Harbinger Of Doom: The Attainer

26. Fense County (2)

A large crew of people came to sight. Count Cinan was in front, his expression sad and depressed. He stepped forward to carry on with the red tape.

"Count Cinan greets your highness." He lowered his back. When Kevon Cinan saw his dad, he jolted vigorously as if that would release him from the shackles holding him bound.

"Dad! Dad!"

"Count Cinan, you brought so many people to welcome me. It's actually not necessary. I only came to return your son." Mo shot him a low gaze. Obviously, the count was prepared for a possible violence. Mo had no intention of going head-on with the Cinan clan. He only hoped that an amicable process of exchange could materialize.

On the other hand, the count wasn't a fool to think that a mere exchange will cool off the event. It had being long enough but the day he'd long awaited for decades had finally surfaced. The constant skepticism the king had maintained coupled with the exacerbation created by the so called prophecy was liberal enough to put the nobles on thorough guard, let alone the Cinan clan who served the predecessors of the incumbent regime.

The Gusloes were rooted out when king Elead matched with his troops and annihilated the red armour camp who was then commanded by Lord Cinan. Some loyal officers were put to death but Cinan surrendered the seal and was spared. He made up his mind to discontinue this period of unsuccessfully restrained guilt of a life. His comrades were gone and he'd been under dern surveillance.

"You're late, your highness. It is above my expectation to live up to this day. I've gotten to the end of the road. Whether or not I get my son back, the end is fixed and inevitable." He took his sight to the sky, heaving a sigh. "It's getting dark.  Your highness, I'm afraid you won't be able to go back today."

Mo carefully dismounted from his horse, and walked up to meet the crew at the entrance of the drawbridge gate. Hilbwet attempted to go with him but Mo stopped his guard. He got close to count Cinan, clasping his hands behind. He pondered for an uncertain period of time before responding.

"Truth be told. I am not able to save you but I can save your son. At least, your name will get to see the light of the day." The matter seemed more complicated than Mo thought. The apparent suicidal attempt of count Cinan came as he had no other option. Moreover, the past events of the Gusloes' regime etched a terrible mixture of guilt, sadness and misery that could not be everlastingly expunged. Prince Mo, of course, wasn't born as of then, hence he could only imagine.

After a few seconds of looking at Mo with the hint of an alarm, Cinan fell into fits of laughter. The laughter lasted for a long while, and Mo could only stare expressionlessly at the miserable count.

"Do you even know your father? If I'm to make a guess, we are furtively under close watch. Come off it, your highness. At this point, not even the gods can change my fate, much less you."

"What has this got to do with my father?" Prince Mo asked. After a moment of silence, count Cinan answered but it wasn't in correspondence to the question. There was no use in giving too much explanation with death around the corner.

"I've decided not to die as a coward so that when I get to the underworld,  I'll be able to give my comrades an explanation."

"Is old age starting to tell on your brain? You revolted against the Freydor dynasty and usurped the throne with that bastard of a king. Were you expecting to go scot-free after Gusloe's lese-majesty? You can say karma have caught up with you. What's more, had it been you refused to surrender the bronze seal, that would have been the day you died. Regardless, the bronze seal would be easily taken from you. This ridiculous audacity of yours is a blatant act of folly." Count Cinan became silent not because he was short of words. Talking to a young, inexperienced person about the past wasn't worth it to him.