A Delay

 January 3

We were gravely mistaken, but perhaps it will work out to our advantage. Aempleforth needed no prodding from us. The fire was already built and doused in oil. All we had to do was light it.
Jehan sent a trusted man to the small island to scout the general feeling of its population. What he found surprised us all. The small island was already trading heavily with Odrar and sending diplomatic parties to meet with Odrar's politicians. The island would have seceded within a few short months, whether we acted or not.
When Jehan reported all this to me, I was astounded, to say the least. How could we have missed the signs?
Was the prince's illness to blame? I was the first to admit Ardythe had been distracted by his son's sickness and that his advisors did not always act in the best interest of the people, when other choices might line their pockets. Still, to have an entire island ready to change alliances without our knowing was a shock.
This also meant that we could not wait for Ardythe to recuperate and mourn at his own pace. We needed our leader and we needed him three weeks ago.
Despite our trepidation, we returned to the king immediately.
As we expected, we found him in his son's room, which was beginning to smell.
“What now,” he growled without looking up.
“This must end, my lord. A king does not have the luxury of mourning at his own pace. We need you now.”
“But you have the amazing Marcys,” slurred the king, his speech heavy with sarcasm and his tone biting. I did my best to ignore him. I may not be a politician or warrior, but I was damn good at my job. His castle thrived despite the recent drought due to my vigilance.
“We don't need a steward, we need a king.”
“Get out.”
“No.”
“GET OUT!” screamed the king, the veins in his neck becoming visible in his urgency.
“NO!” snapped the general with equal heat.
The king jumped to his feet and drew himself up to his full height. The king, though sixty-one, was still a formidable man. He stood well over six feet, with broad shoulders and wide face accented by a once broken nose and a few small hunting scars.
He glowered down at the shorter man. I would have been cowering in the corner had that look been turned on me. Thankfully Jehan is made of sterner stuff. He glared up at the king with equal vehemence.
“I. Said. Get. Out!” barked the king, each word spoken as though it were the most important he had ever used.
“And I said no. You must deal with this.”
The king exploded into a string of curses, some completely new to me. As he raged he began to grab up the smaller pieces of furniture and hurl them against the stone walls. A chair broke over my head before I realized I needed to duck.
After what felt like an eternity, Jehan stepped forward, dodging a projectile and grabbed the king by the color of his soiled shirt. Next, to my utter astonishment, Jehan drove his heavy fist into the king's jaw.
Ardythe staggered back a few steps, his face flushed red with his recent exertions and his eyes as round as water pales. I doubted he had ever beens truck since he reached adulthood; no doubt the fact his closest general would do so added weight to the surprise.
“You are KING!” snapped Jehan. “You do not have the luxury of self-pity. You must act to save your people. And if you do not, I will personally escort you to the fires of Neraka and I have no doubt Ibinta will accept you with open arms for such a crime.”
Ardythe stared at Jehan. I could barely breath as I watched the two men face each other. The only sound in the destroyed room was the crackle of the fire. As I watched, I noticed an impressive bruise begin to form along the king's jaw. Jehan had not pulled his punch.

Slowly, Ardythe rose form his defensive crouch and reached towards his general. He patted Jehan on the shoulder before moving to the door. It was the first time the king had left the sick room in weeks.

Jehan had broken through his grief.

I followed the two men out, happy to be away from the stench of death and human waste. Ardythe motioned for us to follow him.

He led us to his own chambers where he began to strip out of his soiled clothing.

“Update me on the situation and what plans you two have concocted,” he said before dunking his head in the basin of water. It must have been cold because he sputtered and gasped as the water ran down his bare chest.

I allowed Jehan to do the speaking, only adding the occasional detail. Ardythe nodded from time to time as he dressed himself, too impatient to wait for his man servant to attend him.

“I like the idea of giving them Aempleforth... those good for nothing, ungrateful bastards,” grumbled the king. “Make it happen.”

“There are other issues, my lord,” I ventured before he could dismiss us.

To my surprise, Ardythe smiled at me. “Yes. Evidently I need a wife and a child. But I don't see that happening any times soon. I suppose the best I can do is find a surrogate heir. Why must my family have a history of only producing one child. If I had a sibling, their son would inherit the kingdom.”

“We also need allies.”

“Ironic that if I had a few children allies would be all the easier to come by,” chuckled the king. His complete transformation had me worried. Moments ago he was too deep in sorrow to hold his head up, now he was laughing about the very issue that had fist sunk him.

I would mention it to Jehan.

I glanced at the general. His eyes were unfocused, seeing something I could not see.

“What if...” he began as he were still lost in thought. “What if we could get you a few children... and marry them off to get allies.”

“No one here on the island has soldiers to provide. Even if we could just go to the market and buy me children, who would they marry?” I asked, astonished by the ideas coming from a man I thought to be my friend.

“No locals. No. They would need to marry foreigners. A nation not effected by the drought that has damaged us so thoroughly.”

“And who would that be? Odrar is obviously out of the question,” I added with a touch of mirth to my voice.

“Ha!” barked the king as he sat down to eat the bread and fruit left in his room.

“Mallawi,” stated the general, as if we both should have thought of it.

I stared back at him. Mallawi was even further away than Odrar, so distant, in fact, that our people had had nearly no contact with them over the last century. What little I knew of them was that they produced large families and worshiped no gods.

“Those heathens?” I asked, slurring the word in my disgust.

“Heathens or not they are powerful and wealthy, just what we need. In this moment is it a greater sin to align ourselves with heathens or let our people become submissive to Odrar once again?” asked Jehan.

I looked down at the king who was busy shoveling food in his mouth. When he swallowed he said, “Jehan is right. I will align myself with Ibinta herself if it protects my people. But we still haven't figured out where we will get these mysterious children of mine.”

“The local nobles, of course,” suggested Jehan. “The Mallawi do not know us well enough to know that they are not your own children. We have not even traded with them if over fifty years. You show up on their doorstep with a horde of children they will be seen as yours. Why would they doubt you?”

I opened my mouth to ask another question when Ardythe raised his hand, effectively silencing us both.

“I will draft a letter to be sailed to Mallawi with all haste, begging leave to visit them. Marcys, discover a number of potential children. Nobles. Attractive. Well educated. Jehan, find a large ship and a crew that will be discreet. We can't have an idle word from a drunken sailor ruining it all.”

“And these children will come willing... why?” I demanded.

“Leave that to me,” murmured the king, a darkness filling his eyes. I felt my stomach turn. What could he have planned?

But it is not my job to question the motives and actions of kings. Who am I, but a lowly steward. He does as he wills, whether moral or not, and I cannot stop him. I just hoped that we would find willing people to go on this great adventure to the distant lands of Mallawi.

Marcys