Chapter Text
The royal family of Sacoridia was perfect, of course. Royal families always are. Grandmother, father, mother, two sons. As the next generation of rulers could be seen, opinion of them rose. Prince Amigast would make a fine king. He blustered, certainly. A loud, bombastic sort of man. But above all, he expressed certainty. And his wife? Well, she was the epitome of grace and elegance. They made a lovely pair.
The two sons provided more of a puzzle, though it was one that would only really be noticed later on. Prince Amigast was, openly, very proud of his sons. Amilton was a wonder – a charming boy, enthusiastic, intelligent, charismatic. The perfect future king. And Zachary, of course, was everything a second son should be. To suggest otherwise would imply some sort of… lack. And that was unthinkable. Particularly around Amigast. He simply did not allow the room for it to be thought.
Such a shame that Prince Zachary was unwell this evening and could not attend. Oh, of course, Prince Zachary is not needed here – we do not disturb his studies for a social event like this. Of course, Amilton must attend, the social niceties are vital for the development of a king-to-be. No need to worry about his little brother.
And somehow, people never did.
When, much later on, Zachary was crowned king, a number of very important people suddenly realised a startling fact: they knew nothing about him. How could this have happened?
~
To set this story in its proper context, one must go back a generation or two, or perhaps further. Fortunately, ancestry has long been a preoccupation of the nobility, and so we are hardly lacking in information.
Queen Isen Hillander came to the throne at the striking age of eighteen, after four generations of male monarchy had left its mark on the collective imagination of the nobility. An only child whose Hillander Stewardship was in the hands of a non-family member (the young Lord Sperren) for the first time in a century, she was uniquely isolated. Her formidable will, however, was her salvation. Within three years of her coronation, her temper was feared across the country, and a strictness of form and common sense prevailed over the indulgence of previous reigns.
Only once her position and command were firmly solidified did she marry, at the age of twenty-nine, to an older man of a dwindling yet respectable noble household. A year later she had her first son, Amigast, followed two years after that by his younger brother, Emry.
The two brothers got along decently enough, despite their differences in temperament. Emry, the younger and more gregarious son, married first – to his elder brother’s envy. Emry’s son Leonar was born when Emry was only twenty-three, and the daughters followed swiftly after. Amigast married three years after his younger brother, a union that was much romanticised by the people but not quite as fruitful as had been hoped. Emry, sent to take over the stewardship of Hillander Province and settled in comfortably with his wife and five children, wrote back to his brother often, full of sympathy. Lady Serian, wife of Amigast, eventually granted him a firstborn – Amilton Hillander. But it was only after three miscarriages in three years that a second child was born, very nearly at the cost of his mother’s life and certainly to the detriment of her health from then on.
Zachary Hillander’s birth was followed rather abruptly, and unfortunately, by the death of his uncle’s wife. From that point on, the family numbers stayed fairly consistent for a time as the children grew older.
And here we begin properly, at Sacor City Keep with the royal family in residence: Queen Isen, undaunted and unforgiving; Prince Amigast, brash and preoccupied; Lady Serian, fragile and contained; Prince Amilton, no longer the sole recipient of his parents’ attentions; and Prince Zachary, just starting out.
~
There were several conversations. One, repeated over and over down the years, went something like this:
‘Zachary, what is it this time?’
Zachary swallowed and tried to stand up straighter. His father looked at him over his desk, unimpressed. Zachary’s height only just allowed him to be properly seen in this way.
‘Amilton was hitting.’
Amigast sighed.
‘What did you do to annoy your brother?’ he said wearily.
The conversation had different details each time, but it always ended the same way. And each time, afterwards, there would be another, and it started with the following words:
‘I warned you not to tell.’
Then it varied. Older brothers can be many things, but a certain type of sibling can always be inventive.
Some conversations were more singular. Such as the one between the mender and the second son, aged eight.
‘Zachary, open your eyes for me. I know you’re awake.’
Zachary opened his eyes immediately. He knew when to do what he was told. Mother always said you mustn’t lie to menders, even if you lied to everyone else. But that was a contradiction. Most things were.
The Chief Mender smiled gently at him.
‘How are we feeling?’ he asked. ‘Tired?’
Zachary nodded, and the Chief Mender nodded back.
‘We’ll let you get some more sleep soon. How about hungry – are you hungry?’
Zachary nodded again, more slowly this time.
After a little coaxing, porridge with honey was chosen – then it was sent for, and eaten with a reassuring promptness.
When the remains of the meal had been taken away, the Chief Mender smiled at Zachary again.
‘We need to have a little talk, you and I,’ he said. ‘Some of the things I need to ask you about may be a little frightening, but I promise it is fine to talk about them here.’
Zachary watched him, trying not to show the wariness he felt. Father told him it gave him ‘a nasty suspicious look’ when he showed it. The Chief Mender was watching him closely in return.
‘Zachary, can you tell me why you’re here?’ he asked.
Zachary thought about this one carefully.
‘I got very upset,’ he said. ‘And I couldn’t stop being… upset.’
‘You had hysterics, that’s right,’ said the Chief Mender. ‘You’ve described it very well, thank you. Now. Can you tell me what made you upset?’
Zachary thought about this even longer. There were traps and pitfalls here.
‘I don’t know,’ he said eventually. This was untrue, but adults generally accepted it. Particularly if there had been a very long pause before it. They got bored, probably.
The Chief Mender did not look bored.
‘Zachary, can you tell me what happened this morning? Start when you woke up and talk me through right up to when you got upset.’
‘I got up, and had breakfast. Then I was ill.’ Truths were best, especially if you missed things out. They were better than lies, which got you caught.
‘What sort of ill?’
Zachary chewed his lip, then stopped. Mother said well-behaved boys didn’t chew their lips – it was just a kind of fidgeting, and that wasn’t allowed.
‘I felt achy,’ he said vaguely. ‘Sometimes I get tired and… achy.’
The Chief Mender nodded.
‘I see,’ he said. ‘That must be upsetting. We’ll have a chat about that later, but for now: what happened after you were ill?’
Zachary looked away.
‘I was on my own, and I… I did something bad.’
‘What did you do?’
Somewhere in that very quiet heart, a spark of defiance flared for a moment. Zachary met the Chief Mender’s eyes.
‘I got the paint from downstairs and I threw it all over Amilton’s room.’
It had been glorious. The paint was white and thick and the bucket had been heavy, left behind by the workers redecorating a small part of the royal quarters. Zachary had been watching when they left a few nights ago. They left their things behind so that they didn’t have to carry them in and out every day. He had hauled it up to Amilton’s room, being careful to avoid any servants. Then he had taken the cover off, took the bucket by the bottom and the handle, and threw it everywhere.
After a few spins, the paint had got almost everywhere important. Tapestries, door, Amilton’s bed, his desk and chair – a bit had even splattered over the nice clean glass of the window. And naturally, quite a bit of it had ended up on Zachary. There was no helping that. He had then gone over to the wardrobe, pulled out as many of Amilton’s clothes as he could, tossed them over the room, and used a few of them to wipe out the bucket, just to make sure he had used it all up.
Then he had, quite calmly, walked out and found a cupboard to hide him until his father sent the Black Shields to find him.
‘I see. What happened then?’
Zachary thought that the answer was rather an obvious one. After all, it happened all the time, whether he meant it to or not.
‘I got in trouble.’
‘How so?’
Zachary hesitated.
‘I had to go to father’s study,’ he said slowly. ‘And father shouted at me. And I got upset. And now I’m here.’
The Chief Mender gave him another nod, and a reassuring smile.
‘That was a very good explanation, thank you Zachary. Could I ask a question?’
Zachary nodded cautiously.
‘Why did you throw paint in your brother’s room?’
There were a hundred answers, and there was also just one. Zachary didn’t share any of these with the Chief Mender, however.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. The Chief Mender raised his eyebrows.
‘I think you do, Zachary. I would like to know too. I have a guess, and I would like to know if I’m right. And if I am, I would like to do something about it.’
Zachary didn’t respond to this at all. Statements didn’t need answers. The Chief Mender tried again.
‘Zachary, your father seemed to think that you and Amilton argue a great deal,’ he said carefully. ‘Are these shouting arguments, or do they ever get physical?’
‘I don’t argue with Amilton.’ The words spilled out, and Zachary quickly clamped his mouth shut again. This was why he was always in trouble with father, he always disagreed. But the Chief Mender didn’t seem angry. On the contrary, he gave that reassuring smile again.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Why did you decide to throw paint in his room? Did he do something to upset you?’
Dangerous ground.
‘Amilton’s a good person,’ he said quietly. Words learnt by rote. ‘Sometimes we argue a bit, but it’s just what brothers do.’
‘I see.’
There was a little stretch of silence. The Chief Mender watched Zachary thoughtfully.
‘Sometimes big brothers take it too far, though,’ he suggested. ‘Sometimes people don’t realise how much bigger they are.’
Zachary stayed quiet.
‘Zachary, please tell me the truth. It won’t leave this room.’
The Chief Mender sat patiently while Zachary chewed this over.
‘He broke the glass people,’ Zachary said eventually, his voice quiet, not looking at the Chief Mender.
‘The glass people?’ came the soft question.
‘My glass people. Grandmother gave them to me. They were grandfather’s. Little glass people, on the shelf in my room. I promised her I’d look after them.’
‘I see.’
But that wasn’t quite the truth. Amilton hadn’t broken the glass figures, not exactly. He had made Zachary do it. And then they had been called to come to breakfast, and Zachary had felt very very calm, and he knew exactly what he was going to do.
He had never taken revenge on Amilton before.
He was still trying to decide if it was worth it.
The Chief Mender spoke again.
‘Zachary, is your brother often mean to you?’
Zachary felt shaken. Adults didn’t say things like this. They said other things. He repeated one of them.
‘Amilton doesn’t do anything wrong,’ he said. ‘I’m just annoying and he’s still learning to grow up.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Everybody says that.’
‘Hm. Do you know what I think?’
Zachary shook his head, slowly.
‘I think they might be incorrect,’ the Chief Mender said. ‘I think perhaps Amilton does do things wrong, sometimes. You don’t argue. No, I don’t think you do. But I think something like an argument or a fight happens quite often. Only it’s all one-sided. Am I close to the truth?’
Zachary stared determinedly at the blankets, but he felt his lip wobble a bit. It was true, after all.
‘If I’ve guessed correctly, it isn’t as though you’ve told me anything,’ the Chief Mender suggested. Zachary said nothing to this.
‘Zachary, Amilton shouldn’t hurt you. It’s wrong that he does. And it is absolutely reasonable for you to be upset about it.’
Zachary, sitting up in the bed, pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. The Chief Mender let the two of them sit in silence for a little while. Then, after he had almost given up on this particular pause, Zachary spoke in a very small voice.
‘I’m not supposed to tell tales on Amilton. Father says I’m making up stories and its bad.’
‘Do you make up stories?’ the Chief Mender asked.
‘I don’t have to. Things happen.’
Things became a little teary, then. After everything had calmed down, the Chief Mender met Zachary’s eyes.
‘Thank you for talking to me, Zachary. That was very brave. I hope you will always remember that bit of courage you have; it’s very important, and you should be proud of it.’ He gave a gentle smile. ‘Now, it’s getting late. You close your eyes and get some sleep. I’m going to get this sorted out. And I’ll be here to talk again in the morning.’
But he wasn’t.
‘The Chief Mender had to go home to his family,’ said one of the journeyman menders when Zachary asked. ‘He got a message to say that one of them was sick and that he would have to go and look after them. It came in the night.’ She paused. ‘You look awfully pale, Prince Zachary. Do try to eat a bit more of your breakfast, please.’
Conversations like that can stay with you for a very long time.
~
Later that day, Amigast Hillander closed the door behind him, leaving his Black Shield outside, and took the seat next to Zachary’s bed. Zachary stayed still and quiet, and waited. His father had a ‘speak only when you are spoken to’ rule for children.
‘Well,’ Amigast said after a little while. ‘How are you feeling? Better, are we? Good, good. I spoke to the mender. Seems you’re doing well. Some children can have the occasional… fit, of sorts. It turns out. Especially with your poor constitution. Best to try not to worry about it.’
The thing with Amigast’s manner of speech was that, even with all of its fits and starts, he somehow never sounded uncertain. He sounded more as though he was deciding how the world worked. And once he said it, he almost never rescinded it.
Zachary did not respond. Statements did not require answers.
‘The Chief Mender spoke to me last night,’ Amigast said abruptly. Zachary tensed, waiting. There was a long stretch of silence, and then Amigast spoke again.
‘Zachary, I know you’re young. And this is difficult. But it is important that you understand this.’ Amigast shifted position, then met Zachary’s eyes seriously.
‘This family depends on reputation,’ he said. ‘At the moment, mostly your grandmother’s. But increasingly, it depends on mine – and your brother’s. Amilton will be king one day. His reputation must be spotless. And you have a responsibility to support that.’
Another pause.
‘I know that Amilton can be… difficult for you,’ he said, and Zachary stared at him. His father never admitted that Amilton was less than perfect. Never.
Amigast was watching his expression, and Zachary saw the disapproval on his face.
‘The fact of the matter is, however difficult,’ he said, ‘that our family’s continuance depends not on your life, but on your brother’s. And his needs have to be put first. Regardless. I cannot have one child constantly undermining the other. And I cannot have a Chief Mender who sees fit to rebuke me in my own office.’
Pause. Zachary did not dare ask what had really happened to the Chief Mender. But he felt guilt ooze through him. He should never have told anyone.
‘Your responsibility, as a member of this family, is to support this family,’ Amigast continued heavily. ‘Regardless. Your brother will need that from you. I need that from you. And if you don’t feel that you are capable of that, I expect you to keep it to yourself in the future.’ He met Zachary’s eyes again. ‘Do you understand?’
Zachary nodded, and Amigast gave a sigh of frustration.
‘Speak up, Zachary. You have a voice.’
Zachary cleared his throat and made himself speak.
‘I understand, father.’
And he did. He understood perfectly.
Amigast sighed again.
‘Your grandmother will expect to see you this afternoon,’ he said. ‘Behave yourself.’
Zachary didn’t need more detailed instructions. He knew what that meant by now.
~
Time passed. Now see the two princes, on midsummer night, fourteen and seventeen years old, in the grounds of the keep in the flickering edge of a party. Just out of earshot of anyone else – including the other person who has just fumbled away from the older prince, running into the dark.
‘You shouldn’t do that.’
‘Well, well, look at that. If it isn’t the world’s ugliest peeping tom.’
‘I wasn’t – I didn’t come to look. You slipped the Shields, they’re looking for you.’
‘And you. Though I don’t suppose they’re as worried about you. Probably they think you’re trapped under a bookcase somewhere.’
‘Who was she?’
‘Why, you want to –’
‘No, that’s horrible. But she sounded upset –’ Zachary stopped himself.
Amilton’s eyes glinted in the shadows. Interrupting him was not something Zachary was allowed to do, and they both knew it.
‘What are you going to do about it?’ he said dangerously. ‘Oh, wait – nothing. Because you’re a whiny shit of a person who doesn’t ever do anything.’
‘I’ll tell father.’
Amilton moved. Zachary had been half-expecting it, but he still wasn’t able to avoid it. Amilton pushed him up against the wall, pulling his left arm up and twisting it around. Then he leaned close and spoke directly into Zachary’s ear.
‘You listen to me very carefully. You can tell on me if you like. You can go running to mother, or father, or your precious Rider friend – yes, I saw you talking to her again. But one day, they’re not going to be there anymore. And I will be. So if you were smart, you’d be trying to get on my good side now, because if you don’t, when I’m on the throne? Your life will be miserable, painful, and short.’
Sounds from a few feet away. Footsteps. In a practised motion, both princes separate dand straighten themselves, as though there had been nothing unusual about their conversation. Seconds later, two Black Shields appeared.
‘Prince Amilton,’ one of them said. ‘Your father asks that you do not wander away from your guards so lightly.’
Prince Amilton gave a smile.
‘My apologies,’ he said. ‘Just catching up with my little brother. Come on, Zachary. We have a party to attend.’
Zachary was staring away from him.
‘I don’t feel well,’ he said quietly. ‘I think I will retire to my rooms. Would you give father my apologies?’
There was an odd, tense moment, and then Amilton gave a short laugh.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘We all know your health is… less than ideal. I will inform our father.’
‘Thank you.’
They parted, and Zachary made his way back to his rooms without allowing himself to touch his throbbing wrist.
~
Serian Hillander, wife to Amigast, mother to Amilton and Zachary, lost her long struggle with ill health in the third year of her husband’s reign.
The people gathered at the keep to mourn. The family, of course, gave few public appearances. Grief was a private thing. There was a great deal of understanding and sorrow – Queen Serian had been a charming, benevolent public presence, and very well-liked. Amigast was so clearly broken-hearted at the funeral, and it shone through even at council meetings and other more public appearances. His grief seemed to fill the keep like a cloud.
The two sons were seen less often. Prince Amilton was uncharacteristically sombre at gatherings, a stark contrast to his usually charming self that drew sympathy from all sides. Prince Zachary was a ghost, even more so that usual, fading into the background in the family line-up. When the family appeared to greet people, Amigast and Amilton drew people to them; Zachary appeared to almost repel them. He seldom spoke, and kept his eyes down. He disappeared from events at the earliest opportunity, and engaged no one in conversation. For once in his life, he was not rebuked for it. For a little while, his life was almost peaceful. Zachary was grieving, but more than that he felt guilty. Guilty to be glad of the peace he had, when it had come at the cost of his mother’s life.
Time, once again, passed.
~
Zachary entered the office at his father’s summons and walked to stand in the designated spot. Two feet away from the edge of the desk, to his father’s right. He stood quietly, made sure his hands were clasped and still behind his back, and waited.
Amigast finished with the paperwork in front of him and moved it to one side. Then he looked up. As always, he seemed to take in his youngest son in one glance and not see anything to be pleased about.
‘You’re going to Hillander,’ he said abruptly. ‘About time you learnt something useful. Sixteen is young for a Lord-Governor, but you need the experience. I’m making the position dependant on your uncle – he’ll be able to negate your decisions if he sees you in error. Don’t think that’s an excuse to be lazy, though. I’ll be expecting a full report from him on your progress after six months.’
If Zachary had been anyone else, he might have had the urge to grip the edge of the desk or ask if his father was serious. As it was, he merely paled slightly, his thoughts racing. He was being sent away? To Hillander? As Lord-Governor? Young Lord-Governors were not unheard of, particularly in Hillander. Zachary’s Uncle Emry, the current Lord-Governor of Hillander, had been instated at the age of twenty. The position was unlike that of the other Lord-Governors in that it firstly was technically a stewardship (the monarch held the title officially but couldn’t be expected to perform the duties in addition to running the country), and secondly was not hereditary. It was usually given to the younger child of the royal family at whatever appropriate age the monarch decided, allowing them to be supported by the previous Lord-Governor.
No, this wasn’t necessarily unusual in and of itself. Zachary simply could not quite believe that his father thought enough of him to grant him – oh. No, of course not. No. Zachary held back a grim little smile as he realised why he was actually being given it. He gave his father the expected response.
‘Thank you, father, this is a great honour. I promise that I will work hard.’
Amigast, as expected, scowled.
And now I will hear the real reason, Zachary thought.
‘I’m not giving it to you to honour you,’ Amigast said bluntly. ‘I’m giving it to you because you need the training. And because I’m damn tired of dealing with your antagonistic behaviour with Amilton.’
Naturally.
‘Wainwright suggested that perhaps the two of you just needed time apart. That you’re under a lot of pressure, the both of you. I don’t know if I agree with that. But I expect you to shape up in this position, or it will be taken away from you. Emry’s son is more than capable of taking it on if you turn out not to be. Understand?’
‘Yes, father.’
Wainwright? Devon Wainwright? The councillor who represented the Order of the Black Shields was, unsurprisingly, extremely stoic – and not, in Zachary’s experience, prone to making personal comments about the royal family. But then, as his father always insisted, for the royal family, the personal and the public were often interchangeable.
‘You leave at the end of the week,’ Amigast continued. ‘There’ll be paperwork for you to look at and sign, and you’ll have to take the Lord-Governor’s oath. You’ll be called for it, I expect you to get it memorised yourself. You spend enough time in the damn library, you should be able to manage that.’
‘Yes, father.’
‘That will be all.’
Amigast bent over his paperwork again. Zachary bowed, and left.
He took the instruction from his father literally, because no one would argue with it, and went straight to the keep library. It was late, but the librarian gave a smile and a bow when he came in. He nodded at her but did not speak, preserving the hush. The staff here knew he would ask for their help if necessary, anyway.
Two hours later he sat back in his chair, digging the fingers of one hand into the palm of the other, trying to stay calm. The words of the formal Lord-Governor’s oath lay in front of him.
Amilton could not be behind this. Amilton would never allow Zachary to gain position or be sent away from him. But Amilton would, without a doubt, be pleased with the official vow.
If Zachary took this, and left the country, he could be hunted down as a traitor.
He licked his lips, and stared at the words again.
Of course, it was a stewardship, technically. Which meant it would probably be easier to resign. Perhaps he could resign of ill-health, and then – no, he would be called back to the keep. And his father would require a mender’s evidence. Could he make it look as though he had had some kind of accident? Amilton would willingly believe Zachary had ended his own life. But it would be investigated.
He made himself breathe more steadily. It was fine, it was manageable. This complicated things, but it did not have to be the end of everything. And this position, while more visible, would give him the geographical distance from Amilton to research what he needed. Not to mention the proximity of the coastline – could he pay his way aboard a merchant ship? No, there were only so many of those, that would be easier to track. But travelling by land would make him easier to outrun.
The simple fact that he came back to every time was that he did not have the skills to travel independently. He would have to leave some kind of trace, and probably more than he intended.
It was nearly dawn before he pulled himself out of the spiral of thought and left the library to get a few hours of sleep.
The moment he entered his room, he knew something was wrong. He turned.
Amilton was stood there, leaning against the wall by the window, watching him.
‘Amilton,’ Zachary said warily, going over to the wardrobe to put away his jacket – the keep corridors were cold at night.
‘What were you talking to father about?’ Amilton asked.
Zachary tried not to let his surprise show on his face. Amilton seemed to know everything about everything these days. It wasn’t unlike father to decide something abruptly and not announce it, but Amilton usually found out anyway. He wouldn’t like being taken by surprise.
‘Father is sending me to Hillander, to take up the Lord-Governor’s position,’ Zachary said carefully. ‘Though I will be supervised by Lord Emry.’
Amilton pushed away from the wall, and Zachary held back a flinch. He knew better than that. Stay still, don’t attract his attention. Be as dull and uninteresting as possible.
‘He’s giving you the Lord-Governor position?’ Amilton repeated, brown creased, expression distasteful. ‘What does he want, to ruin the province?’
Zachary had been expecting the insult, and it didn’t really sting. Much.
‘I think he wants to separate us,’ he said quietly. ‘And I’ll be expected to take up the position one day. Emry will have veto power over my decisions and be reporting back to father. I doubt I’ll be given enough room to ruin anything.’
He suppressed an internal wince at that last statement. Disagreeing with Amilton was never a good idea. But Amilton didn’t seem to register it, or didn’t care. He stared at Zachary as though he could see right through to his bones.
‘When are you going?’ he asked.
‘The end of the week,’ Zachary said.
Amilton didn’t respond to this. Zachary waited. Amilton liked to build up tension, he knew it frightened people. It frightened Zachary, but he was used to it. It was late. Amilton must have been up ‘socialising’ – probably gambling with some of his friends – and he might have waited up even later waiting for Zachary to return to his room. He probably wouldn’t bother with anything tonight.
Zachary’s prediction turned out to be correct. Amilton left wordlessly, letting the door click shut behind him. Zachary counted to ten in his head before he locked it, and only then did he get changed and climb into bed.
~
On his last morning in Sacor City, Zachary woke with the dawn. He dressed quickly for breakfast, though it was two or three hours away – his father was not prone to early rising these days, and this morning’s farewell breakfast would be a family affair. Then he edged quietly out of his room, soft-footed his way through the royal quarters, and headed up through the keep.
The view from this tower was clear and good, and Zachary breathed it in. Sacor City spilled out from around the keep itself, and then the vast expanse of the Green Cloak spread out west. The forest’s westernmost edge nearly reached Selium, he knew. Beyond that, Adolind – D’Lvary – Mirwell – Wayman. He had never seen any of them. There had seldom been a reason for him to leave the central parts of the keep, let alone the town or the countryside beyond.
Slowly, Zachary walked clockwise around the tower, taking in the view a piece at a time.
To the north the Green Cloak continued into darkness, reaching through Penburn and Oldbury until it began to fade into scrubland, far beyond the border. There were a few small towns near the border, but not much further on – the land was hardly arable, and the temperatures low and inhospitable.
In the east, the Wingsong Mountains rose to touch the sky, their points hazy even on this clear day. Snow-touched, Zachary had read, all the year around. And the Eastern Provinces on the other side – Arey, Coutre, and Bairdly.
Finally, he turned south. To his left, the distant hills were D’Yer Province – and beyond them the D’Yer Wall and the near-mythical forest of Blackveil. To his right, L’Petrie Province and the great merchant city of Corsa. Between the two: Hillander.
He stared at it as though doing so would grant him details of the landscape. It remained at the edge of the horizon, unknowable.
~
Breakfast was the usual stilted affair that it was now. Amigast spoke about state matters; Amilton engaged him in his best ‘confident heir to the throne’ manner. Zachary ate silently, avoiding their attention.
After breakfast, he slipped back to his room and changed for the journey. He had a small leather side bag in which he would carry little necessities – water, an apple, a book, a spare scarf in case the wind was cold. He packed that, then stood in his room for a moment. He should feel something, he thought. Some kind of… something. He might well be leaving this room forever. Certainly he would be leaving it for longer than he ever had before. But there was nothing.
He left without looking back, and headed downstairs.
The farewell was an awkward affair. His father and Amilton walked him to the steps of the courtyard, where the party of guards waited to escort him to Hillander Keep. His father gave a brief speech about doing the family proud. Both of Amigast and Amilton shook his hand and clasped him in an uncomfortable hug. Zachary almost couldn’t bear the delay.
A final formal bow, and then he was mounting his horse and being guided forward by his guards. Out of the courtyard – out of the gate – he turned back once and saw his father and Amilton still standing on the steps, wondered whether he should wave or not, decided there was no one to make him do it and kept his hands by his sides – turned forward again and they were on Winding Way, the people peering at him from the sides of the road and the occasional window.
And then they were out of the city.
The moment they stepped outside of the city gate would stay with Zachary for the rest of his life. The sound of that first hoof down on the ground, the beginning of freshness in the air after the closeness of the city, the light coming through the leaves of the trees, the air on his skin – all of it felt brand new. For one, shining moment, he could taste the idea of a free life. A life where if someone hurt you, if your work was hard, or even if you just felt like a change, you could simply walk away. Walk away into the rest of the world.
Then the guards in front of him exchanged a quiet comment, and Zachary was staring at their uniform again. Hillander uniform, royal branch. A tree with its roots in an entire country, stretching out from coast to coast, border to border. Hidden under everything. He would be watched in Hillander, he was certain. His father – Amilton – could hardly be so lax as to leave him to his freedom. And he was sworn to the crown.
He felt his mood sinking again, and sought to distract himself. He tried to go through all he knew or remembered of the family in Hillander.
His uncle, Lord Emry. The Lord-Governor he was replacing. Brother to Amigast, Zachary’s father. Younger than Amigast, of course, but he had married much earlier. Lady Lissia had died around fifteen years ago, in childbirth. They had four children. The three youngest were daughters, all already married and living away with their husbands (the last and youngest only a year older than Zachary, and only married this year). The eldest was a son, Lord Leonar, Zachary’s cousin. He was married to Lady Marin. They had two children, still very small.
So that was the family tree. But the personalities were mysteries. Zachary knew he had met Emry, Leonar, and Marin at his mother’s funeral, and before that at his father’s coronation. But he was never in the thick of social conversation, and had as usual excused himself as early as was acceptable. He rolled some of the tension out of his shoulders and tried to think. Emry he vaguely remembered from the occasional childhood visit as a distorted double of his father – loud when talking, emphatic in gesture, but not controlling the room in the same way. Marin and Leonar he had no real recollection of, save their serious faces at the funeral.
This was where his relative isolation was going to really inconvenience him. He would have to start from the ground up with people. And undoubtedly, people who had been given his father’s opinion of him. Zachary told himself that his heart wasn’t sinking at the thought. That was how it always was, there was no sense in being disappointed. However strange it had felt riding out of the gate, this wasn’t a grand adventure – Hillander Keep would be every bit as dangerous as Sacor City Keep, particularly in that he was unfamiliar with it.