Chapter 6
Disgrace
"Order 215 states that a man must pay back his debt within two to three years. I believe that I need help to require this debt from the owner of the Sailing Smithery. I believe …
Why am I the prince? One more inquiry and I am going to vomit. Why can't this city's wealthy men and poor people just get along? Why has the city been taken over by these mobsters who use the law as their shield? And why can't I just take up my sword and make them surrender like Idro and I used to do with each other in the woods?
But these are the "honorable" people of the city, Imrahil; you can't just make a mockery of them and kick them out. You will be cast as a cruel ruler and be blamed for the treacheries these men have brought upon the people. You need to keep up appearances of interest and agreement.
Imrahil thought as he nodded his head at the banker's request.
"And Order 7,234-part b, states that -"
"I am sorry, your most honorable sir, but your time limit is up; you can come back tomorrow if you wish to complain further," Idro announced sarcastically.
"Complain? Well, that's not very respectful, is it Imrahil? Does your adopted brother speak your mind as well?
"Sir Wealton, thank you for presenting your case to me. I will look into the matter and come to a decision by tomorrow. Please excuse my brother Idro, he gets antsy after hearing the law for a few hours".
Idro gave Imrahil a look as if to say, Am I the only one bored and tired of this witless madness? Imrahil gave a quick, anxious grin in return.
As Sir Wealton huffed and walked out of the throne room, Imrahil and Idro sighed in relief.
Finally, we have a moment to be al-,
"Your highness, bored of complaints already?" The elder Eldrick said with a pained grin as he hobbled into the room.
Imrahil gave Uncle Eldrick a grin in reply. Turning to Idro, the elder said with a wink, "Have you been keeping your brother on his toes?".
"I try, uncle, but you know how stubborn Imrahil can get," Idro said with a tired chuckle.
As Eldrick looked up at the paintings lining both sides of the massive room, which depicted great battles from long ago, he replied, "your father did not like these meetings either. But that is part of your responsibility as the prince, to keep these greedy people in check. Except for Arnold, Adrahil did not put too much faith in the rest of them." Eldrick said with a scowl.
Imrahil's pride flared up, but he couldn't think of a reply. Eldrick's eyes looked pained as an uncomfortable silence filled the throne room. Finally, Eldrick said, "Aww, don't mind the ramblings of an old man. The kingdom is yours now; I hope you will take some of my advice to ensure its flourishing." Without another word, the man turned and hobbled out of the room.
As the brothers were left alone, they started to make a few jokes about Sir Wealton, but mainly about each other. However, Imrahil had noticed a barrier had slowly built up between them, so their banter did not give them the genuine laughter it once did. As they left the throne room, the city's bell, Laudrell, struck three times. Imrahil and Idro were frozen, and their fake banter died off as a memory resurfaced, which happened at this very spot many years ago. During their father's funeral.
The brothers had squeezed each other's hand tightly as they grieved for their father, whose lifeless face slowly traveled out of the throne room into the palace's inner courtyard. Six captains with swan helms solemnly carried Adrahil's casket out of the throne room amidst a host of men and women solemnly watched the king slowly pass as he made one final journey to the Sea of Grace.
But that was a different time, and now a wall kept the two from facing this remembrance together. After an awkward silence, Imrahil muttered, "Brother, why don't you meet me in the cellar at nightfall." Idro was shaken but nodded curtly in reply. The brothers then went their separate ways.
...
Imrahil was startled by his brother's presence as he entered the cellar. He usually was the responsible one arriving on time, not Idro. But again, his brother had been acting odd lately. Idro cleared his throat, pushing the thought out of his mind.
"Brother, Uncle Eldrick is right. You...you have to restrain these bankers. There are real people outside of these walls who are being robbed and butchered each day. Do something to curtail them", he pleaded.
Imrahil's shoulders slumped as he replied, "Idro, I want nothing more than to run those men out of Dol-Amroth, but what will the talk be in the streets when father's trusted partners in the economy are sent off on their way?"
Idro blinked as if the answer were obvious, "Rejoicing, Imrahil. The people will be rejoicing when their oppressors are gone."
Imrahil shook his head, "I mean the people in power."
"There are still some people, like Arnold, who have the power to help you," Idro replied with a hint of doubt.
Imrahil still considered this possibility for a moment but shook his head., "Will they not try to undermine my legacy? Our father's legacy?"
"What will happen to your legacy if you do nothing?" Idro countered back more forcefully than he meant to.
Imrahil's eyes hardened before lifting a latch, revealing the room of disguise, as they called it. They had stumbled upon it shortly before their last summer vacation at the cabin with their family. It seemed like a mysterious place to the boys back then, but now it was musty, with vines growing on the walls and several stacks of moldy crates occupying the center of the room. No one kept it clean because only the two brothers bothered to use the space. This was their portal to the outside world, where they could walk out onto the city's streets without being noticed or asked questions. They could just be.
Imrahil and Idro quickly downed their peasant clothes in steely silence before Imrahil headed to the door and whispered, "let's go."
...
Dwafelt's new business enterprise was off to a rocky start. First, Malthil scared away most customers before they could look at the tools and weapons the smithery had to offer. Second, the people familiar with the shop and its excited salesman chose to walk on the far opposite side of the Sailing Smithery to avoid another sales pitch. Third, the molds for all of the products in the smithery were old and well used to the point of making only low-quality tools and weapons that made Dwafelt squirm. He had brought some of his molds, but they were mainly for tools and weapons fit for the Blue Mountains, not for the men and women of Dol Amroth and the surrounding fiefdoms. Fourth and most annoying to the dwarf was that Malthil's eagerness to learn caused him to rush headlong into a task without first pausing to listen to the entirety of Dwafelt's instructions. This caused a small fire to start in the smithery on more than one occasion. Fifth, some armed men of the bank came in the morning to speak with Malthil. After they talked outside, Malthil looked like a ghost as he numbly walked back into the empty shop.
"Com'on lad, what's gotten into you? You're normally jolly no matter the wea-"
"You should leave, Dwafelt." Malthil whimpered. "You and I both know you could make a good living if you were not here at the Sailing Smithery...with me."
Dwafelt, despite his annoyance at Malthil's sales manners, felt a fiery wrath build up in him for those guards who had brought his friend low to the dust in disgrace. "Malthil, I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. What did those men say to you?" the dwarf said with searching eyes.
Mathil handed him a piece of paper without looking up as he explained the situation with a voice of dread, "The banker Wealton has gone to the Prince to gain permission to seize the shop due to my inability to pay rent for the last month. My father's business cannot attract customers anymore, but it used to be the best smithery in all the city. My father even became the former Prince's blacksmith. His legacy will come to disgrace when his son lives on the streets because of his stupidity."
Dwafelt gripped Malthil's shoulder until the boy finally met the dwarf's gaze.
"How much do you owe Wealton?"
"1,000 pounds," Malthil said wearily.
"Then let's stop griping and start working," Dawfelt said as he helped Malthil through the doorway into the back of the shop.
...
Imrahil felt safe behind his disguise as he and Idro made their way to the market. It was past dusk, with only the light of lanterns from homes and businesses guiding their feet along the road. Idro felt compassion for the people trying to make a living amid choking economic regulations and the bankers' restrictions.
Imrahil is so busy remaining invisible that everyone suffering around him has also become invisible to him, Idro thought.
Idro was startled out of his thoughts as Imrahil flatly said, "Here it is, the Sailing Smithery." As the brothers walked up to the door of the shop, a friendly dwarf opened up the door.
"Hello, sirs, my name is Dwafelt, at your service," he said with a bow. "And this is the Sailing Smithery. Sir Malthil and I are the fine owners of this establishment. What can I do for you tonight?" the dwarf asked as he beckoned for the two men to enter.
When dwafelt had closed the door, the prince turned towards him.
"Hello, Dwafelt; my name is Imrahil. This is my brother Idro."
"By my beard! Are you the prince? Have you come to talk about me and Malthil's debt?"
"Indeed, we have. Will you bring Malthil here so we can discuss the issue at hand?"