A Tale of Blades & Blood-Chapter 25: Kings

[Oren's Point of View...]

At Ororer's Keep, a council receives a grim word...

Standing strong... the words of our House, Ballister, I thought to myself as I paced the room, the small royal council surrounding me. Those words have never been broken for centuries, I said in my head, my breathing only getting more tense as my hand rests on the handle of my blade. Now... I thought, it's at risk.

"Read me that message again." I ordered, pointing at an aging man who held a letter.

"From House Levarion of The South Cradle..." he began, his voice shaky and his tone ragged, "...the House of Strix has been declared an enemy of the crown. Those of the following are demanded to be put to death for treason and rebellion: Lord Folius, The Abberan Brothers- Ser Magrae, Ser Mareste, Ser Madester, Ser Maerys, and Ser Maserr, and Lord Loreys of Tibberun with Lord Forien as hostage to the southern houses. They have declared war and have taken Northrest Keep." he finished, closing the scroll and looking at me for an answer, a reply, anything at all. Lord Aerystor Leoan was his name, hand of the king and trusted advisor of the council.

"So, the south falls..." another one began, who wore a robe and bearing a raven pin, "...what must we do?" he asked, frustration in his voice as his hands were folded. He was Ravenman Caean, a fresh advisor from The Hall of Ravens, taught by the famous Ravenman Ryene himself of the south. He was just as annoying to me as he was to the others with his screeching voice and his... questionable opinions.

"If it please you, my lord, I have a suggestion." a new man remarked, who entered the hall with his boots echoing across the room. "Perhaps we take them by surprise and gather forces from the west. The south has not fully fallen yet-"

"An impossible task, your grace." Ravenman Caean interrupted, shutting the knight's mouth.

I turn to see Ser Merien Abbister, the brother of the commanding bannerman who fought in the south, wearing his armor with his golden cloak. "Speak, Ser Merien." I ordered. "We need every advice we need to put down this rebellion."

He walks closer, every stride oozing with pride. "The Rocklands are strong. If we manage to convince the governing houses of Westhold to fight, we will have more than enough men to take them down-"

"They have thirty-five thousand men, mind you." Lord Aerystor interrupted. "And those are not eastern nor southern folk. Those are men from the free cities, Ser, whose stallions are faster and stronger than our horses in the north."

Ravenman Caean moves forward, closer and closer he became. "Again, your grace, an impossible task. We could never gather the banners on time before they reach the tunnels and move to The Lily-"

"We cannot take them on our own either." I told him, giving him a gaze... a desperate one, looking for an answer to an unsolvable problem.

"We must gather the northern soldiers now, your grace..." Ser Merien began, "...we have thirty thousand infantry left in our regiments. Send word to the western houses so that they may aid us in this rebellion-"

"My lord!" a feeble boy exclaims as he enters the hall, the door swung open as he almost trips on the cobblestone floor.

Ser Merien lurches forward. "The royal council is having a meeting. It is not time for foolishness, boy-"

"The king has been reported dead and the Ballister children are missing as we speak!" he yelled frantically. "The northern cavalry at the south was decimated at the siege, and word says Ser Merill perished during the battle!"

The council grew silent at the word. Dead, I thought, brother?

"Where did you hear of this, child?" Lord Aerystor asked loudly, walking swiftly to the boy and kneeling to see his eyes on level. "Tell us!" he commanded, grasping his arms tightly.

The boy was aghast, but he managed to give an answer. "Word was just sent from the town of Trayne's End in the south. House Heraion has given confirmation of it all! A demand of surrender from Lord Folius was received giving the details-"

"Of course he gives demands." I said, interrupting the boy. "That traitor's no less than a prideful fool..." I remarked, "...but I never thought brother would ever... die this soon." I said, my tone filled with sorrow and my eyes twitching with confusion. Lord Aerystor rises, his hand flying to his head as he struggles to take it all in.

"May the king rest in piece, my lord..." Ravenman Caean began, "...but perhaps it is only just that we avenge his death. You are his brother and first in line to the crown, my lord." the advisor said, tilting his head as to look at my eyes.

I ignore him and turn my head to the boy. "How did he die?" I asked as the tears began to form. "How did my brother die?"

He looked at me as if he was hesitant, but he gave me the answer none the less. "It would appear as he perished from the wedding of his daughter, my lord-"

"I know why he left." I said, cutting him off, frustration ever lingering in my voice. "I asked how did he die. Not where." I told him, a stern tone echoing throughout the room. "Tell me how he died."

"That..." he began, "...I do not know, my lord. It was never detailed." he replied.

"My lord..." Lord Aerystor called, "...this is your call. What would you have us do? You are, after all, the rightful heir to the throne. Tell us your plans..." he commanded with a stern voice, ready to obey at any word. "We will obey the rightful heir to the throne and the crown."

I pause. For a moment, my mind was blank, besides the frequent, unexpected memories coming out of nowhere. My eyes are wide, and my teeth grit as I begin to fully take in the news. "Your king has fallen..." I told them, "...there is no more king that sits on that throne!" I exclaimed pointing out the small window in the room to the main building where the throne room resided. "Mark my words, we will send those owls back to their keep with their wings cut and their talons and beaks ripped off!" I said aloud, anger running through my veins, my blood boiling, and my eyes tense along with the rest of my body.

I began to pace once more, but for a moment I stop. Brother, I thought, I will avenge your death... no matter what it takes I will seek vengeance. "I, Oren Ballister, First of His name, and Brother of The Fallen King, do hereby declare myself as King of The Four Regions and Protector of The Realm!" I announced loudly, freeing my sword which hid in its sheath on my right free and up into the air.

A second or two of silence arrives, mostly made with either uncertainty or mere excitement and restlessness, until Ser Merien raises his blade to mine. "Long live the King!" he exclaimed aloud. "Those who follow him, declare his name for the realm to hear!"

Soon, Ravenman Caean and Lord Aerystor join the call. "Long live the King!" they chanted repeatedly as the Ravenman lifted his hand to our blades as Lord Aerystor lifted his dagger to ours. I am the king in the north, I thought to myself, and this is my kingdom come.

"Gather the armies, Ser Merien!" I commanded, letting down my sword. "We meet at The Lily first thing in two days. We will march and give them blades of steel!" I exclaimed aloud, my tone ever feeling glorious, and my heart beating as my mind struggles to keep up with the moment.

"As the king commands. It shall be done." Ser Merien replied, a smile on his face, one of restlessness and eagerness for blood.

The king of the four regions, I thought to myself, and the king of the west and north and savior of the south. Today is the day those Strix men will learn not to fly into a goat's horns. As our horns are just as sharp as their talons and beaks... and we will rip them off their flesh and hang their corpses from the dead trees near our homes. It is time for vengeance to fall on the unrighteous.

Beyond the roads, a party crosses to the west... [Orevian's Point of View]

I was relieved to feel the cold again. The west was colder than the south, and I was not sweating all the time like before. I missed this, I told myself, the cold, the snow... the hard-born folk. The town of Old Stone was more lively, however, than those in the north, but it did not match the liveliness of the town of Trayne's End.

Here, the children did not play at the town square, but instead they played inside their houses with their mothers. The fathers worked in the far fields in the southern part, but I could see others riding on donkeys as they pulled carts of stone and coal. The west is a mining haven, I said to myself, no wonder men here are always tinted black from all the coal.

It was my time of the day- my shift. Loran had tired himself from his watch last night, and Ser Merill had not winked an eye since we left the southern town. Lady Norien sat inside the carriage, writing on a small booklet she had bought with only three copper heads. What is she writing? I wondered as I held the reins of the horse. A story? Calculations? A diary perhaps? I did not know.

The road was littered with small pebbles, and the houses were made from stone with either tiles of stone as their roofs. The sky was quite cloudy, yet there was no snow nor rain. From time to time, the carriage would tilt and bump, waking me up if I ever fell asleep. Loran slept like an infant on a soft straw cradle. Even as one of the wheels hit a rock and the carriage flew for a second and he hits his head on the floor... he did not wake up.

Soon, we arrive at the outskirts of the towns by high noon, and all that there were around us were fields and farmers along with the occasional pulling ox.

"My lord..." Ser Merill called, who walked on the left side of our horse, "...if it please you, may I give you advice?" he asked, taking steps while his sword was on his side.

"Advice?" I asked. "What for, Ser?"

"For your times in the future where you will lead in battle." he replied. "My lord, I mean no offense, but you are only a boy. If I may ask, how will you lead the ax-wielding men of the west against the cavalry of free men the south holds?"

"I am a boy, yes..." I told him, "...give your advice, Ser. Please, I would love to hear it all."

He clears his throat. "The once high lords of the west are more likely than not dead, my lord. Most, if not, all of House Gryphith, is dead and are now ash atop the pile of burning corpses those eastern folk made. The lords of the west are now of House Faerelion, my lord. There are no more Gryphiths to negotiate with anymore-"

"What makes House Faerelion different, my lord?" I asked him. "They were loyal to House Gryphith who were loyal to us. What makes them ever the more different-"

"They are savages, your grace." he replied scornfully. "They believe in the God of Fire, Letos. They burn people and sacrifice them to their god. They do not ally quickly with men who do not share their faith."

"What can they say against the rightful heir to the throne?"

"If they ever find the Strixes more favorable, they will turn the west against you and declare for Lord Folius as king. While the high lord of the east is a fool, his pet, Lord Loreys is not. He can change the tide of the war, my lord-"

"Do you fear the man, Ser Merill?" I asked. "Are you not confident of the efforts of the north? Do you doubt House Ballister's words of 'Standing Strong,' Ser?"

"No, my lord." he replied, "but we must take initiative. You must convince House Faerelion to trust your cause. You must gather the west of the north will fall under the wrath of those riders-"

"And how would you have me do that, Ser?" I asked. "How do I tell such men of strong faith to serve me when I worship different gods? Do you even think of such a think possible, Ser Merill-"

"Aye, I do." he answered, looking me in the eye. "If you can get on their good side, my lord, you will have the west rise for your cause. Tell them that you support their god and their religion before Lord Loreys confesses and yields to their god. You must show them support-"

"Support their savage ways?" I asked, outraged at the thought. "Once, earlier, you told me these men are savages. Now, you tell me to ally with those savages and endorse their barbaric ways-"

"I am not telling you to glorify their savagery, my lord." he replied with a stern voice. "I am advising you to have them trust that you will not bring conflict to them. Throughout history, their religion has been made a laughing stock amongst the others. The worshipers of The Three Men and The Winged God have mocked them for centuries. You must show them you will not do the same."

I gave a moment of pause. How would I know for sure they will not betray me like the Strixes? I asked myself. These men are less trustworthy than the owls of the east... why even give them the chance? "Ser," I called, "you do not seem to understand. Those eastern folk, who were our allies for centuries, betrayed our house and killed the king. What makes you think they wont betray us?" I asked.

"They are barbarians..." he told me, "...but these barbarians think of themselves as human as well. They are only afraid that the throne will grant them more curses and mockery rather than protection and rights. Be just as your lord father. Be as honorable as him and trust them-"

"My father died not because of the cunning nature of the east, but because of his foolish honor and blind trust." I said, cutting him off with a sharp voice. "Do you want me to die like my father, Ser Merill? Do you want to have me die to a blade-"

"I would have you control the west with a firm grip, my lord!" he exclaimed, frustration in his voice. For a moment, it would seem as if Loran was woken up, but the re-emerging snores said otherwise. "I will serve you until I die. I will fall on my own sword for you, my lord. If you fear that you will have your father's death be passed unto you- you are mistaken, my lord. I will defend you with my life-"

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"Why didn't you save my lord father- your king?" I asked. "Why did you leave them inside the keep to die to poison-"

"I did wrong!" he yells in frustration. The men who gathered in the fields looked on us, then, they went back to their sowing. "I could not defend the life of the king. I failed my duty as a sworn protector..." he began, his eyes looked like they stung with guilt as his lips trembled and his armor shook. "When I lost the battle as Lord Loreys surrounded our men... I thought it was all lost... I thought the Ballister name had died." he told me, his head now down and facing the ground in shame. "When I saw you along the roads west... I finally had hope. I vowed that day to the gods that I would never let you die. I would avenge King Orastor and his name by protecting his heir... will you trust me now as I beg you in tears, my lord? Will it please you more if I knelt and covered myself in ash and wore rags that are ripped and tattered-"

"Enough." I told him, raising my hand. He fell into silence. "I cannot ignore the fact that you failed to defend my father. While I admire your determination to your duty... I cannot forgive you for your horid mistake." I told him. "Aye, I do trust you..." I said softly, "...and I would consider your advice, but this does not mean I forgive what you have done."

"That I feared." he remarked. "It hurts me that I no longer have my reputation as a commander. I hated myself- I still do. Even with all the shame and shit thrown at my name I still follow the king. No matter what anyone says... I am a man of honor, loyalty, fealty, and strength. To you, I would raise my sword in triumph and say that you are the king of the north, west, east, and south and that you are the true protector of the realm. Will you let me serve the true king?"

And so, I gave it a moment of thought. I am no king, I thought to myself. "You think wrong, Ser, to assume that I am king." I told him. "I am no true king. I feel your guilt, Ser... I feel the weight of my father's death- I confess it." I remarked. "My uncle is better off a king than me-"

"No!" he snapped, stopping in his tracks. I pulled the reins of the horse, and we were side by side. "You are the true king of the realm. If I have to declare it here and now as we stand on lands we have not been on- I would declare it." he said boldly. We were on a hill, and no men were around us. It had seemed as if we had finally left the town. "I, Ser Merill of House Abbister, Commander of The Northern Armies and Sworn Protector to The Throne, do hereby give my support, my honor, my fealty, my glory, my sword, and my men to the true king of the realm, Lord Orelian Ballister, First of His Name, Protector of The Realm, and The True King of The Northern Island!" he declared in triumph as he raised is sword into the air.

Inside, the voice of a freshly-awoken Loran emerges. "Long live The True King!" he exclaimed with a laugh. "Long live The Rightful King!" declared Lady Norien, who peeked into the slit on the carriage to see my eyes. My lady, I thought, you would declare me your king?

"So be it, then..." I told them, "...we will bring vengeance for my father's death. If it is not a dream of honor you all wish... what is it that you desire?"

"For the true king to sit on the throne and give us all that we deserve!" exclaimed Loran, who I could see was rising form the floor.

"For the true king to sit on the throne and love us all." replied Lady Norien.

I turn to see Lord Merill, whose tears began to dry. "What say you, Ser Merill?" I asked, "What do you desire besides honor?"

He looked at me, then to the two inside the carriage. "In this world, my lord..." he began, "...there is nothing more a lost man can cling to but one thing only. My desire is for the one king of the herd of contestant pretending lords to sit on the throne and claim his crown as he will bring justice to those who need it. I desire one thing and cling to one thing, my lord. All a man can desire... is A Dream of Vengeance."