He remembered walking with the boy, speaking to him of the people, and of his early birth. Years before the birth of the Lord was common following the Lioran Rites, but Kirlas had been born in the height of the Lady's first summer. One more unprecedented event in a series that defined the times. The priest sighed. Much of his lessons Kirlas had taken to heart, but he feared the young king learned still more from life at court, learned to prize the glory of the throne more than he feared the weight of the crown.
“Tell me,” he said quietly.
“It's the advisors,” Kirlas all but whined. “With every decision, they speak more of the will of Lior, and the priests seem to be everywhere before I arrive, interpreting events and signs so as to limit my efforts to those 'in accordance with the desire of my father,'” he all but bit out the last word. “And now he'll have a Lady, the chosen of Lior, with a coming Lord to prepare for. I have already heard the phrase, 'We must prepare the nation for the new Lord,' far more than I am comfortable with. Even if he were to be born tomorrow, I would still have twenty years on the throne, but if Heron has his way, I'll be little more than a figurehead while he wields the true power, all in the interest of serving Lior. After all, with all the signs and imports concerning the new Lords conception, my reign can be intended for little more preparation.” His words were harsh and bitter.
Namel turned back to his King. “And what would you have me do?” he demanded just as harshly, “You did not see fit to follow my advice when it may have done some good, but you turn to me now when it is too late. I barely have freedom to move. Would you have me grant you what I cannot achieve for myself?”
“There must be something you can do,” Kirlas insisted. “Surely you are not going to stand by and watch Heron distort all you seek to preserve.” He paced around the small room, his long stride requiring him to turn frequently. Ten years he had reigned, and he had accomplished little, watching his borders continue to shrink as lesser peoples grew in number and power. Now the priests were speaking of peace and trade and benevolence when he wished to exercise might and authority. Lior had always been a vision of strength and honor, while his sister Anise took on the roles of grace and charity. The more the Order softened the image of the god, the more they blunted the sword of their king.
“Tell me,” he said quietly.
“It's the advisors,” Kirlas all but whined. “With every decision, they speak more of the will of Lior, and the priests seem to be everywhere before I arrive, interpreting events and signs so as to limit my efforts to those 'in accordance with the desire of my father,'” he all but bit out the last word. “And now he'll have a Lady, the chosen of Lior, with a coming Lord to prepare for. I have already heard the phrase, 'We must prepare the nation for the new Lord,' far more than I am comfortable with. Even if he were to be born tomorrow, I would still have twenty years on the throne, but if Heron has his way, I'll be little more than a figurehead while he wields the true power, all in the interest of serving Lior. After all, with all the signs and imports concerning the new Lords conception, my reign can be intended for little more preparation.” His words were harsh and bitter.
Namel turned back to his King. “And what would you have me do?” he demanded just as harshly, “You did not see fit to follow my advice when it may have done some good, but you turn to me now when it is too late. I barely have freedom to move. Would you have me grant you what I cannot achieve for myself?”
“There must be something you can do,” Kirlas insisted. “Surely you are not going to stand by and watch Heron distort all you seek to preserve.” He paced around the small room, his long stride requiring him to turn frequently. Ten years he had reigned, and he had accomplished little, watching his borders continue to shrink as lesser peoples grew in number and power. Now the priests were speaking of peace and trade and benevolence when he wished to exercise might and authority. Lior had always been a vision of strength and honor, while his sister Anise took on the roles of grace and charity. The more the Order softened the image of the god, the more they blunted the sword of their king.
