Toymaker

Chapter 4

Though things had finally settled down in the palace following the attack, Dendron felt restless. He couldn't be sure if there was something in the air or if it were the dreams still plagued him every night. Idly, he scratched the back of his hands as he pretended to listen to Professor Schmelgin-or-whatever-he-was-called drone on about the history of Kastasol and the various treaties that had been signed to ensure a prosperous free market with the neighbouring free states.

So many things had happened. First, the witch from the country – Idana. It seemed an age she had joined the palace staff as one of his tutors. That she remained in Wyndhaven, now a fellow student at the School of Magic, was something he still needed to wrap his head around.

Then, of course, there was the death of his godfather. He still couldn't quite process Rothfarin was dead. Always, he'd look over his shoulder, expecting the man to be behind him, offering him advice or praise he had always desired from his actual father but never received.

And then, of course, the golem itself.

When he closed his eyes, Dendron could still see the huge metallic creature bearing down on them. Though Idana was but a slip of a girl, barely fifteen, the magic she had wielded had helped stave off its attack and protected all those huddled in the great dining hall.

There was no mistaking how strong and gifted Idana was.

Maybe that was why he had been drawn to her in the days afterwards, helping her out with the brewing of potions and mixing salves to aid the wounded. He had wanted to contribute in any way he could to help those around him. And he wanted to thank the witch though he had struggled with the words.

As he had worked by her side, Dendron appreciated Idana knew so much about the practical aspects of the apothecary trade, even though she had been a terrible magic tutor.

"—that is how your grandfather, King Daffod, was able to secure an alliance with Luvaril, a nation far across the sea. It staved off a famine and we also secured a friend and ally for the upcoming war to follow. Crown Prince Dendron, did you manage to get any of that? Or do I need to repeat myself considering your penchant for daydreaming?"

Dendron roused himself and smiled lazily up at the stern man before him. He picked up a pen and began to scribble nonsense into his notebook. "Luvaril. Famine. War. Yes, yes, I did get all of that. Why do you doubt me so, sir?"

The professor looked at him with an expression that was a combination of disbelief, irritation and resignation. Dendron kept the insincere smile plastered on his face waiting for Professor Schmelgin to challenge him.

Finally, with an audible throat clearing, the professor broke away and turned back towards the blackboard. "As I was saying, Your Royal Highness..."

Once more, Dendron tuned out the professor's words.

He wasn't interested in history lessons. Never had been.

But this time, Dendron found his thoughts drifting to his father and the rumblings he had heard in court. Though there had been a push towards returning Kastasol to a state of normalcy, many were worried about the insurgents and there were fears of another attack in the next few months.

Of note were the fates of the rebels being held in the prison. Most of the nobility were of a mind to publicly execute them as an example. After all, what was the point of going through a pantomimic farce when the verdict was already set should it ever go to trial.

On this, Dendron had to agree. These people had tried to take his life. They had ripped Rothfarin from him and had attacked the palace. None of them deserved mercy and if he were king, all of them would be swinging on nooses at this very moment.