fiction

Chapter 9 - The King’s Return

Word did not travel fast in Ravenford, but it traveled with the unstoppable weight of an underground spring. By Monday morning, the news had reached the border garrison at Fort Vane; by Wednesday, three couriers in the scarlet-and-gold livery of the Crownland Guard had arrived at the back door of Hart’s Bakery, their horses lathered in white foam.

They found the King sitting on a wooden bench by the flour bins, wearing a borrowed linen shirt that was two sizes too small in the shoulders, using a pocket-knife to carve a small wooden duck for Timmy Vance’s little sister.

The captain of the guard—a scarred veteran named Captain Vance, whose brother commanded the southern fleet—dropped to one knee so low his scabbard struck the flagged floor with a heavy clack.

"Your Majesty," the captain said, his voice thick with a mixture of terror and overwhelming relief. "The capital has been in council for six months. The Duke of Westmarch has been trying to claim the regency. The southern ports are blockaded by pirates because there was no seal on the naval dispatches—"

Adrian didn't look up from the wooden duck. He shaved a thin curl of pine from the bird’s wing with steady, patient strokes.

"Tell the Duke of Westmarch," Adrian said softly, "that I am currently occupied with an important municipal audit regarding the price of rye."

"Sire?"

"And tell him," the King added, his golden eyes flicking up toward the doorway where Eleanor was carrying a tray of freshly baked sourdough, "that if he wishes to discuss the tariff on imported grain, he is welcome to come to Ravenford. But he will bring his own bread."

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The captain blinked, glanced at Eleanor, then back at the King, and slowly realized that the monarch who had returned from the gorge was not the same man who had fled the palace. This was a man who had spent three winters learning how little difference there was between the weight of a crown and the weight of a starving dragon.

"As you command, Sire," the captain murmured, bowing his head.

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