Marianne at Court Ch. 03

Prince Jason Algrave sat back in the comfortable, high-backed leather chair in his father's war room. His bright blue eyes drifted slowly over the massive table that dominated the center of the dark, stone room. The table itself was covered by a map centered on the far-reaching borders of Gandora. One could see how the banners of the kingdom extended far and wide, including the Bonecoast to the west, and even the arid deserts to the south, home of the cunning Sandlords. To the northwest were scraggly illustrations of dusky and imposing mountains, the Ramblade Peaks, where an aged and ringed hand was pulling wooden carvings of skulls off the table - the one-time representation of Jason Algrave's vanquished foes.

"Excellent work, my son." the man standing across the spacious table said as he picked up the last wooden skull from the table, before depositing it in a small chest held by a stone-faced servant. "Having annexed the Mountain Princes, our borders are that much more secure. I don't need to tell you how invaluable that is."

Jason wasn't listening. Instead, his ice-gaze burrowed into the illustrations of the Ramblades, his thoughts drifting to memories of a past battle. He recalled the din of steel on steel, whirling blades spinning around him like a hurricane as he made his way up the narrow causeways. A slice, a parry, a sweatdrop running down his cheek from beneath his ornate warhelm. He'd bark orders and take jabs at his fur-clad foes, driving his massive greatsword through pockets of enemies, cutting his way to a mountain fortress. Somewhere by his side, Sir Derrick Pelgair would give him a report of the flank, before jumping and cleaving with his spear and making his way into the throng of armored men once more. His heart ached every time he saw his friend leave his side, knowing that the next time that he saw him, he might be a corpse.

Thankfully, Derrick Pelgair had lived. But Adam Mullenax had not.

Jason considered Derrick Pelgair and the Mullenax brothers to be his closest companions, and a private goal of his during the campaign against the Mountain Princes was to get all of his friends out alive. He nearly succeeded in doing that.

Adam was the youngest of the three Mullenax knights that Jason Algrave set out with, and the only one to meet his end in the Ramblades. He remembered dashing with the youth across the drawbridge of Andruk castle, only to see him ran through by a massive soldier, a champion of the Ramblades. Adam's mouth gaped, feeling the steel give way to blood within him, and fell to his knees. His hands trembled, and pressed frantically against his wound as he made an inhuman-sounding cry for help. But it'd been too late. Jason avenged young Adam moments after the young knight met his end, but the damage had been done to Jason's soul.

Since then, Jason had hardened. As a leader, one cannot focus on individuals, on personal ties. To accomplish his goals as a monarch, Jason thought, he had to steel himself. Night after night did Jason, Derrick, Bowen, and Matthias sip wine and weep for their fallen friend. The grief was wrenching. It felt as though Prince Jason had been chewed up and spit out by the Ramblades themselves. Despite his victory, and despite how it appeared to the court, Jason felt only emptiness after Adam's death. Never again would Jason allow himself to become so vulnerable.

"Jason!"

The prince's handsome face shot upward, meeting the eyes of his father. King Trevaythan Algrave was a shorter man, but handsome, with a mess of great grey curly hair, carved whiskers, and an imposing set of blue eyes. "You're not listening." the monarch said in a grave voice. Trevaythan wore a fine set of jet-black robes and had his hands clasped in front of him. Despite his slight stature, the man was utterly confident.

"Apologies, father. My mind was elsewhere." Jason said politely. The prince was dressed comfortably and his frame dominated the space of the large dark velvet chair in which he sat. The grey, short sleeved tunic he wore fit tightly against his skin, the fabric of the sleeves shrinking slightly up his arm as his muscles flexed when he moved. Tightly fit, jet-black riding pants sat snugly on his lower body, belying the rolling muscles of his thighs and calves before giving way to high, dark boots.

"Clearly." the king said. His voice was wizened and waxy. The torchlight of the war hall danced across his father's face. His gaze softened, and he dropped his head as he took a seat himself. "You did well here." he said, nodding to the table.

"Oh. Yes. Thank you, father." Jason said softly. He didn't meet his father's eyes.

"Is something troubling you, Jason? I'm finding you difficult to talk to." he said. Father always knew how to get to the heart of the matter. Sometimes, Jason imagined that there was nothing that occurred in Gandora without the King's knowing. He'd ruled this land for nearly thirty years, and the long gaze of King Trevaythan could be felt just about anywhere - even in Jason Algrave's soul.

"We lost Adam. Adam Mullenax." Jason said with biting regret.

"Ahh." the King said with a nod, and a long quiet ensued. Jason's father frowned, and sighed. The King was not a warrior himself - he was a scholar, wildly intelligent, but the tribulations of front-line battle were alien to him. Jason knew this well - in fact, everyone in Gandora knew that Queen Starla had been the egg from which Jason Algrave's prowess in war had hatched. His mother was beautiful and strong, and had once been a shieldmaiden for Jason's aunt, the Princess Demitra. All those years ago, Trevaythan had become smitten with the imposing and strong guard-captain, and married her - not without scandal. Starla was well liked, but lowborn. That bothered Trevaythan not, and they had two children - Jason, and his twin Jeselle.

Jason exhaled. He hadn't even realized he was holding his breath as his thoughts ripped through him. Adam's death still hurt. Adam was young, green, eager to win glory in battle but ignorant of the reality of war. The prince gritted his teeth. He should've lived so much longer than he did. "Derrick has gone with Bowen and Matthias to Norshire, to deliver his bones to his parents." the Prince stated softly.

"Good, good." King Trevaythan replied in a gruff tone. "A tragic loss, to be sure. I'm sorry, my son."

It was tragic. But Jason was done feeling the pangs of grief. He had to move on. He shrugged. "It's no matter. These things will occur. A Prince needs to be strong." he pontificated, capping the statement with a sad laugh. "Maybe I shouldn't have any friends."

King Trevaythan frowned once more. "Ties are important. They're not encumbrances, Jason. Don't let yourself think otherwise."

Prince Jason snorted. "They are encumbrances." his ringed fingers dug into the wood of his chair. He began to seeth. "I can't help it. I love my friends. Bowen and Matthias, Derrick most of all. They've helped me with my life in unworldly ways. But they're my tools. My subjects. I think it's time I start thinking of them that way. For my sake, and for theirs.

"Adam shouldn't have been there on that bridge. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready, and I knew it. But he was so excited. So pleased to have joined the fight, to have joined his brothers. He wanted to get into the fighting. He was so brave. But foolish. That's my sin. I knew he was foolish, and I took him along anyway. Had I not cared about his hopes and his dreams, I wouldn't have made that mistake. Bowen would've been there in his place, and Bowen would have survived." Jason was bellowing at this point.

His father studied him with a long and hard look, and Jason sulked in his chair. "You don't know that."

"I do." Jason spat.

King Trevaythan sighed, and let things stand there. It seemed to Jason that his father had more to say on the matter, but he changed the subject: "I'd like you to marry." he said. Jason's father always had the realm in mind, it seemed. He had no grandchildren, and no nephews or nieces. The succession was in mild peril, by Jason's assertion.

The Prince laughed. It was a deep, almost villainous chuckle. "I bet you would." Jason had little interest in marriage. He adored women, of course, and had his share of them over the years, but the concept of committing to one groveling, attention seeking, noble girl was nauseating. No, he was just fine remaining the handsome bachelor Prince. He knew the effect that he had on the girls at court, and enjoyed sharing his bed with them without getting wrapped up in the trappings of matrimony.

His father was undeterred by Jason's disinterest. "A strong queen is in the best interest for the realm, my son. And for you."

"If this is about an heir, save it. Somewhere down the line I'll legitimize a bastard, and that'll be the end of it." Jason was pretty sure he had no bastards as of yet. But if he were to remain unmarried, he'd have scarcely a choice in the matter. His sister had joined the Goddess Cloister, and was no longer in line to inherit the Gandoran throne, nor was she expected to beget children.

King Trevaythan almost sneered. "Ignoring the implications a legitimized bastard would have on your relationship with the nobles, a marriage is far more than a vessel for trueborn children. A woman with which you have a good relationship does good for your soul, Jason. And Gandora needs a queen."

The prince wasn't convinced. "You had your way of doing things. You and mother have done much for our nation, that is true. The northern towns will certainly celebrate your decision to knock down the Ramblades for years to come. But I need to make my own decisions, including who I bring into my bed. Into my life. As king, I'll need to act in the best interests for my people. That means being untethered."

It was clear that the king had begun to tire of this argument. "We shall see." he said in a foreboding tone.

Jason decided to drop the subject as well. After a long silence, he spoke again. "I'm going to Misthallow in a couple of days. A party, to unwind."

The king raised a grey eyebrow. "Misthallow? I already recalled it's staff." the remote estate was used primarily during the cool months as a base for hunting excursions. That very remoteness made it ideal for what Jason wanted after his long campaign. He fixed his father with a long look, and then shrugged.

"Very well." he said, standing. "Just don't damage anything."