“And where’s the prince?” Petir said candidly upon realising his absence. “Where’s Wesley?”
Emery was also curious also. Where was the king’s son?
“Unfortunately, my son could not attend our armistice. He is back home in Andervale, looking after his new wife.”
Emery felt his stomach twist at the thought of that cockroach being left alone with his daughter, Ciana. He huffed, placing his hands together atop the table and leaning forward.
He heard the crack of thunder again. The distant storm was getting closer, it seemed. A warm wind came out of nowhere, shifting the air around them.
Some Anai slaves brought over some jugs of wine, and the squires poured the drink into the goblets for the two kings before anyone else.
Tobius devoured his drink in a flash, licking his cracked lips, while Emery took a small sip and placed the goblet to his side.
“Not a fan of the sweetness, I take it?” Tobius chuckled.
Emery shook his head. “Not a fan of wasting time. Let’s forego the pleasantries, Tobius. We have a lot to discuss.”
Tobius swallowed another cup of wine.
“I want to know why one of your ships crashed into Dawnhill’s harbour,” Emery insisted.
“You’d have to ask the crew,” Tobius said with a shrug, wiping his dripping mouth with his sleeve.
“The crew is dead. The city guard found them in pieces throughout the ship.”
“Then I cannot help you, I’m afraid. Pirates, perhaps?”
“Was it deliberate? Did you orchestrate this?”
“Moon Mother, of course not!” Tobius cracked. “I don’t know what happened aboard that ship, but it had nothing to do with Caldaea.”
Emery clasped his hands back together. “You can understand my suspicions, given it was a Caldaean ship and with the timing of the incident.”
“We empathise with you truly, King Emery,” Oren Harrin, the skeletal advisor said in a calming tone with eyes greyer than steel. “Already, our people and economies suffer from this situation and the resulting halt of shipping.”
Oren Harrin presented several sheets of paper with paragraphs of writing and numbers, detailing the losses each kingdom would be facing due to the economic blockade.
Emery could not deny that the decision to cease trade with Caldaea would be a drastically expensive one which would surely send much of his kingdom’s population into poverty.
“We want nothing more than a quick resolution to this situation,” Oren Harrin said. “Neither of our kingdoms can afford these sanctions after having dealt with the border conflict for so many years.”
Emery remained silent for a moment as he assessed how to proceed. He thought of his wife, Sirillia, somewhere at the edge of town in his army’s makeshift camp, worrying herself about their daughter Ciana.
He thought of Ciana, trapped alone in a foreign city, forced to remain with a fool of a husband.
He did not want to disappoint his wife or cause her any more grief by extending this affair.
He could hear his paternal instincts screaming into his head.
Protect your children. Get your daughter back.
Emery breathed in, staring Tobius in the eye from across the table. “We will lift the economic sanctions placed upon Caldaea.”
Tobius grinned and nodded, while Oren Harrin let out a sigh of relief, stacking his papers back into a neat pile. The weasel-faced Hart Moralis remained expressionless, as if he were frozen in that very spot.
“That is excellent to hear, King Emery,” Oren Harrin said cheerfully.
“A good choice, indeed,” Tobius said.
“On one condition,” Emery added. The entire table went quiet, realising that he had not yet finished speaking. “You will return Ciana to me at once, and the wedding to Wesley will be annulled.”
Tobius let out a mocking laugh, looking to his royal advisors who sat there, stunned.
“I’m afraid it’s… not that simple, my king,” Oren Harrin said.
Emery continued. “If you let Ciana free, the restrictions on trade from your kingdom will be repealed, your son will be forgiven for having maimed my son, and our family will put all this trouble with your family behind us.”
Emery spoke sternly and without blinking to hammer the message in to their heads and judging by their open mouths he had truly made an impact.
Petir finally snapped, having sat silently squirming for minutes now. He lashed out from Emery’s side, slamming his fist on the table.
“Are you serious, father?”
Emery turned his head and spoke softly. “Petir, not now.”
“That little shit of a prince claims to have had his way with my wife! He crippled me, nearly killed me! And you want to forgive him for what he did?!”
“This is bigger than you or me, Petir.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
Emery’s voice boomed. “Your sister, your mother, and the peoples of our kingdoms need a resolution at once.”
Petir shook his head with a grimace. “You’re a coward.”
Several of the squires and Anai slaves gasped at hearing the words spoken aloud. The insult hit Emery hard, but he refused to let it show, instead staring off blankly until he could think of what to say.
“Boy…” Artima Lowe hinted, threateningly.
Tobius, Oren Harrin and Hart Moralis whispered to one-another as Emery closed his eyes solemnly.
Petir was undermining this whole thing. Emery needed his people to appear to the Seynards as a single, strong unit of men working together, but that had quickly become unravelled.
Emery said with almost a whimper, “to be a good king, son, means doing what is right for the greater good-”
“You… are… a… coward!” Petir shouted in his father’s face with tears in his eyes. He shot out of his seat, knocking the chair over and storming off from the meeting table.
Emery exhaled nervously, rubbing his eyebrow. “My son, he is… I apologise on his behalf.”
Bennet Decaster could not himself but smirk. “Seems your boy has a lot on
