Chapter 28

Chapter 28

The High Arbiter’s Palace in Lazzure

Aren

Aren sat grumbling to himself, the past few days had actually gone worse than he expected. He knew there would be trouble with a return to Lazzure, but even his pessimistic nature didn’t lead him to think things would have gone quite so badly. “That old man is daft if he thinks I’ll go through with this and marry that woman.” He was alone in his room in the palace, free to curse as much as and at whomever he wanted. The fresh ocean breeze came in through the window, he tried to focus on this and calm his mind. Being so worked up wasn’t going to help him one bit.

He took a few deep, slow breaths, feeling the salty air in his nostrils. “Worse comes to worse I could always run away again, but then again the old man is probably expectin’ that. Probably got guards covering every inch around my room. If I did run that wouldn’t help us find what Kraevos needs either and if that’s the case nothing good will have come from bein’ here. I gotta try and get somethin’ out o this trip. At this rate, the whole continent is gonna go to wyrm’s dung and I’ll end up with a ring on my finger.” He rubbed his beard and began thinking about what getting married would mean. He’d be attached to Sacrotia for all purposes, nothing more than a political puppet. He couldn’t help but think of what sort of wife this Ursania would be and what kind of husband he would be for that matter. There’d only been one person he’d ever even dared think of like that and that was a rather long time ago. He’d learned at a young age that dreaming like that only showed what a fool a person was.

Aren thought about the marriages he’d seen in the past like this, so many for business and politics; the result was always the same. One miserable person who’d never wanted any part of it and one person who gained all the benefits. Of course, Aren knew this all too well, being the child of one such marriage. This led him to think about his own mother, how she’d suffered for that marriage, and what if anything at all she had gotten from it. Deep in his heart, he knew that the only thing his mother had gotten was him. He wished to talk to her, to get her thoughts on what was going on. Should he just give up and take the path of least resistance? He knew better than that though. His mother had always told him to find people who he loved and who loved him in return, that nothing else mattered. This proposed marriage certainly didn’t qualify as that.

Shaking out of his thoughts, Aren began to inspect the room around him. He looked as closely as he could, hoping to find some tiny shimmer or wave of magic. Maybe if he found something amiss he could figure out how his father was observing him. There had to be some way of listening, of watching, something to track him, he thought.

At last, Aren settled on an idea, one that he thought was decently clever enough to work. He may not be able to tell how his father was watching him, but maybe he could use the most obvious way to his advantage. Aren knew that at the lowest level, Marchand would be near him at all times, so he’d come up with a way to use that to his advantage. Aren clumsily knocked an item off of his desk at the same time dropping the small signal stone he’d been given onto the floor. He picked up both items, making sure to watch for the blue glimmer of magic that told him the stone was active. Pocketing it again he walked to the door. His first assumption was correct as Marchand was standing right outside the door. For once Aren was more than happy to see the nosy attendant waiting for him.

“Is everything alright sir, it sounded like something hit the ground,” Marchand asked, peering into the room.

“Just me being a little clumsy is all, nothing to worry about,” Aren replied. “Actually though I was hopin’ I would find you out here. It’s been a whirlwind of a few days, I just need to talk fer a bit. Mind if pry your ear for a bit?”

“Of course not sir,” Marchand said eagerly, “I am here for whatever you need.” Aren motioned for Marchand to join him in the room and then sat down at his desk chair, pointing to a reading chair in the corner for Marchand. Marchand quickly sat and Aren couldn’t help but notice the enthusiasm the man had. He assumed this meant Marchand thought he was actually getting through to Aren, that he might specifically be noted as of value to the royals. He wasn’t fully wrong though as Aren was finding significant use for him in this case.

“Sorry,” Aren began, “Like I said, it’s just been a lot in the past few days. I came back here to fix the past, I just didn’t expect things to go near as quickly as they have. I was just hoping to reach out and reconcile with Dad, to return home and now here I am about to have a royal wedding tomorrow. It’s enough to make my head spin. With everything going so fast I just need to make sure I’m doing the right thing, not just for myself, but for all of Lazzure.” Aren paused for a moment, trying to fake some strain in his voice. “I know how badly I hurt my dad and this whole kingdom when I left, I don’t want to misstep here. I know my father knows best.” He looked down, feigning holding back tears for a few moments before looking back at Marchand. The attendant was clearly enthralled and buying every lie Aren was giving. “I know marrying Ursania is the biggest royal event in Lazzure in a long time, it’s binding Sacrotia and Lazzure together for good. I mean I’ve already seen merchants from all over Surren and even Moren, the leader of Morenseo is here. I have to assume other diplomats from across the continent will be here too.”

Marchand took a moment, clearly trying to choose the right words to get in Aren’s good graces but still follow the agenda of the High Arbiter. “I do understand sir,” Marchand said tentatively, “It is only human to have a little hesitance, a little worry at the pace of things. The part you have to remember though is that the tides wait for no one. You have spent so long away from the kingdom that certain things have not occurred when they should have. So this is just the natural course of things, the tides correcting as it were. You know, the tides always provide. So everything that should have happened over the past few decades is just coming together all at once. It’s all built up for once a very bountiful, albeit slightly violently paced wave. You know you must always trust the tides.” Of all people in Lazzure though, Aren knew he could not trust the tides, literal or metaphorical. Either one honestly was at the beck and call of his father.

This talk had served its purpose as far as Aren was concerned, so he faked some appreciation, “Thank you, Marchand, you’re right,” he said with a small smile. “I feel a little better having gotten all of that out. I truly appreciate how much you’ve helped me,” he finished, which was one of the only honest things he’d said to Marchand. “I think it’s time I get to sleep honestly. I’ll need my energy for the festivities tomorrow.” Marchand stood up and bowed before heading out the door.

After a minute Aren walked over to the closet where the rest of his clothes were. He began to hang up the clothes he’d been wearing, slipping the stone onto a small shelf so he could look directly at it as he put his other clothes away. Fortunately, it appeared his plan had worked as Kraevo's face shone dimly in the stone. The old wizard’s face was marked with concern from everything he’d just heard. Aren looked back with a sigh and quietly said, “A big day tomorrow.” Kraevos nodded once and the stone went dark. Aren made sure to place his other rings and things around the stone so as not to draw suspicion if anyone else looked into the closet.

Aren wasn’t sure what Kraevos, Sani, and Vella could do, but at least they were all better off knowing all the details of what was happening. He was certain that Kraevos would come up with a plan of some kind, he just hoped that the plan would happen before he had to say “I do.” He walked over to the window and looked out across the water. At least right now Lazzure was beautiful, the sun had recently gone down and the moon, the real ruler of the oceans had risen, her light cast across the gentle waves. With a heavy sigh, Aren turned around and got into bed, hoping that his exhaustion from the day would quiet his mind enough that he could get some decent sleep.

Feeling like he’d just laid his head down, Aren woke to the usual sound of gulls and the waves gently lapping up against the palace. This part of the morning he was at least fond of, it was the sound of his happy memories of Lazzure, of sitting with his mother, gazing out at the seemingly endless ocean. This happy fog of waking let him slowly wake before he cleared the sleep from his eyes and was startled back into his situation.

Standing in the corner of the room hung precisely was a new groom’s suit. Like a jolt of lightning reaching his brain Aren was reminded of everything going on, of how little peace he actually had. The calm of only a few moments ago seemed like a distant dream. All at once he could hear all the other sounds of the palace, of people hurriedly running from one point to another, carrying who knows what. Of directions being given and orders being barked, the sounds of the palace being truly and unwelcomingly alive. He fell back to his pillows and put his hands on his face, hoping that this was just a nightmare and he might wake. With a deep grunting sigh he exclaimed, “What rotten luck.”

“I’m sorry sir, what was that?” Marchand replied from the opposite corner of the room, startling Aren.

“Gods above man, I didn’t realize you were in here,” Aren yelled out. “Announce yerself the next time you come into somebody’s room. It’s darn creepy to wake up an’ find yer not alone in the room!” He impulsively threw a pillow at Marchand and struck the man directly in the face.

Marchand began to fix his glasses, a slight bit of indignation unhideable in his voice, “My apologies sir, but I was only coming in to wake you as we need to begin the preparations for the day,” Marchand took a shallow breath and regained his composure. “You sleep like the dead sir, not a stir or a sound. I was concerned you would sleep through your own wedding.”

This statement caught Aren off guard a little, he’d always been told he snored like a lumbering beast. Maybe it was just the ocean air that opened his lungs up. Aren couldn’t help but mutter an “If only,” in reply to Marchand, realizing his mistake quickly.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t catch that,” Marchand said, peering above his glasses at Aren. “As I was saying though, we must be getting you ready for the day.” Marchand looked at Aren, sizing him up once more. “Which means we must have better control over our language and present appropriately sir.”

This rankled Aren, though he knew Marchand was right. As much as he hated the manners he’d been taught, they made events like this run smoother and would make his acting job far more convincing. “You’re right, you’re right,” Aren replied, clearing up his diction. “I lived among the common folk in Draeton for so long it was hard not to get caught in their language.” This part Aren knew to be a lie, after all, anyone who’d been around the common sailors of Lazzure knew Aren’s particular speech pattern quite well.

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Aren set his mind to play the game ahead of him and looked at the suit hanging on his mirror. It was exactly what he would have expected for a traditional royal Groom’s suit of Lazzure. It wasn’t quite as ostentatious as what he’d seen in images of his own father’s wedding, but Aren was not yet designated as the next High Arbiter, so his clothing could be slightly less over the top. He was happy it wasn’t quite as garish as his father’s robes. It was the colors of the kingdom, the deep navy blue and gold lining the edges everywhere. The sandy tan of the beaches fills the parts in between. For a moment he felt relieved that he wouldn’t look quite as ridiculous as he expected. Then when he slipped the suit on his relief went away. As he buttoned up the front of the suit jacket there was a faint glimmer and the magic at work began. The blues began to move in waves like the ocean, the gold shimmered like the sun and the tan swirled like the sands. “You have got to be kidding me,” he couldn’t help but blurt out.”

“It is spectacular isn’t it?” Marchand said looking enthusiastically. “Your father had the best tailors and enchanter’s work on this. He wanted it to be even more memorable than the suit he was wed in.”

Aren couldn’t help but chuckle, of course, his father would choose to twist the knife like this. It wasn’t enough for him to just have Aren in a bad situation, he had to have a laugh or two at his son’s expense. “It is something alright, truly one of a kind,” Aren replied and he certainly did hope no one else was forced to wear such a thing.

Marchand approached and gave Aren’s hair a quick combing. “There we go, now you look far more fit for the ceremony.” He looked Aren up and down once again, now here are the jewelry pieces you are to wear. He held out a few items, which Aren put on.

Aren walked over to the closet and opened it. “Just a few more personal ones needed though,” he said. Aren grabbed two rings and the stone from the shelf.

“Now sir, we’ve taken great care of what you’re wearing, we don’t want anything to be a sign of preferential treatment or to offend our guests and I don’t have the time now to check whom these other trinkets have come from,” Marchand replied.

Aren paused for a moment, he knew he needed the stone on him in case of the situation getting worse. “Fine, fine,” He said before settling on his real reply. “I at least need to have this in my pocket ok?” He held out the stone to show Marchand, making sure he did not activate it. “It’s a good luck charm from my mother, I have always had it on me.” He looked to Marchand; he didn't have the look of someone about to budge, so Aren chose a different angle to play. “That's all I really have left of her, please Marchand, I miss her so much and it hurts me that she’s not here for this day. I need to have something of her with me. I promise you that no one will know outside of the two of us. I know I can trust you, you’ve already proven that you can be a confidant.” He looked down, again pretending to hold back tears. He chose his words carefully, being a confidant to a royal in Lazzure meant being tied to them, and benefitting in the tide as they did. He hoped this would work.

There was a pause in the room before Marchand replied. “Of course sir, I would never get in the way of such a thing. As you said, this will stay between the two of us.” Aren looked up and saw Marchand smiling. “Now, with that resolved, I must send you on your way. Your father wanted to see you in the throne room before we begin the process of the ceremony of the day. The sooner the better, I believe, so I would be on my way if I was you.” Marchand bowed as he opened the door, still smiling, clearly believing that he’d worked his way in with the second most important man in Lazzure.

Aren nodded and left the room quickly. He went a few hallways over and noticed that for once he was alone, with no Marchand and no one else in the hall. He let himself relax for a moment and continued to what he knew to be lesser-used areas of the palace. Checking one more time for anyone listening he pulled the stone from his pocket. The faint blue glow hummed up and again he stared at Kraevos’ face. “I don’t have a lot of time, I’m pretty sure I’m alone right now though so we can talk quickly.”

“Does the High arbiter know what is going on?” Kraevos said bluntly.

“I don’t know for sure, he at least thinks there’s somethin’ up, but I don’t know how much he knows. He clearly doesn’t trust me though,” Aren replied. “I’m supposed to go meet with him now. The weddin’ is supposed to happen at midday. I need your help, do you have a plan or somethin’?”

“Don’t worry, we will be on our way shortly,” Kraevos replied. “We’ll find a way to get you out of this.”

Distinctly different from the low steady tone of Kraevos Aren heard someone giggle. Now Sani’s face appeared in the stone’s view. “Oh my gods you look absolutely ridiculous in that thing,” she said.

As much as it was frustrating, it was nice to hear Sani’s chiding voice. It was a reminder of the life he preferred, the one he’d chosen. Besides, it’s not like Aren could blame her, he did indeed look ridiculous. “Much as I love your mockin’ Sani, I probably don’t have time for too many punchlines right now,” Aren replied.

“Fine, fine,” Sani said, still clearly holding back her laughter. “Don’t you worry, we will be there. After all, what kind of family would we be if we missed your wedding?” She chuckled again, though the last line hit Aren in the heart. For all their struggles, Sani had just called Aren her family. She hadn’t done that in years. “So would you prefer us to save you before or after you say “I do” and kiss the bride? I mean this might be the only time you get somebody to say yes,” Sani began laughing before there was a sound of a smack on the other end of the stone.

Vella pushed into the stone’s view, pushing Sani out. “Don’t listen to her, we’ll be there before you have to do any of that.” It made Aren’s heart feel lighter to see the rest of his little misfit family together and it certainly made him feel better that Vella did seem to be keeping the other two in line in his absence. Aren heard a sound from around the corner and blinked the stone off, not wanting to get caught. It wasn’t quite how he wanted the talk to end, but he was thankful for being able to even get through that much.

He walked down the remaining halls until he reached the throne room. After a collecting breath, he walked in to see his father once more. The High Arbiter was standing in solitude in the center of the room. He was looking over a scroll laid across a table, something about the day Aren surmised. Aren cleared his throat to break his father’s concentration.

“Well well,” The High Arbiter began, “I was starting to worry that you’d run away again. I was just figuring out who to send after you this time. Though I suppose a hunt for the groom would make for one of the most memorable weddings in the kingdom’s history,” he said chuckling. He looked at his son, evaluating him as always. “You may have put on a few pounds for your age, but I must say when you’re all cleaned up you still are quite a strikingly handsome man. You must get that from your father,” he said grinning and walking to his son.

The vein in Aren’s forehead began to twitch, his father’s vanity was nothing new, but it had always annoyed him. “I suppose it is good blood,” he said thinking only of his mother. “What was it that you wanted to see me about father? I know there are many things to keep us both busy today.”

“Right to the point as always my boy,” The High Arbiter sat upon his throne, staring down at his son. “That’s one quality I always liked about you, the efficiency of time is good for the business of course. You just need to improve at the relationship part of business, though I suppose that is what today is all about.” He looked around the room and then snapped his fingers. Aren could hear all of the doors to the throne room close. “Well then,” he continued, “It’s time we lay all of our goods on the table son.” There was tension in the air as the High Arbiter’s tone changed. “I know you’re only here to get something for the crazy old mage Kraevos and I know it’s not a surprise to you that I know this. I have men who track the movements of Kraevos all across Surren, there’s no one who is more of a danger to regular business than that man. Some of the older High Arbiters tried to reason with him. I am not so stupid.”

“Fine, you’re right, what’s your point?” Aren said back.

“Good, a little honesty will help this day go smoother for both of us,” The High Arbiter replied. “Though I feel you need a few updates on what is going on. As you may not yet know, Emeria has taken Presidia and with it all of Draeton. The word just came out this morning.” Aren’s blood ran cold and he began to feel his pulse race in his ears. What about Dracyr, Grayston, and all the other people he knew back home? He began to worry, unable to keep his composure.

Seeing the break in Aren’s will like a shark smelling blood in the water, the High Arbiter continued. “With that in mind, would be suicidal for anyone to try and make moves against Emeria and Sacrotia at this point. I for one came to that conclusion a long time ago. I’m not nearly as prideful in that way as Dracyr.” Hearing her name cross the High Arbiter’s lips made Aren clean his fists. “I made the far more intelligent decision to join with her some time ago. By joining her willingly we will benefit more so than any other kingdom in the land. She made us quite the offer and I happily accepted. She will help us finally take control over Aroster and she promises that the mountain king will help us carve new waterways throughout Surren to help us control trade and grow. All that said, I don’t fully trust a partnership with her in words alone. She does not bind herself to her word and her contract like we do, in Sacrotia there is only one bond that is truly sacred and that is blood. That my son is where you come in. You marry Ursania and we have our bond of blood, our bond that keeps us in line with the Sacrotians. This will keep us in Emeria’s favor better than anything else.

“Sounds like you’ve been planning this for quite some time, but there’s one part that doesn’t add up,” Aren said, trying to focus his thoughts only on the day ahead. “You didn’t know I’d be back here, so was that just dumb luck?”

“My son, you know luck is for the poor and stupid. This was fate that you would return to me. It is the will of men and the fate of the gods that brings you to me. I had contingency plans in place if need be, but my preference was always this. After all, I’ve known you were in Presidia for years. It was just a matter of time until I made sure you returned to me. The fact that you came here willingly is fate at play. This fate will help us all prosper more than I could have ever imagined. For the wave that takes the longest to build is always the largest.” The High Arbiter was smiling from ear to ear at this point, enjoying his moment in the sun. “That said, were you to do something foolish and spoil this, many would suffer for your actions. If you simply comply, well then we all shall be richer and happier.”

Aren felt like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, watching the storm on the horizon. This was what he knew his father to really be, a force of nature, unflappable, unrelenting, never changing course. “So is that a threat or a promise?” he asked his father.

“A little of both I suppose,” The High Arbiter said, letting his smile fade. “After all, you can’t tell which it is unless you cross me, can you? My son, I do want the best for you though.”

Aren stepped up to his father, standing above him, letting his rage overwhelm him. “That’s enough!” he yelled. “Stop calling me your son and stop even pretending that you care about me. You don’t and you never have!” he pointed a finger right in the High Arbiter’s face. “You’ve only ever seen me as a possession. That’s not how you treat a child, I’m not good for you to buy or sell. My mother died because of you! Gods above I don’t even think I’ve ever heard your real name, How am I supposed to look at you as a father if I don’t know who you really are!”

The High Arbiter pushed Aren’s hand away and stood up to meet him eye to eye. “That’s where you’re wrong my son. You know the only name that matters. What I went by before was never the real me, I have always been the High Arbiter of Lazzure, I just had to wait for everyone else to know this.” Moving faster than his age would imply he struck Aren in the stomach, sending him toppling down the few stairs before the throne. These sorts of emotional outbursts are why I did away with your mother, you ungrateful urchin. I am all that gives you value, don’t forget that.” Aren turned himself over, catching his breath as he stared up at the High Arbiter. “Learn your place or you’ll die like she did!” The words echoed throughout the room, this was the only time Aren had ever heard an admission of guilt from his father. Despite the rage boiling in his heart Aren knew he couldn’t do anything now, his father was too strong for him alone to fight. “Now go find Marchand, your wedding is in one hour. Choose how you want the rest of your life to go in that hour. I pray for your sake and the sake of everyone you’ve ever cared about that you make the right choice.” Aren stood up and dusted himself off, heading out of the room while he cursed his very existence.