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Sorin sat at his father’s bedside, close enough to touch the pale-faced man lying there soundlessly. His father, King Allerick, had been like this for days now. What had started out as a cold, turned quickly into a full-fledged attack on his body.
Attendants and doctors had been bustling in and out of the room all day, ignoring Sorin completely. Not that it bothered him, he was here out of concern; and if he was being honest, he was also there out of guilt for the argument they’d had when his father was last been well enough to speak.
Sorin leaned forward in his seat, looking down at the man who had always seemed larger than life. Sorin rubbed his temples in a fruitless attempt to rid himself of the headache that had presented itself hours ago. The past haunted him often, but today the memories were relentless. It had been nearly twelve years since the glittering winter night when his father had swept into a beautiful golden ballroom and spilled blood on the freshly polished marble floors; before taking the crown from King Idor.
Now his father was on his sickbed and Sorin was forced to wait as helpless as he had been in that ballroom when he was a young boy. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat he had taken up beside his father’s bed; his long legs felt restless from sitting so long. He ran a hand through his neatly trimmed, sandy blonde hair and thought about how quickly a person’s position in life can change. He had gone from nothing more than a distant cousin, of a line forgotten, to heir of the throne, with a slash of his father’s sword.
Glass shattered on the floor, bringing Sorin’s attention back to the dimly lit room. It startled him, but his father remained in a deep slumber. Nothing was able to stir him to consciousness over the last couple of days.
The apologetic attendant, who had dropped the glass, bowed to Sorin and his father. “Apologies, your Royal Highness.” He began sweeping up the fallen glass.
“No need for apologies.” Sorin gave the flustered man a reassuring smile. “Is the doctor back yet?”
“He is on his way now.” The attendant frowned. “Has there been any change?”
Sorin shook his head, and the man gave him a sympathetic smile before excusing himself from the room. Sorin closed his eyes again to get some more rest, but visions of the coup still danced in his mind. He had always struggled with how his father had taken the throne; and even now in his chambers, with his father on his sickbed, Sorin could feel that seed of resentment. He shook his head trying to rid himself of the memories and was grateful when his father’s secretary interrupted them.
“Apologies, Your Highness, but I have some papers here that need to be signed.” The frail man shifted uncomfortably. Gendry, who was not much older than Sorin, had always been a nervous man.
“I do wish people would stop apologizing to me today.” Sorin chuckled, taking the papers reluctantly. The last thing he wanted was to deal with matters of state.
“It is just a few documents regarding the Guilds... There are funds that need to be authorized and disbursed.”
The Guilds were his father’s pride and joy, and one of the first things he had enacted as the new ruler of Asterion. Sorin sifted through the papers. The Guilds were created after King Idor’s overthrow to give power to the people that had been neglected and abused under his rule. They were made up of tradesmen, masons, and the like. It was one of the many improvements that his father had made throughout the kingdom.
Sorin began skimming through the documents half-heartedly, signing the papers he knew his father would approve. It was impressive, really, the work that his father and his supporters had done. As bitter as Sorin was about the violence he had witnessed on the night of the Winter Solstice, he was in awe of his father’s determination. Throughout the rebellion and his time as the new king, he had never wavered in his beliefs.
Gendry lingered nearby, waiting for the documents to be ready for him to deliver into town. Sorin called to him when he came across an alarming piece of paper. It was an arrest order for a Magi in the harbour. Sorin called to the mousey man, “Excuse me, what is this?”
Gendry approached to get a better look at the warrant. “Ah, yes, that... A Magi man was reported to have been performing magic.”
“Blood magic, you mean.” Sorin read over the document again. Magic had not been successfully performed in Asterion since Idor’s overthrow. It was, in fact, impossible to use. His father had made sure of that, banishing magic throughout the kingdom with a powerful relic from The Beyond; a treacherous land that no mortal had dared venture into for centuries. It was ultimately what had made his father a man of legends.
Sorin did not know much of the relic, only that it had immense power granted from The Mother of creation, herself. His father had found a way to activate it so that the only magic that could be accessed in Asterion was dark, blood magic, something the relic had proven unable to banish. That sort of sacrificial magic was punishable by death. If Sorin signed this paper now, it would be a death sentence for the Magi in question.
He shook his head at the secretary. “I cannot sign this.”
The man’s eyes shifted toward Sorin’s father, unconscious from the sickness that was raging inside of his body. Sorin knew Gendry did not want to argue with the crowned prince, but he, like Sorin, was a mortal; meaning that he likely held the same prejudices against Magi as most of the other mortals in Asterion. Under King Idor’s rule, the most powerful Magi had risen high in status and had abused that power. While the people of Asterion had struggled to feed their families, Sorcerers and Mages enjoyed the comforts of court alongside the careless aristocrats.
Sorin sighed, “I will have my men investigate the matter further. We need to have substantial evidence of wrongdoing before making an arrest.” Sorin would feel more confident having his own men look into the matter. Accusations like this were common in Asterion. Often, they were a result of prejudices the mortals held toward their Magi neighbors.
Gendry relaxed his shoulders. “Yes, of course, Your Highness.”
Sorin handed Gendry the stack of papers and the man bowed, ready to take his leave. Sorin stopped him before he made it to the door. “Your family... You lost them to the old king’s Sorcerers?”
When Gendry turned to him there were tears in his eyes. “Yes, Your Highness. One of the old king’s Sorcerers came to our farm and set our home on fire.”
Growing up, Sorin had heard stories like this while sitting in on his father’s secret meetings. The things King Idor’s Magi had done to mortals throughout Asterion were horrific. Men who attended these meetings would give depositions about these occurrences. The terror of these accounts ranged from a Sorcerer of King Idor’s court casting spells on mortal men, making them choke on their own blood, to a Mage who snapped a servant’s neck for not filling his glass to the brim.
Sorin recalled a haunting report about a farm that had been torched by one of King Idor’s Sorcerers. Only the Sorcerer hadn’t just set fire to their farm... He had drowned the men’s children by pulling water from their well and engulfing them in it. Sorin’s heart ached for the man standing before him, and now he understood why Gendry would crave justice against any Magi rumored to be using magic, even after all these years.
Sorin’s stomach twisted into knots. “But he spared you?”
“Yes.” Gendry wiped his tears away and set his jaw. “He said that I was weak, and he did not feel like wasting any more of his energy on such meaningless creatures.”
Anger boiled in Sorin’s veins. He wanted to make up for the pain that this man had endured and was tempted for a moment to sign the warrant after all. Sorin shifted in his seat, but before he could say anything, the palace doctor interrupted.
Gendry excused himself, and Sorin turned his attention back to his father. The doctor busied himself in the corner of the room, far enough away that he could not hear Sorin. Sorin leaned closer to his father and took his hand.
It was cold, so Sorin rearranged the blankets so that his father would be better covered. His father did not stir and Sorin sighed before speaking to him, “I know what you would say... I should have signed the warrant.” His father continued to sleep peacefully as Sorin continued, “I just...” Sorin’s voice broke. “I’m sorry, father. I’m sorry that I’m not more like you. I’m sorry that we have had trouble seeing eye to eye, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t respect the kind of man you are...” At Sorin’s words, his father’s eyes fluttered, but did not open.
Sorin shouted for the doctor, “I think he’s waking up!” It had been days since his father had stirred, and the doctor came running. His father’s eyes stilled again, and the doctor put his fingers on Sorin’s father’s neck to check his pulse. The doctor furrowed his brow and shook his head. The look on the doctor’s face told Sorin, once again, his life had changed in the blink of an eye. His father, King Allerick, was dead.
A ringing filled Sorin’s ears as he fought back the tears threatening to fall from his dark blue eyes; the doctor scurried to a guard by the door, and before Sorin knew it, he was swept up in a sea of courtiers. Noblemen, guards, and councilmen shoved their way into the generous quarters of the King. Sorin’s head was swimming, and he was certain he was about to be sick on the exotic, imported rug his father had gotten from a smuggler in the Padsu Harbour. He focused on that rug, and the intricate pattern that swirled into the form of a sea dragon, as people in the room cried out in grief.
“Enough.” A commanding voice cut through the room with unwavering authority. Queen Evelyn, his mother, stood in the doorway of the King’s chamber. Late king, Sorin had to remind himself. Despair was creeping in quickly.
The room went still and silent as every courtier turned to bow. His mother stood before the court, tall and regal in a deep blue velvet gown. It was a simple dress, as was their court’s style, but elegant, nonetheless. A life in the sunshine marked itself on her face in the small lines that came with age. Her blonde hair was swept back and topped with a jeweled crown. It was the only adornment she ever wore. Seeing her standing there, it was hard for Sorin to remember the shy, soft-spoken woman she had been before the uprising.
She came to Sorin’s side, embracing him with a warm hug. Then she turned to her late husband, kneeling at his bedside. A hush fell over the crowd as she took his hands in hers and kissed them sweetly. Sorin stood in a daze. He wanted to reach out to his mother, but couldn’t bring himself to move. All he could do was think of the many things that he had wanted to say to his father, but now it was too late.
After a few moments, his mother stood again. She smoothed out her dress and wiped the tears that were streaming down her face. Sorin knew she was holding in the immense pain she was feeling; just as he would now be expected to do. They would need to present themselves with strength and dignity; forced to grieve properly in private.
Worrying about appearances was something that Sorin had always struggled with, and this was no exception. Before the coup, neither of Sorin’s parents had been comfortable at court. They had not agreed with the prestige the Magi held there under Idor’s rule, while the common man struggled for any semblance of power and respect. But they had believed in their duty to the people of Asterion... It was one of the many things that made them a perfect match.
Sorin, on the other hand, had never quite adjusted as princeling, and though it had taken time for his mother to adjust, she had persevered; assuming the role the people needed in uncertain times such as this. The regal woman who stood before him now was not the same merchant’s daughter who had read to him in the garden or taken him to the fish market every Sunday. Years as queen had made her stronger; a steady power illuminating from her in any situation. The court now welcomed her presence as if they would become stronger just by being near her.
Her voice echoed in the large room as she continued, “The King is dead. Long live his heir, King Sorin.” She gestured to Sorin, and the court turned all eyes on him. Sorin’s heart lurched in his chest at the sound of the title before his name. As the courtiers bowed to him, there was a mix of grief, panic, and envy on their faces.
Sorin knew they were wary of what would happen with him ascending to the throne in his father’s place. He had always conducted his duties as prince by the book. He’d attended countless tiresome council meetings, studied the art of leadership and philosophy, and pored over the histories of Asterion and even Magi. But he had not proven himself yet. His father had risen to king and had inspired the people to keep him there. He had made them feel safe and empowered, and had cast out those who had taken from them, oppressed them, and threatened them. He had outlawed magic to level the playing field for those who had been born without it. And he had done it all through sheer will and determination.
Since then, there had been the occasional dispute in the villages. Though many Magi fled after the uprising, the ones who had remained faced attacks in retribution of old grudges. But Sorin had not yet had the chance to show his strength and capabilities as a leader. The people approved of him as their crowned prince, but he had yet to be truly tested as a ruler worthy of being king.
“Ahem.” Sorin’s thoughts were again interrupted, this time by a tall, gangly looking man in fine robes.
Expensive, imported silk from Sagon, no doubt, Sorin thought, with an internal scoff.
“My sympathies to Your Grace, but perhaps this would be a good time for the council to assemble. We were to discuss a rather sensitive subject with His Majesty.” He added quickly, “May The Mother carry his soul.” The councilman shifted uncomfortably under Queen Evelyn’s glare.
Sorin watched as his mother gestured toward the door, “After you, gentlemen.”
Sorin caught her elbow as she passed him, “Mother, can we not have even a moment to grieve?”
“I’m sorry my love.” She put a warm hand to his cheek. “But the next moves you make will be vital to our survival. Our enemies will be circling and there are things you need to know.” She kissed his forehead and, with a signal to her guard, they bounded from the room, leaving the court behind in their wake.