The Unfortunate

questionable acts and his shaming, Banan knew there was only one thing he could do to put an end to the parade of errors, at least for the time. He would have to surrender his pride and, in turn, admit his guilt. “Yes, Father. I have caused you shame. I know I am unworthy of your clemency, Your Majesty, but I beg forgiveness.”
Several tranquil moments passed before the king nodded as he had on countless occasions prior, and he replied, “Come.” His voice had regained some compassion. “We have a great deal to discuss.”
It took several minutes, longer than either had expected, for the king to explain the situation, and once he had finished, he allowed his son time to consider.
“Why should this be a concern?” Banan inquired at last. “If a war were to ensue, they would fight each other. I imagine it is nothing more than trade negotiations.”
“Then why did Raedan indicate there is talk of unrest and that Yorcia and Drunacht may unite for a single cause?”
“Those were his words?”
“Indeed.”
Maintaining the belief that the reports were only words of nonsense, the prince smiled. Perhaps my father needs a new advisor. But it was only a thought. He had not only awakened the beast that was his father’s temper, but he had also tormented it and tested its limits. Although Banan had escaped without being mauled, however, he was not prepared to tempt Fate. He respected Raedan and knew the advisor would not have introduced the matter without sufficient cause.
Having allowed more than enough time for a counter-response, the king took it upon himself to further the discussion. “What would you recommend?”
The prince was surprised his opinion had been requested, especially after the dispute and his behavior. He managed to remain composed, however, and answered, “It is your decision, Father. I—”
“Yes, but someday it will be your voice that commands.” The elder man paused briefly, as if he had been reluctant to accept the concept of Banan as king, before he eventually concluded, “If you were the king of Armania, what would you advise?”
Banan expressed a deep sigh. He did not want that type of absolute responsibility. At least not yet. But the idea, and especially since it had been offered by his father, had caused the prince to feel a renewed, yet only faint, sense of reacceptance and trust, and he eventually offered, “As second-in-command of the army, I think the men should be prepared for war, but I think it best if you consider other possibilities to avoid conflict.”
The king smiled for the first time since their meeting had commenced, and he waited momentarily before answering, “I have already considered my options to do exactly that.”
Despite his inner exclamations, the prince remained calm and inquired, “Such as?”
His father walked around to the opposite side of his desk and shuffled through a stack of parchments before answering with a familiar question. “If you were king of Armania, what would you advise?”
The prince pondered a moment before replying, “As I indicated I would prepare the men, but I would also write to Yorcia and remind King Ryce of the bond shared by our realms.”
“Good.” The king nodded. “What else?”
What else? Why is there always a what else? Banan cursed to himself and remained quiet before eventually adding, “And you should also create a new pact, a stronger pact, to ensure we remain allies.”
“By what means?”
“Food, coin, weapons, any type of goods.”
Time slowed and created a tenser atmosphere as the king appeared to ponder the response, and he eventually drummed his fingers on the desk.
Still no one spoke.
The seconds that passed were unnerving, and Banan wanted to offer something more—wanted to add to his suggestion but was unable to think of anything except his proposal and if it had been damning or convincing of his diplomatic ability.
At last the king stopped drumming, looked to Banan, and smiled. “Thank you for your suggestions. I need more time to consider my options, however.” There was a slight pause before his father added, “In the meantime do what you can to learn more about King Aengus and Drunacht.”
✽ ✽ ✽
After departing his father’s study, Banan wanted nothing more than to return to his own chambers. As he hurried across the vastness of the great hall, numerous thoughts raced through his mind, and they continued even after he had turned into a side passage. Why does Father need more time to consider his options? What other options besides mine will be considered? Will my father even consider my input? The concerns did not cease until the prince was several strides away from the passage’s first turn, until he heard a man speak.
“Come with me for a walk then.”
“I cannot.” It was a woman who replied.
Banan had immediately recognized the voice. “Jenn,” he whispered and continued to listen.
“What is so important that you cannot?”
“It is my responsibility to tend to the queen.”
“I do not imagine Queen Marlisa always requires your service.”
“I am loyal to her,” the woman answered. “I must be prepared to tend to whatever needs whenever they may arise.”
“That does not answer my question,” the man was quick to retort.
“Unless I am mistaken, you inquired about nothing. You assumed.”
The man chuckled. “Many think women should hold their tongues, but I prefer those who speak their minds.”
Banan had inched closer to the turn, and when he peeked around the wall, he noticed it was a guard and that he stood close to Jenn. Too close.
“I meant no offense,” the young woman apologized.
The guard shook his head and gently stroked the handmaiden’s cheek with his fingers. “You do not need to fear me. I would like to know you better. Perhaps you could come to the walls tonight. Without anything to pass the time, watch duty can become rather dull.”
“No. I—I cannot.” Rarely did Jenn ever show weakness, but for the briefest moment, she had fumbled with her words. “The queen would never allow such.”
“But she does not have to find out.” The guard