When The Tides Breathe Again

Chapter Three-The Kings Court

The morning sun spilled through the high glass windows of Eldarion’s great hall, scattering light across marble floors polished to mirror brightness. The banners of the realm—deep sapphire and gold—hung proudly from the vaulted ceilings, rippling softly with the breeze.

Today, the palace brimmed with movement and whispers. The royal court officials had gathered, summoned by decree of King Alaric Caelthar himself. Among them was Lord Malvick, the king’s most trusted advisor—a man whose loyalty was as legendary as the shadows that often followed his name.

He arrived with his daughter, Lady Selene, a delicate child of eight, her pale hair braided neatly with silver ribbons. Her large eyes sparkled with curiosity as she took in the sight of the great hall.

The courtiers rose as Lord Malvick entered, murmuring polite greetings. “Lord Malvick,” they said with respectful nods. He returned their courtesy with a calm smile—one that never quite reached his eyes. Selene curtsied gracefully beside him, her movements precise, practiced, perfect.

The heavy doors creaked open once more.

“All rise,” the herald announced, his voice echoing through the hall.

The room fell silent as King Alaric entered, his regal presence filling the chamber. His golden crown caught the morning light, and his eyes—clear and commanding—swept over his council.

“All hail the King,” the nobles chorused, bowing low.

“You may rise,” Alaric said, taking his seat upon the throne carved of white stone and steel.

One by one, the courtiers resumed their places.

Then, to everyone’s mild surprise, little Lady Selene stepped forward. Her small hands clasped in front of her, she curtsied low before the throne.

“Your Majesty,” she said softly.

King Alaric’s expression warmed. “Lady Selene, daughter of Malvick,” he greeted. “You’ve grown much since last I saw you. How do you fare?”

“I am well, my king,” she replied, her voice steady for her age. “I came with Father to visit the palace—and I was hoping to see Prince Kael and Princess Lyra, if you would permit it.”

The king smiled at her earnestness. “You have a kind heart, child. I’m sure they will be glad of your company.”

He turned toward one of the attendants. “See that Lady Selene is taken to the royal quarters.”

The attendant bowed. “At once, Your Majesty.”

Selene curtsied again, her eyes gleaming with excitement. As she followed the attendant out of the room, Lord Malvick watched her go—his face calm, his hands folded neatly before him.

But behind his stillness, there was calculation. Every move, every word, every glance toward the throne was deliberate.

For while the courtiers saw only a loyal advisor, Lord Malvek saw something far greater: the seeds of a future he intended to claim—one way or another.

The throne room of Eldarion shimmered with the light of dawn filtering through high arched windows. The air was heavy with the murmur of voices and the faint scent of burning incense.

At the far end of the chamber sat King Alaric Caelthar, his crown gleaming in the light. Around him, the royal council assembled — lords and advisors clad in rich robes, scrolls and ledgers spread before them.

At the king’s right hand stood Lord Malvick, his cold composure cutting through the hall like tempered steel.

“The kingdom thrives,” he said smoothly, his tone measured, “yet our expansion slows. Trade from the southern ports has waned, and the northern borders are yielding little in tribute. We must reinforce our hold if Eldarion is to remain supreme.”

Lord Feron, the Master of Trade, frowned. “With respect, my lord, our people tire of endless conquest. Perhaps it is time to invest within—our farmlands, our smiths—”

Malvick’s eyes sharpened. “You speak of weakness. Eldarion’s power lies in fear and dominion. The conquered must remember who rules them.”

The chamber rippled with uneasy whispers.

King Alaric raised a hand. “Enough,” he said, his voice deep and commanding. Silence fell immediately. “We will strengthen our trade routes and reinforce our borders. Power does not rest solely in fear but in wisdom.”

The courtiers bowed their heads in assent, though Lord Malvick’s expression remained unreadable.

The king turned to Baron Keldar, the overseer of defense. “Tell me, Baron — are there any troubles with our vassal kingdoms?”

“None, Your Majesty,” the baron replied, surprised himself. “For the first time in many years, there is peace across the lands.”

The king leaned back on his throne, the faintest smile curving his lips. “Then let us pray it lasts.”

While the discussion continued, Lady Selene—Lord Malvick’s daughter—was quietly escorted to the royal library, a vast hall filled with the scent of old parchment and polished oak. She waited there, her small hands folded neatly on her lap, the flicker of curiosity bright in her eyes.

Moments later, Prince Kael arrived. The young heir smiled politely as Selene stood and curtsied.

“Your Highness,” she greeted, her voice soft.

“Please, sit,” Kael said kindly.

They had only begun to talk when the doors opened again. Princess Lyra entered, her steps light and cheerful, with Eryn walking a few respectful paces behind her.

Selene’s gaze flickered toward the boy, puzzled.

Lyra smiled brightly. “Oh! This is Eryn,” she said proudly. “He’s my friend.”

Eryn bowed slightly, unsure how to respond to the princess’s enthusiasm.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Selene said politely, giving him a small curtsy.

A servant soon entered, laying a silver tray of tea and pastries before them. The children gathered around the table, their voices soon filling the quiet library.

“So,” Kael said, stirring his tea, “what brings you here, Lady Selene?”

“I came with Father,” she explained. “He’s meeting with the king—but I asked if I could find you and Princess Lyra instead.”

Lyra beamed. “I’m glad you did. It’s so boring when Kael is off with the knights or tutors.”

Kael rolled his eyes good-naturedly, earning a giggle from both girls.

They spoke of childish things—books, riding lessons, the best hiding spots in the palace gardens. Lyra, every so often, nudged Eryn into the conversation whenever he grew too quiet.

Finally, Selene clapped her hands together. “Let’s play hide and seek!”

They played through the grand halls, laughing as footsteps echoed between marble pillars. After several rounds, flushed with laughter and breathless excitement, a servant entered the hall.

“Lady Selene,” he said, bowing. “Your father calls for you.”

Her smile faltered with mild disappointment. “Already?”

Lyra pouted. “You must come again soon.”

“I will,” Selene promised, turning to hug Kael, then Lyra. She paused briefly before Eryn. “It was nice meeting you,” she said softly.

He nodded. “You too.”

With one last curtsy, she followed the servant out of sight.

Kael was called away soon after, summoned by the king, and Lyra returned toward her chambers with Eryn walking beside her.

Just as they reached her quarters, another servant appeared.

“Eryn Vareth,” he said. “The king requires your presence.”

Eryn bowed to Lyra. “I’ll come back after.”

And before she could respond, Queen Elsa’s voice carried softly down the corridor:

“Lyra, my dear—come. I wish to speak with you.”

Lyra glanced once at Eryn as he departed in the opposite direction. For a fleeting moment, she felt the palace’s silence press around her again.

The golden banners of Eldarion fluttered in the distance as Lord Malvek’s carriage rolled down the cobbled path from the palace gates. The rhythmic clatter of hooves filled the air, mingling with the steady hum of the wheels. Inside, velvet curtains swayed gently as the carriage dipped over the uneven road.

Selene sat opposite her father, a faint blush still bright on her cheeks, the joy of the day alive in her eyes. A small leather-bound book rested on her lap—taken, with the king’s permission, from the royal library.

Lord Malvek broke the silence first, his voice deep and measured.

“So,” he began, glancing at her over folded hands, “how was your time with the prince and princess?”

Selene’s face lit up instantly. “It was wonderful, Father! We played hide and seek through the long halls—Kael found me every time, of course. And Princess Lyra showed me her favorite books! We even had tea together. The servants brought pastries with rose sugar.”

Her father’s lips curved faintly. “I see. And the young prince? Did he treat you kindly?”

She nodded eagerly. “Oh yes! He’s very kind—and brave. But Lyra is lovely too, not at all like the stories say about princesses being proud or mean. She’s funny and curious, and she has a friend now.”

Malvek raised a brow, his tone sharpening ever so slightly. “A friend?”

“Yes!” she said, twirling a strand of golden hair around her finger. “A boy. She said his name is Eryn. He didn’t speak much, but Lyra seemed very happy that he was there. I think they’re the same age—six, maybe.”

The subtle smile on Malvek ’s face faded. For a brief second, his eyes hardened, a flicker of suspicion crossing his features.

Eryn?

The king had said nothing of new attendants within the royal wing. A child, brought close to the princess—without his knowledge? Unwise. Dangerous, even.

But he quickly smoothed the thought away, returning to his usual calm. “I see,” he said mildly.

Selene tilted her head, her young eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Is something wrong, Father?”

He looked out through the carriage window, the towers of Eldarion vanishing behind the fog. “No, my dear. Nothing at all.”

She smiled, content with his answer, and went on excitedly, “May I visit again? Please, Father? I’d love to see Prince Kael and Princess Lyra again—and Eryn too. They’re my friends now.”

Lord Malvek’s jaw tightened briefly, then relaxed. “Of course,” he said with an indulgent smile. “You may visit again soon.”

Selene clapped her hands in delight and leaned across the seat to hug him. “Thank you, Father!”

He patted her back gently. “It seems you’ve grown fond of the prince,” he teased softly.

Selene giggled. “I like him—and Lyra too. And Eryn, even though he’s quiet. They’re all very nice.”

“Good,” Malvek murmured, his gaze distant now. “It’s important to befriend the right people.”

Selene didn’t notice the edge in his tone. She had already opened her book, her small fingers tracing the gilded letters on its cover.

Outside, the sun dipped behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of crimson and gold. Lord Malvick turned his gaze from his daughter to the horizon, his mind already racing.

The king hides something. A boy in the princess’s quarters… Why?

As the carriage rolled into the growing dusk, the gentle hum of wheels was swallowed by the wind—and in the silence, the first seeds of intrigue began to take root.

The clang of metal echoed faintly through the palace’s lower courtyard. The air smelled of steel and dust, the scent of training and war. Eryn’s small feet padded hesitantly across the marble tiles as he followed the servant who had come for him.

When they emerged into the open yard, his breath caught. Before him stretched a vast training ground, half bathed in sunlight, half swallowed by shadow. Wooden dummies lined one side, shields and blades glinting against racks. Soldiers moved like shadows, sparring and striking under the watchful gaze of their king.

King Alaric Caelthar stood tall in the center, broad-shouldered and regal, his cloak rippling faintly in the wind. To his right was Prince Kael, already wielding a wooden practice sword almost his height, sweat gleaming at his brow. Beside them stood a grizzled man in armor — a mountain of muscle with eyes like flint.

When Eryn entered, all movement paused.

The king turned, his gaze settling on the boy. “Come forward,” he said, his deep voice steady as thunder.

Eryn swallowed and stepped closer, his hands clasped before him.

“This,” the king said, gesturing to the armored man, “is Sir Rowen, captain of my royal guard. From this day forward, you will train under his watch, alongside my son, Prince Kael.”

Eryn’s eyes widened slightly. “Train… with the prince, Your Majesty?”

Alaric’s mouth curved faintly, neither smile nor smirk. “Yes. You are young, but you were not brought to this palace to idle. You will learn to protect, to endure, and to fight. For one day, the princess may depend upon your strength.”

The words struck Eryn deeper than he expected. Protect the princess.

He nodded firmly, his small fists tightening at his sides. “I understand, Your Majesty.”

Kael grinned, lowering his sword. “Don’t look so frightened,” he teased. “Sir Rowen doesn’t bite—though his training might.”

That earned a low chuckle from the guard. “If the boy learns fast, he’ll have nothing to fear,” Rowen said, his tone rough but not unkind.

Eryn’s lips twitched, the hint of a smile ghosting there.

The king watched the exchange, unreadable. “Good,” he said finally. “Then it is settled. Training begins at dawn tomorrow. I expect discipline, from both of you.” His gaze lingered briefly on Eryn, something calculating flickering behind his calm eyes.

Kael bowed slightly. “Yes, Father.”

Eryn bowed too, murmuring, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

As he straightened, a sudden gust swept across the courtyard. The banners overhead fluttered violently, and for a brief instant, the shallow water trough at the edge of the training yard rippled — unnaturally, as though stirred by unseen hands.

King Alaric’s gaze flicked toward it, then back to the boy. But Eryn, unaware, only turned to follow Prince Kael, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

And as they left the courtyard together, the king stood silent, watching the boy’s small figure disappear through the archway — a flicker of unease tugging at the back of his mind.