The next morning, just before 10 a.m., Kalahad ordered his Executive Officer to beam Kelson down from the ship, meeting him at the transporter pad of the hospital.
"Uncle," Kelson said as he stepped down from the pad.
"Did you sleep?" Kalahad asked.
"Well enough," Kelson answered with a shrug.
"Good. We have much to discuss. But I thought you would like to see Merlyn before we go meet with Korvath."
"Yes, most definitely," Kelson agreed.
"Come." Kalahad led the way into the hospital with two royal guards and two of Kalahad's own guards falling in behind them. Ellis was at the desk again this morning. He rose and bowed deeply to Kelson.
"Your Majesty, Your Highness," he said, acknowledging Kalahad as well. "You'll be wanting to see Prince Merlyn, no doubt."
"Yes, I do want to see him. Was he as badly hurt as he looked to be?" Kelson asked as Ellis came around the desk and led the way toward Merlyn's room.
"I'm afraid so, your majesty. It will take him a long time to fully recover," Ellis answered grimly. "Physically, perhaps six to eight weeks but psychologically… that could take quite a long time. Years."
Ellis let them into the secured room. Healer Anthony was dozing in a chair next to Merlyn's bed but came to his feet at the sound of the door opening, blinking away sleep and brandishing a weapon, which he immediately lowered as he recognized the party.
"Your majesty, good morning," he said, bowing to him and moving away from Merlyn's bedside. "Your Highness."
Kelson stepped up alongside Merlyn's bed with Kalahad taking the other side. Merlyn opened his eyes partway and gave them both a half smile.
"Uncle, I'm so sorry this happened," Kelson said, dismayed at the injuries he had sustained.
"I never thought Gwydion would go this far," Merlyn agreed. "But I know that you had no part in this, Kelson."
"Uncle Kalahad told you then."
"He didn't have to. I knew when I glimpsed you brandishing that sword in the corridor outside my cell. Your magic was crackling in the air, you were so furious at what you were seeing," Merlyn said softly. "I will recover. And then we will talk."
"Yes, after you've recovered, brother," Kalahad reinforced. "I have other plans for Kelson in the meantime, to prepare him to fully rule."
They stayed and talked with Merlyn for about 15 minutes until it was clear his energy was flagging, then told him to rest and left him under Anthony's watch. "We will go to see Korvath now," Kalahad said, pleased to see that Kelson was eager to see his brother.
Korvath rushed to embrace his older brother as soon as he saw him. He'd been so worried that Kelson had been badly injured or killed, despite the assurances of James and E'Katerina. In this case, seeing was believing.
"I'm alright," Kelson said as he hugged his brother tightly.
"And Merlyn?"
"He's very badly injured, but the healers say that he will recover in time."
"What about Mother?"
"Your mother is dead, Korvath. But she regained her honor in death," Kalahad told him solemnly.
Korvath was visibly upset and turned away so as not to show that to his brother and uncle. He didn't need to; Kalahad understood. He was a boy who'd lost his parents in that moment, not a prince who had survived royal treachery. After a moment, Korvath turned to face them again.
"So what happens now? When will you be coronated?" he asked Kelson.
"I don't know yet. I've made Uncle Kalahad the regent for now," Kelson answered, drawing a surprised look from James and E'Katerina. "In light of how widespread this treachery was, I thought it better for someone with more experience fighting and ruling to be in charge right now."
"I agree with my nephew," Kalahad said as he took a seat and accepted an ale from E'Katerina. "He has more that he should learn before he is coronated king. While he is learning, I will continue to root out the traitors to this world."
"So you'll be teaching him then," James surmised as he waved Kelson to a seat and then joined them.
"I will not. I am sending him off world to be taught."
"Off world? My prince, respectfully, that's just crazy," James protested. "In what way does it make sense to send the king off world to train to rule his kingdom?"
"He knows what he needs to know about this kingdom, Lord James," Kalahad said resolutely. "What he doesn't know about are the major political players beyond the system. He needs to learn about them, about the many cultures that trade on this planet, about intergalactic strategy, politics and diplomacy. He needs to be confident enough that 50 year old Lords with decades of experience will not question the orders of their 20 year old king because he conveys competence and confidence with his commands and shows wisdom in his dealings with off world factions. This is best learned first hand and that means off world. Were he my son, I would have sent him into the navy, either Mantarran or Klingon, the moment he turned 14. Since I am not satisfied that I have rooted out all of the traitorous factions that turned brother against brother here, the Mantarran Navy is out of question. He will go to Morgaine's fleet and learn there. Korvath, you and I will teach, along with E'Katerina, but the young prince will live here in Glastonbury for now."
James was still disquieted at the thought of Kelson leaving the planet but he could see the wisdom and logic in Kalahad's argument. After what they had just gone through, he would not challenge Kalahad on this issue, especially since Kelson himself had declared Kalahad regent and seemed at least interested in the idea of training off world.
"You're certain he will be safe in the Klingon Navy?" E'Katerina asked.
"Morgaine will make certain of it. I have given orders that it is to be made abundantly clear that he holds no permanent rank and is not on a command path. There will be nothing to gain by challenging him and everything to lose by striking down the king of Mantarra."
Kalahad remained in Glastonbury for several hours, giving the brothers time alone together while he planned for Korvath's education with James and E'Katerina. He had decided to take James' suggestion to send along a Mantarran guard with Kelson, for an added layer of protection. He had just the guard in mind. While at the hospital, one of the Camelot guards who had helped to overthrow Gywdion and the archbishop as soon as Kalahad's forces had arrived, had impressed him with the way he was able to handle the sharp tongued and quick tempered Healer Anthony. Rakzhol was a fierce fighter but surprisingly even tempered for a Klingon. He would do well for the task.
Kalahad hugged his young nephew when it was time for him to leave with James. Such shows of affection were frowned on in the Empire but he knew that Korvath needed it from him and freely gave it, along with the unspoken message that he would keep Korvath, and Kelson, safe.
Once back in the New London Admiralty, they were met by Captain Rakzhol, who came to attention at once, before giving both men a deep, respectful bow. Kalahad gestured for him to follow them into his office.
"Kelson, I have arranged placement for you on one of your Aunt Morgaine's ships. You'll serve as a member of the crew. I have made it clear that you are not in the chain of succession, to prevent any attempts to assassinate you for rank but that will not protect from non-lethal duels or training injuries. You'll have to leave Excalibur here, of course. We'll drive it into the stone in the Great Hall before you leave. Take your signet ring with you. Rakzhol, you will go with him and serve with the crew as well; however your primary task will be to see to it that he survives. Is this clear?"
"It is, Prince Kalahad," Rakzhol answered at once. "I have sworn my life on oath to this purpose already."
"Kalel," he said over the comm-link. The man stepped into the room. "Get these two fitted with Klingon Naval uniforms."
Soon enough, Kelson stood staring at himself in the mirror, trying to reconcile the image he was seeing. The uniform was so different from the clothes he normally wore, it felt stiff and uncomfortable. He certainly didn't look Mantarran anymore. He was very glad that Rakzhol was going with him since he was very nervous at the idea of being off world and just a crew member for… well, he didn't know how long it would be. Until Kalahad was satisfied, he guessed.
Commander Talon stepped onto the bridge of his vor'cha class heavy cruiser, The Black Hand, and headed to the empty command chair. His command second was recently deceased and he deliberately had not named another. Talon's tall, blond form was unmistakable anywhere on the ship, however, even in the dimmest lighting.
"Commander!" his chief of security declared, with a salute. Talon waved off the acknowledgements and sat down heavily with a creaking of leathers. "Helm, prepare to cast off," he ordered. He flipped open the input screen built into the armrest of his chair and began to enter coordinates. "Sending coordinates."
"Yes, Commander," the large Klingon who was also very talented at the helm answered. His name was Kavish. No house. And, without having been recognized for his talents by Talon, he would have faced a very dim future indeed. So many of his crew were like that. In Morgaine's fleet, however, the rules were different. It was a gamble, but one they were willing to take. If the old, staid Empire would not receive them, was it not time them to prove to it how wrong those ways were?
The young woman who moved silently behind him, to his right, surveyed the bridge but made no comment.
Talon smirked. She was curious but held her tongue. Good. Maybe she was learning.
Finally.
He let her stew, knowing it was a test. Just because she was his daughter did not always mean she had privilege over the others.
And just because she'd recently killed his second in command in an honor duel the day before did not -necessarily- mean Talon had to give her the spot.
It had to be eating her up inside.
K'talia stared ahead, barely keeping her temper in check. The stitches in her side and thigh were still causing her some discomfort, to tell the truth. She reminded herself that Talon had his reasons for every little thing he did or said. It was how he played the game.
And he was proud of her. He'd told her so last night, as she lay in her bunk and wondered if the pain would ever let her sleep. At that moment, her entire life felt worth it. For once. It gave her the depth to find restraint today. A new and wholly different feeling than she'd ever felt before. Maybe she was finally growing up; her biology was uniquely her own, after all. She lagged so far behind her pureblood Klingon shipmates in that regard. At 18 years of age, she -should- have already achieved greater success, or failure, by now.
Talon was uniquely qualified to understand this; and gave her the window of time to mature so she could truly stand on her own. She got it now. So many years of angrily opposing him, hoping to cause him the hurt that she, honestly, still harbored deep inside herself.
She kept her silent vigil.
In the command chair, Talon smiled to himself, and then stood. "We are heading to Mantarra, Lieutenant Commander," he addressed K'talia; announcing her promotion. "It is a polite visit. You have the conn. Alert me when we are in orbit."
She saluted smartly. "Yes, my lord!"
The Black Hand dropped out of warp as it entered the Mantarran system. Five worlds circling a yellow star, the third of which the only one that was habitable. Almost immediately, the communications officer reported, "We are being hailed, Lieutenant. By the IKV Devastator," he added, a bit startled to see Kalahad's flagship in a sentry position for the entire system.
"On screen," she replied cooly.
The bridge of the Devastator saw a confident woman with long, dark hair and surprisingly green eyes staring with just enough challenge, just enough deference. "Devastator, this is The Black Hand, en route to Mantarra. We are expected."
Kalahad's second in command, looked at her with a toothy smile. "This is a surprise. Though perhaps not under Fleet Captain Morgaine's command. I am Commander Kaleb epetai-Kehar, Executive Officer. When you have been granted parking orbit by the Mantarran Navy, Commander Talon is ordered to beam down to the Admiralty in New London. Fleet Commander Kalahad awaits him there with orders to be delivered in person. Be certain not to provoke the Mantarrans; the situation is volatile and Kalahad will deliver harsh retribution to anyone who stirs it up further. I trust that is clear enough?" Kaleb asked with a smirk. "Don't keep Kalahad waiting," he added, then closed the transmission.
K'talia waited until the link was closed. She rolled her eyes. "I guess that means I won't be lighting firecrackers off under anyone's ass while we're here," she said flatly. "Of course we understand!" she growled.
She punched the com button on the command chair. "Commander. We are here. You've been ordered to beam down to meet with the Admiralty in New London, my lord. There is a warning not to antagonize the Mantarrans. Fleet Admiral Kalahad is in a mood."
"Acknowledged, Lieutenant. I trust you will not begin any unnecessary blood feuds in my absence. You have the con."
"My lord," she replied, and cut the connection. Standing, she then slinked over behind the helmsman. "Move us in, graceful and efficient."
"As always," Kavish grumbled his reply. It sounded like a small mountain shifting position. She was rather certain the helm chair was custom made, just to hold this man.
She nodded her approval, and watched; eyes narrowing as the planet came into view. The little noise in the back of her head grew louder, until she had to grind her teeth and forcibly block it. Still, it was there, like a vibration from music too far away to hear.
It was giving her an instant headache.
"Everyone, stay sharp. Scanners, I want data on New London to the chair. If any of the local vessels so much as wiggle unexpectedly, I want to know."
She stalked back to the chair and took it again. It was torture. She'd much rather be going planetside, to face whatever it was which caused the back of her head to ache. Still, this was her first command, and she would be damned if she would let anything short of a personal tac-nuke leveled at her personally mar it in any way.
When they'd triple verified the coordinates, Talon was beamed down. Her facial expression did not change, but she wished the naked stars to go before him to clear his path. Too many nervous Klingons in one place rarely meant safety and security.
And she'd be ready.
One minute had passed.
It was going to be hell.