Authors: Nicholas Alexander
“As for Marcus, the man is nearly as cautious as I am. But Marcus cares for his family. Zinoro struck him right in his heart.”
“But why?” Trist asked. “Why do all this if Zinoro wants war? Why not simply declare it?”
Zaow stroked his beard, thinking. “The answer is simple, if you think about it. Manorith's war failed because it was fought here, in Sono. Even without the help of Allma Temple, we would have almost certainly won. The few hundred men Allma sent turned the tide of the last battle, and the arrival of the dragonrider was their death sentence.
“Zinoro is a far greater tactician than his father was. He knows the only chance he could have to win a battle with any of the kingdoms of the Alliance is if that battle were fought on his own land. An army marching into Acaria would be at a disadvantage, just as one marching out of it would also be. So the reason Zinoro does all this is because he wants us to invade him - and not the other way around.”
“But surely he understands how the Alliance works,” Trist said. “If he hopes to have Sono invade him, he is a fool. In the two-hundred years that this nation has existed we have never invaded another land.”
“One-hundred and ninety-two, my son,” Zaow corrected. “And that is not entirely correct. In my grandfather's time, the Alliance declared war against the kingdom of Freidu. Sono fought in that war, alongside Saeticia and Torachi.”
“Freidu is nothing but ruins now, even after all these years,” Selphie added. “They were annihilated.”
“And Zinoro will meet the same end, if it does come to war,” Trist said. “Acaria was almost wiped out in the previous war. Their numbers were down after that plague, and the men they could muster up were slaughtered when they attacked Sono. Zinoro could not have possibly raised an army large enough to handle the entire Alliance, not after only twenty years.”
Zaow looked to his son with disappointed eyes. “Just because we can defeat them, doesn't mean we should.”
“Zinoro is a monster,” Trist said.
“Not every Acarian is Zinoro.”
Trist grew quiet, retreating into his seat sullenly.
Zaow sighed, the breath far heavier than one of mere fatigue. He looked to Luca and the others, looking over them once more. He said to Selphie, “Not counting Jared, you have brought five others with you from Allma. My instructions were to bring three students with the skills requested.”
“The students you asked for are here,” Selphie told him. “Brand, Wiosna, and Luca were the best fighters the temple had to offer, though Luca was not technically a true student. The other two, Ash and Emila, are Luca's companions. Ash helped us escape from Dreevius, by telling Wiosna and the Allman survivors where we were. And Emila is an experienced healer - better than I am, in fact. The seven of us have proven to be quite effective as a team.”
Brand grinned.
Zaow turned his attention back to Luca and Ash, and said to them, “You two are related?”
“We are,” Luca replied. “He is my brother. We are Lodin's sons.”
Zaow's eyes grew wide. “Yes, you are...” he said after a moment. “How could I forget that hair? As white as snow - I haven't heard from Lodin since some time after the war.”
“He is dead,” Luca told the king. “Killed by Zinoro.”
Zaow drew in a sharp breath. His eyes narrowed, no longer looking tired anymore, and looked away from Luca. “This changes things, then. You were present when this happened?”
“I was,” Luca said. “I watched it happen with my own eyes.”
Zaow turned back to Selphie. “You did not tell me that Lodin's sons were in your company.”
“I found out that Ash - the younger son - was at the temple on my way there,” Selphie explained a bit nervously. “And when I arrived, I learnt that Luca was there as well. I intended to take only Luca with me, because I thought that his family history might be of use to our cause.”
Zaow looked almost angry with her now. “And how do you think things would have worked out if he had been there when you went before Zinoro? Everything could have fallen apart the moment Zinoro saw him.”
“Father, I doubt it really mattered. As you said, it was the backup plan because it had little chance of working to begin with.”
Luca was curious now as to what this backup plan was. He looked around to Selphie, and then to Jared, but neither of them met his gaze.
Zaow turned his attention back to Luca. “Tell me of Zinoro.”
“He wore black armour,” Luca said. “He was missing an eye - and the other was a glowing red. His sword was a Rixeor Fragment, and the blade was wrapped in a black fire when he drew it.”
“What did he say to your father?”
“Not much. My father refused to fight him, and that angered Zinoro. My father told Zinoro that if he wanted to kill him, he would have to do so in cold blood.”
Zaow frowned. “And I suppose you know why Zinoro wanted your father dead.”
“Because my father was the one who killed Manorith. And not you, as most people believe.”
Brand and Wiosna looked to Luca nervously. They knew this, as well - he had made no secret of it - but they seemed surprised that he had brought it up so brazenly. On the other side of the table, Selphie was biting her lip. Trist was looking at him with barely-hidden irritation. Ash was as quiet as he always was.
King Zaow watched him for a moment, then smiled. “Indeed. Publicly, it was I who took credit for the killing of Manorith. But it is indeed the truth that your father was the one who did it.”
The king sighed again, his eyes growing heavy as they remembered years gone by. “I met him, some time after it had happened. Nobody yet knew, only the men in his team. He had Manorith's armour with him - with the exception of his sword, which was lost - in a chest. We went to my tent, where we drank and spoke long into the night. He was the one who suggested that I take credit for ending the war. I'd wanted to make a knight of him - the first knight of T'Saw in so many years. But - he told me that he had no desire to be a hero - he only wanted to go live a quiet life with his sweetheart who waited for him in his home town. He was a good man, your father. It saddens me that he is no longer with us.”
Zaow paused for a moment, then he asked Luca, “What are you here for, son of Lodin?”
Luca blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Your father clearly meant a lot to you,” Zaow said. “But we are not here planning vengeance. If it is revenge you desire, you have come to the wrong place. We are trying to prevent a war, not start one. When I look in your eyes, I see someone who is after blood. So I am asking why you are here.”
He sees right through me, Luca thought.
“Indeed, I cared very much for my father,” Luca said. “That is why I am here. Too many people have died already, and the war hasn't even started. I'm fighting for peace because I know the rage of grief. But I'm not letting that control me. We cannot be slaves of our pasts - we must look to the future, and make the sacrifices necessary that it is a better world we leave behind.”
Zaow thought for a moment, and then he nodded approvingly. He glanced over at Selphie, and then at Trist, and furrowed his brow, stroking his beard deeply in thought.
Luca was then aware of Emila's eyes on him. He turned his head and saw her beside him, smiling happily. She looked proud of him, and relieved. He felt sick in the stomach.
Because it was a lie.
“What you have told me has given me a lot to think about,” Zaow said to Selphie. “The summon of the other kings cannot be ignored, but it is possible that I might be able to persuade them against this war.”
“You're actually going?” Selphie exclaimed. “But your health...!”
“My health is irrelevant,” Zaow told her sternly. “The summon cannot be ignored. I will be setting out for the Elder Hall in a few days. I will have you all join me there, to share your stories with the other kings. We cannot yet give up on our mission. War can still be prevented. For now however, I have grown weary. I will retire for the night. We will speak more of this in the morning.”
Zaow rose from his seat, and when he stood up, he gripped a walking cane that had been hidden until then under the table. When Selphie saw it, her expression told Luca that Zaow had not been using it when she had last seen him.
“You are all welcome to stay here in the palace,” Zaow said to them. “I'm sure Balzac can arrange rooms for you.”
Brand giggled again, earning a confused stare from both Zaow and Trist. Selphie all but glared at him, and he coughed awkwardly and bowed his head.
“Well, I will retire now.” As he left the room, Zaow took one last long look at his daughter, looking like there was something else he had to say. But he was silent as he closed the door behind him.
Once he was gone, everyone rose from the table. Prince Trist was the first to leave, brushing past Luca and giving him a dirty look as he left.
“It seems your brother doesn't think much of me,” Luca said to Selphie once the prince was gone.
“That would be your fault, Luca,” she said to him. He blinked, surprised to hear her say that. “You haven't been addressing my father or brother with the proper honorifics. I remember you did the same with Marcus, back in Serenite. I was going to say something earlier, but I forgot.”
“I - don't understand.”
“You should be calling King Zaow, 'your majesty',” Emila stepped up and told him. “And Prince Trist, 'your highness'. You should technically be calling Selphie the same, but she's our friend and she told us not to.”
“I don't use titles,” Luca said defiantly. “I call someone by their name, no matter who they are.”
“In a kingdom like Torachi that could get you thrown in gaol,” Selphie said. “My father is very forgiving man, but my brother has less patience than he does. Could you please just watch what you say around him?”
“It doesn't matter. Emila and I are going to be staying in the city.”
“You are?” Selphie asked, looking to Emila, who nodded.
“I used to live in T'Saw,” Emila told her. “There are some places I would like to visit while I have the chance. Some people I would like to see again.”
“I see. That's fine,” Selphie said. “What about the rest of you?”
“I'm fine here,” Brand said, who was still seated, his feet kicked up on the table.
“Me, too,” Wiosna said. She was leaning against the wall, looking away from Luca and Emila.
“Very well,” Selphie said. “What about you, Ash?”
Ash was nowhere to be seen.
“Typical,” Selphie muttered. She turned back to Luca and Emila. “Well, just make sure you're back here tomorrow morning.”
“Of course,” Luca assured her as they left.
“Have fun, you two! Try to wait until you make it to your room at the inn” Brand called after them.
Emila's face was red as they left the meeting room. Luca looked to her as they walked, and asked, “What is it?”
“It is that obvious?” Emila asked.
“I think they knew before we did.”
Emila bowed her head, not embarrassed, but morose. “It might not be real, though. Don't forget about the tether. It could be changing the way we feel.”
It could, he realised. He would know soon enough, when he left the city, and Emila stayed behind. Once they were separated, and the tether was broken, he would know for sure if his feelings were the truth or just an illusion.
They passed Gareth the guard captain outside, who gave them a quick nod. Farther down the hall, they saw Balzac pacing back and forth impatiently, nearly tripping over himself yet again. He noticed them, and approached them.
“Ah! P-princess Selphie's companions! I trust your meeting with the king w-went w-w-w-well?”
“We worry for His Majesty's health,” Emila told him.
“As do w-we all,” Balzac muttered sadly. “The summon of the other kings has us w-worried. How can the king make the journey to Saeticia in his condition?”
“It seems he's going regardless,” Luca said. “And we're going to go with him. He still has hope that the war with Acaria can be avoided.”
“And in that hope we will p-place our own,” Balzac said as solemnly as one could with a stutter. “If there is anything I can do for you, p-please let me know.”
“Thank you, but the two of us will be in the city,” Emila told him.
“I see,” Balzac said. “Well, p-please enjoy yourselves.”
Emila smiled, and they continued on their way, back out to the main hall, and back outside to the city. The sun was beginning to disappear under the horizon, and the activity in the city was likewise dying down. As Emila looked out at the streets, her eyes were filled with nostalgia.
“I've reconsidered,” she said to him. “Let's go back to that inn, the one I used to work at.”
“Are you sure?” he asked her.
She nodded, and smiled. “Yeah, definitely. I want to see if the innkeeper I knew still works there.”
He wondered what had made her change her mind. She so rarely shared her thoughts with him - but then again, he shared his own with her even less often. He couldn't let doubts plague what little time they would have together. So he returned her smile, though there was a trace of pain hidden behind it.
So they made their way down the marble steps and into the city streets, retracing their steps from earlier in the day. The streets were thin now, and they had little difficulty making their way back.
As they walked, Luca saw a small group of men - around six or seven - huddled in an alley. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but one of the men might have been the Jorus figure who had been publicly speaking against Zaow earlier. The small group seemed to notice his staring, for they retreated further into the alley, and out of Luca's sight. He wasn't able to be sure if it was Jorus or not.
“I lived here for almost two years,” Emila said to him, drawing his attention away from the suspicious men. “The inn we're going to? I worked there as a barmaid.”
“I have a hard time picturing you in a place like that,” Luca found himself saying. He'd spoken without thinking. Thankfully, Emila didn't seem to take it the wrong way.
She laughed, and said, “All I ever did was serve drinks and food. There were two other girls who worked there at the time, and they would play music for the guests sometimes for extra gold, but I never did. I was never comfortable with that...”