A Dog Among Princes

Chapter 6

The King waited for them inside the castle’s throne room. It had high vaulted ceilings painted with entwined roses with gilded petals. Red, yellow, and orange stained glass painted the black and white banners that hung from the walls with sunset. The band filed in first and sat in chairs provided on the left side of the center aisle. The right was filled with nobles from York dressed largely in rich tones of saffron or somber black. They whispered at the band’s arrival, but Griffith didn’t notice the usual sneers associated with his acknowledgement. Perhaps it was because the one being honored today was actually one of them. Guts had asked that Griffith be the one to announce his arrival to the king so he knelt before him and doffed his helm.

“I am Sir Griffith, The White Hawk, Knight commander of the Band of the Hawk announcing his majesty, Prince Guts, the Hundred Man Slayer, before his highness, King Cadogan the Stalwart.”

“Rise Sir Griffith.” Griffith lifted his head, getting his first good look at the king. The resemblance was uncanny. He had Gut’s same broad shoulders, square jar, and dark eyes, though his didn’t share Guts’s smoldering intensity. His longer hair was kept down by its own weight, but a few loose strands told Griffith it would be just as spiky as Guts’s if it was shorter. His hair was also dark but streaks of white had begun to work their way through, including a fairly sizable patch of white in the front. His skin was creased with laugh lines rather than marred by scars as Guts’s was. Griffith figured this man could be what Guts would have looked like when he was older, if he had lived a significantly easier life. He smiled paternally down at Griffith. “I understand you’re close to my grandson.”

“I count him as one of my best friends and closest compatriots.” The king gave him a knowing look. What was that supposed to mean? Griffith didn’t think he’d implied anything.

“Then I shall have to understand his companionship with one as polite and renowned for his courage as you, as an indication of his good character.” The king stood from his throne. “I welcome the presence of the crown prince to the court and ask to see him before the throne.” Crown prince!? Griffith felt light headed as he made his way to his seat. So Guts was in fact next in line for the throne. A concept simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying to Griffith. He was so close to the throne but yet that same unnameable terror he occasionally felt when the two of them were alone gripped him. He’d have to figure out what that was one of these days. He wasn’t afraid of Guts after all. He was too dear to him to be afraid of him. But nonetheless, when they sat awake talking deep into the night and he caught the flash of his eyes in the darkness, a terror gripped him. Guts opened the doors to the throne room and marched his way to the throne and Griffith’s heart stopped again.

He looked confident and resolute like he did before battle, nothing like the bundle of nerves he’d been this morning. He was dressed more plainly than any of the nobles in the room, but he didn’t flinch away as he walked down the aisle to the throne. His towering stature and the two massive swords he carried belied undeniable strength but Guts didn’t have the same arrogant swagger young nobles with a little bit of talent tended to have. Instead he carried himself like a soldier. He knew his strength but felt no need to flaunt it. It was a fully integrated part of who he was, not a toy to pull out to impress the other lordlings. He stopped for a moment in front of the king and then knelt down. Oh thank god, he remembered this time.

“Your majesty, I humbly thank you for inviting me to return to court after my long absence.” Griffith had ran him through the speech plenty of times but Guts was still glad his memory hadn’t failed him. “In thanks for your hospitality I offer this sword which once belonged to Nosferatu Zodd.” The king hesitated for a moment before taking the blade into his hands.

“May I ask how you came into possession of such a blade?” Guts could tell a tinge of fear had entered the king’s voice, though he asked calmly. That worried him. He knew that fear, fear of him of what he could do. He raised his head and looked the king in the eye. Let him be afraid, better to find out now that his grandson was a rabid dog than later. He began to tell him the story of the blade. How he and Griffith had fought Zodd, being the first two men to wound him so deeply in three hundred years. How he’d flown away (omitting the warning he gave Guts, that was his business) upon seeing Griffith’s good luck charm. How during the battle of Doldrey the sword had fallen from the sky and he’d used it to kill Boscogn.

The King’s shoulders relaxed. It was as if he had feared the fight had gone differently somehow. “That’s quite the tale, my grandson. I see the rumors of your accomplishments as a warrior have not fully been exaggerated.” The king looked down at him kindly and Guts remembered he probably should still be bowing his head. “There’s no need for that.” The King gestured and a servant approached carrying a silver circlet studded with red and gold amber. He lifted the circlet, thanking the man that brought it, and placed it firmly atop Guts’s head. He placed a hand on Guts’s shoulder. He involuntarily tensed up. “You’re family, there’s no need for you to kneel.” Guts hesitated a moment and then stood. Nobody cut him down. It wasn’t a test. The king discretely gestured for him to turn around. He turned and faced the gathered audience and the king came to stand next to him as they broke out into applause. “I imagine you’re quite tired and perhaps overwhelmed,” he said in a low voice. “Shall we adjourn for the day and informally introduce you to the court another day?” Guts nodded and slipped out of the stage voice Griffith had coached him in and back into his normal growl.

“Thanks. We’ve been on the road for days and I’m not used to this kind of sh-, sorry, stuff.” The king chuckled at Guts’s slip up. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing, you just remind me of your mother.”

The simple circlet suited him well in Casca’s opinion. Although it would’ve been funny to see him in an elaborate net of pearls like Charlotte wore at her most formal occasions. Next to her Griffith’s eyes shone with pride. She tried not to think about how he had never looked at her in the same way and kept her eyes facing forward. Don’t look at him. Just focus on Guts and the king. She noticed however, that the king’s gaze was drawn towards Griffith. It made sense. He was a renowned warrior and unusually handsome to boot, but she wasn’t sure she liked that look. It wasn’t lustful or outright aggressive like most people's but instead, suspicious. That couldn’t be good.

“Schierke could I bend your ear for a moment?” The young witch curtsied to the king. It had been a few hours since the coronation. The band had since been provided lodging in and around the castle. Prince Guts and a few of his closest companions would be staying in the castle itself while the rank and file had been put up at local inns. She had never seen King Cadogan so happy as he was today. She knew he had earned his title “the stalwart” through his service after the death of his daughter, the crown princess. Despite existing as a shell of his former self, he still loyally fulfilled his duties as king, often to his own detriment. Princess Cerridwyn had died long before Shiercke was born so she had only known a King Cadogan stricken with grief. The king she met today wasn’t the same bent and miserable man she had once known. He was alive with purpose now and sat tall in his throne rather than slumping under the weight of it. “I would like to hear what you managed to discover about my grandson while on your journey back with him. Especially if you found anything regarding his battle with Zodd.” She could still feel the crack of his ribs when he was thrown against the pillar.

“I was only able to discover bits and pieces.”

“Even with magic?”

“He, his highness, has had a very difficult life. I could only stand to look at his memory for a short time.” She played with her robes. She was ashamed she couldn’t do better but after that first dip into his consciousness, she hadn’t wanted to see anymore. The King’s eyes softened.

“That’s alright. I should have anticipated that. It would not be reasonable for me to ask one as young as you to view life from the eyes of a mercenary. War is too terrible a place for a child.” The dead man’s eyes stared into hers. Shiercke felt herself start to cry. The king bent to his knees. “Schierke, what’s wrong?” He pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes. “I think once upon a time it would’ve done him good to hear those words.” The king paused. His hand hovered just above her shoulder.

“Schierke, what exactly did you see?” She choked around the gag.

“It is not my story to tell. I can tell you what I saw during the battle with Zodd but that’s it. Any more would be a violation of the prince's privacy.” Cadogan withdrew his hand.

“Very well. In that case would you allow me to see the battle?” Schierke nodded and reached out her hand.

They were thrown against the pillar. Something broke, they hoped it was a rib. They could still keep fighting if it was just a rib. The naked man in front of them was overwhelmingly powerful. It was only the strength of their sword that had saved them thus far. They couldn’t keep matching blows. They decided to gamble everything on one strike. That’s how they lived after all. Casca called them reckless Griffith had come just short of calling them suicidal, but was else was there in battle. Either way you die. If you can take down a stronger opponent with you, why worry about the risk? They felt their blade bite Zodd’s cleaving it in half. The naked man began to say something, but they didn’t give him the chance, swinging down into his shoulder and through both of his wrists. They’d done it! The fight was nearly won! Then the man began to shift and Zodd stood before them as a true monster. They could barely keep up before, but now with the creature that was once Zodd or perhaps had always been Zodd’s strength and their own fear turning their flesh to lead, they were being tossed around like a doll. They felt clawed hands grab them and begin to tear them in half. Then the sound of crossbows. Griffith had come to save them like he always did. They tried to drive him away, this was too dangerous, but stubborn as always he insisted on fighting. Both of them lunged at the monster and Griffith managed to take his arm off, but Zodd’s tail lashed out, knocking him into another pillar. The behelit fell out of his armor and Zodd got a good look.

“Hold it there.” Schierke was surprised Cadogan still had the wherewithal to remember what he came for after all that, but she held the memory. “Focus on the amulet.” She narrowed the scope of the memory down just to the strange necklace. A red, egg-shaped, charm with lopsided facial features. “Alright, we can leave now.” Schierke took a deep breath and released the spell. She was comfortably back behind her own eyes.

“Did you find what you were looking for, your majesty?”

“Yes I did.” He seemed troubled. “I apologize for making you live through that again but I had to be sure.”

“About what, your majesty?”

“Nothing you need to worry about young lady, merely something I’ll have to speak with Sir Griffith about later. Sleep well!” He sped away towards the Castle archives. It was clear he didn’t want to tell her why the information was worrying to him, but it was worrying nonetheless. She heard him mumbling to himself as he retreated, “a red one, never heard of a red one before.”

Guts snuck down to the armory late that night. He couldn’t sleep. He retrieved his sword from the rack and returned to his room. He had tried sleeping in the bed but it was too soft, he couldn’t relax. He instead sat on the floor next to it cradling his sword. His cheek touched the flat of the blade and he felt himself drifting off to sleep.