Lanton stood outside the King’s door and let out a sigh. The king, he knew, was expecting him; he knew in turn what the King would order him to do. Was the king mad, he wondered, or was this simply the best strategy? And was this the only way?
He clutched the scroll in his hand tightly and slowly opened the door.
"Your Majesty?"
"Chancellor, come."
Lanton slowly entered the dimly lit office of his old friend and king and closed the door behind him. He turned to the king and found him sitting in his chair and staring not out the window as was his usual inclination but at a shelf filled with his trinkets, trophies, and books.
The king made no gesture to his chancellor upon his entrance and Lanton, accustomed to an informal address of the king in private, realized that today was not the day to begin with simple pleasantries. He bowed his head.
"Your Majesty."
Lanton noticed a darker mood to the room of his lord. On any other day this meeting would be held over a drink and a chuckle; the affairs of state secondary to the friendship of the two men. But today his desktop was clear of the usual two glasses and bottle of wine and in its place was a stack of papers and a small pouch.
"They’ve come, haven’t they?"
The Chancellor stepped forward and held out the scroll but stopped when the king held up his hand. "Don’t tell me. If you’ve come to bring word of an envoy from Ettan then I must hear no word of it."
King Agaraa’s eyes still fixed on the shelf; a light yellow was cast upon his face. Lanton became nervous.
"You remember the day my world ended?" the King asked. "You were with me that day. The day I took the throne from my father. Today, my old friend, is the day scores will be settled. You know what needs to be done."
Lanton shook his head. "But, my Lord, Ettan is an ally…"
"Ally?" The King looked sharply at Lanton, then quickly looked back at the shelf. "They are our ally in a very basic sense. They’re less of a friend." The king stood up and walked to the window to stare out into the night. "We were attacked, remember, and I sent them a request for help. Did they respond? No. So, no, Chancellor, they’re not friends.
"You know what needs to be done."
"My Lord, are you sure?"
Agaraa made no answer save a slight nod. "For Lya," the King finally said.
"For Lya," Lanton repeated as rote. He bowed his head, turned, and left his majesty’s office.
Lanton knew the enormous weight of his charge. He knew that he was starting a war. Or rather, he knew that his King was continuing a war that for most everyone had ended over a decade ago.
And today, fifteen years since Uh’ton attacked Lya, blood would again be shed. And it would start with Lanton.
As he walked down the hall he passed two guards escorting a young man in a blue cloak to the king’s office.
"Leave your soul at the door," he said to the stranger as he walked by. "You won’t need it in there tonight."
* * *
There was a chill in the air when Lanton left the palace and crossed the courtyard. The sun had set and the moons illuminated the city. He walked off the palace grounds and decided to go to his home to change. He entered his house and was greeted by his wife and Lanton smiled for the first time since the envoy arrived hours ago. He kissed his wife and his children and changed out of his official garb and into street clothes.
Anything that was to be done tonight was not official.
He kissed his wife again and told her he had more work to do before morning. He was glad he didn’t have to lie; half the truth was enough.
He left his home and made his way to the stables. There he told a stableboy to ride out the Ettan envoy and escort them to the fields west of the city for the night and that the king would see them in the morning.
He left the stables and was joined by four other men, former members of the Lya army who had no qualms about doing the kings bidding. For the right price.
And tonight, Lanton knew, the price was too high.
* * *
The massacre went as planned. Using weapons of Uh’ton that had been collected over the years the mercenaries slaughtered the Ettan envoy as they slept. Before the rise of the new day seven innocent men lay dead.
Lanton paid the men and walked to the killing field. He never imagined that their murders would be so clean. Men in their tents sleeping peacefully. Blood silhouetting their bodies.
He made his way to the tent of the Ettan ambassador, a man Lanton knew as a good man from the few times he met; a man committed to his king as Lanton was committed to his. "Pa’man." He cursed his Hallowed then asked the same for forgiveness. He took the scroll and dropped it in the pool of blood next to the ambassador and left the tent.
The sun was about to rise and a new day begin. He stood in the middle of the killing field and said a prayer to the Pa’man, turned to leave and walked into a dagger.
Lanton was unable to speak, unable to yell. Standing in front of him was the boy in blue twisting the dagger in his stomach. He tried to yell, tried to run but only managed to fall to his knees. The boy did the same.
With the dagger in his right hand, the boy put his left on Lanton’s head and brought his year to his mouth. "My name is Aldean Kienanan and I release you." The boy pulled his dagger from Lanton, pushed the Chancellor of Lya down and left the field as quietly as he came onto it.
The morning light of the new day fell on Lanton’s face and he breathed his last.
* * *
King Agaraa stood at his office window and looked out onto his courtyard. His court officials and servants and the commoners beginning their day. Of those people he had no interest. Instead he watched the fountain and he watched for the young man in blue. From time to time he turned to his shelf and eyed the orb of yellow, then turn back to the fountain until he saw the boy.
The boy held his cloak as he made eye contact with the king and nodded. The king made no indication that he saw and instead walked to his shelf and picked up the yellow orb and held it in his hand.
As he stared at the orb clouds of blue appeared in it and swirled and the king smiled.
"You’re right," he said to the orb. He rubbed his face with his other hand.
"I should grow a beard."