Herald of Rose 5:

The Sovereign and the Dead (1)

The fourth day began with knocking on their door. Morgan was already wake, lying in bed, just thinking while Tory was still snoring softly on her side of the bed, bundled up under the red covers. Morgan sat up and pulled his blue tunic over his head then stepped over the wooden toys Cassidy had given Tory too many of, as he made his way to their door. Before he twisted the handle, the person began knocking a second time, hard enough to rattle the door on its hinges.

Morgan opened the door to the see the guard’s fist stopped in the air mid knock, Gwen and her other three guards standing behind him.

“Is this how you greet everyone in the morning, by trying to break down their doors?” Morgan asked.

“Please don’t forget that that room and all of its contents are property of the crown and not yours,”

“No need to worry about that. I can hardly forget that it isn’t my room, or my house, or my country. Mostly I can’t seem to forget how I got here.” Morgan said with a glower.

“Regardless, I’m only here because Father and his advisors are almost ready and he demands your presence in his throne room, both of you.” Gwen said as she caught Tory sitting up and yawning. “Get yourselves ready. My guards will be waiting to escort you there.”

Without another word Morgan shut the door in their faces.

“You heard her, Tory. Today is the day we finally hear his plans for us. We have to decide whether we want to be put out or work for him,” Morgan said.

“What are you going to pick?” Tory asked as she hopped out of bed.

“What do you think we should pick?”

“Whatever will get us home.”

Perhaps it could be attributed to the fact that Morgan had never actually been inside of a castle or that this was only his fourth day in this one, but he was sure they weren’t normally this vast. Led by the two guards Gwen had left to guide them, they walked for half an hour until they came to a corridor with four separate paths. He recognized, it as the intersection where each ‘wing’ or section of the castle met. They turned right, from the eastern wing to the northern, into a hall that was too long, easily several minutes’ walk but beautiful enough to savor every second it took.

The long stretch of smooth stone floor was only interrupted by stone archways connected to the ceiling. Set in the walls between each arch were stone statues, life like enough that Morgan wasn’t entirely sure they hadn’t painted men and told them to stand there.

At the start of the hall, on either side, there were only men clad in armor and wielding heavy weapons and grimaces. Unencumbered by the jewels that spoiled the rest of castle, they were ordinary perfection. He could see the wrinkles in their faces, the uneven textures of their rough skin, details that must have taken hundreds of people, hundreds of hours of flawless work, if not more to do it all. It was the kind of dedicated work that Morgan had to appreciate as a craftsman himself. The kind that he didn’t think even he was capable of himself.

It was only in the latter third that women were included as wives standing next to their husbands. In the statues that they were present, they mirrored the deep frowns and savage scowls of their partners. That was until the end of the hall, where they came upon the final statue, set in the wall, on their right. It was a depiction of a much younger King Luvia, standing next a woman who very closely resembled Gwen and Cassidy. They were the first ones in the hall captured smiling. Out of all of the Kings and Queens behind them, King Luvia and his wife were the only ones that looked happy. And the way that they smiled made them the most vivid and unrealistic of them all.

“You’ve looked enough,” one of the guards said and motioned him inside of the new room.

It was a simple waiting room. Chairs lined the walls and surrounded small tables with yellow flowers in vases and paintings of lush green highlands mounted on the walls.

Another set of stone double doors that Morgan guessed lead to the throne room faced them with the common crow and an open book carved into the left and right doors, respectively. Cassidy and Gwen sat at table, chatting as they entered and turned to Morgan and Tory.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” Morgan said to Cassidy. “I thought you said you hated things like these.”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t ruin your promise to peace because of Gwen here. You should sit down; I just came back from the throne room and it looks like we have a bit of a wait. Some of the advisors are still fussing over the numbers and Uncle Lu is arguing that the numbers don’t matter,”

Morgan pulled a chair at the table for Tory and then himself.

“Could I get something to eat first?” Tory asked.

“Of course you can darling,” Gwen said and offered her hand to Tory.

“I don’t think so,” Morgan said as he moved to pull Tory away, but Cassidy stopped him by grabbing his hand.

“It’s fine, she loves Tory more than she loves her own cousin,” Cassidy teased Gwen. Morgan wasn’t sure if it was part of their banter, but Gwen made no move to deny. “She wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Besides, I think it’s for the best you two aren’t in the same room for too long,”

Morgan grumbled as he sat down and Gwen left, holding hands with his sister. “If the King thinks that the numbers don’t matter then why did he have his advisors do them?”

“He doesn’t really believe that. He’s just a bit drunk and impatient,” Cassidy chuckled. “A bit excited and nervous too. I don’t think he ever expected that this opportunity would come his way again, especially with how the last attempt ended.”

“Speaking of your Uncle, there was a statue outside of a woman that looks just like you standing next to him.”

“That’s…she was my aunt Elaine, Uncle Lu’s wife.”

“The three of you look exactly alike. She looked…nice, and just as head-strong as the two of you. The Grey family must have strong blood.”

“Aunt Elaine came from the Evart family. There’s no such thing as the Grey family.”

“Then how did you get the name? Are you trying to say that you are married?” Morgan asked with a raised brow.

“No, I am not married,” Cassidy laughed. “And I said what I meant: there’s no such thing as the Grey family, quite the opposite actually. The last name Grey is given to orphans. Or it’s taken by people who wish to cut ties to their families, friends and everything else from their old lives. When someone wants to disappear like that they usually change their first name as well. I kept mine, but I’ve taken Grey for both of those reasons.”

He hadn’t actually given it much thought since, but now it made a little more sense why Cassidy calling herself Grey seemed to upset Gwen when she had introduced herself.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Morgan said. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I wasn’t going to. We’ve barely known each other for three days,” Cassidy reminded him. “But I will say that my past is why I try so hard to make sure that you and your sister are comfortable and taken care of. I recognized the anger and hurt that you two came here with. I felt the same way not too long ago.”

“Is that why you’ve been staring at me all the time?”

“Staring is too strong of a word, I was looking out for you,” Cassidy said and then squinted her bright green eyes at him. “What did you think I was doing?”

“Well….you were watching us all the time, and you brought that food to our room. I thought Gwen or the King was making your carry out some kind of plan to get close to us,”

“The only thing my Uncle asked me to do was make sure you felt welcomed. I brought the food to you because I understand what it’s like to be new here and stand out. People are always watching you and it can become a lot sometimes. Though, I can understand why you saw it the way you did.”

Morgan nodded and rubbed his hands together.

“Even if you find it hard to trust my Uncle, the ‘Heathen of Stone’, how about you trust in good old Cassie?”

“Did you just call yourself good and old, and Cassie?”

Cassidy rolled her eyes. “Cassie is what Uncle Lu and Gwen called me until I nagged them out of it. It’s supposed to be endearing, I guess. Your parents didn’t have a name like that for you?”

“Not at all. If this is another one of your weird customs, I’m fine with missing out on it,” Morgan laughed.

“You can’t fool me. I can tell that you’re just jealous and that’s okay. I can make one up for you too.”

“I’m okay,”

“It would be no trouble at all,”

“I’m fine Cassidy,”

“Morgy it is then,”

“Morgy?” Morgan repeated with a frown. “Morgy sounds like a disease that gives you bumps and irritates your bowels.”

Cassidy doubled over in her chair, clutching her side as she laughed and Morgan couldn’t help but laugh at her laugh. After a minute or two of hysterical laughter both of them cooled down and Cassidy wiped a tear from her eyes as she continued: “All of that is beside the point. I’m saying that I’ve been where you are and you can trust me to help.”

“But what are you really saying? That I should trust your Uncle and accept the deal?”

“No, I can’t tell you to do that; you have to choose what’s best for you and your sister. But…I do know him, he isn’t what people say he is or was. And personally, I would prefer that you did stay.”

The door to the hall behind them opened and Tory skipped in with her little hands full of buttered bread rolls. Gwen walked in after her, smiling down at Morgan in a gloating manner holding a plate of even more bread rolls that were likely for Tory as well.

Morgan wanted to talk more, but he knew with Tory and Gwen here the time had gone. “I wasn’t sure you were coming back” he said to Tory.

“If there were more bread rolls besides these, I wouldn’t have come back,” she said and they all laughed.

At that moment the doors to the throne room opened, slowly and with considerable effort from the guards on the other side. When they were half way open a woman with glasses peaked out. “His majesty is ready for you.” Gwen, Morgan and Tory entered without Cassidy, who opted to stay.

Three hours went before the doors opened again. This time, however, the siblings were ushered out by a troop of fully armored guards, Luvia and his advisors in tow.

Cassidy jumped out of her chair, wiping away the sleep from her eyes.

“What’s going on?” she called to Morgan, but they hurried him along before he could answer. So Cassidy followed them all the way to the King’s Foundry in the eastern wing. There all of the blacksmiths were there on the ground floor waiting. All of them watched in muted astonishment as the full ensemble walked in.

The guards parted and Morgan walked forward and collected his bag with all of his belongings at the foot of the pit intended to be his Deep Forge.

Forehead creased and slick with sweat, Bertram came forward: “Are they escorting you out? Are you leaving? What did you say??”

“I said yes,” Morgan said, pulling his hammer out of the bag. “We’re here to seal the deal.”

The workers had already dug out the furnace on the back wall so with the assistance of the blacksmiths Morgan had an anvil lowered into the center of the pit. Morgan resumed carving the runes, while Tory avidly watched beside him. Finishing it must have taken three hours at the very least but the King and his subjects stood by avidly spectating until it was done.

Once inside the pit, Morgan held his hammer handle up and spoke the words: “In the name of the architect, I declare this forge a cradle of metallurgy: housing for the wildest elements, solace for savage menageries and communion for the spirits of the lost!”

Pale blue light sprung from the hammer as it floated up from Morgan’s hands to hover over the anvil.

Morgan held his hands open and continued: “And in the name of Avitide, I declare this a place of knowledge, of invention and unmaking, of assumption and denial!” The hammer fell and struck the anvil, pale blue light blossoming off from the collision. Morgan averted his eyes from the brilliant light, only to see Tory staring directly at it.

When it faded, the runes carved into walls began glowing white and a grating sound started as the spacial runes took effect and the walls moved, expanding past what should have been possible, turning into a large room before the crowd’s eyes, while occupying the same physical space. Then sea water started rushed into the room from the walls.

“I missed this,” Tory said as the water filled the pit.

“Me too.” Morgan agreed.

“You remember the words?”

“Yep.”

Morgan held out the new hammer and Tory faced him. “In the name of Avitide, I call on the powers of those that have been to lead those that have yet to be.” It floated up from his hands and alighted itself between the siblings, shining fiercely. “Do you, Tory, daughter of Typhon and Maya, willingly bind the power that is already your own, to servitude and compliance of Avitide?”

“I do.”

“With only the purest intentions and the knowledge to make the intention just, do you promise to pursue knowledge whole heartedly and responsibly?”

“I do.”

“Do you swear that you will go to the greatest lengths and suffer the cruelest of pains possible to keep your creations in righteous hands and uphold the balance of the tides?”

“I do.”

“Then take this hammer and make it yours. You shall be declared a realized sea smith; truly burdened, fully endowed and your vocations revealed.”

Tory took the hammer with both hands and an identical glow from her body resonated with it as two runes, one on top the other, appeared above her head.

“Welcome Tory, Higher Order Elementalist and Lower Order Animist, to the service of Avitide. Now, forge your bond with him.”

Tory set the new hammer onto the anvil and Morgan handed her the glowing chisel. Morgan watched as she carved two runes onto it. The runes he had on his own hammer and the very same every sea smith had: the bond rune and Avitide’s personal rune.