Chapter 368 — Shifting Tides
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 3
Francis II, ruler of the Kingdom of Anzu and the longest-reigning king since the founding of the Second Dynasty, stood upon the high terrace of Silverhold and gazed down at the ancient city that the Moen royal house had ruled for seven hundred years. The radiance of the Great Sun, imbued with magic, fell upon the old king, casting a hazy glow across his sumptuous coat of gold and crimson. That glow merged with the faint shimmer rising from the surface of Silverhold itself, until the old king—renowned for his wisdom and forbearance—seemed fused with the castle, with the city, with the entire kingdom.
After standing and gazing for a long while, soft footsteps came from behind him. The old king's hearing was still keen; he turned and looked at the man who had already come to stand behind him.
It was a middle-aged man in a black coat trimmed with gold, with short, curly hair of pale gold—a man of ordinary features and undistinguished bearing. He stood before Francis II with a meek and gentle look in his eyes, and a faint trace of awe.
"Wales, have you seen Aiden?" Francis II regarded the middle-aged man before him with calm detachment. Though the other was his eldest son, his tone was as cool and even as if he were speaking to the most ordinary of his retainers.
Wales Moen—that was the man's name. He was Francis II's first son, and before Prince Edmund appeared, he too had once been the kingdom's sole legitimate heir. Yet on the uppermost stage of Anzu, this former heir was less active even than Verodai Moen, who had long since entered the Church and departed the ruling ranks of Anzu. This prince—mediocre in ability and weak in character—was like the shadow of the Moen royal house, hidden year-round from everyone's sight.
And the "Aiden" Francis II had mentioned was the king's chancellor, Aiden Alfred.
"Yes, Father," said the already middle-aged Prince Wales, lowering his head slightly and speaking in an even tone. "The chancellor briefed me on a few matters to attend to while living in Silverhold."
"Good," Francis II said mildly. "After Edmund and I depart, Silverhold will still need a Moen descendant to hold the seat. Verodai has already converted to the Lord of Holy Light, so this position can only fall to you. Do you understand?"
Wales was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, "I understand."
"Don't worry. You need only stay in Silverhold; there is nothing you need do," Francis II said, looking at this mediocre son of his and shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "The Dukes of the North and West will handle everything."
Wales Moen bowed his head deeply. "...Yes."
The door connecting the terrace to the castle was pushed open, and Edmund Moen, now changed into light knight's attire, stepped onto the terrace. The young heir to the kingdom came before Francis II and bent slightly at the waist. "Father, everything is ready."
The old king cast one last glance at Wales, then turned and walked toward the terrace door. "Let us be off."
Francis II and Edmund left the terrace, descended the steps, and passed through the long corridors of the castle. As they crossed the antechamber, two figures in magnificent dress came forward to meet them.
One was the Duke of the West, Baiyu Franklin, wrapped in a deep blue ducal cloak, refined in bearing with a hint of the scholar about him; the other was the Duchess of the North, Victoria Wilde, in a white gown with a silver-fox stole about her shoulders, cold and aloof in demeanor.
These two magnates—in name second only to the king in the kingdom—came before Francis II and bowed slightly. Baiyu Franklin spoke first: "I wish you a smooth journey."
"I shall strive for peace," Francis II said gravely. Then his gaze settled on the Duchess, cold and distant as ice and snow, and he looked at her quietly for two seconds before continuing, with meaning in his voice, "May Anzu know long-lasting peace."
Victoria Wilde gave a slight nod. "Anzu will know long-lasting peace."