Damiynn
Fantasy Author
Stepping into his best friend’s chambers with a heavy heart, Caliban didn’t like returning to the palace bearing dire news, especially not the sort he was bringing to his only boyhood companion.
Seth was asleep at his desk but Caliban saw something odd about his position. His friend was clutching the golden crown of the Fourteen Kingdoms.
Damien was the rightful heir and that the crown truly belonged to him. It looked odd in Seth’s hands and Caliban wondered why he was holding it. The white haired assassin mage coughed slightly and the Royal Regent’s son jerked awake. His eyes lit with pleasure at seeing him until he saw the sad look in Caliban’s.
Slowly reaching into his pocket. His hand shaking, he showed Seth what he had found outside of the murderers cells in the lower bowels of the palace.
Seth met his friend’s look with a curious expression until he saw the scrap of black and red cloth, the bloody blonde hairs and the golden office amulet clutched in Caliban’s shaking fist.
Recognition crashed into him like a tidal wave and his expression shattered like old timbers under the weight of that wave. Not able to make his legs work, Seth let out a anguished howl and fell from his chair. Sinking onto his knees, his face as white as death, he focused again on the glittering object in Caliban’s hands. Head falling into his hands, he began sobbing uncontrollably.
Caliban understood, he had felt much the same when he had discovered his mother in Westlake.
Finally the tears stopped flowing from the royal regent’s son’s eyes. As he looked up, Caliban saw that the innocence that had always filled his best friend’s face had died. Murderous hatred had replaced it. Caliban took a few steps away from Seth, even though he could have easily defeated him.
Seth’s entire being had changed as he stared down at what he held in his quivering hands. His tears had stopped and his eyes burned. A few trickles of blood appeared around his fingers as his grip increased on the crown. Looking at Caliban, he motioned for him to close the door. “We have a lot to discuss about what has happened tonight.” His eyes never left the golden medallion clutched in his right hand or the crown clutched in his left.
* * *
Lord Vargas Salidor stood tall in front of the temporary ruling council of Highlords in charge of the kingdoms. The look on his handsome face wasn’t one of a man whose life was at stake for crimes of treason and murder. Instead he looked nonchalant and unworried, as if all that had happened during the night and what was now happening was of no little or of no account, merely a nuisance of little bother.
To Damien’s eyes, it seemed as if he thought this council couldn’t do any sort of harm to him, despite the circumstances or reasons. Stripped from him though was the King’s armor and weapons. Gone also were his royal robes and missing was his amulet of rank.
He stood alone wearing nothing but plain grey robes. His thick combed black hair and neatly trimmed goatee made him look regal and he still radiated power and leadership.
All could tell he was still the brother of King Dorian and a member of the royal family, same as Damien. That was why until yesterday all had elected to follow his lead for the past twenty years.
Lord Gildon Seahorn glared at the lesser highlords who quelled under Vargas’ penetrating stare. At seeing his expression and the look of hatred on the newly named Lord of Castlekeep, Berus Daverge, they remembered Vargas was being accused of murder.
With only that look, Lord Gildon took command of the situation. The only exceptions were Vargas’s lackeys and he knew they still had their hands in the capitol city’s coffers.
Unable to bear the silence anymore, Vargas spoke, ringing words of condemnation that filled the palace hall. “Exactly what am I doing here?” Contemptuously he glared at the council. “Can anybody tell me what is the meaning of this?” His manner changed, sarcasm filled his deep resonant voice and everyone speaking in the royal hall fell silent.
“Why was I captured? Why was I put in chains while trying to defend the royal palace against treacherous and traitorous rebels.” He spat out the words out and they almost seemed strike the councilmen. Seeing the Headfather of the clerics of Dar, the hand of justice, brother Melvynn Shutton staring at him from his eagle-like face and stroking his thick dark brown mustache, he spoke directly to the protector of the laws of the kingdoms. “Am I to be charged with something?” Holding up his manacled wrists, he added, “Or are all of the laws of the kingdoms going to be set aside just so that I can be incarcerated for nothing?”
“You have been brought here for crimes against the Throne and Crown,” growled the new Highlord of Castlekeep. Berus’ gray eyes were stone and his tone could have broken it.
“What crimes have I committed? What did I do except behead a man who was treasonous and defied my laws as the appointed ruler and regent?” Vargas spat back. Shocked gasps filled the hall and the color drained from Berus’ face at the mention of his dead father.
“I was deceived by my staff and they committed atrocities in my name but their guilt should not be named as mine.” Arcing one manicured eyebrow disdainfully, he turned away from Berus who was still as white as a bed sheet and continued speaking to the Headfather. “This council is ridiculous, is there any proof that I committed their crimes? By the gods hells, is there any proof I committed any crime!”
A few of the lesser lords and some Highlords shifted uneasily, either staring down at their feet or at the ceiling, not meeting the eyes of their companions or the Royal Regent’s angry glare.
Vargas continued in a superior voice. “I was put in chains for unknown reasons and brought down here for only doing my duty by arresting parties that were being disobedient and treasonous to the laws of the lands and to the Throne and Crown. Am I to be incarcerated for arresting people who violated their sworn oaths of fealty and loyalty by committing treason? Whatever crimes my staff committed I assure you,” Vargas said, raising his manacled arms outwards as if encompassing everyone in the room, “I had nothing to do with them. Their actions were their own doings and all that I have done is tried to pursue a course within the guidelines of the law.”
Lord Gildon Seahorn snorted audibly and rolled his eyes disgustedly, but stopped short of commenting when met with a glare from Lord Melvynn. Snapping his mouth shut with an audible click he shook his shaggy head.
“You are charged with murder and treason against the royal family, your own brother and his wife’s murders and the attempted murders of their rightful heirs by trying to deny their rights of ascension.” Lord Melvynn intoned, his voice a deep baritone.
Now it was Vargas who snorted contemptuously and rolled his eyes, imitating Lord Gildon, but unlike the Highlord, he didn’t keep his mouth shut.
“Preposterous!” the Royal Regent shouted, his face twisting with outrage. “I was attacked in my chambers by a band of intruders who I thought were traitors and murderers. All I did was defend myself. If my staff committed crimes against the Throne and Crown, somebody should have informed me. I would have put an end to it. Only this morning, while lying in prison, did I found out what was going on. I was told by both my royal advisor and my chief proctor that this young man who proclaims he is my nephew.” Vargas leveled an accusing finger at Damien, “had staged his own death and helped in killing my own royal ambassador and was attempting to escape justice and coming to kill me. All I did was what any ruler would have done. I put a reward on his head, then I dispatched knights to capture him. Again I ask, what did I do wrong?”
Damien was amazed as he listened to this stretching of the truth to the point of almost non plausibility but was even more amazed that some of the councilors and Lord Melvynn were shaking their heads in agreement.
“That one,” Logan said, whispering with an almost admiring look in his green eyes, “could give both Jediaa and Simon runs for their money on telling believable truths and hidden lies.”
“And then this woman,” Vargas paused, leveling an accusing finger at Alyssa, “who is accused of Lord Dalmar’s murder, bursts into my chambers in the middle of the night and attacks me. That,” Vargas paused again, looking at the Headfather, “is also a penalty of death. Lord Shutton, you were there, and yes in the heat of rage I almost killed her but that is no reason for me to be killed for treason.” He shook his dark haired head as if he was amazed by the audacity. “In most cases, that would be a reasonable request for self defense.”
“Notice, he didn’t mention that he was almost defeated by the woman who burst into his chambers and tried to capture him. If it hadn’t been for a lucky stroke of that poisonous sword of his, we wouldn’t be going through all of this right now,” exclaimed Alyssa softly to Damien and Logan. Hints of rage filled her sky blue eyes. “I would have killed him if the roles had been reversed.”
Kendle hid an evil sounding laugh behind a burst of coughing that was followed by a wide grin in the direction of the female cleric.
Seth was asleep at his desk but Caliban saw something odd about his position. His friend was clutching the golden crown of the Fourteen Kingdoms.
Damien was the rightful heir and that the crown truly belonged to him. It looked odd in Seth’s hands and Caliban wondered why he was holding it. The white haired assassin mage coughed slightly and the Royal Regent’s son jerked awake. His eyes lit with pleasure at seeing him until he saw the sad look in Caliban’s.
Slowly reaching into his pocket. His hand shaking, he showed Seth what he had found outside of the murderers cells in the lower bowels of the palace.
Seth met his friend’s look with a curious expression until he saw the scrap of black and red cloth, the bloody blonde hairs and the golden office amulet clutched in Caliban’s shaking fist.
Recognition crashed into him like a tidal wave and his expression shattered like old timbers under the weight of that wave. Not able to make his legs work, Seth let out a anguished howl and fell from his chair. Sinking onto his knees, his face as white as death, he focused again on the glittering object in Caliban’s hands. Head falling into his hands, he began sobbing uncontrollably.
Caliban understood, he had felt much the same when he had discovered his mother in Westlake.
Finally the tears stopped flowing from the royal regent’s son’s eyes. As he looked up, Caliban saw that the innocence that had always filled his best friend’s face had died. Murderous hatred had replaced it. Caliban took a few steps away from Seth, even though he could have easily defeated him.
Seth’s entire being had changed as he stared down at what he held in his quivering hands. His tears had stopped and his eyes burned. A few trickles of blood appeared around his fingers as his grip increased on the crown. Looking at Caliban, he motioned for him to close the door. “We have a lot to discuss about what has happened tonight.” His eyes never left the golden medallion clutched in his right hand or the crown clutched in his left.
* * *
Lord Vargas Salidor stood tall in front of the temporary ruling council of Highlords in charge of the kingdoms. The look on his handsome face wasn’t one of a man whose life was at stake for crimes of treason and murder. Instead he looked nonchalant and unworried, as if all that had happened during the night and what was now happening was of no little or of no account, merely a nuisance of little bother.
To Damien’s eyes, it seemed as if he thought this council couldn’t do any sort of harm to him, despite the circumstances or reasons. Stripped from him though was the King’s armor and weapons. Gone also were his royal robes and missing was his amulet of rank.
He stood alone wearing nothing but plain grey robes. His thick combed black hair and neatly trimmed goatee made him look regal and he still radiated power and leadership.
All could tell he was still the brother of King Dorian and a member of the royal family, same as Damien. That was why until yesterday all had elected to follow his lead for the past twenty years.
Lord Gildon Seahorn glared at the lesser highlords who quelled under Vargas’ penetrating stare. At seeing his expression and the look of hatred on the newly named Lord of Castlekeep, Berus Daverge, they remembered Vargas was being accused of murder.
With only that look, Lord Gildon took command of the situation. The only exceptions were Vargas’s lackeys and he knew they still had their hands in the capitol city’s coffers.
Unable to bear the silence anymore, Vargas spoke, ringing words of condemnation that filled the palace hall. “Exactly what am I doing here?” Contemptuously he glared at the council. “Can anybody tell me what is the meaning of this?” His manner changed, sarcasm filled his deep resonant voice and everyone speaking in the royal hall fell silent.
“Why was I captured? Why was I put in chains while trying to defend the royal palace against treacherous and traitorous rebels.” He spat out the words out and they almost seemed strike the councilmen. Seeing the Headfather of the clerics of Dar, the hand of justice, brother Melvynn Shutton staring at him from his eagle-like face and stroking his thick dark brown mustache, he spoke directly to the protector of the laws of the kingdoms. “Am I to be charged with something?” Holding up his manacled wrists, he added, “Or are all of the laws of the kingdoms going to be set aside just so that I can be incarcerated for nothing?”
“You have been brought here for crimes against the Throne and Crown,” growled the new Highlord of Castlekeep. Berus’ gray eyes were stone and his tone could have broken it.
“What crimes have I committed? What did I do except behead a man who was treasonous and defied my laws as the appointed ruler and regent?” Vargas spat back. Shocked gasps filled the hall and the color drained from Berus’ face at the mention of his dead father.
“I was deceived by my staff and they committed atrocities in my name but their guilt should not be named as mine.” Arcing one manicured eyebrow disdainfully, he turned away from Berus who was still as white as a bed sheet and continued speaking to the Headfather. “This council is ridiculous, is there any proof that I committed their crimes? By the gods hells, is there any proof I committed any crime!”
A few of the lesser lords and some Highlords shifted uneasily, either staring down at their feet or at the ceiling, not meeting the eyes of their companions or the Royal Regent’s angry glare.
Vargas continued in a superior voice. “I was put in chains for unknown reasons and brought down here for only doing my duty by arresting parties that were being disobedient and treasonous to the laws of the lands and to the Throne and Crown. Am I to be incarcerated for arresting people who violated their sworn oaths of fealty and loyalty by committing treason? Whatever crimes my staff committed I assure you,” Vargas said, raising his manacled arms outwards as if encompassing everyone in the room, “I had nothing to do with them. Their actions were their own doings and all that I have done is tried to pursue a course within the guidelines of the law.”
Lord Gildon Seahorn snorted audibly and rolled his eyes disgustedly, but stopped short of commenting when met with a glare from Lord Melvynn. Snapping his mouth shut with an audible click he shook his shaggy head.
“You are charged with murder and treason against the royal family, your own brother and his wife’s murders and the attempted murders of their rightful heirs by trying to deny their rights of ascension.” Lord Melvynn intoned, his voice a deep baritone.
Now it was Vargas who snorted contemptuously and rolled his eyes, imitating Lord Gildon, but unlike the Highlord, he didn’t keep his mouth shut.
“Preposterous!” the Royal Regent shouted, his face twisting with outrage. “I was attacked in my chambers by a band of intruders who I thought were traitors and murderers. All I did was defend myself. If my staff committed crimes against the Throne and Crown, somebody should have informed me. I would have put an end to it. Only this morning, while lying in prison, did I found out what was going on. I was told by both my royal advisor and my chief proctor that this young man who proclaims he is my nephew.” Vargas leveled an accusing finger at Damien, “had staged his own death and helped in killing my own royal ambassador and was attempting to escape justice and coming to kill me. All I did was what any ruler would have done. I put a reward on his head, then I dispatched knights to capture him. Again I ask, what did I do wrong?”
Damien was amazed as he listened to this stretching of the truth to the point of almost non plausibility but was even more amazed that some of the councilors and Lord Melvynn were shaking their heads in agreement.
“That one,” Logan said, whispering with an almost admiring look in his green eyes, “could give both Jediaa and Simon runs for their money on telling believable truths and hidden lies.”
“And then this woman,” Vargas paused, leveling an accusing finger at Alyssa, “who is accused of Lord Dalmar’s murder, bursts into my chambers in the middle of the night and attacks me. That,” Vargas paused again, looking at the Headfather, “is also a penalty of death. Lord Shutton, you were there, and yes in the heat of rage I almost killed her but that is no reason for me to be killed for treason.” He shook his dark haired head as if he was amazed by the audacity. “In most cases, that would be a reasonable request for self defense.”
“Notice, he didn’t mention that he was almost defeated by the woman who burst into his chambers and tried to capture him. If it hadn’t been for a lucky stroke of that poisonous sword of his, we wouldn’t be going through all of this right now,” exclaimed Alyssa softly to Damien and Logan. Hints of rage filled her sky blue eyes. “I would have killed him if the roles had been reversed.”
Kendle hid an evil sounding laugh behind a burst of coughing that was followed by a wide grin in the direction of the female cleric.
