ChapterEight
I rose what I thought was early the next morning, to find that I had still slept quite late. I found a note from Nee saying that she was going to be out in the morning, and hadn't wanted to wake me. Of course Branaric was nowhere to be found, which was a small blessing, as I was still unsure I wanted to enlighten him to anything between me and Vidanric.
I dressed for court, pulling out my one gown, only worn once. I contemplated having a second one made, but remember Nee telling me that the fashions would change when the new monarch was crowned, and the old gowns would be relegated to attics. I decided against it, though it did cause a fluttering in my stomach as I realized that I would not be a follower of these new fashions, but instead possibly sitting on the throne when that happened. I pushed that thought away and headed down to the throne room early.
I stayed an observer during the discussions following the open court. I felt Vidanric's eyes wander to me for opinions, but I did not feel it was my place to blab them out.
He stopped me before I could leave. "You were very quiet." His voice was concerned.
I smiled reassuringly. "I don't think I can come up with better solutions. I'm trying to figure out how you get from the problems to the solutions. You make it look so easy."
He relaxed. "I would enjoy discussing them with you in private if you prefer. It is quite intimidating. I will always value your opinion, and," he added, "there is nothing you could come up with that could be more outlandish than what others have proposed." I disagreed with that, but Vidanric was trying to be nice. "I have a few moments now." He added, glancing around now that the room was nearly emptied. "Unfortunately, I am meeting with several ambassadors later, and won't have that freedom."
I quickly agreed, and for convenience sake, we retired to his parents' sitting room. They were both out, and Vidanric declared that no one would look for him there.
"Did you always know you were training to rule the kingdom?" I asked bluntly once we were settled.
"No, I didn't for a very long time." He shrugged, "Looking back, all the signs were there, though the grownups always talked about it in hushed voices. It wasn't until my father brought me in on the planning that I realized they had been grooming me. It wasn't the most pleasant feeling at first. Like they knew what decisions I would make before I made them. But I had realized by then that Galdran had to go, and after a while, I saw that they had years of groundwork prepared. I think they had backed off from some of their actions while Russav and I were younger, so we would be protected from retaliation. But they never stopped planning."
"That's why they sent you to military school." I said, remembering Savona's comment from the day before.
Vidanric inclined his head. "Yes, though it was proposed as command school, and then later to the Colendi court." He smiled, "Though that was more to wait for my hair to grow again. The Marlovens have quite a thing against our fashion for long hair." I tried to imagine Vidanric with short hair. It wasn't easy. "When I returned home, my parents decided it wouldn't do for me to come back with short hair when I was not supposed to be at a military school. They sent me away with instructions not to come back until I looked more presentable again."
I sincerely doubted that the conversation went exactly like that, though it was funny to think how something as silly as his hair style affected the grand plan created by his parents.
"After that, I was a fully inducted member of the Renselaeus tradition to thwart Galdran. Pretty much everything became a calculated move to win friends or uncover enemies. We never did believe the military maneuvers would have been quite so helpful so early in our plans," he added, saluting me with his cup of coffee. I reddened.
"I don't know anything about governing, commanding, and certainly not anything about the military." I said sullenly.
"I disagree. Firstly, you desire fairness. You examine a solution for how it affects each party, and if they will get just rewards for their efforts. Not an easy task. Secondly, you see each person for themselves. You do not allow status or rank or attempts at grandeur sway you from your evaluation of fairness. Even when it would be expedient. Thirdly, you have the courage to back your decisions. Wisdom helps no one when they are too timid to bring it to the world. Fourth, I understand that you alone handled Tlanth's finances; before, during, and after your revolution. I was quite astounded at what your Tlanthi's accomplished with the few monetary resources that you had. Lastly, the people love you. You have become a heroine for your actions – even if you feel that some accounts are exaggerated." He added, holding up a finger to stop my protests. "You are honest with the people you meet, and that kind of reputation travels faster than the fastest horses. I have no doubt of the qualities of your leadership."
I was shocked by Vidanric's analysis. I hadn't considered those strengths, though, put that way, I could see what Vidanric was reaching at. To my ears though, it still sounded a bit like flattery – puffed up, with only a kernel of truth at the center.
"Leadership at this level is different from what you are used to in Tlanth. You knew your Tlanthi's by name. You knew who was related to whom, and who was going through a rough patch. At this level, you can only care for a handful of people in that manner. I will never be able to know everyone in the country, no matter how many tours I go on. I won't even know all my troops anymore, something I was meticulous about with my own Blues. However, I will continue to do that with my immediate circle. They will in turn do that with their subordinates, and they will learn to do that to their own subordinates. In that way, I can only hope that my influence will continue."
"That's the theory from Rising to the Top by Roy Mustang" I said, glad I had read this particular book on leadership.
Vidanric smiled. "It is. It is the only theory of how government should work that can keep me from going insane wondering if my actions have any weight outside these walls. It's a true story, too, you know."
"It's an autobiography of the ruler of Amestris." I replied. "He started with a few officers he trusted, and they became extremely loyal to him."
"Because of his concern for them. Even when he pushed them to their limits. He never forgot or abandoned any of them. They never forgot it either, and that kind of loyalty is what eventually won him the top seat."
"If I remember right, they had had a bad ruler before him too?" I couldn't remember the details.
"More or less. Mustang himself participated in a military coup that replaced a previous dictator. He didn't take the top spot for several years, instead working on the ground to improve the lives of those most damaged by the previous king. He eventually transformed the country from a monarchy to a democracy." Vidanric smirked before continuing, "Which then apparently left him with little to do, for it's in that period that he wrote his autobiography."
"You don't like autobiographies?" I asked. "I would think they shine a light on the time, instead of historians going in later and trying to piece it together.
"I applaud memoirs," Vidanric replied. "For the reasons you mentioned. I prefer that term, actually, for I feel that many who call themselves autobiographers often place their own views or importance over the historical import of the moment. They appoint themselves judge and jury of their actions. I feel that memoirs more accurately remind the writer that this is only their view of the events that took place, and not an absolute guide to the universe. And in this particular case, the author had a reputation for arrogance and an overinflated sense of his own importance."
I snorted. "Like historians don't exaggerate the truth. Besides, sometimes the historians aren't the ones there. And neither are the scribes. And the songs don't talk about the colds."
"The colds?" Vidanric was puzzled.
"Yes. The songs and ballads. They never talk about the colds." Vidanric laughed. "The ballads must add the heroic bombasts, because the heroes and heroines are too busy to say them. They're too busy fixing the crises without sneezing themselves right off their horses."
"So, fix it."
"What?"
"Write your own memoir. Tell people how it really happens. Give strength to those down the road who leave their heroic bombasts at home – and do it all with a thick voice and a heavy cough."
I snorted into my hot chocolate. "People don't want those stories, Vidanric. They want the heroic bombasts, and the songs and ballads."
"Children don't want to take their medicine, either."
"So, you're saying that …"
"People should hear these stories. And I think they want to hear these stories. For too long, the hero has always been composed, perfect, and bombastic. It's not truth, and no society can survive on lies for long."
"Ha! You're right, but I don't need everyone laughing at my mistakes."
"You don't have to tell everyone. Just write your own memoir of what happened, and stick it on the shelf here. Then someone will find it in a generation or two, and your so-called mistakes will be lessons for those who read it."
I gave a half shrug, not thinking Vidanric was really serious.
"Think about it," Vidanric said, leaving me with a brief kiss before heading to his meeting.
