Blade of Erogrund

Chapter Seventeen- The King's Invitation

Finally a break, thought Godric. He should have known Theronin's pride would not let him confess the truth, yet the wrath of the swordsmaster was still cause enough for fear. Shrugging to himself, Godric shoved it away into the darkened cabinet of his peripheral thoughts along with the host of other worries, torments, and concerns that had alluded him for the past several weeks.

Thain raised a bushy eyebrow, but nodded.

"I'm sorry, Theronin," began Ennor. He was stopped immediately by the lord's raised hand.

"Spare me the theatrics, Ennor. In a city like this even the walls have ears. Don't think I haven't heard of my father's death or the missing sword." Theronin's words came as slick as ice with such coldness that Godric was taken aback. They were empty and numb, completely avoid of emotion except for perhaps contempt. "You can also spare me the song about how sorry you are; we all know you despised Tenillius as he resented you."

Ennor's dark eyes widened, betraying his surprise. "Very well then. Upon the burial of Tennillius, which will occur in the next day, the title of his High Lordship will pass, as is the custom of this kingdom, to you." Theronin ignored him, looking instead at his worn palm that slowly clenched and relaxed.

"As always, I trust that word of Erogrund will not reach the ears of the rest of the city," Ennor continued, eyeing Theronin once more before returning his gaze to the assembly. "Such knowledge, combined with the fact that it has been lost, would give cause for a severe loss in moral and anger."

"What about the Dragon Night festival?" asked one of the ladies. "Will it still be held as planned?"

"That is for the Council of Lords to decide," Ennor answered. "My word would be yes, but it will be their decision.

"If there are no more questions, I will close this council and cease the inconvenience caused by summoning you all here. The precautions I have set in place, primarily the increased guards, will remain as is until Erogrund is recovered. You are dismissed."

"Before that," said the lord Godric recognized as Havillon, one of those that had supposedly supported Ennor, "maybe we should discuss the matter of your methods, Ennor. Caeros has a point that cannot be ignored; you have not handled these situations very well." The face of the lord was contorted with reluctance, but greater was the worry that filled his eyes.

"A matter for another time, I think, Havillon." Ennor answered calmly.

The older man did not look convinced, letting the silence say it for him. Caeros scoffed, shaking his head. He headed for the door, the rest of the assembly filing behind him.

Godric started to go with them, Mira close behind, but hear Ennor call him back.

"Not you, Godric." This took him by surprise; Ennor had never called him by his name before. Mira began to stop too, but the firm, though not unkind, look Ennor gave her clearly said that she was not invited to partake in whatever was to come.

Ducking her face, she took the hint and continued with the rest out of the chamber.

Once the last of the council had sifted through the passage, Ennor drew out a small glass bottle of some caramel-colored liquid that, judging by the potent fragrance released when he uncorked it, was a particularly strong form of scotch or whisky from a cabinet Godric had failed to notice under the table. The young king took a matching glass from the same cabinet and poured a generous amount of the drink into it. 

"Care for a drink?" Ennor asked, gesturing to Godric. 

For a moment he was tempted to try it. His father had never exactly discouraged drinking, though rarely did he ever have even a little bit more than a glass or so of wine and that was only at festivals. The calculated, challenging look he saw in Ennor's eyes only made him certain of his decision.