The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Lionstone

"I am." Pillar took the letter and fished a pair of spectacles from his coat pocket. "Have a seat," he added as adjusted them on his face. "It's as if you've never delivered one of these before." And he smiled, almost grandfatherly.

"No, sir." Able reached for the small chair beside the desk, gingerly brought it to the front, and eased himself down as soundlessly as possible.

Pillar broke the seal without ceremony and began to read. Able sat perfectly still and watched the faint frowns and vague lip purses for any sign of what would happen next. He'd done this before, sat across from an elderly professor like this during his entrance examination. That had been the most momentous, frightening thing he had ever done in his fifteen years of age. And the worst had happened, the deep disappointment and growing fear of the encroaching deadline as he trudged back down the hill to try again three months later.

The man across from him now, ten years later, could see his neck into a noose. Able felt nearly another ten years older when the general finally lowered the sheaves in his hands.

"Able Houser." Pillar looked over his glasses at Able like he wasn't sure what he was looking at. "You've...gotten yourself into a fair bit of trouble in the new territory. And now you're here claiming you have found the missing prince, based in part on knowledge about the missing prince that you have thus far kept from the Crown?" So strange that this man had such a kindly face.

Able swallowed to find his voice. "Before I say anything, might I have some guarantee that any consequences will be served to me alone?" Able stared unflinchingly into the general's eyes, not even breathing. Sorry, Ma.

"Consequences." Pillar raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. "Might you have any misconceptions that those could include rewards?" Capstone had mentioned Reeve had thought this. He must have written it, too.

"My only concern is keeping my family safe."

The general stared long and hard.

Able had to blink and fortunately did so without shedding a tear. His hands, in his lap, were shaking.

Instead of answering, Pillar nodded towards Chessie. "Who is the woman?"

"Ah." Able was relieved to have a moment to glance back at her, looking poised in her Larbant garb. If she wasn't nervous, maybe he shouldn't be either. "Chestnut Miller, a Borealunder who is a friend of the man I believe is the prince and knows his history there. She believes she can help."

Pillar frowned and narrowed his eyes. "Help? Why would she help?"

Chessie piped up in a perfunctory tone, "We believe the Sons of Justice, the rebels that currently have your prince, might do him harm." Straight out with it, then? Well...she hadn't been wrong yet.

Able inhaled in hope of finding fortitude and simply nodded his agreement.

Pillar had gone stiff and wary at the mention of the Sons, but now he removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair. He looked between them a few moments longer, again with that air of not knowing what he was looking at. He gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk from where Able was sitting. "Come join us, madam."

Chessie did so, sparing Able one of her knowing glances. He glanced down to see his knuckles where white. He cautiously laid his palms flat on his thighs again.

"I was wary of defrauding when this case was new, and that has only magnified with time passing," Pillar said. "You both have yourself a ripe situation here, as Reeve, it appears, would very much like you to be correct. We all would, myself included in all honesty, and none more than the king himself."

"Pardon me, but are you certain of that?" Able's breath caught at Pillar's frown. No, straight out with it. "Prince Plaudit believes his father wishes him dead."

That struck the general. He swallowed what might have been a retort, shifted uncomfortably, and glanced away a moment. So he must have known Lark was queer. Must have known what the king would do to suppress that knowledge. "...are you saying you will need assurances before he'll be willing to return?"

Able nodded once. "At minimum." Hope started trickling in, though it'd be best to dam it off a while longer. The general may have believed them, but he could still call them frauds in the interest of royal security. ...was that any better than being prosecuted for treason?

Pillar again put on his spectacles and reread the letter. When he was done, he rubbed his eyes, then steepled his fingers and looked from Able to Chestnut and back again. "Reeve says you think you can prove the prince's identity if you could access the Archives. What would you need to begin building a case for this?"

Able nodded, perhaps a little too vigorously. "Records of naval altercations around Fairbanks that month and the next, as well as the service records of one Constance Driver."

"Yes, I saw that." Pillar rubbed his chin. "Curious. I expect everything will be clean as it was in Adeptsby."

"And," Able added cautiously, "I know this is clearance you cannot give me...but suppose there was another Driver. A member of the Black Swords. A woman who wields a black-forged hookblade. We would need her service record, too."

Pillar's eyes grew wide. "I see. ...I see." He stood, hobbled a step on his false leg before frowning down at it, then tapped his leg thoughtfully instead of pacing. So whoever Red was, she could agitate even a general.

Pillar looked from Chessie back to Able. "Very well. I'll grant you access to second level records. Find what you can. In the meantime, I'll check the Black Swords records and see what I can learn about His Majesty." He leaned his fingers on the desk so that he was looming over them. "But neither of you breathe a word of this to anyone, or I will brook no tolerance."

Able shared a glance with Chessie, then in unison they replied, "We understand."