fiction - brigits_flame - resolution

[hwango]

It was the morning of the sixth day of the reign of King Isfort, and already it promised to be every bit as tedious and irritating as the other five. He hadn't even had breakfast yet, and already his chamberlain, Kosel, was reading him his agenda for the day. From what Isfort could tell, the schedule was a carefully crafted work of art designed to make sure that he had no opportunities to wield any actual power. So far, the most exciting hours of his time as king were those when he had been asleep.

Up until a few weeks ago, Isfort had managed some small holdings in a rather remote part of the kingdom. Though technically of royal blood, Isfort was content in his relatively minor position. He knew that he was so far down the line of succession that it would take a catastrophe of unthinkable proportions in order for him to ascend to power.

At least, that was the theory. In practice, all it had taken was some alleged indiscretion on the part of the queen. Alleged, of course, because there were certain suspicions that the king had invented the affair as an excuse for the divorce so that he could marry a charming young girl from a neighboring land under the pretense of founding some sort of alliance and fulfilling the need to produce a new legitimate heir. It was all terribly complicated.

What turned out to be ever more complicated was working out the new order of succession now that the supposed affair and the divorce had obliterated the legitimacy of certain children, destroyed a few alliances, and spurred on several duels to the death over matters of personal honor.

Then the ship carrying the king, his lovely new bride-to-be, and several of the remaining members of the court sank, with all hands lost. Was it the judgment of the gods? The cruel whim of fate? A bit of nautical sabotage paid for by the family of the former queen? No one could be certain.

What was certain was that so few people of importance and nobility remained alive and untarnished by scandal that it was almost justifiable to consider them valuable.

Isfort had learned of all of these events in the same afternoon, when the royal genealogist and a rather large honor guard had appeared at his front door to inform him that he was to be crowned king. It had all come as a bit of a shock. Isfort wondered now, if he had been in better possession of his wits at the time, if he could have refused.

"Wait, what did you just say?" Isfort said, his wandering thoughts reined in by something the chamberlain had said.

"The Royal Arbitration, my lord. Every two weeks, the king resolves disputes and disagreements among his people. It will be held this afternoon," Kosel said.

"Don’t we have courts for that sort of thing?"

"The resolution of these issues by your royal personage gives the judgments a weight and validity unattainable by a mere court system, your majesty"

"So we have a court system, but it's worthless?"

"Certainly not!" Kosel said, clearly shocked.

"But if the courts are good enough that we abide by their decisions thirteen out of fourteen days, why can't they manage the fourteenth day as well?"

“It is a great honor for your people to have their disputes settled by their king,” Kosel said, ignoring the question with a smooth grace no doubt born of long practice.

“Fine,” Isfort said, as if he’d ever really had a choice. In theory, of course, he really should have a choice. He was, in fact, the king. But somehow Isfort was left with the impression that following the chamberlain’s schedule was what the king did, and if he did otherwise then he’d just be some strange man wearing heavy clothes and a funny hat who shouted orders at people.

Eventually, the tiresome morning gave way to the equally enervating afternoon, and Isfort took his place in the throne room for his first Royal Arbitration. A crowd of people were gathered at the far end of the room. Isfort didn’t know if they were spectators, waiting petitioners, or a mix of both.

A couple of guards approached the throne leading a pair of women who looked to be ordinary citizens, and a third woman trailed behind the procession with a sleeping infant cradled in her arms. A terrible feeling of dread crept over Isfort.

“This is a joke, right?” he whispered urgently to Kosel.

“Whatever do you mean, sire?” Kosel replied, frowning in confusion.

“Never mind, just get on with it.”

Isfort waited impatiently through a lengthy introduction that spoke of what a wise and benevolent ruler Isfort was, and how privileged everyone should feel to be favored by that wisdom and benevolence. Isfort realized with horror that he’d probably have to listen to that same speech every time a new set of claimants was brought in before him. This was a nightmare.

“Your majesty, each of these…ladies…claims to be the mother of this child,” Kosel said, with an absolutely straight face. Still, Isfort couldn’t stop himself.

"Seriously, this is a joke, right?" Isfort said, a bit louder than he’d intended.

“No, your majesty,” Kosel said, obviously distressed and confused.

“Very well, state your cases,” Isfort said, trying to sound as authoritative as possible. Both women stared at him blankly.

"Pardon me, sire?" one of them managed.

"Your cases. You know – the evidence of your claim over the child."

“That’s not really necessary, sire,” Kosel interjected. “You can just make a pronouncement based on the ineffable wisdom of royalty.”

Isfort barely resisted saying “seriously?” again, and then he realized that Kosel was surreptitiously pointing towards the woman on the left.

“I see,” Isfort said. Now it all made a sort of sense. This was just a show for the masses - a bit of theater to demonstrate to everyone how insightful and brilliant their new king was. It was as carefully scripted as that damned schedule. It was also the last straw. Isfort was tired of being a puppet.

“The ineffable wisdom of royalty, eh?” Isfort said, turning back to the two women. “Well, I don't quite have the hang of that yet, and still have to base my decisions on common sense and observable evidence.”

Kosel leaned over to urgently whisper something in his ear, but Isfort batted him aside.

“So let’s see,” he continued. “Both of you decided to have me resolve this, rather than give up your claim and let the other woman have the child. So one of you is confident in the ‘ineffable wisdom’ of your king, and other one isn’t. That’s right – one of you doubts my ineffable wisdom. They think that they can lie to me and get away with it. That’s not just arrogant - that sounds like a serious crime.”

Both women were darting panicked glances at Kosel, but the woman on the right looked particularly terrified, which only confirmed Isfort’s suspicions.

“You – " Isfort said, pointing sharply to the woman on the right. "How much do you love this child?"

"Uh…more than anything!" the woman said.

“More than anything! Well, that certainly sounds like a mother’s answer,” Isfort said. The woman gave him a weak smile. Now it was the other woman’s turn to look terrified.

“Of course, if you love your child more than anything, then you love him more than your king and your country. Surely that's treason." The woman’s smile faltered and then vanished as she realized what he was saying.

Kosel was frantically trying to get his attention, but Isfort ignored him.

“How about you, miss?” Isfort said to the woman on the left. “How much do you love your child? More than anything?” Isfort’s tone suggested that this would be a dangerous answer to give. The woman on the right was starting to cry.

“I…I…,” she stammered, unable to meet his gaze. The other woman started to sob, and Isfort decided that was probably enough. There was no need to be cruel.

“First one of you to admit their part in this charade gets a pardon,” Isfort said.

“He made me do it!” the woman on the right shouted, pointing at Kosel. The woman on the left started to say something, but Isfort held up a hand.

“You didn’t lie, so you don’t need a pardon. Take your baby and get out,” he said. He turned to Kosel, whose expression was a curious mix of outrage and fear.

“Kosel, I’m disappointed in you,” he said in a low voice. “But I think we got off on the wrong foot together, so I’m willing to be forgiving just this once. Let’s start over. Hi, I’m the king. I have absolute power.”

Kosel was about to speak, but Isfort cut him off.

“And you’re my loyal vassal who helps me manage my kingdom and doesn’t overstep his authority because he knows I’ll have his head cut off if he’s tries anything like this again. Do we understand one another?”

Kosel stared at him for a moment, and then nodded.

“Excellent. Now, I suppose for the look of things we need to get through the rest of these. But tomorrow we’re going to get some real work done. Come and see me in the morning and we’ll work out a schedule,” Isfort said.

Isfort thought for a moment and then added, “But not until after breakfast.”

Comments

[hwango.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked it! But I'm really curious now - at what point were you ready to be disappointed? At the setup for the first case (were you afraid I was actually going to rehash the Solomon judgment?), or was it earlier? I'm very curious at what point I almost lost you.

[lacombe.livejournal.com]

When he suppresses a third "seriously" and Kosel points to the left. I was like "Oh, man. This is going to be a pathetic story about a neutered king with some mild comic relief, isn't it?

But you set me up perfectly. When the action turned, I was right there with you, and I love the way you constructed it. I'm not an easy reader to surprise, and I love that you pulled it off.

[hwango.livejournal.com]

Thanks, that's good to know. And glad I didn't disappoint. = )