Relam privately agreed with him, but kept his silence, guessing that if he intervened it would be seen as meddling in the Assembly’s business.
“While it is excellent news indeed that his highness has rejoined us,” Garenes was saying now, “He is still under age, and therefore ineligible to be crowned.”
“Now wait just a moment!” a Councilman protested. He was quickly drowned out by the arguments springing up between members of the Assembly.
Lord Laurencian snatched up a gavel from the center of the Council table and banged it several times on the table. “Order!” he shouted. “We will have order!”
“I can’t speak up on my behalf,” Relam murmured to Oreius out of the corner of his mouth. “What should I do?”
“You’re asking me?” Oreius asked, surprised. “I’m just a simple warrior, what do I know?”
Relam sighed heavily, looking around the room uneasily, unsure where this would lead. The meeting had been going so well, too.
“His highness may be underage,” Lord Laurencian observed. “But he is the heir to the throne, and based on his tale has fought hard and skillfully to defend it. And, since he is on the brink of being of age anyway it seems foolish to appoint an interim king or regent until that time.”
“He is not of age,” another Council member maintained stubbornly. “The law demands that new kings be of age.”
“Why?” a lord shouted from the ranks of the general Assembly. “Why is the law written so? It seems that in times where there is only one person with a right to the throne, that person should be crowned king.”
“The law is written that way so that a young, malleable king does not come to power,” Garenes replied, pulling an ancient book across the table.
Relam stared at the book. The law of the kingdom. He had not even noticed it, sitting there harmlessly and unobtrusively, a plain book with a plain brown cover, the only ornamentation a few peeling gold letters on the surface. The pages within were yellowed and ragged edged, indicating this to be the original book of law, used for hundreds of years.
“The law says as much,” Knet’s father agreed, glancing at Garenes. “But surely an exception can be made in these . . . extraordinary circumstances?”
“If the rule of law is written to avoid a malleable king, then you might as well ignore it,” Oreius called from behind Relam.
The hall fell dead silent. Even Relam turned to look at the old warrior, who was glaring around the hall at the assembled nobles. “Don’t look at me like that!” he shouted. “All surprised and concerned, as though you are in the presence of someone who has lost his mind. I have spent more time around Relam than any of you preening-”
“Don’t you think that makes you biased?” Garenes asked.
“For once in your life, shut your mouth, my lord,” Oreius growled.
Garenes flushed angrily and opened his mouth to reply, but Oreius bulled onward.
“You know my story,” Oreius said, looking around the hall. “How selective I am about my students. Some of you have direct experience with that, having heard your sons complain about rejection. Some of you I rejected for training. But this young man, this king, I accepted.”
“Enough, warrior,” Garenes growled. “You are out of line, this is an Assembly of Nobles, not-”
“I accepted him because he was the worthiest candidate I had ever had come to me,” Oreius continued doggedly. “His character is irrefutable, and he has an ability to bring people together, even those that have wronged him. You might ask your son about that, Garenes.”
The great lord stood angrily, knocking his chair back with a screech and a clatter. “My son was more than worthy of your training,” Garenes spat. “You are blind, old man. Now, step back and be quiet. You have no place among us.”
“This man is ready to be king,” Oreius said stubbornly. “He is willing and able to lead. And he is the rightful heir to the throne. You know he will not be manipulated. He has proven that well enough by investigating and destroying a group of traitors which included extremely powerful officials of this kingdom. He held his own, persevered, and emerged victorious.”
“Perhaps a temporary arrangement could be made,” Lord Laurencian suggested. “Young Relam and the Council could rule side by side until he comes of age, then after the coronation he could take on his role of king.”
“That would allow him to gain experience without putting the kingdom at risk,” a noble in the second row called out, looking around the hall.
“You’re still depriving him his birthright!” Another man shouted from the back of the room. “Give him a chance. Long live King Relam I say!”
The hall dissolved into chaos again. Relam shook his head wearily, glaring down at the table the High Council was sitting at. They all had their heads together, whispering and muttering. Plotting.
“I’m not sure how much more of this I can take,” Relam murmured to Oreius out of the corner of his mouth.
“Then put an end to it,” the old warrior snarled. “Show them why you deserve to be king.”
Relam considered this for a moment, wondering what he should do. Shout? Yell? Call the Assembly to order? Threaten Garenes with horrible punishments if he continued to act like an imbecile?
The young prince considered his options, then, with a wild yell he launched himself from the stage and onto the Council table, landing in a kneeling position. The hall fell silent immediately, but Relam did not care. He snatched the gavel away from Laurencian and smashed it against the table so hard the handle snapped with a loud CRACK!
The sound carried all around the room. In seconds, every noble had turned
