11. Benjin

eleven

Benjin

Benjin wove his way through the palace corridors with a package to deliver for the Grand Magus tucked under one arm, unable to get his last encounter with Haldric out of his mind. It had felt different to their previous meetings—more personal. Though perhaps that had been because of what they'd discussed.

After several weeks of continued lessons at the Grand Magus' insistence, that had been the first time Benjin felt like he'd truly seen beneath the prince's stifled exterior to the real him. And despite Benjin's preconceptions, Haldric hadn't seemed like another arrogant noble. Indeed, he was quiet, thoughtful, considerate.

Not to mention exceedingly handsome…

Almost losing his footing, Benjin caught himself on the wall and shoved the inappropriate thought aside. He needed to focus on his task if he didn't want to get lost again. After a month in the palace running errands on Dexil's behalf, he should probably have learned his way around by now. But alas…

In many ways, the palace still felt every bit as intimidating as it had upon his first visit to the Grand Magus. Everything was so open and spacious, and while Ilthabardian décor might be austere compared to the tales he'd heard of distant lands, it was lavish compared to anything he'd encountered in Revesole. Some days, he doubted he'd ever feel like he belonged.

He reached an intersection and hesitated. Had the exit to the courtyard been east or south from here? Goddess' mercy, he couldn't remember. He considered flagging down a passing servant for help, but the woman looked like she was in a hurry.

Pretty much everyone was these days, what with the Summit less than a week away. Even now, Dexil was attending to some last-minute preparations in the hall. As soon as Benjin completed this delivery, he was supposed to join him.

Chancing the east corridor, Benjin barreled on. After several false turns and a mortifying chat with a suspicious guard who flagged him down after the third time he passed the same checkpoint, he finally emerged into the palace's main courtyard.

He hadn't had much occasion to come out here, his business on behalf of the Grand Magus keeping him firmly ensconced within the palace walls. He hadn't even had a chance to visit his mother in Revesole yet, relying on couriers to deliver his weekly wages.

Benjin scanned the courtyard and spotted the stables nestled off to the far side against a heavy stone wall. Poking his head inside, he wrinkled his nose at the musk of horses, hay, and manure. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

"Yes, yes, what do you want?" A grizzled woman emerged from one of the stalls, eyeing him impatiently.

He held up his bundle. "Delivery from the Grand Magus."

"About Void-cursed time." The woman snatched the parcel from him and tore into it, extracting the bottle nestled within. "Had to patch up two mares already this week. With any luck, this salve will help thicken their hides."

"What happened?" Benjin hadn't heard about any recent battles that would've led to wounded horses.

The woman spat into the straw littering the stable floor. "Goddess-spurned rabble down in Revesole raising a ruckus, what else? As if King Roland ain't already doing all he can for them. If there's a food shortage, it's those greedy nobles over in Leonia who are responsible. Hard to tell if the rioters were trying to kill the horses to send a message or if they were that desperate for fresh meat."

Benjin's stomach roiled. His mother's last missive suggested she was doing fine, especially with the extra coin he'd sent her. Still, it galled him to hear how bad things had gotten compared to life here in the palace. No matter what the stablemaster said, this was happening on King Roland's watch. It seemed the height of decadence to be organizing a feast for the Provincial Council while commoners starved little more than a stone's throw away.

Not that he dared voice any of that. "Perhaps the Summit will help."

The woman sighed, shaking her head. "We can hope. Tell your master thanks from me. At least there's one among those nobles that knows how to look after us little folk."

Benjin considered the conversation while he navigated the halls toward the banquet hall where he was supposed to meet the Grand Magus, barely even noticing when a passing noblewoman held her nose as she passed. Musings on unrest and injustice slowly bled into thoughts of Haldric.

What would the prince make of the situation in Revesole? Did he have any idea what it was like for the average citizen under his father's rule? Did any of them, except perhaps Grand Magus Dexil, even care?

The main hall had been transformed since the last time Benjin passed through it. Long tables lined the edges while a circular table sat alone in the center. That was where the delegation of governors would meet to discuss the future of Ilthabard while their respective retinues feasted nearby.

Benjin spotted the Grand Magus by the central table and moved past servants and guards to join him. "The stable master thanks you for the salve. A Protection?"

"An Alteration, actually," Dexil replied with a distracted smile. "To harden the horses' skin and make them more resistant to blunt objects. Not as effective as a true Protection ward, but longer lasting with less runeflame required. Magic needn't always be flashy in order to get the job done."

The Grand Magus gestured to the table, where Benjin noticed a series of partially etched runes. "Take this warding, for instance. There's all manner of spells I might use to keep the Provincial Council's conversation private, each more elaborate than the last. But the simplest solutions are usually best. Tell me, what do you see?"

Benjin leaned in and studied the runes. Though far more complex than any he'd learned thus far, he thought he could pick out familiar segments representing certain elements or actions. "A barrier," he said slowly, squinting at the markings. "Of shadow and…air?"

"Close," Dexil said, his voice encouraging. "Not air, but…"

"Sound!" Benjin exclaimed after another moment's study. "It's a barrier of shadow and sound, to stop anyone from seeing or hearing what the governors discuss."

The Grand Magus' proud smile lit up Benjin's insides. "Excellent, my boy! It's a bit more intricate than that, but that's the gist. Once activated, the wards should provide those within complete privacy. Much easier than sealing off an entire room or creating an extradimensional space large enough to hold them."

Benjin gave an appreciative nod, then turned his attention back to the runes. His gaze lingered on the sigils Dexil had used to denote a zone of silence. Goddess, how he wished he could conjure such powerful effects on his own. Perhaps someday, he'd be able to.

"Why don't you help me finish these?" Dexil asked, pulling him from his daydreaming. "The runes are mostly complete, but I still need to dust them with the binding powder I prepared and infuse them with runeflame so that the wards can be activated on command when the Summit commences."

Eager to glean all he could from the Grand Magus' work, Benjin dove into the task with gusto. While Dexil finished etching the runes, he paused now and then to instruct Benjin on a particular sigil's effect or answer a question. It wasn't exactly the most challenging job, but Benjin nevertheless felt a thrill of satisfaction whenever a rune flared to life before falling dormant.

He was so caught up in his work that he didn't notice at first that they had company. It was only when Dexil nudged his shoulder that he glanced up and discovered a retinue of guards and servants approaching. They parted as the group drew near to reveal Prince Haldric and King Roland at their center.

It was the first time Benjin had seen the king out of bed since his arrival at the palace. Even with his straightened back and fitted armor, it was impossible to disguise the king's frailty. His face was pale and drawn, his hand trembling where it gripped Haldric's arm for balance.

Haldric, by contrast, appeared the picture of a noble warrior. His embossed leather armor gleamed with intricate designs, and the polished hilt of his sword hung at his waist. He'd pulled his lustrous black hair back with a leather cord, his face cool and stern beneath the silver circlet he wore. A shiver raced down Benjin's back when Haldric's hard green eyes fell on him.

"Your Majesty!" Dexil dropped into a smooth bow. With an effort of will, Benjin tore his gaze away from Haldric and followed his master's lead. "I didn't expect to see you today."

"I wanted to check on how things were progressing myself." King Roland gave a strained smile. "Plus, my chirurgeons thought some time up and about might do me good. I want to be at my best tomorrow when the governors arrive."

"A wise precaution, Your Majesty," Dexil agreed. "Here, let me show you what I've prepared."

The king spared Benjin a glance and offered a polite nod of acknowledgment before grasping Dexil's proffered arm and allowing the mage to guide him over to the table. Benjin stared at the king's back, overcome by a roil of conflicting emotions.

Ilthabard's ruler was far from the uncaring tyrant Benjin would've expected before coming to the palace. He'd treated Benjin with respect the few times they'd met, always kind despite the immense gap between their stations.

Benjin might have even liked him…had he not ultimately been the one responsible for the terrible state of affairs in the streets. No matter how caring or wise King Roland might seem, the people's plight had still happened under his watch. In the end, he was just another member of the pampered nobility, with no idea what most of his subjects' lives looked like. Benjin knew firsthand how rough things could get, and he'd been luckier than most thanks to his magic.

And the prince?

Sneaking glances at Haldric, Benjin thought he'd spent enough time around him by now to recognize the nerves buried beneath his calm countenance. Haldric might wish to project the appearance of being untouchable and in control, but it was only that—a mask.

"You ready for tomorrow?" he asked, sidling up next to the prince.

Haldric glanced at him, raising an imperious eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Benjin shrugged. He turned to watch the Grand Magus explaining his wards to the king. "It seems like a pretty stressful situation. All those important people looking to you for guidance. If it were me, I'd be nervous."

Beside him, Haldric stiffened. "I can't afford to be nervous. Any weakness I display might be taken to reflect on my ability to rule. The governors will be waiting to seize any opening I give them to take advantage of me."

"Well then, don't let them."

Haldric's hard gaze flicked to him, surprise flitting over his face before he smoothed it away. "What about you—are you ready? Dexil told me you'd be attending as well."

Benjin honestly hadn't given it much thought. Now though, he felt his first flicker of nerves. His past experiences with nobility hadn't exactly primed him to spend extended time in their company. What if he did something to embarrass the Grand Magus or accidentally spark a civil war?

A pressure bore down on his shoulder. It took him a moment to register that Haldric had rested his hand there.

"Follow Dexil's lead, and you'll do fine," Haldric said. "More than likely, all you'll have to do is sit there and look pretty."

Pretty? Another time, Benjin might have taken the prince's words as an insult. Here, however, he found them oddly comforting.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nodded.

Haldric gave his shoulder a brief squeeze before awkwardly dropping his hand. Without another word, he strode over to join his father and the Grand Magus. King Roland departed not long after with the prince in tow.

Haldric spared one last parting glance for Benjin as he left, giving him the slightest of nods. His lips quirked in what might have been a reassuring smile. Then, he was gone.

"I see those forced lessons are bringing the two of you closer together." The Grand Magus joined Benjin with a chuckle. "I thought they might. Prince Haldric is kind for a highborn—he takes after his father that way."

Dexil's words reminded Benjin of something Haldric had told him during their last shared lesson, and he turned to face the Grand Magus. "Haldric said that you're lowborn like me. Is that true?"

Though Dexil's grin remained in place, Benjin swore he sensed a shift in the Grand Magus' demeanor—a new caution. "It is."

A thrill of excitement buzzed Benjin's spine. No wonder Dexil seemed to care about the commonfolk more than his peers. He understood what their lives were like better than King Roland or Prince Haldric ever could.

"How did you end up one of the king's most trusted advisers?"

Dexil played with the gaudy rings on his left hand. A slight furrow appeared in his brow. "My story is much the same as yours, I suspect. I wished to better myself and secure a brighter future. Like you, I discovered a knack for runeflame when I was young, though my innate gift lay with Protection magic."

Some emotion Benjin couldn't read flashed behind Dexil's violet eyes. "I was luckier than many and managed to secure a coveted spot at the Arcanum in Astralyn. Once I completed my education, I returned here, hoping to make a name for myself. I worked my way through the houses of various nobility until I secured a spot at then-Prince Roland's side. And here I've remained ever since, in a position where I can make the most difference."

Benjin frowned at that. His earlier doubts resurfaced. "How much does the king actually listen to you? Allow you to influence him?"

The Grand Magus pursed his lips. Only then did Benjin realize how impertinent he'd been. "S-sorry, master. I meant no offense, to you or to the king."

Benjin puffed out a relieved breath when Dexil nodded. Tugging Benjin closer to the table, he lowered his voice. His words came out hesitantly, as though he was choosing them with care.

"King Roland is a benevolent ruler…so far as they go. Yet, in the end, he lacks the vision to be just."

Benjin's skin prickled. Though Dexil's brazen words left him unsettled, Benjin couldn't deny the truth in them. Hadn't he recently thought the same?

"The nobility can't understand what's it's like for people like you or me," Benjin said.

The Grand Magus' violet eyes gleamed. "Precisely, my boy. It's not their fault—they don't know any better. But sometimes, it's necessary for others to step in and do what they cannot. That is why I intend to serve the king until his final breath—so that I can do all I can for the people of Ilthabard."

Benjin mulled Dexil's words over, considering them. "And what about Haldric?" The prince's brilliant green eyes flashed before him. "Do you think he'll make a better king than his father?"

Dexil smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You've spent enough time around him by now. What do you think, Benjin?"

"I…I'm not sure." Benjin thought of the prince's raw honesty during their last lesson, the comforting press of Haldric's grip on his shoulder moments earlier. Then, he thought of the prince's cool aloofness, his attitude toward Benjin the first time they'd met. "He seems all right. For a noble, anyway. But…"

"But he follows in his father's footsteps," Dexil said softly.

Benjin startled when a nearby servant called out for the Grand Magus. Dexil patted him on the shoulder. "Duty calls." He started to walk away, then paused, glancing back at Benjin. "When was the last time you had a day off?"

"Um…" Benjin wasn't sure how to respond. The truth was that he hadn't had one since starting at the palace over a month ago, but he feared admitting it would make him sound ungrateful.

The Grand Magus nodded. "I thought as much. I need your help for the next couple days before the governors arrive, and you still have your last lesson with the prince. But after that, why don't you take the end of the week off?"

Benjin frowned. "What about the Summit?"

Dexil waved a hand, his lavish robes fluttering. "Not to worry—I'll have more than enough help with the other servants in attendance. You've earned a break after all your work these past weeks, and I'm sure your mother would love the chance to see you in person."

A smile flitted over Benjin's lips at the thought of leaving the palace to finally visit his mother in Revesole. Then, he pictured Prince Haldric and muffled a flash of guilt. It was stupid—it wasn't as though the prince needed him or like they'd even have a chance to interact during the Summit. Yet, the prince expected him to be there. Not showing up felt almost like abandoning him.

He bit his lip. "If you're sure…"

"Of course." Dexil shooed Benjin toward the doors. "Now, off with you! I expect my workshop properly tidied up and the rest of your deliveries made before I return tonight."

Benjin bowed, watching the Grand Magus meet the servant who'd called to him. The Grand Magus' earlier question rattled around in his head. Would Haldric make a good ruler? He honestly didn't know.

As Benjin turned to depart, his gaze caught on the table nearby, fastening on the runes the Grand Magus had etched into its surface. The faint hint of runeflame still lingered over one of them—the one used to dampen sound. The Grand Magus had ensured their conversation wouldn't be overhead.