"King Roald! King Roald!" a messenger shouted. "Urgent message from the North!"
"Enter!" Roald commanded from his dais where he was praying. A young man, no older than 15 or so, entered the room at a run, a piece of parchment with the Queenscove seal adorning it.
Neal Roald thought.
The man – or rather boy – knelt at the King's feet and began to say the appropriate things, do the appropriate bows that were required of a commoner that addressed a member of royalty.
"Not now, boy. What have you?" Roald scorned.
"I apologise, sir!" the boy groveled, passing the note to his King.
"Good day, lad," Roald said, flipping a coin to the boy. He knew a dismissal.
"Thank you, sire! Thank you!" he said extravagantly, and ran from the room. Roald hastened to see what Neal had to report. After retiring from Training Master, Neal had taken up George on his offer to take over Spymaster duty. Tidings under the Queenscove seal rarely meant pleasant news.
Roald,
Fort Catarid was taken under siege, and retaken an hour or so later.
Kel is dead. She was killed by three mages when she tried to save two small children.
Faleron and Seconds are accompanying myself and Kel's body home. The message was sent via birds.
NQ
Short, crisp sentences. That was Roald's way, not Neal's. Neal was elaborate and concise.
Except at the loss of a friend.
Roald remembered a similar message in Neal's handwriting about Cleon's death. It, too, conveyed each message in as few words as possible.
That was Neal. When things get emotional, say nothing.
Neal, Faleron and his Second company of the King's Own arrived only a day later. Dom had risen to second in command of third company, and, naturally, he also attended, as her husband. Owen just an hour after, his Caval bride in tow. Wyldon himself attended, more somber than any of them had seen these long forty years they had known him.
Faleron didn't say a word. He nodded to his King, and showed up where it was proper, but didn't say a word.
Neal, too, was largely silent. If he said anything at all, it was only to Yuki, Roald or Dom, who knew her, and him, best.
Owen jabbered on incessantly about the many times Kel had saved his skin, and his many memories of her.
Neal, Dom, Faleron and Owen took to wandering the castle and Corus. Often they heard snippets of conversations of Kel's passing as they walked by. Once or twice they spoke ill of the Lady Knight. Their mistake was quickly amended, with the promise of more trouble if it was repeated.
Neal's punches left the biggest bruises, though.
"You'll speak?" Dom croaked to King Roald.
"I- I beg your pardon?" Roald stuttered.
"Neal or I cannot, Faleron and Lalasa will not, and I refuse to have Owen or Wyldon speak at my wife's funeral."
"Of course Roald will speak," Jonathan announced his presence in a wheeze.
"Thank you," Dom nodded and left the room.
"Father, what are you thinking?" Roald scolded once Dom had closed the large doors behind him. "I cannot speak at her funeral!"
"You must, Roald. It is your Duty," Jon ordered.
"It is my Duty to give prayers to the Gods for a fallen friend? A friend who's advice I've trusted beyond all others bar my Prime Minister and Spymaster? A friend who helped me through my page years, helped me understand my wife and helped me be the man I am today? How can I, father?"
"It is your Duty, Roald. You have no choice. In this instance, you must put away your fear and regret, and keep your feelings at the top of your mind. You must be The King of Tortall for majority of this time, and be Sir Keladry of Mindelan and Masbolle's friend at others. I cannot instruct you on the correct process, for it is your friend."
"Father," Roald protested.
"Hush, my son, for I fear that I will not be in the land of the living for very much longer. I can instruct you on little from here. You are not to be my son, you are to be King Roald, leader of Tortall. You re not to make the same mistakes I have done, and trust the advice of others over what is best for my country. You are not to do things as you believe I would, but as you believe you should. The time has come, Roald, for you to step up. You have been King for ten years, and still you have not taken the correct responsibility. You, Roald, have a Duty. Duty to your people that you know in times of hardship, and Duty to those you do not know in the same times. The Realm has lost a great, great Knight. A loss that shall be felt across the lands. You must lead them through this, and give them a reason to follow you. You must show strength when you are weak, show compassion when you are troubled. You must be their leader, Roald. You are their King, and this is your Duty."
