Long May He Reign

Nathaniel remained in ill-humor as he followed after Geoffrey to the library. Though Geoffrey’s presence was no longer necessary, due to his imminent departure, he wished for the days left to him in the home he loved to be as near to normal as they could be. Furthermore, a renewal of knowledge concerning the north and Calatiel’s relations with it would surely benefit him in his new position. And, he thought with a wry smile, it would be cruel to leave Nathaniel to poor Professor Lipit alone.

I heard that, Nathaniel answered.

The sharp morning light cut through shadows along the corridors, nearly blinding them with its harshness, the quiet of the early morn fading to a hum of activity within the wakened household. Geoffrey could not but look behind him as they walked, yet he knew enough of his brother’s temperament to leave well enough alone when he entered into such a mood. Words, though gently spoken, cannot break through the mire of an unsettled mind until the sea within it has calmed. Caught in the whirlwind, they would recoil, lose their power, and fade before even penetrating the shield.

He could only wait.

Nathaniel’s disdain for his impending marriage had not surprised him. In truth, his own feelings mirrored his brother’s, though dimmer, less intense, as of moonlight reflecting the light of the sun. It seemed to him a strange thing, to meld his life with another that he knew only by sight, whose essence he could not yet see. Could two people truly come to love when beneath their feet was only sand, not the solid bricks of time and mutual understanding?—love, he thought, not romance. He could not fathom such a thing, despite his near-thirty years. When he was fourteen, Leo warned him not to “rut with the maidservants” lest they attempted to tie him to obligations he couldn’t easily extricate himself from. “Better to lie with other household’s girls,” if he felt so inclined.

Geoffrey did not, and Leo, perhaps feeling his duty fulfilled, never broached the subject again.

Yet too well he knew that his marriage was never to have been a thing of his own choosing; all children of the great houses married according to the wishes of their fathers, for the mutual benefit of their families. He had seen the path laid before him all his life, and he would not now falter at their inception.

He considered what knowledge he held of the lady who would one day be joined to his house. Quiet, she had seemed, in their few meetings. Beyond such an observation, he could not speak to her character or strength of mind. In a naïve turn of mind, he wondered if he might see the sea ere they wed. He had seen only drawings on the pages of his books, and he dearly longed to behold its vastness and shades of deepest blue. Both forbidding and welcoming it would be, so he imagined, a force wholly untamed and free to carry its waves wither it would go. Yet how little he knew of the world beyond his own gates.

His musings came to an end as they arrived at the doorway of the library. The long-suffering tutor greeted them with a tirade of twitterings about the habits of gentlemen, the values of punctuality and self-discipline. The elderly scholar’s voice rose in righteous indignation with each sentence uttered, yet Nathaniel responded with the barest of nods, and did not return Geoffrey’s glances as his eyes flitted to him incessantly in mild concern.

An hour passed, by which time Professor Lipit had worked himself into a frenzy that did not dissipate until he paused, wheezing, and Geoffrey quietly gave him a glass of water in the lull, apologizing for encroaching upon his goodness with their waywardness. Only then did the good professor launch into the morning’s lesson with many a huff interjected into his speech.

Geoffrey knew Nathaniel could not attend to the lecture, though the mutiny of a former Emperor Lord who came into power by beheading his ruling grandfather two hundred years previously might have piqued his interest at any other time. The raven-haired boy played with his quill, poking its nib into crevices in the table, a knot about his brow.

Professor Lipit continued, “The generations after so bloody a mutiny fought to the utmost in order to restore the country to a state of equilibrium and prosperity. There was in them a great longing for the two lands to be united as they once were before the War of the Immortals. So we must now be grateful for our Emperor Lord Aloysius (long may he reign), who in his great wisdom gathered all the lands under his wing so that we who live upon the border now enjoy relative peace, subduing the Groths and bringing us to a golden age of commerce and control.”

At this, Nathaniel at last raised up his head with a glint in his eye as Professor Lipit opened his mouth once more, doubtless to expound upon the many desirable qualities of their current emperor lord that his two charges must learn to emulate. Geoffrey shot him a look of steeled warning to beg him against challenging the elderly man after their undesirable reception of the morning.

Nathaniel ignored him, and Geoffrey groaned inwardly even as the capricious youth said with a tone of utter ill-manner, “Professor, if there is peace now, then why do we hear of unrest in Lyos and why do we have garrisons there? Is that not why Geoffrey is to be sent to the border?”

Professor Lipit’s overlarge eyes widened further until they seemed as though they might soon burst out from his skull. “Relative peace, I said! Fairy curses! Master Nathaniel, have you never heard of the term ‘progress’? That Groths and Calats no longer tear at one another’s throats in the streets is surely a form of peace? That we all might live upon this land without fear of invasion can surely be attributed to the many years of peace talks?”

“Or the massacring of the Groth people,” Nathaniel muttered mutinously.

“And I suppose you, in all your wisdom, would have employed a better scheme to bring the unruly Groths under control? Might I remind you of Lesson Number 451 whence we learned of the Uprising of 668? When countless gentlefolk were cruelly butchered in the streets, children plucked from their mother’s bosoms to be trampled beneath the hooves of Groth horses? The border between the two nations was then a most dangerous place to live. Fairy curses, it was not entirely secure even further north, for the Groths had learned to cover their markings with paint and penetrated deep into our lands before they could be stopped.” Professor Lipit held up a finger and stroked his beard indulgently. “Hence why it is now decreed a death sentence for Groths to cover their markings, that gentlefolk might not be deceived in their communications with them.”

“It seems Lyos has paid exceedingly dear for their part in the wars. Why then must the Groths masquerade under a false banner of unity when we know they have no desire to be part of Calatiel?”

Professor Lipit’s huffs began again in earnest, and Geoffrey thought it a wonder that he had never lost consciousness from lack of breath. Certainly Nathaniel had given him reason aplenty for the unsettling of his nerves, of which he often complained. He had taught the boys for some years, and while his tenacity was to be commended, Nathaniel’s persistent lack of decorum and his affection for being contrary had formed in the professor an irksome temper that could never be wholly cured, Geoffrey thought grimly.

“Sir, would you tell us of the the Peace Treaty of 970 once more? The details have escaped my memory since you last spoke of it,” Geoffrey interjected quickly. “The agreement formed the society in which we now live, did it not?”

The tutor passed luminous orbs over the two youths, and, after a moment of confused hesitation, appeared to decide instead to attend to the pupil who did not have a personal vendetta against him. He took a shuddering breath, strands of grey beard blowing outwards like curtains before a gust of wind. Geoffrey shook his head with exasperated mirth upon hearing Nathaniel smother a vile impulse to laugh.

Upon the next violent exhale, Professor Lipit began in a slightly quivering voice, “The Peace Treaty of 970, also known as the Agreement of Allies, ended a centuries-long war between Calatiel and Lyos, after which Calatiel rose the victor. Lyos agreed to the construction of garrisons throughout the land as a sign of submission to Calatiel rule, and a generation of Groth children was sent to live among Calats. This arrangement would both educate Groth children in decent homes, as well as ensure against future rebellion. Many of the children taken during that time continued to live among Calats, and there has been much intermingling since then. Some Groth children are still sent to Calat homes for this very purpose. Of course, you know that as a concession to the Groth people, Emperor Lord Casimir (his soul rest in peace) set apart a piece of land in the southwest, free of Calatiel reign.”

“Valys,” Geoffrey nodded.

Nathaniel propped his legs up on the table and leaned back against his chair. He rolled his eyes. “How very generous.”

“It was. He sent a few of the old and noble families to build large estates into the newly constructed border wall and hold the territories as a first line of defense, this you know.”

The good professor continued on for another hour detailing the finer points of the peace agreement, regaining his composure through immersion in his own discourse (pompous people, however well-meaning, often do, you know), at the end of which he reiterated the importance of gentlemanly behavior and urged his two charges to maintain a dignified presence as fitting for young nobles of Calatiel. “Be as our good Emperor Lord Aloysius (long may he reign)!” he shouted as they passed from the room.

“I do believe you took yet greater pleasure in inciting him to irritation today than is usual,” Geoffrey said in exasperation.

“Yes well, it is hardly my fault he provides such fodder for me, the way he behaves,” Nathaniel said.

“’Tis hardly fair to take your ill humor out upon him. You know he is of a delicate constitution.”

Nathaniel was in no disposition to tolerate even Geoffrey’s gentle rebuke, and only stalked off with a huffing to rival the tutor he had only just left behind. He then chose to relieve his feelings by terrorizing the kitchen maids, resulting in many a scolding from Alice-Marie as he sneaked in and out to steal buns and pies for the mere pleasure of the act, throwing the food to the chickens and leaving them to suffer irritation of the bowels. Lucas he pulled away from his guard duties, justifying his actions by declaring the boy his fencing partner for the day, and proceeded to fight him with such a ferocity that Lucas, though he liked Nathaniel immensely, begged to be sent to the outer wall so as to escape further beatings.

To the primary offender of his humors he paid little mind, leaving Geoffrey to assuage the discontented servants of their various vexations, knowing full well that permitting Nathaniel to wear out his energies without interference was the best course to restoring tranquility to the house.