The Winds of Crowns and Wolves (20 page)

First to perform was a boy who appeared to
be younger than Neach himself. He carried wooden balls in his hands
and began to juggle them high in the air. It lasted no more than a
few seconds before he dropped every item and was left empty handed.
A silence fell over the room, as the boy was escorted out of the
back toward the exit of the secondary ring.

Following the unimpressive young boy was a
man who looked to be just older than Neach. He walked forward with
no items in his possession, and his arms folded behind his back.
There was a pause before he began his act, and the King stopped
eating his apple to soak in what he was hearing.

They came up through the valley; they came
from through the trees. The setting sun looked ripe like fruit from
the branches’ leaves. And into the wild they ventured; and into the
sea they rowed. The Kingdom holds no secrets, for a secret’s never
told.

His song echoed through the far corners of
the room, and it was greeted by applause from none other than the
King himself. He seemed pleased with the performance, but did not
wish to appear overenthusiastic.

He stepped forward with his bow and surveyed
the area around him, looking for a catalyst to the chemical
reaction he hoped to incite within the King’s emotions. Initially,
nothing caught his eye, but then he remembered a trick he had
learned as a kid. As a young boy, his father Asgall had gifted him
a bow for his ninth birthday. Along with the bow, he taught his
young son how to create fire out of nothing. By dousing the tip of
the arrow in alcohol, the friction created by the speed of the
arrow when met with the enzymes in specific types of fruit could
cause a spontaneous combustion, resulting in a fire.

“May I borrow your wine, my King,” Neach
asked politely as he bowed.

The King obliged and handed his goblet over
to the young man.

What happened next took real courage on his
part, but it ultimately paid off.

The string of the bow was drawn back, and
the arrow whistled through the air and embedded itself in the apple
the King was eating. Only a few inches from his hand, the arrow
caused a slow burning fire that cast a glow on the wall behind him.
His eyes grew wide and then a smiled followed suit. He was
obviously impressed with his tactical prowess, and he watched as
Neach aimed for his guard’s hat and pinned it to the wall. His
final piece was an arrow, with string tied to its feathers that he
fired into the ceiling above the King’s throne and swung across the
empty space on. He landed atop the jeweled seat, standing overtop
the King, and derived explosive applause and cheers from the whole
room.

It was evident that Neach had won over the
King’s favor, as he rose to his feet to deliver his
proclamation.

“It is quite obvious who has impressed me
the most on this momentous day. Young man with the bow, what is
your name?” the King asked.

Neach responded with little time separating
the question from the response.

“Coinneach, your excellence. I hail from
Spleuchan Sonse,” Neach espoused.

The King smiled a smile that must have been
brought on partially by the liquor.

“Well, Coinneach of Spleuchan Sonse, welcome
to the embrace of the King. Every person who resides within the
secondary ring of the castle is an important member of this
Kingdom. We will spare no expense to make your stay here more
enjoyable. You will remain under my supervision and care for the
next month, as we celebrate the birth of my dear father,” the King
spoke softly. It was unusual for Neach. who had imagined he would
be much more ruthless.

He moved as if his body were completely made
of water. His feet made no sound as they struck the ground and he
seemed capable of stealth performance, most likely a result of his
training from the House. Though he walked without a sound, he
remained upright and stoic, commanding a fearsome presence in front
of him. When he reached the door of the royal quarters of the
castle, he motioned Neach inside.

“In here you will find your accommodations,”
the King said with a smile on his face, “I trust they will be up to
your specifications,” with a giggle, he exited the room.

“I will call upon you in a few hours, until
then, find your area of comfort, whether it be within the castle or
in this room,” the King removed his hands from the door frame and
glided quietly into the hallway.

Neach was in awe as he looked around the
room, which he now found himself living in. The sheets were made of
fine silk from around the Western Empires, the pillows with the
plushest down from the youngest birds in the Kingdom. Duncairn did
many things right, but above all, they were known for their wood
and ores. The bed frame was crafted from a dark strain of mahogany
that had grain lines which threatened to run straight into the
ground where they stood. Attached to the wood were curtains of
velvet that would block the sunlight out with their thickness.

As he sat down atop his new, soft bed, Neach
could not help but smile. Though he ascended to this position by
betraying his blood, the King was doing very well for himself.
Lathered in the richest foods and materials, King Henrig existed as
a deity within the borders of Duncairn. People genuflected as he
walked by and praised him in the highest when any good resulted
from his reign. A peculiar thought, that the man who had killed his
brothers and sisters was living a better life than everyone
surrounding the great stone castle.

A few minutes passed before Neach decided to
exit the room to explore the castle himself. He had only seen what
little of the megalithic structure was in sight whilst walking
through the front gates. There was bound to be more adventure
abound throughout the grounds of King Henrig’s fine estate.

He thought he would start with the watch
tower, which existed right above where he currently resided. The
staircase was located near the kitchen, and Neach had seen it when
he entered the living quarters, guided by Henrig. Neach took a
sharp left, as he left his bedroom and headed in the direction of
the staircase that would lead to the watch tower.

It was difficult to imagine what he would
find upstairs. Thoughts of ironclad warriors guarding the city’s
center sparked to mind, and Neach could not help but contemplate
the battles which they had fought before coming to service under
the King.

When he arrived, however, he found none of
that. Up the spiral staircase he travelled without pause, not a
single guard in sight. He continued up the narrow entry point for
what seemed like an eternity, before the first glimmer of light
cracked through the stairwell. Bits of red and brown broke up the
otherwise gray walls inside of the somewhat claustrophobic space
that Neach stumbled upon. Heavy brick cemented together with clay
was the main material used for buildings in the city. He took
notice of the stark difference between the thatched huts of his
village and the more modern stone look of Leirwold whenever he
ventured out of the craftsman’s district, and into the heart of the
city.

At the top of the stairs there lay an
inscription:

From the tallest peaks we seek our shortest
comings.

It was written in what appeared to be an
ancient calligraphy of sorts, and Neach marveled at the time it
must have taken to carve it into the hard stone.

Not much time was spent analyzing the
writing, as Neach bounded past it toward the ledge. In the watch
tower, the true height at which you resided was unknown for the
most part. It wasn’t until you reached the summit of the large and
arduous hike that you found yourself with the most stunning view of
Leirwold that could be seen with human eyes.

Panoramically, Neach spun himself looking in
every direction at the mass of homes and businesses that comprised
the city. He swore he saw Daniel’s home in the distance, but
convinced himself otherwise before long. From his new vantage
point, he could see all of Leirwold, from the poor to the wealthy
and back again. The thick early summer air seemed to get caught in
his throat as he coughed.

Heat was like an old friend to his body. The
winter had been long and only recently subsided, and though he
spent a fair few weeks on Rosalia, he still found himself savoring
every drop of sunlight as if it were a frond of water in a desert.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, as he peered down into the
castle’s courtyard. From above, it seemed much smaller than he
remembered, but he could just about make out all of the businesses
that were placed in house for the King’s benefit.

Duncairn had seen its fair share of Kings in
the past, but none like the man Henrig. He was attractive for a man
of his age. Dark, chiseled facial hair outlined a strong jaw line
and provided a pattern for the grooves of his face that were so
prevalent. Though his eyes were now sunken from age, their deep
blue coloration was poignant. He had ascended to the throne because
he seized it for himself. Before Henrig, the people had ruled
themselves for nearly two hundred years, but he felt there needed
to be a change. With an army funded and prepared by himself and a
few friends from his home, Henrig marched into Leirwold and seized
the castle which had been acting as a democratic stronghold for the
last few hundred years. The tales of his treachery were
unparalleled throughout the Kingdom. Neach heard from a young age
that the King had raped and slaughtered all who existed within the
castle’s walls, calling them “naïve and brutish children”. The
violence was far removed to this point, as Henrig had remained on
the throne for nearly fifteen years to the day. With his father’s
birthday approaching, Henrig would also celebrate his victory, but
in a much more reserved way.

It all puzzled Neach as he stood atop the
watch tower peering out over the old city. This collection of
people and establishments must have existed for a thousand years,
yet they all fought the same battles as their predecessors and
never learned from their mistakes. He thought about the King and
his sudden campaign against the House which had nurtured him so and
taught him everything he knew. Why would he go on the offensive
now, after so long? Neach thought. The answer never came to him and
he was left to ponder a variety of issues for the next hour or so.
In truth, it could have been much worse as he did so while watching
the sun sparkle off the tops of homes around the city. He could
heard faint laughter and shouting from all the up in the tower, but
nothing distinct. The city coalesced into a melded pot of stew for
him to indulge in and he did so heartily. For the first time since
he left Spleuchan Sonse, Neach felt at ease.

The descent down the staircase was much
smoother than the trip upward. He skipped and ran down the stairs
as the new found bliss derived from the beautiful day radiated
throughout his body. His feet hit the castle floor with a thud as
he reached the main level.

His body felt lighter than it had ever felt
before. As he entered his room, he thought he would fly away into
the grasp of his linens. Unfortunately, he never met the respite of
his bed. En route to his inevitable comfort, he heard someone
approaching from the hallway.

“Coinneach, my boy, the King requests your
presence,” a fat man with a balding head yelled into the room.

“Where am I to go?” Neach asked
innocently.

Laughter rose from deep within the man’s
belly.

“Why, the hall, young man, where else would
His Highness eat supper?”

He smelled it before he arrived in the
room.

The aromatic pleasure of the finest spices
in the Kingdom wafted past his nostrils, as he ventured toward the
hall to sup with the King. His stomach growled in response to the
impending meal, but he postponed the outbreak of hunger for the
next few minutes as he made his way through the castle.

Near his room, the cloisters created an open
air environment, which functioned as a breezeway on the warm summer
day. Neach was grateful for the slight wind that blew across when
he made his way down the hallway. Various geometric patterns were
cut into the wall and left open to view out into the courtyard,
where the final shop keepers were beginning to pack their
belongings up for another day.

As he glanced out into the marketplace, he
felt strangely at home. The community which existed within the
castle walls was cohesive and well taken care of. The King made it
his priority to see that his subjects were treated with the utmost
respect and care.

The breeze came to a quick halt as he
reached the humid darkness of the enclosed hallway again. Scents of
rosemary and thyme grew more prominent the closer he came to the
hall. Located at the edge of the secondary ring, he had heard
stories from Tyrin the night before about its beauty.

He hoped he was not late, as a few minutes
had passed since he departed his room. He had found himself caught
up in the beauty of the precisely carved cloisters, and had spared
quite a few moments admiring them.

Nevertheless, he entered the hall just as
one of the King’s advisors did simultaneously. Neach was able to
identify his by the King’s crest, which he had emblazoned on his
robe, much like the boy from the forest.

What he saw in front of him was astounding.
The ceiling rose at least thirty feet to the ceiling and every inch
of wall space was covered with portraits of some of the most famous
and infamous citizens of Duncairn throughout the Kingdom’s history.
Long oak tables were arranged in rows and placed parallel to each
other, leaving little space between them for walking. Though the
area appeared crammed at first, it had actually been exquisitely
organized. Not a single square foot of space was put to ill use in
crafting the most insanely detailed hall Neach had ever laid his
eyes upon.