Nectar of War: The Song of Verity and Serenity (The Nectar of War Series Book 1)
Nectar of War: Part 3 – Chapter 45

LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II

The moment Lorsius declared my work was over he had Farsven move the paperwork from my study and into his. Then, all of the trials that my brothers and I arranged were canceled, and every person being prosecuted was released with a small smack on the hand.

This is how it has always been. Those on our land that he favors get away with acts others would not. I cannot say his hatred only persists for the Quamfasian people, even the poorer folk of Vaigon Citadel are neglected, though not as harsh.

His own people, he tends to hate. If they cannot carry the weight to be high earners, he will look down upon them as if they are ill-equipped for life itself. Yet somehow, he does not look down on them as much as he does the Quamfasian people. When our people requested to work for the palace, he told them there were better earnings elsewhere because jobs as those are meant for the Quamfasian’s.

He sees ruling over the Quamfasian people as power. Having a form of strength above them when in previous times, they were untouchable given they are Orviantes but do not look the part, just like Lorsius, he too is an Orviante but inherited no abilities and gifts other than a deceitful mind.

“Where is it that you have been all this time?” My mother asks Lorsius.

“I yearned for some months away, so I left after I finished in Gordanta.” He says as he cuts into a large helping of chicken on his plate.

“Finished?” Axynth challenges. “You finished nothing in Gordanta, Laven did.”

Lorsius smirks. “Because I knew he would.”

“It is a good thing you have him, otherwise you would not be the High King you are today without him cleaning up your messes.” Axynth attacks again.

This is exactly why Lorsius stripped him of his rights to being high royalty. Axynth will challenge Lorsius any given day knowing he will win and Lorsius will not retaliate in any other way than taking his rank. Axynth still means too much to him as a Blood Bond Ritual brother. Taking his rank is as far as Lorsius is willing to go.

“You are wrong again, Laven would not be the High Prince he is without me leaving these tasks for him to fulfill. I am only preparing him to be better.”

I nearly laugh at him, but instead I go back to eating the food on my plate.

“So you figured an unexpected leave of absence was necessary without a word?” My mother questions.

“I would not have taken the leave if I did not need it, and I knew the citadel was under control. I have done the work to sustain my land, and the people in it. There is no requirement for me to announce when or why I must need a leave of absence.”

No one else says anything back to him. We linger on eating supper in silence. Even the servants make barely a sound when approaching, they too feel the discomfort of his arrival home.

* * *

I figured I was done with Lorsius for the rest of the night, but apparently not.

He has sent a messenger for me to come speak with him.

Lorsius can never let it go when being put in his place, nor can he handle being shown where he is wrong without retaliation.

I would not be taken back if this little meeting he has requested is to strip me of all my say in what happens on Vaigon.

“You made quite the mess while I was gone.” He already begins showing where I am wrong in his eyes, but not to others.

“By mess, do you mean clearing the treason and illegal enslavement our highest societies have been committing?”

He smirks and turns to the fire. “The people in our societies have choice to do what they wish–”

“Even illegally? Not one of them has permits for the land they are building on. None of them have had permission to take servants as their own and do whatever they wish with them.”

“How I run this citadel is up to me, not you.” He stands straighter, stiffening his spine and stance. He does this as intimidation and I replace it comical. He has not fought a day in his life in years which is why he requires Kings Sentinel and I do not.

“You operate our citadel slovenly.” I declare. “The other Courts laugh at us. They taunt you behind your back because you are an incompetent High King. If you think they do not know who truly rules this citadel, you are out of your fucking mind.”

He erupts in laughter. “You think you are proficient enough to be a High King because of the light labor I have given you?”

“It seems ever since I was seven and ten I have been competent enough to rule better than you have.”

“Do you presume you have knowledge that I do not? You forget, Laven, who has laid foot on this ground longer than you have. You have a long way to go before you can ever apprehend anything someone of my age has.”

“Since when must you be an exact age to have experienced unfathomable aspects of life? Age holds no ground in what someone experiences at any time within their life–” I stop and reflect for a moment. “I would expect someone as you to know that you do not need to be of a particular age in order to retain a level of knowledge, expertise, trauma, or anything of the sort, given your past. Age is nothing but years we have walked earth, it has not a measure of intelligence. You will replace, if you seek, that there are plenty of people among this world much younger than you, and wiser.

“It is no insult to an older person to retain further knowledge, nor is it an insult to learn said knowledge from someone younger than you. I pity you and many others who act so obtusely and act as if you are being told what to do by a child. I am no child; I am a grown man and so are you. Either take the knowledge I can give you or exile your poisonous mentality.”

Lorsius walks toward the windows, gazing out at the moon in the distance.

“You sound like Axynth,” his face turns with disgust.

“Is that all you have to say? You have listened to everything I have said, and this is your response? Did you even hear a word I said?”

Lorsius shrugs before sitting down in his chair.

No . . . he cannot respond because he knows I am correct. He is well aware that I will always have the time to confront him.

“What High King cowers away?” I continue.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Laven, you will not be High King. This is what you wish to prove, but you will not rule. Immortality is mine, and I will hold it by its chains for the rest of my life.”

By the drive of a Queen’s golden blade, you will be King.

“Just because we hold immortality does not mean it cannot be taken away.”

He props his boots up onto his bureau. “And who will take my immortality from me?”

I shrug. “You are right,” I say, leaving this conversation where it is. “By immortality you will continue to reign.” Until the drive of a Queen’s blade. “I think from now on it is best I ask for forgiveness rather than permission.”

His eyes narrow. “And what does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“Do you see yourself as high and mighty all of a sudden because of taking my place when I was gone?” Lorsius asks.

“No.” I sit down in one of the chairs across from his bureau. “As of late, I have pondered the thought of leaving.”

I watch the growth of fear within his eyes.

“Leaving what?”

“The Throne. You will be reigning for eons; you are King enough to handle these lands on your own.” I stare deep into the woods as I speak.

Lorsius laughs. “You will do no such thing, you are born to be royalty, Laven. There will be no other lift suited for you other than what I have given you.”

“Then confess it,” I stand.

“Confess what?” His tone sharpens.

I lean against his bureau, our eyes bore into one another’s. “Concede to this tediousness and profess that without me you would not be half the High King you are. Just by me breathing you prosper greater as the High King, and before me the reason you prospered was because of my father and Axynth. They too who you shot down when you discovered they could be stronger leads than you. Who is next? Will you replace a Right Hand to then dethrone?”

Lorsius leans in. “I will dethrone anyone in my way.”

“Then I will gladly watch the fall of your reign.”

* * *

As I ascend to the courtyard, Amias is already holding out a cigar to me.

“I am plotting the death of Lorsius.” Morano’s tone is laced with malice as he takes a long sip of the red wine in his glass.

“You will not,” I say as the stream of smoke disperses from my mouth. “Let it happen on its own.”

“I wonder how much of my power within our land he will try to take from me after our conversation.”

“What was the conversation about?” Roaner asks.

“I told him he is who he is because of me and there is no denying it.”

Morano nods. “Hell yes you did.” He says as smoke leaves his mouth. “Just how much of our say got revoked?”

“All of it. I at least hoped for him to be gone long enough to take those bastards to trial.”

Morano’s slams his hand into the table. “I want them hung!” He dramatically shouts.

“Shut up, you dunce,” Amias laughs. “You will wake the entire citadel if you shout any louder.”

“No matter what,” Roaner speaks lowly. “You will be King. There is no escaping that.” He says with resilient assurance.

“Are you prepared for all of the women that will throw themselves even harder at your feet?” Amias asks before he places his cigar back in his mouth.

“There will be no space for them to believe they can do so.” Gentle flares of smoke flow from my mouth as I speak.

“And why is that?”

“I will prefer my reigning High Queen over a damseled mistress.”

Morano pours wine into a glass before handing it to me. “When did you know that she would be a fit High Queen?”

“The moment she was willing to lay her life down for us over rescuing herself.”

“She is a General’s daughter,” Roaner says. “Before any High King or High Queen there is the General standing before all to defend their people—it is what they are bred for. Her vigor for protecting her own and her ability to stand with grace in the grasp of death is what makes her High Queen.”