III - SECRETS AND LEGENDS #6

Gwion’s countenance was a picture of bewilderment, yet he felt his shoulders relax as he let forth a sigh of relief. Narg, not knowing how much time he had before falling victim to another fit, decided to come to the point.

'I beheld the dread in the soldier who was about to slay you.

I called it to mind this morn and perceived that you were the fittest man for this mission,' he remarked, leaning towards him to close the distance.

'You are the one. You command enough respect to be feared, but alongside the warrior’s mettle in your blood, like Arwel, you possess a warmth that radiates humility.

In truth, I revere your presence; you are calculating, and your composure is worthy of a captain. '

Narg remained silent; he could tell that all this praise was making his warrior uneasy. Yet what he thought was true: Narg had ever dreamed of having a son such as Gwion.

'I require you to journey to Ubberia and bring me whatsoever Halfdan kept within the golden cup on the shelf above his reading chair in the library.'

Narg reached into his tunic and pulled out a sealed envelope.

'Give this to the widow to keep her occupied. If she will not take it willingly, take it by force; use your boyish smile or—' he held out the envelope and continued, 'whatever it takes. Bring back the contents by any means necessary; if you must, steal it.'

Gwion’s brow did not relax. He was well aware of the pact Narg had signed with the widow: from day one, Ubberia would implement the empire’s policies and all profits would be administered by Old Minister.

Yet, ere appointing a lord to rule the lands, as a worthy descendant of Alfredo, he permitted the old woman to enjoy the palace.

She had no children; all she had left were those walls full of memories.

If his liege was now the owner of Ubberia, why should he steal it?

'This is but another game,' Narg mused, letting out a sigh.

'I will play, but I shall set the rules, as always,' he added, raising his eyebrows.

'Let Gregor accompany you. The realm is guarded by our men, yet peril may still lurk.

Depart this eve; array Tower and Valcon, for they are the swiftest; I require your return ere daybreak. '

He could not hide the astonishment or the fear that washed over him.

Travelling with Tower, at night, to Ubberia, to steal Odín knows what, and return.

And if the steed were to speak to him, how would he handle it?

But he remembered what it might mean. He was the key, though he did not know to what.

He had to be brave, to listen to what the horse had to say whilst honouring his king’s request.

'I am sorry to send you into what might be a trap,' Narg admitted, interpreting Gwion’s lack of reaction in his own way. 'I shall be waiting for you; come straight to see me, and, most importantly, speak not to any man of this.'

'If I may,' he said, waiting for Narg to make his typical hand gesture inviting him to continue, 'dost thou mistrust the troops?'

'By Alfredo’s Everflame, no!' Narg exclaimed, rising to pace toward the desk, his back to Gwion. 'Although we all have a price, no, not a single one. I am endeavouring to keep them safe.'

'That is our charge,' he corrected. 'To keep the king alive.'

'Boy,' he said, stepping back towards him to take him by the shoulder, 'when I am gone, you must carry on the legacy.'

His migraine fits left Narg incapacitated; there was no doubt about that. But in those rare moments of clarity, amidst the uncontrollable fits of rage and tantrums that overwhelmed him when he felt vulnerable and mortal, he contemplated the future of his kingdom.

He loathed the prospect of dying, and such was his plight when he fell ill, unable to survive another day. Yet he was haunted even more by the fact that he had left the throne without an heir. And the memory of the sentence he had been forced to pass upon his beloved Celtión struck at his soul.

Gwion analysed his king’s strange expression, a mixture of defeat and darkness, despair mingled with anger and a hint of desolation. And he connected it to what Tower desired to tell him.

'Art thou in danger, my lord? I need to know, that I might keep thee safe.'

'I have never kept secrets from you. When I am certain, I shall tell you,' he simply replied. 'Go now, have supper before you depart, and do not forget that I shall keep watch for you.'

'It is an honour for thy servant to lead the voyage with thy standard flying in the wind.'

He made his way to the door, tucking the note he was to deliver into the fold of his sleeve. As he departed, he bumped head-on into Windar, who was just coming in.

The grandmother queen regarded the young man, smiled upon him with a nod to let him pass, and altered her course. She had ascended to the wrong floor, she apologised: 'Age takes its toll,' and made for the stairs.

Upon reaching the first floor, he encountered Owin, who regarded him coldly from the tips of his boots. It was neither contempt nor malice, just the usual expression of the court sorcerer. Gwion greeted him with a bow, and Owin mimicked him.

'Supper is about to be served. Yet I counsel you to bathe; you can be smelled from miles away,' joked Owin, though without laughter, as he waved his hand before his nose.

Gwion bowed his head and drew a deep breath; verily, he reeked of taverns and mead.

'Whatsoever Narg hath charged you with, it may wait until you have made yourself presentable. Remember—when they behold us, they behold the kingdom. We are its finest reflection.'

The eldest of the Gerinsons was astonished. Perhaps the secret mission was not secret at all, and it might be Owin who could discover the location of the booty with a locating spell; in that case, why not send him?

With a sheepish grimace, he continued on his way, repeating to himself: 'All that Halfdan kept within the golden cup upon the shelf above his reading chair in the library.'