Michael Mathias: Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

The Princess was beautiful. Her dress was a rosy color, with crimson and sea-blue trim. It set off her eyes and the jewels on her dainty wire crown. The dress was less shapely than the one she’d worn earlier in the day, but it revealed more of her ample cleavage. A thumb-size sapphire had been cleverly hung around her neck. It rested perfectly at the top of the deep line her breasts made. At her side was an older woman. Hyden thought he heard someone say she was an aunt.

Queen Willa looked regal and beautiful in a powdery blue gown. Her little blue-skinned pixie friend Starkle fluttered around her head like a butterfly, giving her an unearthly, surreal appearance. To further the look, at either side of her was a dwarf. Dugak was on her right, and his wife Andra was on the queen’s left. They were dressed in a darker shade of blue that was trimmed in lavender. Though her expression didn’t show it, Hyden knew that Queen Willa would have rather been wearing her studded leather girdle over her chain mail. And Dugak would surely have rather been drinking in the cellars, for if you wanted to find him for anything, most of the time that was where you would go. Queen Willa smiled brightly at Hyden when she saw him. He smiled back and made a cringing funny face. She was forced to feign a cough to hide her laugh.

King Jarrek wore the deep black shades of mourning, trimmed in blood red. He was making a statement for the Princess to carry home to her mother. “My kingdom was destroyed,” the look said. “My people are now slaves. Will you just sit there and do nothing?” Jarrek’s expression was stern behind his dark bangs and beard, and the fierce determination in his eyes added a perfect exclamation point to his attire.

Then came the High King. Hyden had to shake his head in wonder as the court announcer called out his lengthy title. “I give you High King Mikahl Collum, the Uniter come again, the King of Kings, the wielder of Ironspike, and Defender of the Realm…” and so on for a full two minutes. Mikahl looked the part too. Layers of emerald and forest green, all trimmed in gold, were draped over him, and a fur scarf made from what might have actually been a lion’s mane gave him the appearance of a young, golden crowned lion’s cub. The emerald-eyed lion’s head medallion that King Aldar had hand carved out of dragon bone hung proudly around his neck. He looked the part of a mighty king, in all his splendor, but the look on his face was pinched. Mikahl despised this sort of pomp and ceremony.

Hyden knew without a doubt that with only a few words he could create a scene here for the ages to remember, but he held his tongue for the sake of Queen Willa and King Jarrek. To begin rebuilding in earnest, they needed Seaward’s aid badly. Hyden was sure that was the only reason his friend Mikahl was suffering through this farce as well.

When King Mikahl’s eyes landed on Princess Rosa, it was hard to say which one of them blushed a brighter shade of crimson. After a moment, both sets of eyes found Hyden. All Hyden could do was shrug and grin. High Wizard Sholt saved him from their glares by handing him a goblet of Valleyan honey wine and engaging him in conversation.

“The only two things Valleyans can do well are raise horses and make wine,” the middle-aged man said. He was wearing the high collared, black-trimmed, white robes of his station. The master wizard kept his beard in a neat goatee, but his wild graying hair always seemed to be in disarray. “In fact, it’s the only two things they do at all,” he continued. “It amazes me that King Broderick is pleading for exoneration for his great mistake, but is too afraid to ask to be forgiven in person.”

“Would you want to face King Mikahl and that sword of his?” Hyden asked. He hated politics, but liked Master Sholt. “Or what about Willa the Witch? Would you like to have to face her after sacking two of her cities?”

“Nay, sir, I would not, on either count,” agreed Sholt with a forced chuckle.

“You will allow Phenilous to continue tutoring me while I’m on expedition, I hope,” suggested Hyden. His words hadn’t been framed as a question, more like a subtle order.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Sholt started. “I wasn’t sure if he was truly needed on such a dangerous venture. I thought that it might have just been kindness on your part that was indulging his fancy. He tends to be a little highly strung, if you haven’t noticed. Confined on a ship, on a long sea voyage, he will become a nuisance, I assure you.”

“No,” Hyden looked the master wizard directly in the eye as his father had taught him to do. “It is more than indulgence, Master Sholt, I assure you. And no one will be more antsy on that ship than I. I trust Phen, and he helps me with Talon. He is fluent in several languages, including Salazarkian, for which I may need him as a translator when we reach the islands. But most importantly, he is my friend, and he really wants to go.”

“I see.” Sholt swirled his nearly empty goblet a few times then downed the last of the wine. “What do you plan to do with the items you find on this expedition? I suppose that is the pertinent question. As scholars and educators in the arcane, we would want to study anything of importance. And I’m sure you know that we don’t want any dangerous items ending up in the wrong places.”

Hyden was certain the high wizard was fishing for information just like Phen had been doing earlier, only with a little more tact. Phen couldn’t have told them yet, and wouldn’t have told them about the Silver Skull. “I assure you that anything of interest to you, Master Sholt, and your colleague, Master Amill, will be handed over once I’ve returned,” Hyden said directly into the man’s eyes. “My interest is only in the adventure of finding the old pirate ship.” And using the Skull of Zorellin to go into the Nethers and get that blasted ring away from the thing that my brother has become. Once I’ve accomplished that you can have the Silver Skull too, for all I care.

“Any scrolls, or texts would find their way to me or Master Amill before any other eyes delved into them, I pray,” the high wizard said seriously. “Neither you nor Phenilous are skilled enough in the arcane to do more than cause harm with something you don’t understand. When it comes to spells, potions, and artifacts, extreme caution and careful study is always the best route to take.”

“Of course, Master,” Hyden said from behind a forced, but convincing smile.

“Then I will inform Phenilous of his good fortune later this evening.” Master Sholt’s smile wasn’t forced at all. The prospect of acquiring new spells and artifacts excited him and set his mind to wandering.

The “tink! tink! tink!” of silver rapping on crystal grabbed everyone’s attention. The feast, it seemed, was about to begin. Oddly, Queen Willa’s place at the head of the table had been given to High King Mikahl. Queen Willa sat at the other end of the table with the round and balding, but extremely capable head of her Blacksword soldiers, General Spyra, on her right and King Jarrek on her immediate left.

Hyden was seated at High King Mikahl’s right hand, next to a large fleshy man who he thought might have been the mayor of Xwarda. Across from him, and to the King’s left, sat Princess Rosa. The aunt, who sat beside the Princess and almost directly across from Hyden, was staring at him with a dark, angry look in her eyes. The white of her knuckles as they squeezed around the handle of her meat knife wasn’t lost on him. Nor was Princess Rosa’s subtle amusement at the discomfort that her aunt was causing him.

He gave her a mock apologetic shrug and sighed. It was going to be a long meal, followed by an even longer, and less interesting series of negotiations masked as polite conversation. Hopefully Phenilous had taken the bait and was researching the Silver Skull of Zorellin. If he was, Hyden mused, at least something was getting done this night.