Free Web NovelChapter 1218: Naught but ash(2)
They rode in silence for a long while, or as much silence as a column of thousands could muster. Above them, the herald of the Crowned Bull of Kakunia snapped and groaned in the wind. Had Basil cared to turn his head, he would have seen his father’s banners following behind, leading the long, undulating line of the legions.
The honor of the vanguard had been granted to the Kakunians; it was their mettle, after all, that had pulled the battle from the jaws of defeat. Basil still recalled the meeting in the command tent afterward. When his father had recounted the slaughter to his uncle, the silence in the room had been so thick you could have rolled a ball across it and had it come back to you.
It had been unbearable then, and it was becoming unbearable now.
Along the muddy road, various lords who had sworn their fresh allegiances some months prior approached the column. One by one, they caught the scent of the foul air surrounding the Kakunian Prince and thought better of their greetings. Words spread with the speed of a forest fire; by noon, no one else attempted to try their luck.
To say Basil felt guilty would be like calling a century-old oak a sapling. He had known the rumors of the snake-bite, of course; he had simply reached for a change of topic, never realizing he was reaching into a cage. He stole a glance at the man beside him. Merelao didn’t look angry, his features were resting, almost peaceful, but the aura he radiated was as sour as a bitten lemon.
Basil didn’t hate the man. He disliked him, certainly, but hate was a heavy word for someone who had saved his family’s skin. He took a deep, bracing breath and decided to take the dive, his heart winning the argument against his head.
"I did not lose my horse, if you still truly wish to know," Basil began. Behind them, the rhythmic thud of hooves sent sprawls of mud jumping from the earth. "To ’lose’ something implies it slipped away or was taken against my will. He did not run, and I was not robbed."
Merelao’s eyes shifted then , locking onto his with a sudden, sharp focus.
Basil sighed, the confession tasting like ash. "I gave it away."
As much as he had intended to keep that secret buried, the reaction was worth the price. Merelao could not have looked more astonished if Basil had admitted a sudden desire to take the vows of a priest.
At the least he is out of his brooding...
"Gave it away?" Merelao repeated.
Basil nodded grimly.
"A steed of that caliber? Your father told me himself he had hand-picked the sturdiest of the year’s foals for you. I felt a twinge of envy myself when I saw the beast; it was a masterpiece of the stables. And you... you simply parted with it?"
"I didn’t know all that," Basil scowled. His father hadn’t mentioned the pedigree; to him, it had just been the horse from their royal stable, he thought it a sample not the fucking dessert. "And looking back, perhaps it wasn’t the best choice I’ve ever made.My father would be disappointed perhaps, but there are worse son for a father to have."
It was joyful to see the loud man crawling out of his shell. The oppressive silence was breaking, replaced by the barest, most sheepish of smiles on Merelao’s lips as he leaned in. "To whom did you grant this royal charity?"
"A wandering knight."
"A wandering knight?" Merelao spluttered with genuine laughter that made Basil’s face turn a furious shade of red. "He must have been the most silver-tongued rogue in the principalities to swindle a To be prince out of his mount!"
"He didn’t swindle me of anything!" Basil snapped, irked at becoming the butt of the joke
The knight hadn’t looked like he could talk a child out of a common pebble, let alone a royal stallion. It had been a madness of the moment, born of a strange, gut-deep feeling that fate had crossed their paths for a reason. He had looked so perfectly the image of a knight, yet carried a luck so wretched and heavy, that Basil felt compelled to balance the scales.
"And what was the name of this paragon of fortune?" Merelao asked once the tale was told. He hadn’t stopped laughing for a single breath. Every time he managed to compose himself, he would catch one look at Basil’s sullen, burning face, and a fresh thunder of mirth would erupt from his throat.
"Vilon," Basil muttered, staring fixedly at the mud. "Vilon of TallRoast."
"Vilon! Ha! I shall commit that name to my soul," Merelao crowed, wiping a tear from his eye. "If I ever cross paths with the man, I’ll offer him immediate employment. The rogue who swindled a Prince of Yarzat out of his destiny with nothing but a sad story. Truly, it is the blind leading the blind!"
"I honestly think it’s rather sweet," a soft, melodic voice drifted from behind them.
Just when Basil thought his skin couldn’t possibly hold more heat, he turned a shade of crimson that would have shamed a ripe tomato. A certain lady came riding up beside them. Her dark hair swayed like silk in the wind as her mount carried her forward with an effortless, swaying gait.
She reached out, her fingers ruffling Basil’s hair with a motherly affection that only made his cheeks burn hotter.
She treats me like a child, he thought sullenly.
"There is a rare heart in this one," she said, her eyes twinkling . "Perhaps certain men of our circle ought to learn a thing or two from his example."
"Ah! Perhaps I should ask him for fashion advice next," Merelao teased, though the venom had left his voice. "I bet I could find a hole in my hosen that needs his ’royal charity.’ Perhaps he’ll give me his cloak to cover it, eh?"
Ellania’s hand came down in a playful, sharp slap against the back of Merelao’s head.
"Perhaps you could learn how to be kind," she rebuked him, though her smile remained. "To think I came riding up here worried for you. I should have left you to wallow in your silence as you stood." freewebnøvel.coɱ
Merelao didn’t flinch. He caught the hand that had slapped him and pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles. "My lady, I am of a much fairer mood now, thanks entirely to our friend’s marvelous tale of the Knight of TallRoast."
Basil looked between the two of them, feeling small and terribly exposed. "Do I truly need to press the point?" he asked in a small, desperate voice. "I hope... I hope this tale doesn’t spread through the ranks."
Merelao straightened in his saddle, his eyes finally losing the mocking glint and softening into something more human. He glanced at Ellania, then back to the boy.
"I suppose we shall keep it as a private joke for the three of us," Merelao said, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "A secret between a rebel, a lady, and a boy with a heart far too large for his own good. Though, Basil... if you ever decide to give away your boots, do let me know first. I’ve always admired that leather." freewēbnoveℓ.com
Having finally weathered the worst of the shame, Basil felt a strange, quiet opening in the air between them. It was the sort of moment that demanded a softness usually impossible to pry from him, even with red-hot tongs.
"I never thanked you," Basil said, his voice low and raspy, barely audible over the crunch of hooves in the muck.
"For what?" Merelao asked, his smile returning, though this time it lacked its usual serrated edge.
"Don’t make me say it," Basil muttered, looking away. "You know well enough."
Merelao exhaled a long, whistled sigh through his nose. "It was a distinct pleasure to see your father fight at my flank, Basil. Truly. As far as butcheries go, that battle was a magnificent, exciting affair." He laughed with a sudden, golden jolliness, reaching down to unshoulder the canteen from his belt.
"My opinion of your father’s, or well maybe your mother’s standard , was only enhanced when I saw the man rise from the mud, face painted in gore, with a lance-splinter stuck in his helm like a misplaced horn.He was like a falcon soaring in the sky, you know?
I shouted to him then, through the din, I told him we would be known as the Two Horned Princes! I laughed alone, of course,he still didn’t get the punchline of the joke. I had hoped he might share the jest, but instead, the poor fellow simply collapsed when he got there."
Merelao took a long, deep swill of what Basil hope was water and not fortified wine.
"I thought he’d drawn his last breath then," Merelao continued, his eyes glazing with the memory. "I looked at the back of that man’s head while Lord Jarza’s face turned from the flush of battle to a shade as pale as curdled milk. And I thought to myself: ’Well, that was a fine end, all in all.’ I would have found joy in that field even if the crows had claimed me by sunset."
"Most men do not find joy in the prospect of their own slaughter," Basil remarked dryly.
"A mercy there is only one of me, then! The common folk ought to offer prayers of gratitude to the Five for that, otherwise, I fear there would be nothing but scorched earth and hard men plowing fields with broken swords. But killers make for wretched farmers, don’t they? I suppose I ought to thank the Gods myself; if the world were only steel and dirt, I would have no music to sharpen my ears, no poems to stir my blood, no theater to distract me from the boredom of living."
He wiped his mouth with the back of a gloved hand, his eyes dancing. "Sometimes, I dress as a runt of the mud just to see what the low-born pass off as theater in my city. I must confess, I never found the art of the fart joke to be particularly moving.Theirs is but a simple sense of theather. But the play your father commissioned when he welcomed me at his table?"
Merelao pressed his fingers to his lips and blew a kiss toward the gray sky. "Pure, unadulterated pleasure. A masterpiece of the stage. If your father ever tires of the march, tell him he has a future in the arts, I will offer him my patronage gladly...and perhaps I’ll take you too, you look like someone who always have a surprise hiding under his skirt."
