“Are you speaking to me or Percy?” Leo asked.
“Both of you.”
“He wants my job,” Braga said.
“If only that were the case,” Amrath replied. “The problem is that he wants my job. He just can’t figure a way to get it. You’re just this season’s target.”
“Should I resign? It’s not like I have been in this position long. I’ve hardly-”
“No!” Amrath and Leo responded together.
“But Lord Exeter made a good point.” Braga motioned toward Leo. “Count Pickering holds your confidence. He should be chancellor.”
Amrath gazed out the window. He often wandered the room without thought or pattern but always found himself at the window, drawn by the fresh air and open sky. “That’s not possible. You see, that’s the problem with Simon-though he can be a piss pot, he’s also usually right. It’s what makes him such a problem.” Outside, the king spotted the apple merchant, wheeling his cart out the main gate and returning to Gentry Square. What must life be like for such a man? A man with no worries or concerns. A man whose cousins don’t conspire against him? “So, yes, I would love to make Leo chancellor, but I can’t because, as Simon pointed out, there is the little issue of favoritism. Everyone knows we’re close. Leo holds the wealthiest province in Melengar, and we aren’t related, not even by marriage. If I gave him an office, the nobles would-” Amrath threw his hands up in a frustration that he lacked words to express. Being king was supposed to mean-should mean-that he could do as he wished. The truth of the matter was that his life was just a little short of imprisoned servitude to power-hungry nobles. The emperor of the ancient Novronian Empire had it easy-he was a god and ruled without reproach. “Why, I can’t even name him treasurer or keeper of the privy seal, much less chancellor!”
“So why didn’t you name Lord Exeter as chancellor? He is your cousin and, unless I’m wrong, next in line to the throne after your own children, yes?”
Leo chuckled. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Two reasons,” Amrath said, turning and bending back a finger. “First is his obsessive hatred of Imperialists. The man thinks that anyone who believes in the Heir of Novron or supports the Nyphron Church is his mortal enemy. Being a reigning king, I’d like to see this fantasy of a restored empire fade away, too, and a man with Exeter’s views is good to have around. My forefathers waged wars to make Melengar a free and independent kingdom. My crown was won by spilling rivers of blood, and the idea that the Imperialists will one day find the lost heir and everyone will just take a knee to him is … well, it’s offensive, damn it! The church continues to promote this poisonous myth. Now it appears Warric is slipping into their twisted mentality. And if the most powerful kingdom in Avryn can succumb to this insanity, anyone can. Fact is, I agree with Simon. I just can’t afford to make enemies of Clovis or his son.”
“And the other?” Braga asked.
“The other what?” The king looked back and forth between the two.
“The other reason you can’t appoint Simon as chancellor,” Leo reminded him.
“Oh.” The king presented Braga with a wry smile. “Because I hate him. That’s why he’s such a pain. He really can’t get in any worse with his king. So he needles me and revels in his position of being one of the most powerful and disliked nobles in the realm. Worst thing about it is,” Amrath grumbled as he looked back out the window, “if I were to get into a scuffle with Warric, there are no two men I’d rather have at my side than Leo and Simon. It’s true that he hates me. Nothing personal-he just hates everyone, really. I’ve never met a more disagreeable codpiece. But he loves the kingdom. And while he may be misguided, arrogant, and ambitious beyond reason, he’s also tireless in his efforts to keep Melengar safe. That is why I appointed him lord high constable. I imagine there was a mass exodus of thieves and cutthroats the day of that announcement. But don’t worry, once you get to know Simon better, you’ll learn to truly despise him the way Leo and I do.”
“I’m just not certain I’m right for this job,” Braga said. “I’m not native to the kingdom, and as he said, I was a knight of the Church of Nyphron.”
“Which, if you take politics out of it, is a true achievement,” Leo pointed out. “The seret’s reputation for excellence is well known.”
“Still, I’ve only been here a year-”
“Percy,” the king said in a gentle voice. “When you married Clare, you became family.”
“Blood is thicker than paper,” Braga challenged.
“You’re assuming Simon has blood. We haven’t yet determined if he even has a heart,” Leo said. “But you’re right, and while I find you more appealing than Lord Exeter, it is because of his lineage that I, and the rest of the nobles, would back him should something happen to the Bear and his family.” Leo made a show of shivering. “Stay healthy, Your Majesty.”
The king smirked. “Yeah, that’s why I won’t die, because I don’t wish to inconvenience you.”
“I’ll take that as a promise.”
Braga looked down at the chain as if it had gained weight.
“If Clare had lived, at least…” Braga began. An awkward pause followed.
Clare had been Amrath’s sister-in-law, the aging second daughter of Llewellyn Ethelred, Duke of Rise. The duke had taken too long finding her a proper husband and at the death of her father she asked to live with her sister Queen Ann in Melengar. Amrath could only guess at the state of the court in Aquesta that a granddaughter of the reigning king would choose to flee her own home for a neighboring kingdom. Amrath and Ann were happy to take her in, as she was a gentle soul. A bit bookish, living in exile, and over the age of thirty, they all expected her to remain unwed. Everyone thought she would grow old as the kindly spinster aunt to the royal children, but then Bishop Saldur introduced her to Percy Braga and everything changed. Clare found the dashing young swordsman charming. For months he and Ann commented at Clare’s brimming smile.
“She loved you very much, and I never saw her happier than the day you took the oath of office. She believed in you, and so do I.” Amrath left the window and clapped his big hand on Braga’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You’re the only one for the job, Percy. I wouldn’t dare give Simon any more power. And I can’t give it to Leo. Being from Maranon actually has its benefits. Singling out any other noble would cause divisions and launch rumors that could lead to bigger problems than just a bruised ego. You have no ties, no known bias. You’ll be called to pass judgment over all of them in the chancery, to make laws and keep the rolls. And only a man with no affiliation can successfully do that.”
“Yes,” Leo put in, “only a man as equally despised as you can hope to be effective as chancellor of our unruly mob of nobles. In that way you’re Simon’s equal. Being a source of universal hatred, you are free to act as your conscience dictates.”
“Wonderful,” Braga said, but managed a smile.
Amrath clapped him soundly on the back, staggering the smaller man forward a step.
“Is it really true?” Leo asked. “Did you actually apply to be a sentinel?”
Braga nodded.
“Becoming a sentinel is no easy feat.”
“Clearly I failed.” He folded his hands behind his back. “I didn’t have a lot of prospects, you understand. And the church is more dominant in Maranon than here. I felt that since I had won the Silver Shield, the Golden Laurel, as well as the Grand Circuit Tournament of Swords at Wintertide that I would be considered. After all, I had no problem with my induction into the Seret Knights, but…”