The Clan of Outcasts (Seasons 1 and 2)

Part 11: "Betrayal"

Beren stroked the neck of his steed and cupped his hands under the animal's nose. There was not a well nearby, but his palms overflowed with fresh, clean water. The horse drank its fill, and Beren released his hands, shaking them dry and wiping them on his sleeve.

"I've tried to get Father to use more precise wording in his laws, but he says he won't—he says he would be more worried about compromising what he believed based on someone's interpretation, than of the outcome of that interpretation. He stands by the laws he makes."

"The laws that are unjust?" Kaidan supplied.

"Not by any of his doing," Beren muttered, "but yes."

They reached the main entrance just as a crowd of young men staggered through the door, yelling and whooping and carrying on.

"What's all this?" Beren asked. He recognized the young men from his fencing class in the city—for the services of the realm's Master Swordsman, Sylvanis, was available to all, and not restricted to the castle.

"Old Silly-Van has taken ill!" One of the boys threw his arm around Beren's shoulder. "He won't be able to teach for a few days—and that's just enough time for us to join the pleasure cruise on a short trip to the Imperials—won't you join us, Bear?"

Beren felt his frustration lift as he listened. The Imperial Islands were devoted entirely to every sort of entertainment, and pleasure cruises circulated regularly. He could leave and return in the space of a couple days, and find enough to divert his mind from the cards of the kingdom, without missing anything of grave importance.

"Well, I would certainly love to, Hancock," he replied. "Provided my father has not already made plans."

"Come on!" Hancock persisted. "What's a few days? He'll hardly even miss you before you will be back!"

Beren's eyes traveled to his servant.

Kaidan nodded. "Do what you think is wise, Prince—a temporary respite would not go amiss."

Beren grinned; wisdom had very little to do with this particular decision. Besides, he thought, it would be good to make this decision for myself, to strike out on my own.

He patted Hancock on the shoulder. "Don't leave without me," he assured him. "I'll just go pack my things."

Hancock cheered. "We leave at dawn!"

The next morning, a cloaked figure stopped by the Mage's door and left behind a small chest. By the time Mage Korsan opened his door and discovered the chest, the Prince had missed the morning meal. Korsan sighed as he laid eyes on the crown Beren left behind. Why would the Prince do something so foolish—and just when the Queen would have told her son that he would soon be welcoming a brother? Days turned into weeks, with no sign of the Prince. Word spread about pirate sightings around the Imperial Isles, and that they had attacked at least one pleasure cruise, but no one could be sure whether anyone had survived the attack or not.

King Balwyn fell ill, and the Queen delivered a healthy baby before passing away, herself. The Council claimed Regency, and Korsan found himself banished from the castle. On his way out to the Wilderness, the Mage stopped by the house of a trusted friend.

"Gordan!" He greeted him warmly. "How does your little family fare?"

Gordon's wife smiled at the Mage. "You see well," she mused. "I have only just learned that I am carrying a child."

Korsan swung his talisman before the woman's belly, flat though it was. "It will be a girl; what would you name her?"

The goodwife's eyes shone with hope. "If it is a girl, I want to name her Velora."