~ Divide and Conquer ~
“I am a trifle surprised you did not bring Gerik with you. Even if he would have need to stay with wagons while you met the new arrivals.” Vargon walked along the shore of the bank with Stefano while the horses grazed nearby. The men had paused in their race for Orswelt to let the animals rest; bridle, saddle, blanket, all had been removed and each horse brushed down before allowed to roam free. There was never a fear of them wandering off or even becoming spooked and running away; their bond to Stefano would never permit it.
“I do love him, Sire, but his immaturity at times is more than a bit trying.” Stefano stopped walking and turned towards Vargon when he heard a chuckle. “And what do you find humorous about that?”
“I am sorry, my chylde, but you do so sound like me speaking of you … and not too distant past, either.”
“I was never – was I? Father, if I frayed your nerves even half as much as Gerik has mine, I am truly sorry.”
“Do not fret over it, Stefano. It is all part of growing into the night; much as a mortal child matures as it grows, we kindred must also mature as we become more aware of what it means to be of shade and shadow.”
“I suppose. I am pleased you agreed to come with me, though. I am at a total loss of how to address these murders when we arrive. Surely in all your time as Prince, you had to deal with matters such as this.”
A shadow of sadness blanketed Vargon’s rugged features. “I have lost friends every way imaginable, whether wolven, tarken, hunters, or being extinguished by hand or by sun, not to mention those who simply gave up on the night. The difficult one, of course, is those extinguished by other kindred. Although grieving for any loss is unsettling, and having someone taken by hunters will make your soul seethe with rage … when kindred is destroyed at the hand of kindred it is a pain unto its own. For all involved, but mostly for the prince who must find justice.”
“And if the prince can’t find the guilty parties?”
“Quite simply, my chylde, that is not a possibility. A prince’s responsibility here is determined: you shall find those who bear the guilt and you shall bring justice for the families and friends of the lost. It was decreed by The First One, the one kindred above all others. Cain carved the law into the existence of us all, shade and shadow bear witness, and Night herself holds fast the truth. Know this. Instill this into your very being.”
“Yes, Sire.” Stefano furrowed his brow as the weight of the matter finally settled upon his shoulders. “We need move on. Will you be coming the rest of the way with me, or returning to the Keep?”
“They know me in Orswelt, but I fear my presence would only confuse matters. Elders will be prone to come to me, which would be an affront to you as Prince.”
“I would not be offended…”
“It matters not. Such an action is an insult to a Prince and I shall not play a part.” Vargon gently saddled his mount before moving to stand in front of his chylde. His hands rested upon Stefano’s shoulders as he spoke. “I am confident in your abilities, my Prince – my Son. You may not feel so assured, and in truth it is better if not for it will keep you alert, but I know your strengths.”
“But if I become ensnared and unable to separate truth from falsehood…” Again he was cut off.
“Do not send a missive, I shall not answer, and I shall not come. You are Prince Stefano. You have the authority. And more, as you carry many of the nobler abilities that come with such a position. Trust in yourself Stefano. And know that I shall be proud of you, regardless of your own self-view.” He kissed Stefano’s cheek. “I love you, my chylde. Go. Be who you are, Prince of the realm and Knight of Justice. Let none question you. You hold the keys of tomorrow’s shadow in your hand. Fate’s blessing, dear son.” With that Vargon turned back and finished preparing his horse. He was on its back and off into the night before Stefano fully adjusted to what he had just heard.
I am Prince. I hold the keys. He mulled the thought over as he lifted himself atop Zarchos. I am Prince. He looked to the heavens and squared his shoulders. “I am Prince.” The words, so softly spoken, rolled thunder that crashed through the clearing and across the lake. He nodded to himself and spurred Zarchos toward Orswelt.
- - - -
“May I refill your glass while I’m here, Odessa?” Gerik looked across the room at Vargon’s wife who sat relaxed near the fireplace. An intricate knitting was in her hand, yet her concentration was elsewhere, almost as if her hands knew what to do, whether or not her mind were involved.
“No, that’s fine, Gerik.” The lady stilled her hands as she gazed at the male kindred. “What is wrong, lad? You look troubled.”
Gerik took a long sip of his house brandy. “It is nothing, I suppose. I shouldn’t worry you with it.”
“Nonsense. Come tell Auntie Odessa what is on your mind.”
Gerik coughed, laughed, and groaned as viscous red shot from his nose. “Sweet, Fate,” he exclaimed, grabbing a bar towel and cleaning himself up. Once his face was back in order, he turned his attention to the bar. “Auntie Odessa?” He coughed again before taking a tentative sip. “Wherefrom is ‘Auntie’?”
I am your sire’s sister, am I not? In mortal terms that would make me your aunt. In truth I had no intention of upsetting you so. It was meant to be a term of endearment.”
“No, I am not upset, just … surprised. After Lord Vargon’s reaction to ‘grandsire’ – I had basically given up on familial words.”
“Oh, you did not. Seriously? You called Vargon ‘grandsire’?” It was her turn to laugh. “How I wish I could have been present to witness it.”
“You knew how he would react?”
“Not truly, it is more I know my husband, and that is not terminology he would appreciate.”
“He did not.” Gerik took another sip and walked across the room. “Well then, dear ‘Auntie Odessa’, since you have already succeeded in unfooting me, I suppose I can tell you… I am very concerned over Stef’s … that is Stefano’s trip to Orswelt.”
Odessa’s hands returned to their well-practiced movements. “You call him ‘Stef’? Good. ‘Stefano’ is simply too formal, especially for lovers, though the shortened version is another thing not to say in front of my husband. For that matter,” she glanced around the room, “I would not recommend using it in Victor’s presence either. Where is he, by the way?”
“He had to go to the mainland to meet with the grocer for the Keep. Or the butcher. Someone that supplies food products. So, about Stef’s trip to Orswelt?”
“I think perhaps you worry excessively over this. Stefano is a prince, I myself do not foresee any problems.”
“Problems with which?” Vargon surprised them both as he sauntered in from the front doors. “I could use friendly discourse after hours of only having a horse for companionship.”
Gerik’s face lit with hope. “Is Stefano with you, my lord?”
“No, Gerik, though it is likely he has reached Orswelt by now. He has need to act as Prince and I have need to not be a distraction or hindrance. So I have returned.” He looked around the room. “Where is Viktor?”
Gerik stood. “He should be back from the mainland soon, Lord Vargon. But I can serve you – I assume you wish libation?
“Indeed, young one. Bring me a glass of blood wyne. In fact, bring the bottle also.”
“Yes my lord.”
Odessa smiled as her husband sat beside her. “So, dear heart, how was the ride with Stefano?”
“Enlightening. He has an interesting task ahead of himself, not one I would wish. He may stumble a time or three, but he has the ability to see, if he will only observe.”