CHAPTER 53: A FAMILIAR FACE [1]

"You mean to tell me," the king’s voice thundered through the High Hall, "that the Ashantis attacked on the road... and injured the princess, my daughter?"

The hall went silent. Every noble in the chamber glanced at one another, most of them in shock at what had happened.

Varek stepped forward and spoke with a respectful tone. "Regrettably, Your Majesty... it is so. They struck without warning, knowing full well who we were. This was no accident. They intentionally disobeyed the royal house." He paused, letting the words sink in. "You could call it nothing less than a direct challenge to the crown. And had the royal guards not arrived when they did, I do not know if we would be standing here alive. Their timing... was the only reason we made it."

A murmur rippled through the council.

"What this man says is true, my king," Lord Arvel said firmly. He stepped into the center of the hall, flashing his eyes full of anger. "Those people have openly defied your authority. They dared to attack before your judgment was given, and, worse, they aimed for the princess herself. That is an insult beyond reason. Who knows what they will do next? If this goes unanswered, it will encourage them... and others. They must be stopped at once. They must learn what it means to raise a hand against the crown."

The king’s jaw tightened as he considered the words. Finally, he said, "Send word to their leaders. Summon them to stand before the crown and account for themselves. I want to know why they struck, and why they dared to harm the princess, knowing exactly who she was."

Before the scribes could even begin recording the order, another spoke up in the chamber.

"Your Majesty..." It was Lord Edgar, the Lord Arbiter. His tone was calm but firm. "Perhaps it is unwise to confront them directly. Not at this moment. The kingdom still bleeds from the last war, we have yet to heal. Our armies are not at full strength, our people are weary, and our coffers are not overflowing. And there are whispers, my king... whispers of another threat drawing near with each passing day. If those whispers are true, we would do well to prepare for that storm before starting another."

The king turned toward Edgar but did not reply immediately. His gaze shifted instead to the young man standing amid the council, Aeron.

"You," the king said. "Dragon rider."

Aeron stood straighter and met the king’s eyes.

"Can you explain," the king went on, "why you have refused the call of the crown for so long? Letters were sent. Messengers rode to you. You were summoned more times than I can count... and yet you did not come. Why?"

Aeron’s mouth felt dry. His voice was quiet at first. "I... I am sorry, Your Majesty. After the war, I was gravely ill. It took time to recover. And when I did, I was attacked by the Ashantis. From that moment, my efforts... my time... everything I had went into preparing for their next strike."

The king’s eyes narrowed. "Preparing for them... or preparing for us? If I heard correctly, you not only survived their attack but forced them to retreat. They feared you, so much so that they named you ’Dragon Lord.’ They claimed you conjured fire yourself.

"Lies, my king, lies spread by those who want to capture him by any means," Varek said, stepping slightly forward from where he stood behind Aeron.

The king’s gaze shifted to him "And which part is the lie, Ser Varek? The fact that they retreated... or the claim that he conjured fire with his own hands? Which?"

Varek opened his mouth but found no words.

"I thought so," the king said coldly. "Do not answer for him again. You are not the one summoned here. And do not think I have forgotten." his voice hardened, "how you abandoned your duty to this court in its hour of need, only to return years later at the side of a boy who wields such... power."

A few council members exchanged uneasy glances.

The king’s eyes moved to another standing amidst the council members. "You have been silent all evening, Lord Chancellor," he said.

Lord Vanýr, who had been staring at Aeron, blinked as though he woke up from a deep thought. "My apologies, my king," he said slowly. "But I cannot help it... There is something about this boy. His face, it is... familiar."

He studied Aeron as if trying to match him to an old memory. "Tell me, young man, have we met before?"

Aeron hesitated, uncertain what to say. Before he could answer, Varek stepped in. "It has been a long day for us all, my lord," he said, inclining his head toward Vanýr. "We came from the far north. It is... very unlikely you have met him before."

Vanýr made no reply beyond a slow, drawn-out, "Hmmm."

Then he turned back to the king. "It has indeed been a long day, Your Majesty. Perhaps we should retire for the night and reassemble when rested. Then... we may decide what judgment should be passed upon the young man."

Aeron’s head turned toward him. "Judgment?" he asked. "I have done nothing wrong. Why would I need to be judged?"

The king did not even glance at him. "You will be shown to your quarters," he said curtly. "Tomorrow, the council will meet again. Until then, the matter rests."

With that, he rose from his seat. "This council is dismissed."

The lords and ladies bowed as the king left the High Hall.

Outside in the corridor, Lord Daryn, one of Vanýr’s closest allies, caught up to him. "You’re still thinking about the boy, aren’t you?" he asked. "I saw the look in your eyes."

Vanýr’s gaze was distant. "You know I am good with faces, Daryn. I have seen that boy before, if not the boy himself, then someone who could be his mirror. There is something about him... something I cannot yet place."

He stopped walking and looked directly at Daryn. "Send your best spies. They should find out who this boy really is, and everything about him."

"My gut has never been wrong."