Swordmaster

A King's Hope

A King never stops working for his people. Through disaster, through war, through death, through grief. Barish had never stopped. He considered himself more of a servant than someone to held above everyone else. Whatever his people's needs were, he met them without hesitation.

Barish shut the door to Leandyr's room and took the winding steps at a brisk pace. It made his heart heavy to see how self-destructive the Swordmaster had become. Perhaps holding back on giving him his freedom hadn't been the wisest choice. But Barish was also afraid that if he let Leandyr go, he'd only cause more problems for himself.

He tucked his hands behind his back and stared unseeingly at the stone tiles as he walked.

He's still grieving. They all were, but Barish didn't like the way Leandyr grieved. His pain was like fire. It consumed him and everything around him, scorched everything he touched.

No matter, things would be right again in short order.

Barish looked up to find himself in the more lavish side of the castle, red rugs trimmed with gold ran through the halls and the walls were adorned with the finest art in all of Abydon. He walked to the very edge of the north wing and found himself in front of Ridivan's chambers.

He wasn't sure if his Sahn Cera would be up at this hour, but gave the door a few light knocks anyway. It swung open a moment later, revealing Enver on the other side.

"Your Majesty." The young scribe's eyes widened at the sight of him.

"Sorry to bother at this ungodly hour. Is Ridivan up?"

"I'm afraid not. Is something the matter?"

He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. "It's Leandyr. His behavior is worrying me."

Enver blew out a long whistle. "That's... a touchy subject at the moment. We had a bit of a falling out."

"So I heard." Barish knew the Swordmaster could get nasty with his words. But to stoop so low, to call Enver an accessory. He sighed. "I don't know what to do with him. I fear that if I give him what he wants, he'll go out there and get himself killed. But if I don't give him what he wants, he'll only continue to hurt everyone around him."

"Might I make a suggestion, your Majesty?" Enver waited for his nod of approval before continuing. "Perhaps the High Priest would be able to help. You've known Leandyr since he was a boy, but Boran raised him. If anyone can shake some sense into the Swordmaster, it would be him."

Barish nodded. He could pen a letter to the High Priest and have a messenger deliver it at first light. "That is sound council Enver. Thank you."

"Any time, my King."

"I'll let you rest now. Goodnight."

Enver incline his head in a bow. "Goodnight, your Majesty."

Barish turned to make for his own chambers, which were right up the steps from Ridivan's. Unlike the Swordmaster, he hadn't been inclined to leave it after Zehra's demise. She'd specifically chosen it, because it afforded a spectacular view of the temple, back-dropped by the Serpent's Strait.

Barish opened the door to his chambers, and stepped into a room that felt empty and cold despite the fire going in the hearth and the lone Yilmaz waiting for him. He took off his coat, stained with saltwater, and hung it on the wooden rack by the door.

A painting of Queen Zehra greeted him. It hung just over the hearth, and was framed by a white mourning ribbon. Many nights following her capture, Barish would kneel beneath it and pray to the goddess through his tears.

He had been in his final council meeting when she'd been taken. It had ran longer than usual. He'd wanted to rescue her. She was his Queen, his cape, his companion. It was his duty to look out for her.

We can't lose you too. That's what they'd told him. So he'd entrusted the Yilmaz with the task of bringing her back. There was never a doubt in his mind that they had done all they could.

Thing will be back to the way they were, he reminded himself The castle would be filled with cheer once more, instead of being gloomy and bleak as it had since the Queen's death. . People would smile and laugh and be merry.

Just a little more time. He rubbed at his marked hand.

"Your Majesty?"

Barish, in his idle pondering, had almost forgotten he had company. "What is it, Yaren?"

She was seated in an armchair, with a glass of foreign wine in one hand. The rest of it was on stout, wooden table in front of her with another, empty glass. "I just wanted to inform you that preparations are complete. All we need is the Hiroh."

"That's good to hear." Barish took off his shoes and left them by the door.

"About the Swordmaster... We're not entirely sure if he's made any progress with the task you've given him. Also, we believe he knows we're following him and we're..." Her words trailed off as though she couldn't find the right word to say.

"Afraid?" He sat opposite her and helped himself to some wine. There was no missing the look of disgust on her face. Although who that was disgust was directed at, he wasn't sure. "I strongly believe the Swordmaster would kill all six of you if given the opportunity. There's nothing wrong with having a healthy sense of self-preservation."

By the way her lips flattened into a thin slash, she wasn't satisfied with his response. "About the Hiroh. She may put up a fight. And she has a monolith."

"And? So do you. Not to mention you outnumber her six-to-one. Use whatever means necessary." He swirled his wine in his glass. "We're almost at the end of this road. I want no excuses."

Yaren set her wine glass down, her face impassive. "They were not excuses your Majesty, merely concerns. And I understand." She gave a nod. "I will let you rest now." She rose and bowed before heading for the door.

"One last thing, Yaren," Barish said.

"Yes, your Majesty."

"If Leandyr attacks you or any of the other Yilmaz, you are allowed to defend yourselves. But you are not allowed to injure him permanently, and you are certainly not allowed to kill him. Disobey these orders and I will make sure you all suffer for the rest of your days. Am I clear?"

There was a long pause before she said: "Yes, your Majesty."

As the door clicked shut, Barish turned his attention to the painting once more, saluting the Queen's with his glass. "Soon, my love."