At the foot of the dais, Nermesa went down on one knee. He was resigned to being honored and only prayed that the ceremony would not take too long. After all, he had everything he wanted already.
As Nermesa knelt, King Conan rose. Clutching his broadsword in one hand, he used the other to set his helmet on the throne. Utter silence filled the chamber.
“Nermesa Klandes,” the Cimmerian rumbled, “I think you’ve suffered through almost as many of these blasted ceremonies as I.” The king chuckled. “And I know you care for them no more than I do, so I’ll make this mercifully short . . . as I think you’ve been hoping.”
King Conan raised his sword as the Black Dragons had. He looked around at the audience. “Know all of you in this room that this man saved my life at near cost of his own! By Crom, there’s no greater favor to me than that!
B
ut he also again—aye, I say
again
—all but sacrificed himself for Aquilonia!”
To this, there were tremendous cheers. Conan let them run their course, all the while grinning down at Nermesa.
When the throne room was once more his, the king, suddenly solemn, pointed his sword directly at Nermesa. “Rise, Baron Nermesa Klandes, knight of the Black Dragons.”
The son of Bolontes obeyed.
“What I give you now is supposed to be a reward for your services,” Conan murmured. “but it may be that someday you will curse me for adding to the burdens on your shoulders.”
There was some muttering, especially from where Nermesa’s family stood. Nermesa glanced at General Pallantides, who remained stone-faced.
The tip of the sword touched Nermesa’s shoulder. The Cimmerian’s deep voice bellowed, “I anoint you Baron Nermesa Klandes, no longer of the Black Dragons—”
A gasp escaped the knight. “Y-your majest—”
The smoldering blue eyes silenced him. King Conan went on as if the man before him had not interrupted.
“—no longer of the Black Dragons, but now of a position all his own, answerable only to
myself
!”
Again, Nermesa managed a glance at Pallantides, who this time nodded. The corner of the general’s mouth was curled upward slightly.
King Conan snapped his fingers and Publius rushed up with a small ivory box. The chancellor opened it for the king, who reached in with his free hand and removed a chain from which hung a medallion shaped like a golden starburst. As the Cimmerian turned the chain about, Nermesa saw that upon the medallion’s face was a rearing lion over a sharp blade.
Conan sheathed his sword. He then leaned forward and placed the chain around Nermesa’s neck so that the medallion hung over the chest area of the breastplate.
The former mercenary and thief nodded, then eyed his other subjects. In the loudest, proudest voice yet, King Conan declared, “Henceforth, the man before you—the
warrior
before you—shall be known as Lord Marshal of Aquilonia, First Protector of the Kingdom, and, by Crom, ever as the Sword of the Lion!”
Again came the cheers. Nermesa stood there, stunned. He had some vague notion as to what such a role demanded, but to him, it was merely the continuation of what he had always desired . . . to protect his loved one . . . to protect
all
Aquilonia . . . with all the skills and might available to him.
And now, if Nermesa understood correctly, the king had given him access to nearly all that the realm had to offer in that regard. In some regards, his rank was even superior to that of Pallantides.
“All hail the Lord Marshal!” Publius called. “All hail Baron Nermesa Klandes!”
The crowd shouted Nermesa’s name. Conan stepped back, his action signaling the end of the ceremony. Wellwishers rushed Nermesa as the Black Dragons let out a roar in honor of their former comrade. Nermesa felt as if he shook a thousand hands.
Then Telaria all but leapt into his arms. She kissed him without regard to those surrounding them, then murmured, “I am proud . . . but not surprised . . .”
“Telaria—”
“Hush.” The lady-in-waiting kissed him again. “We will talk about this later. This is your hour . . .”
She vanished into the crowd again. Nermesa’s parents somehow made it through next. Callista hugged her son, her tears unchecked. Bolontes, not at all stern now, slapped Nermesa on the back several times.
“You know how we feel, my son,” he whispered close. “You know . . .”
“I do.”
They, too, retreated. Nermesa was accosted by noble after noble, each seemingly vying to shake his hand hardest. It was with some relief to the knight—for once—that Chancellor Publius pulled him from the throng.
“Lord Marshal! Lord Marshal! Come, come! The king would have a private word with you!”
Nermesa gratefully followed. Publius led him to a chamber just off the throne room. The doorway was guarded by two Black Dragons who saluted Nermesa almost as if
he
were king.
Not only was Conan waiting for him, but so was Pallantides. The Cimmerian nodded to Publius. “That’ll be all.”
“Surely, surely, my liege! I shall take care of the crowd until you return.”
The chancellor shut the door behind him. Only then did General Pallantides say, “Congratulations, Lord Marshal! Well done.”
“General—your majesty—this reward—”
The king grunted. “It’s no light thing, Nermesa. You’ll earn it over and over, I’m sorry to say.”
“Have you changed your mind?” asked Pallantides. “Do you wish to retire from your duties?”
“Mitra! No!” Nermesa shook his head. “No . . . I accept the role.” His chest swelled. “And I shall not let you down, my liege!”
Conan only grunted again. The general, however, replied, “And we can only pray that you will not, Nermesa. The king did not do this only to reward you. He did it because he and I feel that someone of your caliber is needed, someone who can act alone or in concert with Aquilonia’s might. It is a role long needed to help safeguard the realm . . . especially, perhaps, now.”
“Now? Is there something amiss.”
King Conan chuckled. “Some might say that.”
A slight smile escaped Nermesa’s former commander. “No, but things might be becoming a bit more complicated in the near future, and there could be those who would seek to make use of those complications.” The general paused, then added, “In fact, the documents you brought to Trocero, whom the king trusts like a brother, actually carried within their contents—and in private code, naturally—the information you are about to learn.”
Nermesa grew more anxious. “What is it?”
His two companions exchanged a strange look, then Pallantides said in a low voice. “This does not go beyond the room until more is certain. Only ourselves and Publius will know of it . . .”
“Ha!” Conan grinned. “I think Zenobia might, too!”
“There is that.” The veteran officer leaned close. “It may be, Nermesa, that Aquilonia’s throne will soon have an
heir
.”
Eyes wide, Nermesa looked to King Conan, who grinned in that fashion that many an expectant father had over the centuries.
“Your majesty!” The new Lord Marshal bowed deep.
“It is not quite absolute yet,” continued Pallantides. “We will know soon, though, obviously. But you can see now why we especially need your loyal hand.”
Nermesa did. An heir to the throne would set in motion a new series of events. One of the things that had most threatened King Conan’s rule had been that the outsider had not yet fathered a successor. If that was no longer true, it meant monumental changes.
It also meant more dire intentions by those who did not care for a foreigner, especially a Cimmerian, as lord of the realm.
Determination coursed through Nermesa. He had sworn his life to his king; he would give it doubly to see that any child born would live to see the crown upon his own head in a land safe from strife.
The Lord Marshal went down on his knee. Head bowed to King Conan, he uttered, “I am your loyal servant, my liege. Command me in whatever task you need at this time, and I will fulfill my duties to the utmost.”
“There’s only one task I ask of you now, Lord Marshal.” The long pause that followed finally made Nermesa look up at his king. Conan was grinning. “That’s to deal with your marriage first. I think I can protect my wife and child until you’re ready to return.”
“Thank you, my liege,” responded the knight, now also smiling. “I’d like to do that.”
“Then get going, man! Get going!”
The Aquilonian leapt to his feet. He bowed once more to King Conan, then started to do the same for Pallantides. However, the general instead saluted
him
.
“Mitra watch over you and yours, Nermesa Klandes,” the soldier said. “I am honored to have served with you.”
Nermesa humbly nodded his thanks, then left the chamber to seek out Telaria. As he searched for her among the guests, his thoughts again went to the news. A possible heir to the
throne
. Yes, Nermesa was glad now that he had been promoted to his unique, new role. To protect the child would require abilities beyond what a Black Dragon had. Nermesa wanted to do everything humanly possible to make certain that the heir’s future—Aquilonia’s future—would indeed be ensured.
He located Telaria. She, in turn, saw him. Her face lit up.
And that brought to mind another reason why it had been wise for him to accept becoming Lord Marshal, to accept the task of guaranteeing the future.
It might be the future of
his
children as well.
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