Nye Guard: Chapter 4 - The Kings of Moonfall

I spend the entire day before the Duneshade royalty arrives tossing and turning, but never quite able to fall asleep. I’d feel bad about keeping Quell awake, but he seems to be just as restless. A few hours before sunset, we both give up and start to prep for the day. 

And by prep, I mean call for servants who bathe and dress us. The whole process makes me really uncomfortable, but I’ve also given up on trying to do it all on my own; the ornate armor they have for me to wear is almost impossible to put on by myself, anyway. 

Decorated with the maroon and gold colors of Duneshade, the metal gear features cresting designs reminiscent of the country’s sigil. The chest-piece is custom fit to my frame, and plates cover my arms and legs in swooping, dune-like designs. I’m even given something between a head-band and a helmet, which frames my face and wraps around my head in artistic strips of metal which don’t entirely obscure my ears or hair.

Altogether, I sort of hate how good it looks because all the gaps in the armor make it entirely impractical. Not to mention it’s heavy as hell and will definitely become a furnace in the desert heat. I can’t imagine anyone could participate in a real fight wearing something like this. 

Then one of the servants activates a spell artificed into the armor, and the entire set abruptly becomes light as air. I also feel a subtle pressure over the armor, like all the gaps have been filled in with an invisible force field. 

Oh, right. Magic.

Quell also emerges from the servants’ grasps wearing a handsome outfit, though his is significantly less armored (at least, on appearance). I wonder if there’s some sort of strut fixed to its back, because he’s actually standing up straight for once.

“No, hold on, I need those,” Quell says, stopping a servant who appears to be in the process of scurrying away with his glasses. 

“The circlet comes with a Sight spell, my lord,” the servant says, keeping their gaze downcast. 

Quell pries his glasses from their reluctant fingers. “Yes, and my glasses come with a dozen other spells I’ve artificed into them.” He holds them up to the window, squinting through the round, gold-rimmed lenses, before apparently deeming them sufficiently clean and setting them on his face. One of those spells, he’s mentioned to me before, is self-cleaning. 

I watch him in amusement as he joins me at our chamber’s doors. “What, they don’t think your glasses are fancy enough for today’s affair?”

“They probably don’t think they’re appropriate,” Quell grumbles. “My parents have been on a quest to rid me of them for years. But I made them, and I love them, and they’re mine.” 

I can’t help but smile; it’s rare and endearing whenever he takes pride in something he’s done. “Why’ve they been trying to get rid of them?”

Quell wrinkles his nose. “It’s an appearance thing. Don’t advertise your weaknesses, and whatnot. Glasses are for commonfolk, who can’t afford spellwork to make up for deficiencies. If I stuck all the spells in my glasses in, say, some fancy jewelry, they’d have no problem with it. But I don’t want to.” 

“Because you like how they look?” I guess, retrieving the Aegis from its sentry duty near the door. The armor I’m wearing was apparently designed with this in mind, because there’s a piece on the back that the Crimson Aegis easily clamps onto, and it gives me a bit more space than usual so my head or legs aren’t in danger of banging against it while I walk.

“Well, that too,” he admits. The servants open the door for us, and we stride out into the gilded Moonfall halls. Quell glances at me out of the corner of his eye with a mischievous look. “But mostly, I keep wearing them because my parents don’t approve.” 

I laugh. “Now I’m starting to see how you’re related to Liz.” 

“I learn from the best.” He pauses. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

#

“Ah, Prince Quell.” King Degolra sweeps a welcoming arm toward Quell and I as we step out into the courtyard. “Glad to see you’ve joined us.” 

Liz and Darian are already standing next to the two Moonfall kings, along with countless other court and royal figures I’ve met and forgotten over the last few weeks. None of the tournament competitors are present. Good; I have enough to worry about without my brother taking up extra headspace.

“I hope we haven’t kept your highnesses waiting,” Quell says as we cross the garden to greet them. The courtyard serves as an outdoor overlook for the palace, allowing us a lofty view of the kingdom’s surroundings, but it’s also ornately decorated with more green plants and blooming flowers than I've seen in all of Dunmora. I suspect it’s an intentional display of prestige, given the harsh, dry climate.

“Not at all,” King Degolra says with a toothy grin. “We’ve only just arrived.”

As an orc, his tusks protrude from his lower jaw even when his mouth is closed, but unlike others of the species I’ve met, the bones are carved with fine designs and filled with gold. His skin is a warm green tone, which contrasts strikingly with his red-orange hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Like most orcs, he’s over seven feet tall, all muscle, and looks like he could crush me by accident. 

“It will still be some time before the procession reaches the city,” Liz says to Quell, gesturing out over the balcony. Like the rest of us, she’s also dressed to the nines, with even more golden hairclips, rings, and bracelets decorating her attire than usual, though the circlet about her forehead is noticeably more prominent than Quell’s.

I follow Liz’s gesture to the desert floor far below us. Even though the sun has only recently set, the winding parade of lights that dot the dunes glow like a chain of fireflies. My stomach flutters nervously; all those weeks spent anticipating the arrival of Quell’s parents, and they’re finally here. What will they think of me? Approval wasn’t something I ever sought out from my own parents, but it feels different where Quell’s are involved.

“Not to worry,” King Degolra says. “We’ve plenty of good company—and better refreshments—to help pass the time.” He laughs at his own remark, deep and rumbling. “Prince Quell! Come speak with me. I want to hear your thoughts about the Tournament.” 

It’s only because I happened to be looking at Liz when he says this that I detect a flash of annoyance in her expression. Despite her being first in line for the throne, it’s Quell who the Kings frequently seek council with, likely because he was the one to first offer an olive branch between their people. Even so, the look is gone as soon as I catch it, and Liz turns to say something to Darian with a quiet laugh.

I dutifully shadow the royalty for a time while King Degolra regales Quell with all his plans for the Scimitar’s tournament. Which is to say, Degolra does all the talking while Quell is forced into the rare position of captive audience. I’m soon drinking my second glass of cactus wine in an attempt to maintain my sanity; all the political talk almost makes me wish someone would try to abduct the prince again. At least then I’d have something to do. But no, it’s just mind-numbing court maneuverings night in and night out. It’s been like this ever since we got here. 

“Lord Nye,” someone says at my side, and I turn in surprise to find King Merit watching me. 

“Your Majesty,” I say, remembering a moment too late to bow my head. My mind races as I try to recall all the formalities Quell has been trying to pound into my head. I’m usually able to hide behind him and Liz and just melt into the background of conversations. “To what do I owe the honor?”

The king watches me curiously, not with hostility, but not with the open warmth of his husband, either. “I was hoping to speak with you. We’ve not had the chance to talk much before now.” 

I glance Quell’s way, worried about taking my attention away from the prince. Then again, I have my Role Requirement to warn me if anything happens—not that the Moonfall royalty has given me any reason to be suspicious of them since arriving. 

“Of course,” I say, not feeling like I could refuse the request of a king even if I wanted to. 

To my relief, King Merit doesn’t lead me away from the others, simply stepping off to the side so his husband’s boisterous voice is less overpowering. Unlike Degolra, Merit appears far more reserved, yet still speaks frequently in the meetings I’ve attended, displaying a perceptive intellect. 

King Merit is a human with sharp features, dark hair tinged grey at the temples, and warm brown skin that’s a few shades lighter than Quell and his siblings. I don’t think I would have given him a second glance had I passed him on the street, yet he carries himself in a relaxed, self-assured way that reminds me of Prince Constance. 

“I understand you have a Moonfall relative in the Tournament,” he says. His gaze seems to burrow into me. “That must be an interesting story.”

My skin crawls with my nerves. “It’s complicated.”

Quell and I have discussed how to explain my relationship with Alvaro, given that in this world we aren’t related by blood, and come up with… nothing much. The countries have such a history of bad blood that the explanation that we share parents from both kingdoms would be unbelievable. The best we were able to come up with is that both of us are from the Lifespring Oasis, and we separated to move to either kingdom years back. It’s still a flimsy story, and one that is unlikely to stand up to much scrutiny. 

But the truth is more unbelievable yet.

King Merit hums noncommittally. “You understand what it might look like if he won. Both weapons back within the hands of one family. People might begin to wonder if Prince Quell’s gesture had ulterior motives.”

I blanche. I hadn’t thought what that might look like, actually. “He couldn’t have known your kingdom would offer the Scimitar as a prize to be won in a tournament.”

“Of course,” the king agrees mildly. “Yet that won’t alter the appearance.”

“You could remove him,” I suggest. “Disqualify my brother from the Tournament.

King Merit arches an eyebrow. “You don’t wish for him to succeed?”

“Absolutely not,” I say. Then meekly add, “Your Highness.”

He smiles faintly at my lapse in decorum. “I admit this wasn’t the response I had been anticipating. Explain.” 

I hesitate with a grimace. “I’m not sure what I am permitted to say about Prince Constance.”

“I am aware of his state,” King Merit says. “Degolra and I have been in correspondence with the Duneshade regents, and Princess Felicity has also discussed how the Scimitar’s influence shaped his mind. Yet, here you are.” The king splays his hands toward me. “I’m sure you’re aware of the surveillance you’ve been under while staying within our walls, and I’ve yet to witness this murderous influence I’ve been told to expect.” 

I try not to let my face betray my surprise. We’ve been flanked by guards since arriving here, but I’d thought they’d been for Quell and Liz, not me. I guess I should have realized that in hindsight; the Aegis’s presence on my back is not subtle.

“It’s not that simple,” I object. “I’m trying to find a way to make things work with the Crimson Aegis, but it still made me… it made me do terrible things.”

“Yes,” King Merit says casually. “You killed three of my soldiers in the Oasis. One of which I considered a friend.”

My mouth goes dry. Figures that haunt my dreams threaten to resurface, and my stomach sours at the vivid memories of screams and the taste of blood. I try to blink the specters away. 

“Yes.” The word barely comes out as a whisper.

“Yet, you’ve not indicated such tendencies since then,” King Merit continues, ignoring my discomfort.

I swallow down my nausea and try to press ahead. “No. Not yet, at least. But the Scimitar also made Prince Constance attack his own siblings, and it was with him much longer than the Aegis has been with me. I don’t want these weapons to hurt anyone else—especially not my brother.”

“Why not get rid of it, then?” he asks. 

“I’m not sure I can,” I admit. “It’s magically bound to me. But…” 

King Merit waits a moment before prompting me. “But?”

“But even if I could, I don’t know if I would,” I admit, meeting the king’s gaze. “The fewer people these weapons touch, the better. Now that the Aegis is with me, it’s my burden to bear.” 

“A noble sentiment,” the king remarks. “If you believe it’s truly your own.” 

The suggestion shakes me. Constance hadn’t realized how his thoughts had been slowly warped by the Scimitar over the years that its influence had grown within him. Instinctively, I Check the Crimson Aegis’s Influence Stat: 3%. I force a tension out of my shoulders. It should take a while before the Aegis’s influence is anywhere near as bad as what Constance was dealing with. 

“I do,” I tell him. “And if it gets to the point where I’m no longer sure, then I’ll trust Prince Quell to do what’s best for the greater good.”

King Merit’s sharp gaze finally leaves me to watch Quell speaking with his husband. He’s thoughtfully quiet for a time. 

“You have a selfless prince,” the king finally remarks. “Most would not have handed over a weapon like the Scimitar to the enemy. If your kingdom had retained both, it would have led to unfathomable bloodshed, but it also would have led to our defeat. Some might say that was foolish.” 

I try to keep my face impassive even as indignation flares within me. “With all due respect, my lord, I don’t believe that facilitating peace over bloodshed is ever foolish.”

King Merit turns back to me with a glint of amusement. “Most would not challenge a king, regardless of the respect due.”

Shit. I thought I was doing good, too. “My apologies, your highness.” 

He chuckles quietly. “I happen to agree with you, so I’m more than happy to overlook the slight. But you understand why we cannot simply hide the Crimson Scimitar away in a treasure room while you proudly wear the Aegis on your back. Your liege’s gift would do nothing to help balance our kingdoms without the accompanying perception of balance. This is why the tournament is necessary to begin with. The cooperation of our kingdoms must be as public as possible.” 

Quell has suggested something similar, and I do understand where both are coming from. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. 

Or maybe I’d like it a whole lot more if Alvaro wasn’t involved. 

The king lapses into silence once more, his attention drifting from Quell and King Delogra to the Duneshade procession still crawling along the desert floor. As I haven’t yet been dismissed, I don’t feel it would be appropriate to leave, but the longer the king goes without saying anything, the more my stomach churns like a stormy ocean.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” I finally blurt out. I don’t even know why I said that. An apology won’t change anything. 

But King Merit turns to me with a weary smile. He claps a hand to my shoulder. “If you didn’t bear the Aegis, I would have had you executed.” He squeezes my shoulder before letting go and turning away. “But we all must do what’s best for the greater good, don’t we?”

My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth as he leaves, and I’m left frozen in place, insides turned to ice.