Tellesberg Palace, City of Tellesberg, Kingdom of Old Charis
“I, Nahrmahn Gareyt Baytz, do swear allegiance and fealty to Emperor Cayleb and Empress Sharleyan of Charis,” the young man said, kneeling before the side-by-side thrones with his hand on the cover of the Holy Writ, “to be their true man, of heart, will, body, and sword. To do my utmost to discharge my obligations and duty to them, to their Crowns, and to their House, in all ways, as God shall give me the ability and the wit so to do. I swear this oath without mental or moral reservation, and I submit myself to the judgment of the Emperor and Empress and of God Himself for the fidelity with which I honor and discharge the obligations I now assume before God and this company.”
Cayleb and Sharleyan looked down at him, seeing the unshed tears behind those brown eyes, hearing the grief in the young voice which refused to remain completely steady despite all its owner could do. Cayleb felt his own throat closing, and he glanced at Sharleyan, saw the tears glistening in her eyes, as well, as they stretched out their hands to cover the boy’s.
“And we, Sharleyan Ahdel Alahnah Ahrmahk and Cayleb Zhan Haarahld Bryahn Ahrmahk,” Sharleyan said, her voice clear but soft, “do accept your oath. We will extend protection against all enemies, loyalty for fealty, justice for justice, fidelity for fidelity, and punishment for oath-breaking. May God judge us and ours as He judges you and yours.”
There was a moment of intense silence as the three of them gazed into one another’s eyes, their hands still joined atop the Writ. Then Cayleb cleared his throat.
“There was a day,” he told the young prince kneeling before him, “just over three years ago this month, when another Prince of Emerald named Nahrmahn knelt where you are today, Your Highness. He came as a defeated foe, making the best terms he could for his House and his people, knowing my wife and I, as his sworn enemies, might well have demanded his head in return. He came anyway, despite that danger, and knelt on the same cushion and swore the same oath you’ve sworn this day. I’d been raised all of my life knowing Emerald was the enemy of Charis. There’d been decades of spying and maneuvering for position and-finally-war between us. We had every reason to hate one another, and very little reason not to.
“Last month, that prince died.” Cayleb had to pause and clear his throat again, and despite himself his voice was husky when he continued. “He died protecting his wife-and your mother-with his own body. He died at the hands of an assassin who murdered thirty-seven other people with the same bomb. He died having fought with all his marvelous intelligence and wisdom, at my side and Sharleyan’s, for three years. Having fought for that in which he believed, for that which he loved… and for that for which he gave his life. And my lifelong enemy died not simply as our vassal, but as my friend, my ally, and my brother. In a few more years, my younger brother will wed your older sister, but know this-our Houses are already joined, and while Sharleyan and I weep at bidding your father go with God, we rejoice at welcoming you to the throne you now assume. I know how much your father loved you, Nahrmahn Gareyt, and I know how much you loved him. Remember him, as we will, and follow the example he set for you. If you do that you’ll become not simply a prince to be respected and obeyed, but a man to be loved and celebrated.”
The young man who would be sixteen Safeholdian years old-fourteen and a half, in the years of Old Terra-in four more five-days gazed up at his emperor and empress. Then he bent his head, his forehead on their clasped hands until Sharleyan withdrew hers and rested it on his dark, curly hair. Nahrmahn Gareyt’s shoulders quivered, ever so slightly, and the empress’ smile trembled as she stroked his hair. Then she drew a deep breath.
“Rise, Prince Nahrmahn Gareyt, Nahrmahn III of Emerald. You are summoned to our Imperial Council, and we have much of which to speak.”
Nahrmahn Gareyt was already taller than his father had been. He was also athletic and muscular, without Nahrmahn the Elder’s undeniably portly physique. His eyes were much the same, however-dark and sharp. It remained to be seen if the brain behind them was the equal of his father’s, but the signs were hopeful, Sharleyan thought. The young man had never expected or wanted to take a throne so young, yet his parents had trained him well, both as a potential ruler and as a boy growing steadily into manhood, and those sharp eyes drank in every detail of the council chamber.
He was also clearly aware of his youth as he sat in the chair which had belonged to his father. There was a definite nervousness in the ever so slightly too erect posture, in the way he watched whoever was speaking. There was still too much grief in that youthful face, as well, and every so often his left hand touched the black mourning band on his right arm. Yet he showed far more composure than many a man twice his age might have, and Sharleyan remembered a girl child, even younger than he, who’d also come to a throne untimely because her father had been assassinated. She’d always felt close to Nahrmahn Gareyt, and now that common bond of murder had drawn them closer still.
“I meant what I said in the throne room, Nahrmahn Gareyt,” Cayleb said, looking down the table to where Nahrmahn Gareyt sat at its foot. “I didn’t expect even to like your father before we met, but both of us were rulers, both of us knew the survival of our realms and our people required us to find an accommodation. I never anticipated how much we’d come to treasure one another, or how valuable his wisdom and counsel would be. I’m sure you know Sharleyan and me well enough by now to realize how sincerely attached we were-and are-to your entire family, little though any of us expected that outcome. And despite your youth, you’re a full voting member of the Imperial Council. You are the Prince of Emerald, the second ranking noble of the Charisian Empire, and we’ll value your input and opinions. I’m sure you’ll be more hesitant than your father was to offer an opinion.” Despite the solemnity of the moment, Cayleb’s lips twitched. “God knows Nahrmahn was never shy about offering opinions! ”
A mutter of laughter ran around the council chamber, and even Nahrmahn Gareyt smiled at the emperor’s wry expression.
“That hesitancy is only to be expected, given the combination of your age and how recently come to your throne you are,” Cayleb continued more seriously as the moment’s humor ebbed. “When you do wish to speak, however, you have not only the right but the responsibility to do so. I trust you understand I mean every word I’ve just said?”
“I do, Your Majesty. And Your Grace,” Nahrmahn Gareyt said, bowing down the length of the table to Sharleyan. His voice hadn’t yet settled completely into its adult register, but he met his monarchs’ eyes steadily. “And you’re right. For at least a while I’m going to take my mother’s advice.”
“Oh?” Sharleyan cocked her head. “And what advice did Princess Ohlyvya give you, Your Highness?”
“To keep my mouth shut in official settings even if I think people are going to assume I don’t know what they’re talking about rather than open it and prove I don’t,” Nahrmahn Gareyt told her with something approaching his normal grin. “She, ah, suggested it would be wise of me to mostly listen until I actually have a clue what the people around me are discussing.”
“A wise woman, your mother, Your Highness,” Cayleb observed with an answering smile.
“I think so most of the time myself, Your Majesty. Although there have been times when her idea of ‘wisdom’ and mine weren’t exactly the same.”
“I can imagine,” Cayleb said feelingly. Then he shook his head and looked around at the other councilors seated at that table, and his amusement-welcome though it had been-disappeared.
Some of the faces had changed. Nahrmahn’s left a painful gap, but much as Cayleb would miss the plump little Emeraldian, the gap where Sir Rayjhis Yowance had sat for so long was even more painful to him. And yet, as bitterly as he missed the man who’d been his friend, mentor, unofficial uncle, adviser, and, finally, servant, he felt no qualms when he looked at the man who’d replaced him.
Trahvys Ohlsyn, the Earl of Pine Hollow, had been Prince Nahrmahn’s first councilor for many years, but he would be unavailable to Prince Nahrmahn Gareyt in that role, because Cayleb and Sharleyan had stolen him for the Empire. Quite a few Charisian noses had been put out of joint by their decision to name Pine Hollow to succeed Gray Harbor, yet no one had complained too loudly. Partly that was because the people who might have done the complaining suspected how little patience the emperor and empress would have shown their protests. Perhaps equally importantly, however, was the irreproachable job Pine Hollow had done managing Emerald’s affairs while Nahrmahn was distracted by his responsibilities as Sharleyan and Cayleb’s imperial councilor for intelligence.
