Ignoring History - Ranger's Apprentice Fanfiction

Chapter 34

~🌲Gilan🌲~

King Swyddned was a good king, but Gilan wouldn't have called him the wisest. He ruled over Celtica with a benevolent charm, always making an effort to be kind and sympathetic. The Celtic people loved him, which prompted an era of peace to settle over the country.

However, although he matched the needs of Celtica, King Swyddned would not have lasted very long in Araluen. He was slow to react and quick to retreat. He was more of a peacemaker than a fighter, and as a result, his army was frightfully tiny. Gilan almost had a heart attack when he first heard just how small the Celtic forces were.

What's more, the king refused to help the revolution.

"Your Majesty, you cannot be serious!" Arald said. "King Morgarath is closing in on your borders. You cannot afford to do nothing lest Celtica should fall!"

King Swyddned said nothing, glancing at the members of the Celtic Embassy that had gathered at the side of the throne room. A silent conversation passed between them, and based on Swyddned's expression, it didn't seem to be going in the favor of the Araluens.

Gilan shared a glance with Jurgen, who shrugged. He was expressionless, and it almost seemed like he expected for Swyddned to not help. In front of them, Arald impatiently tapped his foot on the ground. The group had agreed that it would be best for him to speak as he had the highest rank amongst them and had actually met the king several years in the past.

"I am sorry," King Swyddned finally said. "We cannot help you. We do not have the right resources."

"What of the treaty?" Arald said. "We signed a mutual defense treaty with each other. Unless you are going back on your word..."

"There is no treaty."

"Your Majesty, you must be mistaken," Arald said. "We definitely had a treaty."

King Swyddned shook his head. "No," he said. "The treaty you speak of was nullified, courtesy of your king. It is void."

"I'm not sure you understand the severity of this situation, my lord," Arald said, his voice the tiniest bit tighter. He inhaled. "Morgarath is planning an invasion. You are in danger. This country is in danger!"

Pursing his lips, King Swyddned sighed. He seemed to struggle to come up with a response, sweat dripping from his forehead. He looked at the Celtic Embassy, almost desperately.

It was then Gilan realized how pale the king was. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his whole posture spoke volumes, slouched down and vulnerable. His fists were clenched, knuckles white. And the Embassy—they didn't look well either. They were cautious, excessively careful, but their actions could not hide the fear that was suppressed underneath their expressions.

But why? Why would the Celtic court be on the verge of collapse? Why would they refuse to help when their country was being threatened? Unless... something had happened.

Something was wrong in the Celtic court, and that left the question of what. Before, Gilan had thought the king to be foolish. How could he not aid them when his people were so clearly in danger? How could he not see how much trouble his own country was in? How could he be so blind? But now, Gilan saw right through the masks. They were scared.

Stepping forward, Gilan cleared his throat. He ignored Arald's surprised look. "Your Majesty," he said, "I can't help but wonder... is there something you aren't telling us?"

King Swyddned's eyes darted to Gilan, who could have sworn he saw the faintest trace of fear. The king frowned, eyes narrowed. "What is it that you are implying?" he said.