It was only a matter of time.
Chapter 72: Marcellus
Battlegrounds never changed. Only the miles between them differed. Marcellus walked past fallen bodies, broken rubble, and dazed survivors nearly unnoticed before he halted in front of General Oren, who looked gruff as ever. His armor still gleamed. Oren was smart enough to know that a commander led from behind the lines, not in front.
Queen Salliana conferred with Captain De Vallegera, but when she saw Marcellus, she exclaimed loudly and threw her arms around him. He returned her embrace warmly before turning to the general.
"I never thought to see you here, your Grace."
"And you'd be right, had things been the way I understood them," Oren said. "But the Imperial Guard must protect the king."
Marcellus froze. "What are you saying? The king is dead."
"You are the king of Kaerleon, Marcellus."
He flinched as though he'd been struck. He tried not to let his emotions betray him, although he did not even know what to feel. Shock? Anger? The only thing he felt was weary to the bone.
"That is not something to say even in jest, your Grace."
Oren glowered. "Do you think I came this far to bandy words, your Majesty? Rodell brought word of you, Marcellus. When I heard you had gathered an army, it struck me. There is only one man who can raise a banner that compels men from all parts of the kingdom to unite. It didn't matter why; it didn't matter where you led them. They believed in you. That was when I knew."
"You knew what?"
Oren didn't even blink. "That I could bend the knee to such a man. A man who compels men to follow no matter what the cause. A man whose reputation precedes him, whose very name conjures deeds of glory. Few such men exist, you know that. The kingdom needs such a man. Leodia totters on the edge of a blade. We need a king that can unite us. I cannot imagine anyone else worthy."
Marcellus looked skyward as if for answers. "Most of those men sought my banner for their own glory, Oren. For riches and fame. Kaerleon needs a man of honor. I have not been such a man."
"The reasons why they sought you doesn't matter. What matters is they followed you. In spite of all the rumors and accusations, men follow you. They unite around you. It will have to suffice." Oren looked at their surroundings as though for the first time. Unease flickered in his eyes before being promptly banished. "I know you did not expect to come out of this ordeal alive, but that is beside the point now. Kaerleon waits for your return, your Majesty. When I made my decision, I took a bulk of the army with me. No doubt those scheming cowards among the nobles have made arrangements to anoint a king of their own in my absence."
"If that is so, what would you have me do? Take Kaerleon by force?"
Oren gaze was impassive. "You would not be the first, Marcellus. In the end, how you rule will become more important than how you gained the throne. But it may not even reach that point if we approach the situation carefully. I command the generals, and they will support you as I do. And many of the nobles owe me favors, which I will promptly collect with interest. The rest should not be foolish enough to push their luck. They know with whom they are dealing with."
When Marcellus closed his eyes, he saw King Lucretius smiling sadly from the graveyard of his memory. "I know nothing of ruling nations. I do not ask for this, Oren."
Oren's face was as bluff as a rock. "It is too late to think of fairness, your Majesty. You know as well as I do the world does not work that way. We are not the masters of fate or circumstance. We only do our best with the tools we're given, whether they are sword or scepter. The commoners will unite behind your popularity, and your legendary reputation will make most of the nobles pause at the thought of rebellion. And you have the might of the Imperial Guard at your disposal. I may not like how events have turned out, but my allegiance is to Kaerleon, and to her king. I await your command."
"He is right, your Majesty." Queen Salliana touched his arm. "The kingdom will not heal until you return to the Shining City."
Marcellus stood still for a long moment before he reluctantly turned to Nyori. "And what say you, Nyori? Are you on Oren's side as well?"
She smiled. Somehow she appeared more beautiful than he'd ever seen her, despite the streaks of dirt and the nicks on her face. "You know I am always on your side. But their counsel is wise. You just spoke of making what amends you could. What better way than this?"
Marcellus shook his head. He felt almost as imprisoned as when in Bruallia. But duty was an ever-insistent mistress, something no one knew better than he did. He turned back to General Oren. "Very well, your Grace. I shall return with you to Kaerleon. I will see this through to the end."
Oren snorted. "Don't act as if you have a choice in this, your Majesty. You don't." He hesitated to glance around at the battlefield. "But for now you have achieved a great victory against odds I would not have believed. The people look to you."
Marcellus turned and saw the truth of Oren's words. Tattered and bleeding, yet proud and defiant, the surviving army of Ulfhenar, knights, Norlanders, Nahguals, mercenaries, and assorted soldiers gathered in expectation.
Oren turned to the battered crowds. Flames crackled, and smoke darkened the sky behind them. The towers of Aceldama loomed, somehow still majestic despite the wounds that marred them. The survivors pressed together as the air stilled in anticipation of Oren's words.
"The king of Kaerleon is dead," Oren said in a booming voice. He gestured to Marcellus. "Long live the king of Kaerleon!"
He drew his sword and thrust it into the ground before Marcellus. He then dropped to one knee with his hand upon the hilt.
Queen Salliana inclined her head, imitated quickly by Nyori. The crowds rippled as thousands of swords unsheathed and plunged into the battered ground and men bowed in homage. Marcellus could only stand in stunned silence as his world turned upside down. He saw familiar faces in the crowd. Han was there, with Ayna and Nando. Even Shiru had somehow survived. Marcellus caught sight of Theron, bloodied but upright among a host of his warriors. The Norland king nodded with a wide grin on his bluff face.
Han stepped forward with a leather satchel in his hands. "Dradyn wanted you to have this, your Majesty. He…couldn't give it to you himself."
He placed the heavy, shining object in Marcellus' hands.
Marcellus' eyes blurred with tears as he stared at the silver horn, curled and gleaming.
Han grinned. "Now might be the time to test it."
"Yes." Marcellus nodded. "Thank you." He stared at the horn for a moment before he raised it to his lips.
The triumphant notes floated upon the wind, the swelling cry of victory, the song that compelled men to raise their heads and cheer in reply as they waved their weapons and banners in victorious elation. Theron hoisted his crystalline hammer, and the heavens flickered in response.
Oren began the cry that was taken up by the crowd and rippled through their ranks. The chant became a mighty roar that rang to the departing clouds above.
All hail the king! All hail the king!
Marcellus gazed at the cheering, bloodied, tattered crowds and recognized that they were more than just soldiers of assorted nations, more than just the army of Marcellus Admorran.
They were his people.
Postlude
Queen Salliana had dedicated a plot for the burial just on the edge of the border between her country and the Barrens. The survivors gathered to remember the fallen. The afternoon sky was appropriately mournful and overcast. A light mist drizzled upon the somberly clad mourners who huddled together in groups for comfort.