Isec added. “Knowing Emery, however, I doubt he will settle for that.”
“What would you have me do? Hand her back over, Batir?” Tobius barked.
Isec shook his head.
Tobius continued. “Emery will attempt to annul the wedding. He can use this claim that you were having relations with Jodie Blacktree as reason to do so. The claim that you so elegantly decided to share with half the bloody kingdom.”
Wesley did not seem to react at all. Isec did not know whether to pity the prince or despise him.
“You’ve given the man ample reason to void your marriage. Alas, there is nothing more we can do as of this moment. Go back to your chambers, boy, and do not leave until I give you permission to, is that understood?” Tobius said.
“B-but…” Wesley stuttered, “My wife is there. She-”
“She is probably quite upset by her brother’s violent injury and being forced to stay in Andervale. Worried for his safety, and all that nonsense. Go and comfort her, and for Moon Mother’s sake, go impregnate the bitch. We need something to tie her down to Camridia.”
Wesley was at a loss for words, but before he could even say anything in response, Sen Dorval stepped forward and practically dragged the prince from the throne room by his arm. The hefty doors were shut behind them.
Isec and the king were alone.
Tobius smacked his fist down against his throne. “Damn that boy,” he said. “He will be the death of me.”
“I fear he will be the death of us all, my king,” Isec said.
Tobius didn’t even bother coming up with anything as a defence. The king had always been willing to listen to the captain’s insight and knowledge, despite him not being an official advisor.
Tobius seemed to be able to sense that Isec had good intentions for everyone, and for their kingdom, and for that he allowed him to be more honest and open than he would for others.
“What of the Blacktrees?” Tobius asked.
“I have my men escorting them from the city as we speak. The prince is in a bad way. Lost a lot of blood, incredible pain. The barons of Ashen who attended the wedding are leaving with them.”
Tobius nodded. “And what of Jodie Blacktree?”
“We believe that she has fled the city, my king. She’s probably wanting to return home to Stonebridge.”
“What?” Tobius blabbered. “Why would she run?”
Isec shrugged. “That I cannot be certain of, my king. If I must take a guess, I’d say that she is fearful of any repercussions from the Blacktrees over the rumours of her and Prince Wesley. The allegiance between the Mannerings and the Blacktrees, as with our own peace with the Blacktrees, is up in flames, my king.”
“All because she couldn’t keep her damned legs shut. She was to be the next queen of Ashen as well! Stupid girl.”
A city watchman burst through the throne room doors, red-faced. “My king!”
“What? What is it?”
“My king, a message from Dawnhill has arrived via hawk,” the watchman gasped, jogging up to the throne with a piece of parchment. He handed it to the king, who unrolled it.
Tobius’s eyes went wide as he scanned the message.
“What does it read?” Isec asked. “Surely it can’t be in relation to Petir. Our hawks would not have reached Dawnhill yet with the message of his maiming.”
“It’s not about Petir,” Tobius murmured, rubbing his sun-spotted forehead. “Bring in the scribe and my advisors.”
Isec, growing worried, did as he was ordered. He sent for the king’s two advisors who were waiting patiently outside the throne room to enter.
The advisors, a tall skeleton of a man with black, beady eyes named Oren Harrin, and the older, conniving, shrew-faced Hart Moralis, both bowed to their king, before taking positions at the base of the throne’s dais. The scribe sat back down at his table with a new ink pot.
Oren Harrin dragged in a small cart of old books which he took everywhere he went, containing written records and details of the kingdom’s dealings. When he wasn’t speaking to somebody, he had his head stuck between those pages.
“How can we be of service, my king?” Hart Moralis asked. His overly aristocratic eastern accent had always sounded like silverware on a plate to Isec’s ears.
Tobius unrolled the message. “We have received a hawk from Dawnhill. It contains… troubling news.”
Hart Moralis stepped forward. “Whatever it is, we are here to help serve you, my king.” Moralis’ robes were as black as night, with elegant silver embroidery around the trim and pearls lining the cuffs. The man had a delicacy for the expensive.
Tobius coughed up something from his throat into his handkerchief before reading the message aloud.
“From Ser Jyra Leona, Commander of the Dawnhill City Guard. On the night of the thirty-third lunar duality of this year, a trading vessel travelling at high speeds crashed into the Crown Bay docks. As of writing, we have counted at least thirty casualties. Several blocks of the city were heavily damaged as a result.”
A bead of sweat rolled down Tobius’s plump face. He continued, “The trading vessel, identified as The Blue Intrepid, is a ship registered to the Kingdom of Caldaea. We know not whether this was some accident, or potentially an attack on the sovereignty and the peoples of the Kingdom of Ashen. As a precaution to protect our borders, the Ashen Navy will be actively patrolling our waterways until further notice.
“No ship may enter Crown Bay without first receiving approval from Dawnhill officials and being inspected by officers of our navy. No vessels of any kind registered under the Kingdom of Caldaea are
