Once again, a glazed expression froze Lotharius’ face. Nielius merely sighed.
“Try to follow me on this one, okay,” the king asked. “My ancestors, having won the kingship over Hyrendell, had nothing to worry about. The McCloud’s could never reach the throne again. Therefore, they must’ve ignored any entry into the kingdom’s Registry under the surname McCloud, meaning anyone could use it. Do you see now?”
Startling comprehension dawned on Lotharius’ face, “either someone in the past had decided to adopt that name, or the banished Queen actually had children.”
“Yes,” Nielius exhaled.
“But, Sire, when the Queen was ordered to leave the castle, she was not with child. If she was, the unborn would’ve been crowned in-utero, or otherwise murdered like its father.”
“Or she just wasn’t showing,” Nielius added. He turned to pace around the library. “Banished and forgotten, left to live like peasants, the McCloud clan disappeared into Hyrendell history until one day, when a prophecy would be told that would mark the return of the McCloud namesake to the throne. My ancestors unknowingly sealed their own fate.”
Lotharius stared in shock at his king. “They should’ve killed her when they had the chance. Surely there must be something we could do, my Lord.”
“I think there is,” Nielius replied, “the Oracle speaks only double-sided truths because the future is always uncertain. She said the Legend would return, but not how. What if Eaodan’s return meant the revelation of his derelict ancestry and the absolute termination of his bloodline? I could scour the Island for all McClouds and have them executed, all while reinforcing the kingdom’s laws to increase obedience. Not only would that fulfill the prophecy by bringing forth ‘the Legend’, but once the threat is eliminated, only I, an Evacus, would be left to deliver the land from evil!”
Lotharius finally understood. “Cleanse and protect. And I’ll order a few ships abroad on a diplomatic mission to decontaminate the outlying lands,” he smiled, apparently satisfied with his own brilliance.
The king grinned in approval, “now that, Lotharius, is why I pay you what I do.”
For a moment, King Nielius and his Steward Lotharius stood breathing in the crisp morning air, churning their pending conquest into various shapes inside their minds. Shortly after dawn, the Steward departed and the king made his way to his private chambers for a short rest, for he knew that the beginning of the end was now in motion.
* * *
Generous beams of sunlight streamed in through the open stained glass windows of the Consul Chamber as the five members of the king’s privy council sat in their respective chairs bantering to one another. Adding his rumbling laughter into the discussion, was the sixth member of the council, Lotharius. The king’s Steward had called a special session of the Consul, on the matter of a secret plot against the kingdom, and they were to discuss a plan of action against the conspirators. The meeting was planned to commence midday, and as the sun had past its highest point in the sky, the men sat and talked as they anxiously awaited for the arrival of the king of Hyrendell in order to commence.
Mriori, the youngest member of the Consul, pushed himself from his high-backed mahogany chair and paced across the chamber’s burgundy carpeting to a pitcher of fresh water that sat upon a great Earthstone desk near the back wall. After stepping up onto the small dais and pouring himself a glass, Mriori glanced through the colored windows at the sparkling sea. He sipped his water, thinking about how arrogant the ocean could be, before returning to his chair.
Amicus, the tallest of the council, dismissed himself from a conversation with Erinol, and caught the attention of Lotharius, who was sitting in one of the three chairs adjacent himself. With a glare of consternation contorting his creased face, he stared into the dark eyes of the king’s Steward for only a brief moment, in an attempt to boost his own confidence. Lotharius, however, met the councilman’s tenacious gaze with a superior glare of his own.
Quickly, as if to banish any notion of inferiority, Amicus broke up the Consul’s mumbling, “my Steward, what news of this plan against the kingdom do you have? Surely, the king will be with us in due time, but until then, can we not at least hear a portion of the dealings against us?”
“Yes, Lotharius,” spat Grachus, the plumpest of the Consul members. He stroked lightly his aged, wiry grey beard to sooth his bubbling impatience. “We’ve been sitting here for half the day already, and yet the council remains inactive. Tell us of what is so important, or I shall rid myself of this useless session and enjoy the finer things in life!” A crooked smile split his face, folding his russet eyes into slits as he thought about the maiden he’d woken up to that morning. But his fantasy was shattered when Lotharius jumped from his chair, knocking it backward.
“You’ll stay where your overstuffed posterior is planted!” Lotharius commanded. His eyes glistered with rage against Grachus’ fuming temper as he swiveled his head around to glare into the maddened eyes of all the Consul members. “And that goes for the rest of you as well. The king and I have learned of an important discovery against the kingdom, and you’ll do well to be patient, or I’ll have you all quartered as soon as you step outside the those doors,” he huffed, pointing to the giant oaken doors framing the entrance to the chamber.
And as Lotharius lowered his hand and relaxed his tightened back, those same chamber doors were shoved open to reveal the tired, petulant ruler of Hyrendell. Without hesitating, King Nielius marched to the dais and slid into the oak chair behind the chamber desk. After a few refreshing gulps of water, he took a moment to breath in the fresh air blowing in from the sea.
Once settled into his own chair, Lotharius watched his king brace himself against the stone desk. The man looked exhausted, and for the first time, Lotharius noticed the years chiseled into Nielius’ face. His age was catching up to him and he had yet to produce an heir. Perhaps he had a chance this morning to try with one of his maidens. Maybe that was the reason for his fatigue…
“The time for change has come,” the king proclaimed. Hands against the desk, he panned his eyes across the two rows of chairs inside the chamber, catching the stares of all six members. “Last night, Lotharius and I were told a prophecy about an ancient king who would return to claim Hyrendell. It was said that the Legend who once was will arise again.”
The Consul’s silence deadened the chamber. Nielius continued, “after thoroughly researching Hyrendell’s history, we’ve learned that the old king the prophecy speaks of is Eaodan McCloud from long ago, the one the people referred to as the Legend.”
Septus, the middle-aged economic advisor to the king, spoke first. “my Lord, how can a dead king return?”
“We’ve thought of this already, Septus, thank you,” Nielius snipped. “Now, since no known magick can bring back the dead, I’ve concluded that it must be his ancestral namesake that would revive his legacy. Someone from the McCloud clan will rise against the kingdom, rise against ME,” he yelled, his rage echoing around the stone walls, “to overthrow our way of life!” Suddenly, Nielius slammed his fists against the desk,.
The six members of the privy council pulled their gaze from his anger. They’d seen their king furious countless times before, but this time was different. This time, Nielius’ voice aired something mysterious, something they had never before heard that shaped the tone of his fury.
“I remember that name,” Mriori began, “I remember hearing about McCloud’s reign. The people loved him, the kingdom prospered. But, if I remember correctly, he never had any heir to the throne. Even his queen had died shortly after his demise without bearing any offspring. How, my king, could McCloud’s lineage be revived?”
“If you had bothered to glance at the kingdom’s registry every once in a while, you’d have seen that there are McCloud’s living within Hyrendell. The surname was revived decades after my ancestors had secured the crown. Unfortunately, those old fools had no idea that name would come back to haunt them.”
Erinol,