Chapter VIII:
Power and Desire
Power
'We have already spoken at length about power,' Lord Havoc continued. 'Most men live their entire lives in secret pining. They do not have what they love, the hate what they have. They want their neighbor's wife, they want their master's wealth or their swine's contentment. In everything they set their hands to do they find themselves unhappy. What is man but a bundle of desires? And what are those desires but unfulfilled?
'Every man is born with the power to take what he wants from anybody he wishes to take it from. But every man is also born with the power to prevent others from taking from them. The result is justice, as I have already described it to you. Justice is nothing more than a compromise between what we want to take and what we don't want to lose. We bow our heads to the property of others so that they will bow their heads to ours. We walk away from our neighbor's property in safety; but we do not walk away contented. Nothing has been done by Justice to gain us the objects of our wishes. We have preserved our lives, but we have not lived them.
'It is without a doubt that all men desire to do injustice. And by nature all men MUST do injustice to survive. We take from animals when we eat and the animals take from the grass and the trees. Where there is life, there is injustice. This is the law of nature: consumption, destruction, selfishness. And if Nature has so designed us, what need have we of justice? The animals have no such notion. Man has been endowed with a more powerful imagination, and that might very well explain his difference in this area. In the end, man comes to believe in Justice, forgetting that it was he that invented it.
'I would have us return to our infancy and remember what we were designed by nature to do. To want; to take. If you do not do these things, then you are not human. You are as imaginary as your virtues.
'What of the rest of mankind? If they are content to live their lives bound by their own lies, then so be it. It is all the better for us. Let them be like the Noble wolves of Heyan who mind their own domain, and we will be like the Fell Black wolves who took both portions for themselves. The former will pass away like a dream in the night, while the latter will reign over the bones of his enemies.
'So why do I speak of the Naming Stone? And of Elven Powers? You are wise enough to know that if mankind is united in any task, they will accomplish it without fail, however difficult it might seem. And it would be no difficult task for an army of men to overcome a single man. Were we to march out this day and do exactly as we please, we would find ourselves surrounded by more enemies than we could imagine. If I take this woman here, and this chest of golden coins there, my enjoyment would be over quicker than I could comprehend. That is why men labor for so many long years. They hope to maintain the compromise of justice and somehow rise above it to enjoy the fruits of their hard work without danger. But more often than not they will die before they ever attain that security. And for many people such security is as fleeting as the rewards of a hunted brigand. To what purpose is it to live either way?
'If we want to do as we please, we must be stronger than those that would stop us. And if they combine to be a company of men, we must be stronger than that company. But it will soon happen that they will form such an invincible beast of men that there will be no escaping their wrath. Men do justice because they fear the Beast's wrath, not because they are just. We must, therefore, become more powerful than the Beast itself.'
Volthamir whispered, 'Hence the Naming Stone,' he put his hand on his chin and began to think. He suddenly looked up at Lord Havoc and asked, 'Why didn't Lord Falruvis save himself?'
'What do you mean?' Lord Havoc asked with a grin.
'You said that he used the Naming Stone to summon the Aggelos to bring an end to the Arbori Wars. But why didn't he use it when he was besieged for the last time? There is no one so steadfast that they would ignore so great a power when they were in such a state of peril.'
'Falruvis was wise enough not to entrust the Naming Stone solely to his own authority,' Lord Havoc said soberly. 'He designed an elaborate set of safeguards that would prevent any single hand from laying hold on it, or so he thought. If all of his deputies were not in accord, he could not put his hand on the stone to use its power.'
'But why would they not help him when they saw the walls of Dadron breeched? Surely there is no better time to make use of such a secret.'
Lord Havoc grinned, 'Let us just say that not all of his deputies were in accord.'
'Then he was betrayed,' Volthamir said with a nod. 'That is certainly not written in the histories.'
'There is much that is not,' Lord Havoc affirmed.
'So you desire the power of the Naming Stone? Am I correct?' Volthamir said, turning his attention from history to the present.
'Indeed, and the strength of Dadron as well.' Lord Havoc stood up tall and spoke very clearly. 'If a man possessed at once the Fortress of Dadron and the power of that stone, he would be strong enough to finally have what he desires, without fear of the injustice of others. He would therefore have no more need of justice. He could then pit his own strength against the strength of every other man. The unjust man, or I should rather say the Natural Man, would finally triumph against that imaginary man; against the beast that forms when many rally together to fight for justice. Such a man would be a god.'
'But how does a man come to possess both of these? The impenetrable fortress of Dadron in the one hand and the mythical Naming Stone in the other. Lord Havoc, I'm afraid that your plan is as imaginary as the Justice you decry,' Volthamir said with a laugh. Lord Havoc grinned and waited for him to finish. 'Suppose you gained these two things, what then? Surely you do not mean to hold fast in Dadron by yourself. That would be as ridiculous as it would be miserable. Can the Naming Stone really be so powerful as to make you invulnerable to all assault?'
'Laugh if you must, my prince,' Lord Havoc said. 'I have now told you what it is that I desire. And whether it is with your help or not I will take it or perish in the attempt. But I am not overly concerned with your approval. I have worked far longer than you realize to attain my purpose, and it does not hinge upon your opinions. You can accompany me upon my path, but if you will not, I will still walk it. Can the Naming Stone make me invulnerable? Perhaps. But even if it cannot, what power is gained thereby would contribute to my happiness proportionately. But in the least I would have made an effort and reached out my hands toward the goal, not shirking back and turning away from the only things I desire in life. Again, what is life if not desire? And if I deny that desire, do I not commit suicide more truly than a man who cuts his own throat? For such a man kills the body, but the man that turns from his desire, kills his own soul. I know what I desire. But I must ask you again, my prince, what is it that you desire?'
With that question the prince fell silent.
'I will tell you something, my prince,' Lord Havoc said with a gleam of wisdom in his eyes. 'You hesitate not because you would not take what you want; you hesitate because as of yet there is nothing that you desire. At least, there is nothing that you desire more than your own skin. Let us lay aside our plotting for the time being. I will put everything into your hands. And when you discover just what it is that you desire, then I will bend all my will towards its fulfillment.'
'Very well, Lord Havoc,' Volthamir said as he rose from his seat. 'But for now, all that I desire is a good hot meal and some time to think. But for these things the Prince of Amlaman needs not any Elven magic.'
The Whole Land on Edge
In those days the whole land of Amlaman was teetering on chaos. While there were many reasons for this, I will limit myself to only the most important.
First of all, King Vulcan thos Ramlos, now Vulcan thos Amlaman, was an usurper. Despite his wisdom and devotion, and despite his great efforts, he could never escape the consequences of his first regal act.
Every usurper carries in his own fist the seeds of his own destruction. For when the legitimate ruler of a nation
is overthrown, and another put in his place, it can only be by a certain moral acquiescence. All society would fall and all civilization would crumble overnight if it were considered moral to overthrow the legitimate ruler of a land. But this is precisely what occurs when the regal power is usurped by another man. In order to prevent the decline and destruction of all civilization, men must find it in their hearts and minds to excuse their new master by explaining away his rebellion as an act of saving justice.
So the usual reverence for the regal power is set aside when men want to justify the actions of their new master, whether they justify it out of love or out of fear. They deny regal power to their former master, yet pretend to uphold it for their new. But in justifying the current rebellion, they justify all future rebellions. If it is right for King Vulcan to slay King Voltan, then it is in turn, right for whomever will, to slay King Vulcan. Whether King Vulcan is a wicked king or not is really quite irrelevant in this regard, all that matters is that there be some within his kingdom that believe it to be so. Because if it is true that it is good to overthrow a wicked man, it will make no difference whether the rebels are right or not, all that is required on their part is the mere belief that their ruler is evil. To expect anything different would be to expect men to act in opposition to their consciences, which is absurd. By his very ascension, King Vulcan sanctions rebellion, and thereby sanctions rebellion against himself. Such was the reasoning of the enemies that rose up against the King of Amlaman in those days.
No king can avoid falling under the approbation of some portion of their subjects. And since that is the case, no king could avoid the second step in this act of reasoning. Kings would be wiser to remove the principle on which the reasoning rests, and demonstrate to their people that such an act of rebellion is no man's duty. They should teach their people to believe that it is a man's duty to serve their protectors, no matter their own sentiments.
But since kingdoms very seldom arise without injustice, usurpers must always resort to sophistical deceptions to justify their own grab at power. Once their rebellion is allowed, however, future rebellions become inevitable. So long as there are malcontented citizens, there will be rebellions. And this is at least part of the reason that no nation and no single government or line of kings endures forever among men. For to gain the power in the first place, men condone the actions of those who would gain that same power from them in turn.
I have already said that it had become a doctrine in Amlaman that a wicked king could, without justice, be slain and replaced. And this doctrine was originally devised to cast King Vulcan as a savior and hero. But as time wore on, his popularity faded and he too fell under the hatred and resentment of some. And as a result of his own doctrine, he therefore fell under their condemnation.
The men of the western marches of Amlaman were the most discontented. They had been sorely treated at the ascension of King Vulcan to the throne of Amlaman. More than thirty of old King Voltan's illegitimate sons and daughters yet lived in the far away reaches of the kingdom. But all that they had was stripped from them when King Vulcan took away their generous pensions.
Generally speaking, the western frontiers of Amlaman were never really contented with their ruler in the first place, whether it be Voltan or Vulcan or anyone else for that matter. For a long while they lived under their own authority and by their own means. But several centuries ago they were reconquered by Amlaman and put back under the yoke of Japhrian. Now they answered to the laws of a far away palace, and each year sent caravans filled with tribute far away from their workshops and farms to be enjoyed by men they had never known.
They knew nothing of Agonistes.
This was perhaps the most prominent concern of theirs. For they were now required to send to Sten-Agoni, the most beautiful maiden of every territory to serve in the Temple, should High Priest Achil so desire. This they did begrudgingly, acknowledging the authority that the King of Amlaman possessed, but despising him all the more.
Upon this malcontented land the spirits of chaos descended. Sent by Lord Gheshtik, the petty devils of Amlaman and Ramlos ran about the whole western territory, inciting hard speeches here, and muffled threats there. They led men into dark corners to vent their anger against King Vulcan and his priests. They led women into their cellars and their closets to whisper their secret rebellions to one another. Through the whole land, invisible spirits spread rumors about the King and his court. In turn those rumors spread anger, and that in turn gave birth to rebellion. But by the command of Gheshtik, no deed was done in open sight. All the anger was sown and concealed safely within the breasts of the western peoples.
The secret sons and daughters of Voltan rose to prominence in those days. Their half-claim to the Amlaman throne inspired secret ambitions in the hearts of the proud and bold. Plans were made by the powerful and the whole people moved in unison toward war, though no one so much as spoke the word. It was like a dam that is ready to burst, there is naught but a trickle of water here and the quiet creaking of wood there. No one suspects that in an instant the water might burst forth and splinter every brace and wash away the structure in a flash of foaming water.
Such was the state of affairs in the west, in the latter days of King Vulcan's reign.
The second cause of Amlaman's weakened position was the discontent among the people of Ramlos, where King Vulcan had ruled in his younger days. Though he had ruled them well in the past, it had now been many years since he had any direct dealings with them. Lord Kellin, one of King Vulcan's chief advisors and companions, had been put in charge of administering the government in all the lands north of the Temple Mountain. But the people were not content, and they looked rather to Lord Havoc for their protection. Lately they were much enamored of Prince Volthamir, who had brought fresh vigor to their struggle against the goblins of the Daunrys. They did not resent King Vulcan as much as the people in the frontiers did, but they were every day growing more pleased with the Prince's heroic leadership and less pleased by the King's disinterest. Were things to come to a point, they would certainly find that their sentiments belonged to the Prince.
The prudent in Japhrian were soon aware that the hearts of the northern realm were in the Prince's hands. The King could do little more than pull at his hair and curse his foolishness, 'If only I hadn't put my trust in that confounded Lord Havoc. It was his idea to give the boy the Cup of Trial. All this falls on his old head. And now my own homeland prefers the son of the old tyrant to their rightful lord and master!'
Now pressed by fear, King Vulcan summoned the Prince to Japhrian for a council. It was his intention to draw from the Prince some token of loyalty, by which he might know without doubt that he had nothing to fear from him. He would tell him all his plans for his succession and all the powers and privileges that would pass from him to the Prince upon his passing. He hoped that by promising the prince everything, he might hold on to it for just that much longer.
This is what brought Prince Volthamir to Japhrian palace on the evening of the fifteenth day of Leonius in his twenty eighth year. This was the last time he ever came to the palace at his uncle's by invitation.
Tour of Japhrian
King Vulcan was in a cheery mood when he saw his nephew arrive. Partly in hope and partly inebriated, the King rushed to his heir's side and led him in to the council hall of Japhrian.
'My son,' he said with a forced smile, 'it is truly good to see you. You have done much for Amlaman in the north. Yes, we have heard of your mighty deeds against the goblins of the Daunrys. Indeed, there are few now who do not know your name.'
The King spoke rapidly and nervously as they came to their places at the council table. Lord Vars was seated there among several other important men.
'Prince Volthamir!' Vars said softly, now seeming quite old to Volthamir's eyes. 'I am glad to see that you are well. I can remember well when you studied the arts of combat under my tuteledge. And look at you now! So strong and mighty. A god among the men of Amlaman y
ou seem. I am honored to have instructed one so strong in the arts of war.'
Volthamir sat down gently and looked the old man in the eyes. The Prince's face showed no emotion as he said, 'What I learnt from you, Lord Havoc perfected. And what I learnt from Lord Havoc, you yourself have never learned.'
Lord Vars sat straight in his chair with a look of amazement. 'I see time has done nothing to dull your tongue,' he shrugged his shoulders and laughed. 'I suppose I shouldn't expect anything different from you. Where is the old knight anyway? I would have expected to see him at such a gathering.'
'Lord Havoc is in Heyan, keeping watch over the eastern plains. But I do not think he would have come, even if he were bidden.'
The King grew more and more nervous as the night wore on. They spoke about the war against Legion and the Prince's many successes. Lord Vars listened with envy to the Prince's account of the battle he and Lord Havoc fought on the field of Golbfein. He felt belittled and unappreciated, and not a little scorned. 'What would he be without the elements of war, which he learned from me,' Vars thought to himself as he listened to the prince's tales. 'Lord Havoc would have left Japhrian with a spoiled little girl if it were not for my hard training.'
After they had supped, King Vulcan led the prince on a tour, as it were, of Japhrian. He took him round to each section of the palace and showed him all of the curious things and explained to him the purpose of each section as though he had never been to the royal house before. He almost seemed like a man who was trying to sell an estate to a very wealthy person and wishes to ensure that they fully appreciate every detail.
He led him first from the dining hall into the throne room. Here he pointed out how wide each pillar was and how strong was the workmanship thereof. He showed him how every piece of wood and every stone had been cut and polished to perfection. The marble from the throne was as smooth as glass and it was edged with gold. The cushion, though well worn, was a deep purple, the sort of which is very rare in the northern part of the world.
He showed him the carpet and how it was meticulously maintained so that despite its daily trampling it looked no worse for it. He sat him down in his throne and stood at his side, gesturing toward the tall wooden doors that stood due east from the throne.
'When you are king, my son, all the people of Amlaman and Ramlos will come through those ancient doors to worship you. And you will sit where you sit now and rule over them in wisdom and strength. I do not doubt that you will reign long, for you are strong and wise, and the people of the north love you. But come, I will show you more.'
Vulcan now led him to the center of the throne room and showed him the northern and southern doors. 'To the north lies the dining hall, the finest in all Weldera. To the south are the bathhouses. Come, we have improved them much since you were a child.'
With that he swung open the doors to the southern wing of the palace. They walked through long halls tiled with a smooth white stone. They came at length to a large pool, built out of large white stones. The ceiling was very high in this room, with a window looking up to the stars. 'No finer bath will be found in this whole world I don't suppose,' the king said proudly. 'The water flows into the pool from a small stream that springs from the hills to the north. And there is a furnace below the pool that keeps the water as warm as you please.'
Volthamir seemed unmoved. Vulcan continued in a nervous voice, 'You will find, my son, that the one big difference between the great and the base are the quality of their bath houses. Go into the wilderness, and see what sort of bath houses they have there. Or travel to the Devil-woods on the other side of the Daunrys, you will find no clean baths there. Peasants, it is well known, will sometimes go their entire lives without bathing once, not in the proper sense of the word.'
Vulcan could see that he had not yet impressed the hardened prince. So he next took him to the bedchambers and showed him how many rooms there were and how many servants were kept in the palace. He showed him also where all the food was kept, and how they had so many pounds of sugar. 'More sugar than all the kings of old combined!' he boasted.
Finally he led Volthamir down into the dungeons of the palace. Past many guardrooms they came to the vault of Japhrian. 'My son, when you are king, the treasury of Amlaman will be placed into your stewardship. May the great god guide you in your judgments, even as he has guided me. This is the vault of Amlaman,' the king swung open the heavy iron door and stepped inside. Volthamir entered after him with a look of frustration on his face. There he saw mounds of precious things, carefully stacked one on top of another. There were more chests than he could count, all carefully organized and stacked along the wall. There were ancient heirlooms and finely crafted golden weapons. 'Better for show than for combat,' the king laughed. Only a fool would fight with so fragile a blade.'
All along the walls were hung golden shields and crimson tapestries of exceedingly fine workmanship. 'All of this, I tell you, will be yours someday,' King Vulcan said. He looked into Volthamir's eyes and studied the young man. 'You are the pride of all Amlaman, my son.'
Volthamir was silent. There was an empty look in his eyes as one who is bored or whose thoughts are far away.
'What is it, my son?' Vulcan said in a weak voice, desperately wishing for some response. 'I have shown you all that I have. And further I have promised you that it will all pass to you. It will be yours and your sons after you. It will be as it ought to have been.' The king cupped his hand over his mouth as he said this last thing. The prince stirred finally and then shook his head.
'I do not want any of this,' he said in a toneless voice. He turned his back to the vault and started back toward the stairs. Vulcan rushed after him, now the effects of his fear took complete hold of him.
'What is it that you desire? Name it my son. Simply name it and it shall be thine. On my word as king, you shall have it. Whatever it may be that you desire.'
Volthamir ascended the stairs and disappeared from the halls of Japhrian.
Missed
Princess Leonara burst from her bed chamber, flinging the heavy doors aside with all her might. Her maid followed after her frantically. 'My lady!' the confounded girl shrieked, 'you must calm yourself.'
Leonara slammed the door behind her and bolted it shut. Her maid called and pounded in vain. The guards watched her closely as she rushed down the hall toward her mother's chamber. Her face was flushed red with anger and every muscle in her body was tensed. She came to her mother's door and pounded loudly on it with both fists. The guards rolled their eyes in her direction, but they did not stop her. They had learned not to come between the Queen and her daughter when they were at odds. Leonara pounded again and again until finally her mother came to the door and pulled her quickly inside.
'Do not make a spectacle, you brutish girl!' Queen Marel said in a hissed whisper. 'You will make us both the laughing stock of the palace.'
'We are that already, dear mother,' Leonara said with venom in her voice. 'I don't doubt but that every pauper in the southern kingdom knows how terrible we are.'
'Is that what you came to my door in such a rage for? To taunt your sad mother further?'
'You didn't tell me he was here!' Leonara screamed at her mother with a seemingly unquenchable anger.
'Tell you who was here? The prince? My dear daughter, since when does the queen report to the princess? Your father called the prince here for his own ends, not so you could dote upon him like he were a suitor. Now be gone with you, and do not trouble me any further with your whimsical complaints!'
With that the Queen grabbed Leonara's arm and pushed her away. Leonara fell to her feet and begged her, 'Mother!' she cried, 'I only wish to see him, to hear my brother's voice. Why but for cruelty would you not tell me that he had come? And now, look below. The dining hall is empty and dark; the floors are scrubbed and dried and the servants have gone to bed. Where is the prince? He has left the palace already. All I wish is to see him. He is the only person that is never cross with me. I have no
companionship in my parents, the one who serves a Temple he hates and the other who mocks the Temple she loves.'
With those words the Queen rose to her full height and slapped her daughter across the face with the back of her ringed hand. Leonara fell to the ground holding her cheek with her hand. She lay there for a moment rubbing her sore cheek, but as she regained herself her heart was filled with rage. She stood up with the swiftness of a bolt of thunder and walked quickly toward her mother.
Queen Marel froze at the sight of her. For the first time she now realized that her daughter was quite grown, now her equal in stature. But Leonara did not assault her mother, though the guards who had hitherto remained aloof had now closed in behind her. Instead she fell once more to her mother's feet and wept, taking hold of the bottom of her dress.
The Queen looked down on her with disdain and brushed her away from the bottom of her dress. 'Be gone from me, daughter. You have no sense; and I do not have the time nor the strength to correct you.'
Sudden Resolve
It was about midnight when Volthamir departed from the palace. It was a cool night; the spring hadn't quite conquered the cold of winter as of yet. There was a gentle wind in the air that swept Volthamir's long dark hair into his face as he mounted his horse. He left the stable and followed the road along the outer wall of the palace. This brought him at last to the eastern side of Japhrian.
High in the sky the Storm Moon rose above Amlaman, shining a pale light on all its inhabitants. Volthamir's mind wandered into the past. He was passing below his father's old bedchamber. It had now been over twenty years since the dread night on which his father was slain. It was a different moon that reigned that day. It was the Harvest Moon that lorded it over the night every fifteenth day of Messest.
He paused for a moment beneath his old window and listened closely. For some reason he half expected to hear the sound of his own childish whimpers, or perhaps the stupid chuckle of fat King Voltan, his father. Maybe he expected to hear the screams of his rightly jealous mother as she hurled fine porcelain at her husband as was her custom in those days.
But none of those seemingly ancient sounds came down to his ears. He shook his head, and returning to the present he prepared to leave. But just as he started the wind died down and a soft and gentle voice could be heard from the balcony above him. He stood still for a while and listened to the strange words.
Through deepest night and shadow black,
Through gale and storm and thunder crack,
Through hidden vale and den and dale,
I sought you on your secret trail,
Though hidden from my searching sight.
Though you carry neither lamp nor light,
Though years go by and ages pass,
I seek you through my looking glass,
When all life ends and turns to dust,
When mountains fall and castles rust,
When Sun and Moon their orbits shed
I will seek you out among the dead.
The song was beautiful, but the words chilled his heart. As he watched now he could see the singer, seated on a stool looking out over the balcony.
Much to his surprise, it was Princess Leonara, in a white gown with her long golden hair waving about in the gentle midnight breeze. The Storm Moon illuminated her, making her appear to Volthamir like a radiant goddess. 'A Moon Goddess,' he whispered to himself.
He stood motionless for just a moment, but despite his outward stance his mind rushed through a thousand thoughts in that brief instant. Suddenly, as though he fled from some dread terror or danger, he reared his horse about and rushed back to the palace. He had fully made up his mind.
Madness
It was well past midnight when King Vulcan and his wife finally spoke. The Queen had a great deal of anger still burning within her bosom as she complained. She was angry about her daughter's impulsive intrusion on her chambers. She was angry about Leonara's tone of voice, her lack of respect; her disdain of custom and her lack of honor.
All these things enraged the king, and he set himself about considering his duties. He could not allow the Queen of Amlaman to be thus dishonored. Nor could he allow his only daughter to grow up undisciplined (It had not occurred to him that she was in fact already grown up and undisciplined). He retired to his own bed chambers and drank deeply from a half filled vial of liquor. Suddenly he felt himself calm down. His frustration left him and he thought about what he needed to do with what seemed to him to be a clear mind.
In a moment of resolve, he rose and stormed out of his chamber, rushed over to Leonara's room and pounded on the door. 'It is time for things to be made right in Japhrian,' he said to himself.
But from within he could hear what seemed to him to be the sounds of war.
Leonara and her mother were in the midst of an argument such as Vulcan had never imagined could take place save for within the fiery pit of Abban-Don. There was the sound of breaking glass, screams and cries, blasphemes and curses, all strung together like so many pearls on a necklace.
He opened the door and marched in, holding his hand in the air, signifying that the king was about to speak. His servants dropped to their knees and bowed their heads, but the Princess and the Queen ignored him. In a drunken rage, he shook his head and leaped into the fray with his own shouts, curses and petty insults.
Now in the midst of the conflict, the King quickly remembered that it was his wife whom he feared most out of the two women. He left off being their drunken arbiter and became the drunken advocate of his wife.
Leonara, now trapped between the anger of her father and the indignant and pitiless sneers of her mother unleashed her most vicious insults against them, saying things which a peasant might be sentenced to death for saying.
But before aught else could transpire, a servant called to them from the doorway, 'Prince Volthamir has returned, my lord. He demands the presence of the King and Queen.' There was a look of absolute shock on the servant's pale face as he beheld the scene before him. 'He asks also for the Princess to be present.'
King Vulcan was sober in an instant.
Desire
Arm in arm, as though they were newlywed, King Vulcan thos Amlaman and Queen Marel thasa Amlaman descended the stairs and entered the main hall of Japhrian palace. Leonara followed quickly behind them. By the time the three entered the main hall it seemed as though they were a perfectly harmonious family. The house of Vulcan had, by this time, mastered the art of pretense, and the Princess smiled at her parents and looked them in the eyes as though none of the things that had just occurred had affected her in the least. As much as she hated them, it was apparent that she had learned well from them. Knowing this she hated herself with all the more violence.
The three of them exerted their full theatrical skill when the prince was finally presented to them. For Leonara's part, she did so not so much for her parents' sake but for the opportunity to see her brother. And seeing him, she felt, was worth the effort.
Volthamir was let in through the main doors on the eastern side of the throne room. There were only a few torches lit, so his form was dark and featureless as he approached. He did not bow or kneel or in any other way show the king the proper respect. He simply walked straight up to them and said boldly, 'King Vulcan thos Amlaman, you have long been the guardian of Ramlos and Amlaman as well as lord of all the western frontiers, from the frozen sea to the dark jungle of the west. Titalo fears you, Dadron fears you. You have everything under your power.
'But much that you have is rightfully mine. From my hands you have taken the greater half of your Dual Crown. All of Amlaman is mine by right, you have no just claim upon it.
'You called me here to show me your dainties and your comforts. With treasures and riches you wish to court my loyalty. But what need have I of gold and silver and ancient prizes? And what right have you to bribe me with that which is mine by right?'
Here Volthamir paused, waiting for nearly a minute for King Vulcan to mur
mur a response. He had learned his master's art and asked no question for rhetoric's sake. But all that Vulcan could get out was a quiet, 'It is not the reason- it is not why I summoned you.' But his voice was too frail for anyone instill much confidence in his sincerity.
Volthamir continued, 'I despise your treasures, I did not want them when they were my father's and I do not want them now. What I want from you, Uncle, is the fulfillment of your pledge. In a drunken stupor I imagine it must have been, you promised me 'whatever it may be' that I desire. And now here I am; I have returned to demand it. Give me the hand of Princess Leonara, for that I desire more than any rusted heirloom of Japhrian.'
King Vulcan turned as white as a ghost. He said nothing but just sat there on his throne with his chin wagging up and down. Queen Marel's cold eyes met the eyes of the prince. 'Ingrate,' she said without emotion, 'Some believed that it was unwise for the King to spare the son of his enemy. Some even had it in their minds to slay you even after your uncle had decided that you must live. But your uncle would not have it. It was sufficient for him to put an end to your tyrant father's reign of folly and free the people of Amlaman from his pompous yoke, he had no need to spill innocent blood. Innocent blood indeed! Here you stand, showing him no courtesy, though he has shown you so much more all these years. Ingrate! He has been a father to you.'
A small and cruel grin came across the face of Volthamir. 'My queen,' he began, 'do not think that I have come here solely on account of my deceased parent. I have not come here tonight for revenge, though by your own doctrines it should be mine. King Vulcan is not my father, not in any sense of the word. He was not my father the night he spared me. I would have poked him with a dagger if Lord Havoc had not stopped me. It was he that spared me from the poisonous draught in your superstitious Cup of Trial, when I stood before your dead god and all the fools of Amlaman as a spectacle. If any man has a right to the title of father, it would be he.
'And you, my Queen, if you had been woman enough to bear your master a son, do you have any doubts about what would happen to the heir of the overthrown tyrant? You would have been the first citizen of Amlaman to call for my head. And I do not doubt whose feminine voice would have whispered the orders in the dark. For this I suppose I have mere chance to thank; and accordingly I declare pure Chance to be my father; more of a father than this old devil.'
'How dare you speak so boldly to the king!' the queen shouted, finally allowing her fear to give place to rage. 'Guards!' she called with a shriek.
The guards came rushing from behind the tall pillars on either side of the throne room. There were six altogether approaching the prince, each armed with a long spear and shielded by plate armor.
Through all of this Princess Leonara remained silent. In her heart and in her mind, hope and fear vied for the mastery, but neither came to rise above the other. She was absolutely at a loss as to what to make of this strange meeting. She could find no words to say.
'Is this the usual reward for the guardians of Amlaman?' Volthamir laughed, 'To be treated like an assassin? If I wanted to plant a dagger in your back, my king, do you think the Fell Wolf of Ramlos would come through the front gate, announced and unarmed? And you,' the prince said, now turning toward the approaching guards, 'stop this nonsense at once.'
Perhaps because of the shear strength of will that seemed to shine from Volthamir's eyes as he spoke, the guards lowered their spears and backed away. The Prince resumed his speech, 'I bowed my head low to you, to save my own skin from the same cold iron that cut my father's belly open. I have grown up in my own house as a stranger and I have been hated secretly by knights, queens and politicians who envied my birthright. I have humiliated myself in your cursed Temple, before your ash heap of a god. I have gone into exile in the north, to the kingdom that you forsook when you came to take away mine. And in Ramlos I have become a hero; taking all the glory and love away from Japhrian. But this was all the result of my labors, which were ten times greater than any other man's.
'Your own kingdom is kept safe from goblins and orcs by the sweat of my own brow. The incursion of Golbfein was stayed by my blade, and the power of Legion was broken in Ramlos by the stomping of my horse's hooves. From all of this peril, labor and humiliation I have returned to be shown all the treasures that you stole from me. And I am promised that someday they will legitimately pass to me. But I despised them. But then, as if you saw your death in my eyes you swore to me an oath. Your words were thus: "What is it that you desire? Name it my son. Simply name it and it shall be thine. On my word as king, you shall have it. Whatever it may be that you desire."
'Therefore I call you to account, my king,' Volthamir thundered, his voice almost sounding like his old master. 'Give me what I desire. Give me Leonara.'
The Queen rose from her seat in wrath. It almost seemed as though she was going to charge the prince and try to kill him right in that instant. But she felt a warm touch on the back of her hand.
King Vulcan rose from his seat and spoke softly, no sign of the liquor to be heard in his words. He said, 'You have toiled much, my son, and there is no one in this land who deserves more honor and praise than you. And you are right that I swore to give you any reward you would ask for. But this thing is more than I can bear to give to you. Forgive me, my son,' Vulcan quivered, 'I cannot give you such a thing. It is forbidden for a prince of Amlaman to marry his own sister.'
'Leonara is not my sister,' Volthamir said coldly, not allowing his uncle to dodge his demand with so equivocal an objection. Tears welled up in Leonara's eyes as she heard those words. It had not yet fully occurred to her until that moment that the prince's opinion of her was quite different from the affection she bore toward him. The words, 'not my sister,' seemed to ring in her ears again and again, until she cupped her hands over her head, hoping thereby to drive the sad thought from her mind. The thought occurred to her that the prince had come at last not to be her savior, but to be her conqueror.
'But this gift is more precious to me than any other thing. More precious than the kingdom itself.' A vague idea began to form in King Vulcan's mind, giving him a sudden burst of confidence, 'The price of such a thing is more than any king can give away.'
For nearly a full minute they all stayed perfectly still. The guards stood nearby with their spears pointed once more toward the prince, the Queen slowly lowered herself into her chair while the King stood like a statue, his gaze trying to pierce the eyes of the prince. 'Then name your price, my lord,' Volthamir said with a cold grin. 'If I have not, by all my sweat and blood, won from the king the promised reward, then let me know at least what is lacking. What further task must I fulfill?'
Vulcan paused for a long time and thought to himself in silence. Finally a gleam of light seemed to catch his eyes from one of the torches. He lifted his head and smiled wide like a man who suddenly comes upon some object of great worth that they had long ago misplaced. King Vulcan thundered, 'Bring me the head of Legion!'