Kingdom's Fall

Chapter 2, Part 2

Princess Morwen had been almost two years old when Gray had last seen her. Part of the privilege he'd once held as the Commander of his King's armies was the right to sweep her up in his arms and bounce her on his knee. Even though she was only little, she was already so much like her mother that it made it painful just to look at her. The Queen hadn't survived to see her daughter puddling around on the floor, laughing and burbling and making mock of any attempt at decorum. Gray had heard that in the years since, she had grown into the very image of her mother, and that Varion doted on her. Enough to kill a Kingdom, Gray thought. He could have married the girl off to any one of the northern families and set them on the path to become his successor, but instead he'd held off, balancing them one against the other as though he could live forever. Varion was a good man, but the death of his wife had changed him. His daughter was all he had left of her and that, Gray realised, would be his doom. Our doom. 

"What do they want?" Gray asked.

"I don't know. They've gone with her, out of the city. There was no ransom."

"What do they want her for, then? Forced marriage?"

The King shook his head. "I don't know."

"I don't believe that," Gray said. Varion said nothing, but cast Gray a bleak look. Gray lifted a hand, indicating the empty, silent hall. "They want this. They want you distracted and powerless, hiding in your hall to stop the rumours spreading." The King said nothing. Gray felt something shift inside him, a darkness that he had long avoided. No father should have to bury their child. "You know she's likely dead already."

The King sighed, then took a deep breath. It was a long, slow inhale, the sound of a man with nothing left. "A long time ago, Commander, you and I had a disagreement. That day you crossed a boundary, and I punished you for it." Gray waited, silent, for the King to continue. "Ever since that day I questioned my decision. Every time news came in from the south, I thought about calling you back, no matter how much it might cost. I cursed your name, Gray. I damned you to every ear that would hear it, and to take it back was just too much." The King looked up at him, eyes glistening, something that was not quite but almost a smile twisting at the sides of his mouth. "And then you did the impossible. You took the men I sent you, the lowest scum I wanted rid of, and you turned them. I've seen the reports. I know what they can do."

Guarding the southern border was one of the least-favoured duties in the Kingdom. The soldiers called it swamp duty, and more men fell to disease or accidents than through combat. Men were sent south as a punishment, and Varion had treated the southern listings as an alternative to imprisonment. Gray was sent every thief, cutpurse, and layabout the peace-men could lay their hands on, and it had taken every inch of his skill and every moment of his attention to keep them in line. The ones that turned best he let loose on the others, giving them free reign to kick the laziest and most evil-minded into shape. Away from a world that valued spit-shine over intellect, on territory that was as dangerous as the men that prowled it, Gray found that he was changing as well. He shifted his tactics to suit the men and the marshes. Seizures of smuggled goods went up, killings went down. Neither went away altogether, but the Southern Guard was lifted out of the muck and into the realm of legend. Every week, Gray tore up a handful of letters from noble fathers petitioning him to take on their sons, to make men - or better yet, heroes - out of them.

"My men," Gray said, "are not heroes."

"No, they are not." The King agreed. "But they are skilled, in their way, and effective." He leaned forward, a savage light burning in his eyes. "I need them to be effective."

"You want us to hunt the kidnappers down."

"To our borders. Beyond our borders, if necessary. If Morwen is alive, bring her to me. If they have killed her..."

"Then we kill them in their turn."

The King nodded. "Do whatever it takes. Find these men, and destroy them utterly."

Gray pinched the bridge of his nose. This is why you were summoned, he thought. He thinks you can save her. "I can't-"

"Whatever you want, whatever you need to do this, it's yours."

"You mean that, your majesty?" He caught Varion's eye, and held it.

"I do."

"Then you will not have my men." Gray said. "I want your word that you won't drop horses along the border. Let me send my men back. Let them patrol the marshes, and scout for any trace that the Carelians have found a different route. I will hunt these men for you, but I will not let you cede the south. No daughter is worth that price."

Varion simmered, but Gray stood his ground. "Can you find them?" The king asked.

"I'm not finished," Gray said. "I want you to stop this madness." He waved one arm, gesturing towards the empty seats that lined the chamber. "As much as I might have cursed it once, I have done my duty to protect this place. I won't let you throw it away."

Varion's face flushed, and he started up off of the throne. "How dare you-"

"How dare you, Varion!" Gray's voice rose, echoing the king's fury. "You think the Kingdom stops for you? How many deals have been done since you closed your doors? How many whispers and rumours are out there? You think an army marching up from the south is the worst of your worries? What will you do when your own lords decide they've had their fill of waiting and cut your throne from under you?"

Varion's voice was low. "They would not dare."

"Wouldn't they? Open your court, sire. Count the number who come, and see how many have decided to do without you."

King Varion sat with his head bowed, caught between grief for his daughter and the crushing weight of his duty. Gray felt a touch of pity, but smothered it. The royal court was there to keep the north and the south in balance. There was no telling what damage had been done since the princess had been taken. Varion was strong; he just needed to find that strength again. "I asked you a question, Commander." Varion did not look up. "Can you find them?"

Gray nodded. "I can. And if she's alive, I can bring her back."

Varion raised his head. "Gods help me, I believe you."

"Open the court, majesty. Morwen may be gone, but you still have a duty. Send my men south. Leave this task to me."

Varion drew in a long breath, his chest swelling with new vigour, buoyed by Gray's conviction. "When will you leave?"

"Immediately," Gray said.

"I see." The King stood and came forward, extending his hand towards Gray. The guards nearby shifted uncomfortably, but stayed put. Gray stepped up and took the King's hand, felt the incredible strength of the man still there after such a long time. Varion clasped Gray's shoulder with his other hand. "Thank you for this, Gray," he said. "I knew I could count on you."

For a moment Gray was unsure of what to say. All the pain, all of the doubt and guilt, all of the bitter years that had lain between them felt as though they had evaporated.  "I'm glad I can still be of use to you, sire," he said, and was surprised to find he meant every word of it. The King smiled, and pulled Gray closer.

"Do you remember Aiden Baird, Commander?" The King asked, his voice low.

"I do," Gray said. Baird had been a young noble when Gray last attended court, a slippery, handsome boy who would turn up at the barracks and pay men to teach him all the dirtiest fighting tricks they knew. Not much gossip made it all the way south, but what little got there was often about the man he had become, a schemer and rake who did nothing but gamble, fuck, and duel. Gray paid it scant attention, save for the token respect he thought due for anyone with the backbone to tear such a bloody streak through the fine cloth of the Kingdom's nobility.

"If you find him," the King said, "kill him."

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