Draylon schooled his features into a blank mask before entering the council chamber, then crossed his forearm over his chest, bowing low, acknowledging not just the title “Emperor” but a superior officer. “Your Imperial Majesty.”
Several men and women gathered around an oval table, Father at one end.
“Commander Draylon. Good of you to join us.” Father sounded rather… pleased. Something that seldom happened, especially in Draylon’s presence. A furrow appeared between Father’s brows. “Your injuries are healing?”
“Minor wounds only.” In truth, Draylon had bruised a few ribs, at least, and had a nasty cut on his thigh he’d needed a healer for, but he’d come out of battles much worse, as the deep scar across on cheek testified to.
Father hadn’t asked during their private conversation, so the question must be for the benefit of their audience.See me be a good father.
“I see. Please be seated.” Father speaking instead of an advisor implied this was an informal gathering or that the emperor deemed these people beneath protocol. Heads still might roll before anyone left this room.
Draylon chose the nearest empty chair, but Father pointed to a seat to his right. Really? Father publicly acknowledged Draylon as a son? Well, he had ordered Draylon to dress the part of a prince.
Draylon rounded the table, sat, and perused the other individuals in the room. Father, three of his advisors, then three men and two women Draylon didn’t recognize but who appeared Renvallian.
No one acknowledged Rufe’s presence when he took his place behind Draylon’s chair, where Draylon couldn’t see his reaction. Nothing but a silent guard—who might discreetly poke Draylon in the back occasionally. Several other guards stood behind chairs, three behind Father’s.
Father’s chief advisor sat on Father’s other side. The advisor’s thinning hair and long white beard made him appear much older than his fifty or so years. Rumor said the man had a full head of dark hair before constant arguing with Father took its toll.
“Here are the terms of Renvalle’s surrender. All Renvalle soldiers must immediately lay down their arms,” Father stated in full “do not argue” tones. “I understand a few holdouts are hiding in the woods. They will either surrender or forfeit their lives.”
“What about the royal family, Your Majesty?” one of the Renvallians asked.
“That is entirely up to the survivors,” Father replied, far more casually than the question warranted. “The DiRici rule is at an end. I will select a new king, a loyal king.” Way to rub their noses in the former king’s duplicity.
Then again, some at this table might’ve been party to King Lleval’s scheming.
The Renvallian man persisted. “At the death of his father and brother, Prince Yarif became king.”
Father replied in bored tones, “I have it on good authority he isn’t suited for the position, especially with a kingdom bordering our enemies.”
If only Father chose the Duke of Rilekia. Though with no heirs and his position in court and in the kingdom so important, sending the duke to this far-flung kingdom wouldn’t be the most efficient use of his skills. Anything would be better than Draylon taking on the role.
If discussing terms of surrender, King Yarif should be in attendance. Father intended his absence as a statement.
“…my son, Prince Draylon.”
Oh. Draylon had better pay attention before he missed something important. He studied the faces around him, resignation, shock, and horror from the Renvallians. He’d worn the same expressions upon finding out he’d soon be married.
“Your son, Your Majesty?” a Renvallian woman asked. “But he’s a military officer! What does he know about ruling a kingdom?”
“Who better? Renvalle provides a buffer between Delletina and the remainder of the empire. They’re constantly raiding their neighbors. A strong military presence can only strengthen our borders.”
Constantly raiding? That’s not what Yarif said.
“Military presence?” The woman appeared a bit faint.
Father rested his folded hands on the table, aloofness calling her an imbecile for daring to question him. “Yes, a military presence.”
“What about the running of the kingdom? While I’m sure your son is an excellent commander, what does he know of such things?”
Draylon fought the urge to remind them that he sat in their midst, and they talked around him as though he wasn’t. Rufe poked him in the back. Yeah, yeah. Some big commander Draylon was when he couldn’t even stand out in a room.
“That’s why kings have advisors,” Father stated flatly.
“The people will never accept an outsider.” The woman slammed her hand down on the table. “The DiRicis have ruled this kingdom for hundreds of years. While the king and his heir weren’t well thought of, King Lleval’s father was a popular ruler.”
“The father was loyal,” Father said, a bit of a scowl on his face. “But never fear. We have a solution.” He eyed each of the nobles in turn. “My son will take the current king as consort. There will still be a DiRici in power.”
