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Myron walked across the docks in Port K’valsaer, watching the Ash Phoenix, the Pyrencian Flagship sail into the bay from the Southern Valyrian Sea. Aboard was his son, Erastil, recently turned seven, now a man by Pyrencian Standards. Myron has sent him on a trip around the realms of the Empire, that his son might come to understand and appreciate the varied nature of Hermertia. The past few years, the Emperor had noticed his son becoming filled with nationalistic zeal and patriotism, not that those were bad, but he wanted the future ruler of Pyrencia to have his pride for home tempered by acceptance that different doesn’t mean bad.
The ship docked smoothly, and Erastil jumped over the side of the ship and onto the dock before the Ash Phoenix had even stopped moving forward. He strode up to his father with the self-assured motions of someone raised in wealth and power. “Ah, its good to be home father. I missed Pyrencia on my journey.”
“Oh, you were hardly gone for that long.” Myron replied, knowing that such a comment would get on his son’s nerves.
“Are you not aware of how many realms there are Father? I had to spend two weeks in each of them. And they are all so different.” Erastil said in retaliation, aware that his father was trying to get under his skin but not quite able to keep control of his annoyance.
“That is the general idea. If two realms were exactly the same, why would they be separate realms at all.”
“You don’t understand! Duke Mark’s children wouldn’t let me go five minutes without forcibly pouring that foul Ostbeer down my throat. The Duke of Kaine nearly threw me down a mine. Said something about retaliation against long dead Pyrencians. And the Queen of Dawnstar actually DID throw me out of a tower. She said it would build character.”
Myron laughed for, nearly too long before calming down enough to reply. “Erastil, First; I’m sure Queen Samyrrah put Elytra on you before throwing you off a tower, Secondly; Duke Gimpy probably wouldn’t actually throw you down a mine shaft, and Lastly; while I know the Ostrons can be rambunctious, I doubt they held you down and forced you to drink until you died of poisoning. Furthermore, I am pretty sure it isn’t called Ostbeer.”
Erastil sulked for a second and then said, “Well, either way, at least I got to see a Noble Knight of Pyrencia defeat a shifty lawyer from Wysteria while I was in Gallen. The only thing I am surprised about is that that Minister Jenkins hasn’t seized power yet.”
“Its not really his thing. Jenkins is loyal to the Late Duke Nicholas’ wishes.”
“So, what has happened since I have been gone? I noticed our loyal workers have been adding to the city here.”
Myron looked around at the crowd on the busy dock, many of the citizens were trying to look busy while simultaneously staring at the Emperor and the Prince on the docks. “Perhaps we should discuss this in your cabin aboard the ship, too many prying ears here and far too many people back in the castle in Edhevrand.”
Erastil nodded and turned around and boarded the ship, leading his father to his cabin.
After Erastil closed the door, Myron began speaking in quiet undertone. “The descendants of Maledin, one of Vaethra’s brothers are starting trouble. They are saying that you aren’t going to be fit to rule Pyrencia when I am gone.”
“What? Why would they say that, and to whom?”
“So far, it’s just been to some nobles, a few of whom they don’t know are loyal to me. They haven’t gone public yet. What they are saying doesn’t matter. Maledin married into the Absalom Bloodline, something no member of the Azarn Bloodline has ever done, and its giving legitimacy to the claim that they have always made, that the Children of Absalom are more fit to rule than the Children of Azarn. Furthermore, I have reason to believe that they are working with the bandits who killed my Aunt Kytha, and tried to kill me years ago, In fact, It’s likely that Moldan, the current head of that family, would have seized power right after Kytha died, I had only gotten back to Pyrencia a few months before the attack.”
“We should tell the Council of Ordermasters then, and all the nobles and even the people of Pyrencia.”
“I have already informed some members of the Council, but I can’t inform anyone else without proof Erastil, I would just look afraid of political rivals.”
“There shouldn’t BE political rivals! You are the descendant of Azarn! You have the divine right to rule our people! Our family has the ONLY right.” Erastil was nearly shouting in distress at this.
Myron put his hand on his son’s shoulders to calm him, then waited for a moment before speaking again. “By the old laws yes, but times are changing. Pyrencia is changing. We have so much connection with other realms that they view of the people is different. The mandate of Azarn-blodh will likely loose meaning if our line becomes bad rulers, or are even painted to look like bad rulers with sufficient reason. Erastil, you need to be prepared for what is to come. It is very possible that they bandits will try to hit me again. If Moldan thinks that it is the right time for me to die, if he thinks that he and his family can wrest control from you after I am gone, they will try to have me killed again. And if they keep trying, eventually they will succeed. We need to prepare.”
Erastil stood silently, his fists clenched in rage. After a few minutes, he looked up at his father, and in his eyes Myron saw, for the first time in Erastil’s life, some of the warrior spirit of his late wife in his son.
“Very well Father, let us prepare.”
_________________ By the will of Azarn -Erastil -King of Pyrencia -The Hydra For a full list of titles, please see enclosed document. viewtopic.php?f=4&t=741
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