Divine Right

Aedric prepares to leave Tarmard, but not alone.

6.

Divine Right

 

Long before dawn, Aedric was ready to leave.   He spent the night in restless meditation, but found his mind as confused as ever by the time he reached the King’s audience chamber.

 

It was completely quiet in the Elven town as a cool fall morning was preparing to begin, and he pushed the door open into the chamber, surprised to find no-one there.   Of course, he was early, he reminded himself, and he took a seat on the dais beneath the twin thrones of the Elven King and Queen.

He was listening to the early birds singing in the trees all around the Sylvan community, when the chamber door suddenly opened and Queen Mathlyn hurried in, carrying what he thought at first was a person.   But as she approached, he could see it was a full suit of some very fancy plate mail armor.   The armor was a gleaming silver color, with etchings in brilliant gold.

 

“To whom does that fancy suit of plate mail belong?”  He asked his grandmother.

“To you, my child.”

“Me?!”

“Indeed!   You do not have armor that is sound after your fall off the Gorge Bridge, and you are about to be teleported into what will very likely be a scene of battle.  You don’t even have your own sword, child!   How can a knight go into battle this way?”

“But you don’t know if the armor will fit me, Amilyo.”

 

The Queen smiled knowingly, “I have no doubt that it will.   Try it on; I will leave you for a brief time.   You will see - it will be a perfect fit.”

 

Without waiting for his answer, she handed the armor to him, then turned and exited.   He was amazed at how lightweight the plate armor was, and how fine the craftsmanship.   It reminded him somewhat of Faesidhe armor, but it was different and seemed both aesthetically pleasing in form, yet at the same time sensible and practical in design.

He had nothing to lose by trying it on, yet he knew from experience that armor of this type had to be fitted exactly to each individual.

 

To his utter amazement, it fit him perfectly.   It felt no heavier than leather armor, but was certainly far stronger.

 

A few minutes later, Mathlyn peeked into the chamber, and when she saw him in the plate armor, came on into the room, smiling.

“See?   A perfect fit!”

“I don’t see how that is possible, Amilyo.   Armor has to be fitted to each individual.   The chance of any random suit fitting me like this is unbelievable.”

“It is not unbelievable when you know that the armor is enchanted.   It changes shape to always fit the wearer.   However, it is made so that only one person can wear it at any period of time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aedric, the armor you are wearing is indeed enchanted.   The Sylvan Elves do not have many knights.   Our people are archers and rely on chainmail underneath leather to protect them.   Yet there are a few knights that make up the cavaliers of the King, as a royal honor guard.”

“So this is some of their armor?”

“No, though it is similar.   Their armor is not enchanted, Aedric.   You see, there are only two suits of plate armor in the entire Kingdom that are enchanted.   They were made long ago by the High Elves of the southlands.   That was long, long ago, and their small kingdom was overrun by the Southern Empire many centuries ago.   But long ago they were trading partners with the Sylvan folk and it was they who made these two suits of enchanted armor.”

“Why only two, Amilyo?”

“The first was made for the King.   Whoever is King by divine right, will find that suit of armor fits him perfectly.   When one King dies, or that right is taken away by God, the armor no longer fits him.   Your Grandfather wears that suit - at least I pray that he does- today.”

“What about this suit of armor?”

“That suit is also enchanted, as I told you.   But it only fits he that is the true heir to the King.”

“What?” He replied, though he had heard what she’d told him.   She had tricked him into trying it on.

“You heard my words, child.   Yes, as you are thinking, I did indeed wish to confirm what I already know to be true.   You are, by divine right, the heir to the throne of the Sylvan Kingdom.”

“Perhaps you should have Mattleos try it on as well.   It may fit him just as well.”

“I have tried it on.”  There came a voice from the back of the room.   They turned to find Lord Matt, as well as Snoe and about 15 Elven archers, all dressed in the chainmail and leather armor of the Sylvan folk.

“Then you are as equal of an heir as I am.”   Aedric replied, masking his frustration at having to share the conversation with the others.

“No, I said I TRIED it on.   It did not fit me.   For I am not the heir, Aedric.   You are, by the will of Yesh.   Yet when I quizzed you yesterday, I could see that the throne was not something that you coveted.   Perhaps that is why you are worthy of it.”

“I am not worthy of any throne, Lord Mattleos.   I am simply a knight, and just that by the Grace of Yesh.   Regardless of what others may expect of me, or what some magic armor tries to affirm, I do not consider myself as a Prince.   Once I did, and my hopes led to arrogance and evil.   I don’t want that any more.   I want to be worthy of my title.”

“You are worthy of your title!”  Mathlyn exclaimed.

“I mean the title of ‘Paladin of Yesh’, Amilyo.   Not ‘prince’.”

 

Mathlyn sighed and looked toward Mattleos and Snoe, both of whom had joined them around the throne.   Lord Matt laughed, “My cousin is resolute in his stance, Amilyo.”

 

His use of the Sylvan word for Grandmother jolted Aedric.   Perhaps he had partially blocked out that he too was his relative.    Mathlyn was ‘Amilyo’ to him as well.

 

Mathlyn smiled at Lord Matt and patted his shoulder, then looked over at Snoe, who had been standing there quietly, “Child, the armor of the Sylvan people looks fair on you.”

Snoe lowered her eyes slightly and smiled shyly, “Thank you, Your Majesty, for allowing me to wear it.”

“I could not send you back to your parents - in time of battle, no less- without proper adornment.”   The Queen was watching Aedric out of the corner of her eye, and noted his surprised reaction at the news.

But Snoe acknowledged it first, “Yes, Aedric, we are going with you.   Lord Matt, these 15 master archers, and me.”

“How did you know I was leaving this way?”   He asked her, somewhat frustrated.

She smiled, “I spied on you talking to Queen Mathlyn, and then I just went to her and told her I would be going with you.   When Lord Matt found out from her, he asked to be included, along with his archers, so they could join their brethren in assisting the King.”

She watched him and seemed to be expecting some argument, but he just sighed slightly and nodded.

“Alright; Westmark will need all the help they can get, I’m afraid.”

 

Lord Matt seemed very pleased with his response and came forward and bowed slightly, “Prince Aedric, thank you for allowing us to accompany you.”

“You are welcome, Lord Mattleos; but I ask one thing of you in return.”

“Certainly!   What is it?”

“Just address me as simply Aedric.   We are cousins and I am no more the grandson of the King than you are.   We are equals.   I will return the favor by simply calling you Mattleos.”

 

The handsome Elf grinned, “How about just ‘Matt’?   It is less formal.”

Aedric found himself honestly smiling at the man, “That is fine by me, Matt.”

 

Their pleasant exchange seemed to please the Queen and greatly relieve Snoe.

 

The Queen motioned for one of her ladies in waiting, who had stood quietly and respectfully just inside the door.   The lady came forward, holding a sheathed longsword, which she handed to Mathlyn.

The Queen turned to Aedric and handed him the sword, “My child, regrettably, this is not an enchanted sword.   It is however, very finely made of Adamantium and is very strong and sharp.   It was the weapon of an Elven prince of many years ago, who fell in battle against the Orcs.”

Aedric took it with some reverence, “I will wield it in honor of that fallen prince.”

 

His words seemed to greatly please his grandmother.    Mathlyn beckoned for the Elven archers to join them, and as they came forward, she spoke to all, “The spell I will cast will bring you on the outskirts of Westmark, but I have no way of knowing what is going on there, so you could find yourselves coming into the middle of a hard fight.   It is dawn there as well, and traditionally armies often attack at dawn.   So I would advise caution.”

 

They all nodded and took a moment to secure their armor and weapons.   Mathlyn walked over to Mattleos and kissed his cheek, then did the same to Snoe, before turning to Aedric, “Child, I have less worry about you in this battle due to the great armor that you wear.   But I want you to know that I love you and will love you regardless of your decision about your royal status.   Family is a wonderful institution, and many years were taken from us.   Please do not avoid me, child, if you do reject your status.”

Aedric leaned over and hugged the lady that so closely resembled his dear mother, “Don’t worry, Amilyo, I shall see you again… and I suspect Yesh will guide me to the path you are hoping I will take.   But I will not go except by His will.   Either way, I will return to see you.   Soon, I hope.   I am so glad you found us.”

The Queen grinned and kissed his cheek as she returned his hug, “May Yesh Silimherum guide you and those that go with you.    Now join hands and I will chant the spell from this scroll.”

They all formed a circle, and Snoe came over to stand next to him, taking his hand.   He glanced over at her and smiled; relieved to see she returned it with her fetchingly shy grin.

 

A moment later Queen Mathlyn began chanting the teleportation spell and they vanished in a flash of blue light.

 

Reviews

[Elina]

"...into what very likely will be..." Perhaps, instead, "...into what will very likely be..."

[Eddie Davis]

Thanks, Elina, I made the corrections this morning before work.