Chapter Three: Everything We Expected

"High Lord Akkarin of the Family Delvon, House Velan to see you at your request, Your Majesty," the young announcer called before scurrying away.

"You came then?" The voice, suitably regal in tone, seemed to come from nowhere, and echoed around the great room. "I thought you might not."

"Have I ever ignored a royal summons, Your Majesty?" Akkarin replied, still in the doorway.

"I suppose not," the voice said. Then a suitably regal man came into view, and Akkarin bowed, a gesture he was more used to receiving than giving these days. As he straightened, he noticed Merin was holding two glasses of wine. He held one out to Akkarin, which was excepted. "I wondered if you could bear to be in the same room as me after I berated you so last time we spoke."

King Merin was very alike to Akkarin in a lot of ways- they were both young, tall, slim, authority rested comfortably on both their sets of shoulders, but there was still a hint of boyishness about the monarch. Whilst Merin was clearly a mature young man who had certainly grown up a lot since the crown had been placed on his head, his eyes still held the slight twinkle of a maturity mixed with the foolishness of youth Akkarin had noted in the newly graduated magicians of the Guild. It had been many years since that look had been found in Akkarin's eyes, but the two men still considered each other good friends. Well, until the other day, that is. The two had never openly disagreed before. When they had had differing opinions in the past, they had always managed to avoid asking each other outright for the other's view, and it seemed to work very well for both of them. But this time, they could not avoid having a frank exchange of opinion which Akkarin, not being royal, was set up to lose.

Akkarin fixed the ruler with a steady look. "It is my duty to take such beratings, as you well know, sir."

Merin smiled then for the first time.

"As I well know. Still, I believe I was…unnecessarily harsh, to you in particular. I apologise, High Lord, I know it wasn't your fault. I was just shocked, that's all." He held out his free hand, which Akkarin took and shook.

"As were we all. No apology is necessary, but it is accepted nonetheless."

"Good." Merin turned and walked down the audience room to the august window at the far side, taking a sip of wine as he did so. Akkarin followed, admiring the room's splendour. It was designed to impress, as it was mainly used for when visiting ambassadors and even other royalty and their entourage came to Imardin. Five large white marble pillars ran along each side of the room, with the King's crest carved countless times into them. The marble pillars held up a high, arched ceiling, painted with scenes from Kyralia's history. Cleansed history, Akkarin noted. Whilst there were stain glass windows along down both sides of the room, each centred around a picture of one of Imardin's monarchs, it was the window at the other end of the room that caught the eye. The view was beautiful, an uninterrupted view of the city from the Inner Circle to the glittering waves of the Marina. The throne stood before the window on a raised dais. It looked surprisingly small and alone today, though Akkarin had been here many times before, both on quiet days and at great festivals, and it never seemed that way before, and he wondered at it. Altogether, Akkarin felt the room represented everything that royalty is meant to represent: simple traditions, but executed beautifully. From the blood red of the carpet at the centre of the room that changed from to a subtler pink as it reached the corners, to the walls that almost seem to shine from the gold wallpaper, he could understand why people believed the Kyralian monarchy was the greatest in the known lands.

"So, tell me of your progress."

"The boy's family have been found and informed of the particulars. They are, naturally, supremely angry, but willing to work with us to consider what a good compensation would be."

"A good compensation, for their son's life?" Merin slowed and gave Akkarin a dubious look. "Neither of us are fathers as yet, Akkarin, but even you should know that money cannot heal such wounds to the heart."

"No, but I don't see what else we can do…for now, at least."

Merin continued to give Akkarin a calculating look, which was levelly returned. The High Lord was very fond of his King. They had known each other since boyhood, and having grown up with him, Akkarin knew Merin to be wise, considerate, kind, but also able to make difficult and unpopular decisions when necessary. He wasn't one to back away from a fight. But he also knew that Merin liked to try and intimidate people, but was very dismissive of the people that he was able to successfully intimidate. So the High Lord trod a careful line between being confident and "going too far". Merin seemed satisfied with his response, and finally looked away.

"Well, that be as it may. How is the magician who was struck, Lord…?

"Fergun, Your Majesty."

"Lord Fergun, yes, he is recovered?"

Akkarin held back both a snort of derision and a snide retort, but kept both to himself and gave Merin a measured response. "Perfectly, sir. He is now helping with the search."

"Good, well at least there's that. And what of the rogue, the girl?"

"She's not a rogue, sir."

"Fine, whatever it is you said she is. You haven't caught her?"

"No, she has hidden herself away in the slums very well, it seems. It may take a little while longer to ferret her out."

"A little time longer, what does that mean?"

"How long is a piece of string, sir?"

Merin gave an annoyed grunt in response. "And her powers could become dangerous in that time. That's what you said to me the other day."

"Yes, I did, but I have every confidence we will find her long before her powers become destructive."

"Hmm." Merin looked out through the impressively build picture window, and Akkarin followed his gaze to the outer most parts of the city, his city. Merin sighed, and Akkarin realised something in that moment- Merin was truly worried. "A thousand places to hide. A thousand places that could be destroyed."

"I won't let that happen, Merin. You have my word." Akkarin was surprised by the gentleness of his voice.

Merin's head turned slightly at the use of his name, but he didn't look at Akkarin.

"I will hold you to that, High Lord" he murmured. They looked out of the window together, watching the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon. It had been a long day for both of them.

Merin took in a deep breath. "The Master of International Trade has asked that the port be reopened. Is demanding it, actually. I have given him my assurances that it will be reopened tomorrow."

Akkarin was surprised by this, and responded quickly. "Your Majesty, I would respectfully ask you to hold off its reopening until we've at least had a chance-"

"We cannot risk trade being disrupted any longer, or our buyers will go elsewhere. Merchants are impatient, fickle people." Merin passed a hand over his face before draining the last of the wine in his glass. "I understand this is not what you want to hear, Akkarin, but you have to understand that I'm having to balance the opinions and desires of many, many different people throughout this." He turned from the window. "Do I have your assent?"

Akkarin was amused by this. "Do you need it?"

"No, obviously. But I should like to have it regardless."

Akkarin was silent for a moment, thinking through the decision. "As you wish, sir. After all, I doubt an embargo would stop her if she was determined."

"My thoughts exactly."

Akkarin regarded the King. Merin, whilst clearly worried, was not being ruled by the emotion. No, he was being ruled by something else: determination.

No one had expected Merin to take up his father's empty throne so young, at barely four and twenty, but his father had died suddenly from the Sleeping Sickness that had taken many men of the same age. The six years that had passed since then had been relatively straightforward. A few House rifts had made ripples into the usual gentle lake that was Court, a few acts of government had controversially been passed or rejected, and, of course, the Purge continued. But nothing had happened to test the resilience of the young monarch. This would be Merin's first test, and from the steely expression Akkarin could see in the young man's profile, eyes glittering in the dusk light, he was determined to come out victorious. Arguing with him at this point would be a futile endeavour, so why bother?

Silence then engulfed them. Despite their friendship, it wasn't the easy, unhurried silence Akkarin found with Lorlen, but the silence of two people who have run out of things to say. Akkarin was a little disappointed by this realisation. It occurred to him them that it seemed that this 'situation', as everyone kept calling it, seemed to have put the King and himself on different sides of the table. The King saw himself as the defender against this girl, whilst he saw Akkarin as her defender. Which was ridiculous, of course. Akkarin wanted this problem resolved peacefully as much as the King did, and it offended him that the King thought he would go to violent lengths to harbour such a valuable reward. He decided he would have to rise above it, and prove to Merin that he was capable of getting this girl with no further bloodshed. He also decided that he had had enough- with the King's impatience to get the city back to normal, the Guild had less time to take the opportunity of a less chaotic city in which to hunt around. Now, with everything settling back to its normal routine, the girl could slip into the crowd as easily as a drop of water in the ocean, and no one would notice the difference. He needed to get back to the safety of the Guild to plan. He also needed to get back out into the slums himself. He needed to check in on his informers to make sure they hadn't seen any of the warning signs he had to associate with a Sachakan on the prowl.

He finished his wine and cleared his throat. "Well, if that will be all, Your Majesty, I should return to the Guild and inform the Higher Magicians of this decision. We may need to alter our plans, and they will all be convening in the Night Room as we speak."

"Oh yes, the weekly Night Room gathering. I know you enjoy them, so I won't keep you from it any longer," Merin smiled, that youthful twinkle in his eye returned. Akkarin let his eyes roll slightly, and Merin laughed. "Well, at any rate, thank you for coming, High Lord. I do appreciate you taking the time, I know you must be a busy as I with all this. Keep me informed of your progress, if you would."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Akkarin bowed again, turned and strode back down the audience room, putting his empty wine glass down on a table as he did so.

"Oh, and Akkarin?"

Akkarin turned. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

The King had once again disappeared, so only his voice remained, bouncing around the room. "Please don't make me become the butt of jokes around the Allied Lands- find this girl before she makes a mockery of all of us."

"I will certainly endeavour to do so."

Striding out the room, Akkarin sighed heavily and sent out a mental call.

-Lorlen!

-Akkarin.

-I've just finished my audience with the King and have news. Where are you?

-Just about to head to the Night Room. Shall I wait for you?

-Would you? I won't be long.

-Then I shall wait for you in my office. How was the King?

-Everything we expected.

-Ah.

Hello again, everyone, welcome back! My sincere thanks for staying with me. My special thanks to all those who reviewed (your views mean so much), favourited and followed. It all helps keep the mind focused. If any of you have requests for ideas, now you get the idea of what I like to write, do send me yours. I'm always up for a challenge! Love, Cece xox