait to return to Elvar. No one there mocked him—and why would they? Most of them knew full well how annoying Sehn could be. It was a place of empathy for Calen. But here, back in his birthplace of Helena, he found nothing but said mockery.

“Calen!” shouted a voice.

The sound of rushing horses startled Calen. He spun around, and saw what looked like the majority of Helena’s warriors riding directly for him. “What in the Gods!”

There were at least a thousand of them. Archers, swordsmen, all seven of the city’s mages, they galloped towards him with a sense of urgency. Leading them, and dressed in the royal garb, rode Prince Saerith, his red eyes visible even through the dust being kicked up by the horses. Calen expelled whatever air remained in his lungs, and awaited them with his mouth gaping.

He dropped to one knee as his prince pulled alongside him. Calen began the traditional speech. “Prince Saerith, thine—”

“Not now!”

Calen fought against the confusion and halted his tongue. What was the prince doing in Helena? Why was Helena’s entire military force assembled and armed? Prince Saerith leapt from his horse and spoke informally.

“Listen up, because time is short. I don’t know why you’re here in Helena, and honestly I don’t care, because it’s a stroke of our greatest luck that you number among us. Calen, as we speak, an army marches on the city of Hahl. It travels in numbers so great that even with the combined strength of man and Elf we’ve not a single chance of victory.”

Calen shook his head. The words were too much to take in. “W-wait, there’s an army? Marching on Hahl? Why does this concern us? Why do we—”

“Silence!” Saerith shouted. “I will explain everything to you as we ride, and you will swear your secrecy to me, but for the time being, pack whatever you can and be ready to depart. The Elven people need you. You’ll be acting the role of war-leader.”

Calen trembled but forced himself to nod. Inside, his mind screamed at him. Me? A war-leader? But I’m only second in line for sword dominion of Elvar…this is my brother’s job!

“I understand, my prince. I’ll prepare at once.”

*******

Cah’lia waited patiently and struggled to conceal the amused grin her mouth relentlessly tried to form. Sehn was being given the clothes of royalty, and just on the other side of the thin wooden door he was putting it on. The lack of screaming made everything all the more amusing.

The walk through the city had been interesting. Hahl was entirely different from Koringrath. Where Koringrath was a market city, with streets crowded by buyers and sellers, Hahl was an odd combination of military outposts and residential housing. It had markets, to be sure, but for most people it was either a home, or a place to be stationed. Koringrath didn’t have many homes, save for the mansions the rich lived in—Hahl on the other hand, was teeming with them. Every street contained dozens of them, all various types and colors. It was a common sight to see a poor farmer’s cottage alongside a Noble’s villa.

Nero, Rina, Wolly, and Shina, had all been taken to a dining area for rest and food. Only Cah’lia and Sehn—Saerina and Saerith—would be permitted to dine in the mayor’s personal hall. Cah’lia wondered how it would compare to the mayor’s hall in Koringrath.

When Sehn exited the dressing room, Cah’lia placed a hand over her face. Otherwise, she feared her eyes would pop from their sockets.

H-he’s…he’s gorgeous!

Sehn was dressed in a purple silk vest, with golden spiraling emblems painted across the breast, forming into a pattern of a fire-breathing dragon, and leading down into a matching set of embroidered slacks. A golden ring decorated each of Sehn’s ears, and jewelry had been placed on each finger of his right hand. He looked more like prince than the real Saerith.

“I look like a fucking asshole!” he spat.

Cah’lia placed her hands on her hips, and gave Sehn a warning look. “What if someone had been around to hear you say that? We talked about this, Sehn. None of that.”

He mumbled something that Cah’lia—thankfully—was unable to hear, and walked across the room to stand next to her. She too was dressed her finest in clothing she never dreamed of being able to wear. Pristine diamonds hung from her ears, leading down into a matching blue gown with orange stripes running across. The Humans even provided her with leather sandals, chosen specifically to complement the pale complexion of her feet, and a sparkling coronet running across her forehead.

The two were given adjoining rooms with a dressing area in the center. Mirrors covered both ends of the room, and Cah’lia pulled Sehn next to her, forcing him to stand by her side while she evaluated them. “We look amazing,” she gasped. “Look at us, Sehn. We look better than the real thing.”

For a brief moment Sehn peered into the nearest mirror, and the result was magical. With Cah’lia gripping Sehn’s arm, the two looked like the king and queen of the Elven people readying for a state affair.

Sehn grunted. “Let go of me, peasant. I wish to get this business over with as soon as possible.” Sehn ripped his arm free and turned around to leave. Cah’lia took notice of the way his passionate green eyes complimented the royal clothing. It was shocking. Was this really Sehn? Cah’lia knew at once she’d never again be able to see him like this—it was a onetime deal.

“And just where do you think you’re going? Get back here.” Cah’lia leaped forward and again grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face her.

“What is it now, Cah’lia? Unhand me this instant!”

“Oh no you don’t. You don’t get to dress like a prince and walk away from me.”

“Now what are you on about?”

Cah’lia was unable to control herself. Seeing Sehn in such a majestic light brought out an animal side in her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in possessively. At first Sehn’s eyes widened and he backed away, but when he met her gaze he relaxed, and went with the motion. He grabbed her shoulders, she grabbed his, and once again they kissed. It wasn’t like the other times, no, this was different. This was something more. Cah’lia attacked him, pushing Sehn back against the mirror, leaving a crack in the glass. Even through the newly formed jagged image Sehn looked spectacular.

This is how I’ve always seen him, Cah’lia realized with a start.

The clothing, the jewelry, and the glow of his eyes, all of it—this was Sehn. For the first time in Cah’lia’s memory he wore his heart on the outside, and it sparked a passion in her. She gripped him tighter and communicated to him what words alone could not say. For all of Sehn’s bravado he melted when their lips touched, sinking into her arms. He fell under her sway.

When they pulled apart Cah’lia looked into his eyes, and she could see the pain and fear—hidden so well behind the mask of arrogance and might. It was so faint it seemed but an illusion, yet it was there.

How much is he suffering? Cah’lia wondered. How much does he hurt?

The door to the dressing room burst open, and Cah’lia broke away, throwing her hands behind her back and straightening her dress. Sehn performed a similar maneuver, pretending to adjust his golden earrings.

An elderly man in a black suit stepped inside, and nodded at the two of them. “Greetings, I am Bernard, the mayor’s personal assistant. He is expecting you. Please, your highnesses, right this way.” Cah’lia and Sehn shared a fleeting look before following.

The mayor had an impressive home. Torches and lamps lit the winding stairways that led up to the top floor of the seven-story complex. Oil paintings covered both sides of the walls. Some were of the mayor himself, while others resembled a distant lineage, perhaps grandfathers. Narrow hallways led into wider ones, leading back again into the narrow. Servants shuffled from place to place, offering bows as they came and went, some holding trays with goblets of wine, while others held laundry, or ink and quill.

Bernard led them past a hallway filled with red fluffy couches. Men of importance threw coins at scantily clad Human women, who rewarded them with affectionate stares. It was sickening. The men laughed, and the women offered fake smiles.

Bernard led them through a darker-lit hallway, past sweet smelling tubes filled with spices and exotic fruits. He paused before a wide double-ended door with swirling red letters painted across the archway above, reading—‘Grand Dining Hall.’

“It’s just in there, Your Highnesses.”

Bernard pushed in the door and stepped to the side. A golden light seeped into the dark hallway, illuminating the area around Cah’lia with a marvelous glow. Even Sehn gasped at the display of wealth that greeted them.

Gold. Everything was golden. The tablecloth was inlaid with golden cuffs, the chandelier reflected golden light onto golden plates. The room was wide, far wider than the mayor’s room in Koringrath. Twenty people turned their heads to greet them, delight on each face. They sat together in two horizontally positioned dining tables, with the mayor’s personal table located at the center. Two empty throne-sized chairs awaited them. Cah’lia’s stomach rumbled with apprehension.

These Humans are all well-dressed, Cah’lia thought. They must be senators and advisors.

Cah’lia entered the room and Sehn followed closely behind. No one spoke—all stared at what they believed to be Elven royalty. Cah’lia tried to avoid meeting Sehn’s gaze. Everything was up to him now.

The quiet was unsettling. The Mayor, who at the time had been sampling soup from a wooden ladle, paused with an arm still extended. One gentleman, sitting at the rightmost table, whispered something inaudible to a elderly noblewomen next to him.

Come on, Sehn, play the part!

Sehn walked to the center of the room, gliding along the carpet with improvised grace. He took a deep breath. “Most humbled am I,” he began, with a far-reaching grandiose voice. “For this prince…to be offered thine food, thine wine, thusly have I been graced, as is the grace upon thee. For along with my honor hath such grace been granted. So too hath same grace been extended unto thee, and may the city of Hahl shine ever for it.”

Cah’lia worried that she might be the one to crack. “He’s incredible,” she whispered to herself.

The Mayor stood from the table, his procession following soon after. “Welcome to my city, Prince Saerith. It has been many, many years, since someone of royalty—the prince nonetheless—blessed us with his presence. Not only am I honored, but I am exalted at seeing you among us. I stand before you to offer you all of my comforts, and I shall see you leave pleased. Oh, yes, you will indeed leave happy, or my name isn’t—”

No! Cah’lia screamed in her mind. She’d forgotten all about the Mayor’s name. There’d be no way Sehn would maintain his composure after hearing it. This wasn’t good!

“Rumpus Pumpus Pumplestein the fourth,” he finished.

Sehn blinked. “Rum…” Sehn whispered. His cheeks inflated, and his face turned red.

He’s going to laugh, he’s going to laugh!

Tears fell from Sehn’s eyes, his face turning blue from the lack of oxygen. Finally, his cheeks deflated, and he seemed to regain his composure.

“Is everything all right, Prince Saerith?”

Sehn waved a hand. “Thine cheeks inflate with joy the purest, such as thine eyes fill with tears. For so joyous I am, on such joyous of days, too have you made me, my good Mayor P-,” he struggled. “P-Pumpus Rumpus.”

“Ah, it’s Rumpus Pumpus, Prince Saerith.” Sehn nodded, but said nothing further. The Mayor directed them to sit in the exotic chairs at his personal dining table, while the other Humans clapped then returned to their seats. Cah’lia crossed her fingers.

Please Sehn, make it through this meal...just one meal!