The One Knight Stand

.: Subtle Schemes :.

16 | Subtle Schemes

The King only cared about three things in life.

-- Anachakar's ascension to primacy under his family's legendary rule.

-- His large, mute son, Camleang Bo.

-- And bacon glazed cinnamon rolls.

Usually in that order, unless his son vexed him and the rolls' temptation were far too great to deny.

The King sipped chai with the Prince on the veranda, watching the sun set on their tiny corner of a vast, sprawling empire.

The lilac mountains stood sentinel to the north, silent protectors against countless enemies ever since their violent earthly formation.

Both father and son were mesmerized by the deep hues encircling their kingdom, each entrenched in their private thoughts until Xao rolled out the dessert tray and the King's stomach did all his thinking for him.

Thank you, Xao. The Prince signed. That should be all for tonight. Please let me know if you need more time with your family.

The servant nodded, glad for the early dismissal. His daughter was due to deliver her first born later that night and he wasn't keen on missing the birth of a grandchild for the sake of wiping crumbs from the King's beard.

"Congratulations, Xao. I hope Shoshi's birth is swift and painless," Sir Pilar lent Xao an encouraging smile and closed the french doors behind him.

The King swallowed his mouthful of syrupy bread. He squinted into the dying light and stroked his silky black mustache.

He only did that when he was scheming, and these horrible schemes usually involved extreme discomfort on Bo's part.

Valasa forbid if it necessitated talking.

Then again, The King's last task involved Bo surveying the dungeons for punitive improvements, but that ended with him naming Blue as his future Knight, so it couldn't be all bad, could it?

The Prince geared up for whatever nonsense was sure to drip from his father's mouth.

The King's stomach erupted in a contented grumble. "How old are you now, Bo?"

The young man paused mid sip.

I turn 23 a few months after the festival.

"Good. A prime age. The world's experience and energy are yours so long as you grasp them tight. Over the past few years I've prepared you for the duties you'll one day overtake. You'll learn them in depth, in time. Mastering the intricacies and challenges of this... balancing act... is our responsibility to our people. A truly brutal but rewarding station."

Nearby a robin nested in a jasmine tree cooed at its young. Bo focused on the music, on his jagged breathing, on tomorrow's packed schedule. Anything but the subject his father was inelegantly broaching.

Nevertheless the King persisted.

"Before I can, in good conscience, pass off my crown, there is a final hurdle you must jump before I can legally descend from the throne."

Oh? Bo sighed. Must I recite the Tome of Ciova from memory? Or do I have to wrestle Kharsuma from Glee Isle before my next birthday?

Behind them Sir Pilar covered her chuckle with a timely cough.

The King rested his teacup on his rotund stomach like a table so he could properly scold.

"I mean marriage, Bo. Anachakar deserves security and peace of mind. As my only heir it's your duty to secure a future with a deserving princess. Hopefully an advantageous union, if we can help it. There's no way around it, I and the Kings before you suffered the same prerequisite when our time came. You're no different."

An outdated prerequisite, you mean. No other province follows the Abadon Contract. Why should we?

"Being King isn't about comfort. We don't have the luxury of willy nilly republics like Nanagoe." The King's aristocratic nose wrinkled in disgust even speaking the name.

Yet Nanagoe is the most prosperous domain with half the crime and double the literacy. Bo countered. And it's run by a woman. A good friend of mine. She isn't married, was elected into her position, and their overseas trade is booming. Why shouldn't we follow their example?

"Nanagoe is an island of uncivilized religious fanatics. Letting the masses vote for their own future spells disaster for the public order."

Isn't it our job to serve the people?

"Do you really understand what you're asking? Beholden to the fickle and the petty and the impoverished? To lose everything we've built up for the past ten centuries? I assure you, the streets aren't paved with gold and the beds down below aren't lined with silk."

If all is fair and equal it shouldn't matter.

The King downed the rest his tea and brandished the cup at his moody son.

"Grumble all you want, but the only way to ensure a peaceful power transfer is a wedding before my death. Remember Bo: no princess, no coronation, no crown."

Bo's traitorous pale hands snuck a question before he could still them.

...Must she be a princess?

Again, Sir Pilar choked on her mirth, barely covering it behind her glove. The King turned and glared at his Knight, wondering what was so damn funny.

He would've never guessed Bo's head had been turned by the very same peasant who tried to steal the Crown Jewels. The very same contracted to be his Knight upon crowning, unbeknownst to the King.

"Of course she must be a princess. Nothing lower than a duchess. We want to grow our strength, not demean it. After the tournament starts the social season. This is your time to shine, my son. Hopefully our selected squires will demonstrate Anachakar's potential, and princesses will be lining up at our palace doors so deep we'll have to fight to get through."

Speaking of the tournament... Bo glanced over his shoulder at Pilar, who raised a thick eyebrow.

I'd like to attend. I'll go in disguise as to not pose a security threat. But I'd like to see what others think of your rule without the veil of polite society. A change in management tends to inspire exploitation in the worst form.

The King was stunned into silence. Never before had Bo demonstrated such interest in the good of Anachakar. Usually he had to drag the young man by the teeth just to mildly participate in politics.

He could see no reason to deny him. It was a step in the right direction, after all.

"Yes, of course. But keep a low profile. Pilar, I know you'll have other responsibilities with the squires, but please keep an eye on Bo."

"I'm no babysitter," the Head Knight snapped, which was just as good as a Yes, Your Majesty from her.

"Enjoy your trip." The King faced the sky once more, now night and blue. Was it nostalgia or fatherly pride coloring his voice? "Savor your time away, Bo. Hard labor will be upon you before you know it. I hope you learn much from your travels."

Thank you, father. I plan to.

Next to him Bo stroked his prickly stubble with a small smile, and Pilar worked for the Camleang family long enough to know mischief was afoot.

The Head Knight eyed the royals' heads. One greying and wizened. The other jet black and messily top knotted. So alike and yet so dissimilar...

Both sides of the same tender coin, striving for whatever end goal throbbed in their mysterious hearts. If they said I love you like other families she'd never heard it.

But Sir Pilar supposed there were many other ways to convey love, much like how there were many ways to say goodbye.

Hours later, another half dozen honey rolls consumed, when the King fell asleep in his cushioned caquetoire, the young Prince merely picked him up, carried him to his chambers, and tucked his father under his covers with a care reminiscent of their bedtime ritual some thirteen years previous when Bo's young vocal chords were still strong enough to ask when he, too, would grow a beard as full as his father's.