The Oath of the Fallen Stars

Chapter ONE

When Flynn Balgair walks the corridors of the Zephanian royal palace, people turn to look. During his first weeks here, this had always made him a little uncomfortable. Sometimes, people did not even bother to look away when he caught them staring, and he had been quick to learn to recognize the sound of faltering footsteps so that he could avoid them.

The attention only got heavier as he grew older.

However, by now, Flynn has learned to ignore them because he knows that this too is a form of power he holds over the members of the court.

With this thought barely tickling the back of his mind, he ignores everyone as he strolls towards the Great Hall to attend a meeting he is already half an hour late for.

Of course, this tardiness had not been intentional, though Flynn knows that he can get away with this sloppiness only because of the favoritism of the King himself.

A servant opens the doors for him as he approaches. At the long table in the center of the room sits several important figures in the kingdom, as well as a few representatives from the civilian districts.

"Ah, Flynn, you have arrived." An extravagantly dressed man seated at the head of the table looks up and waves him over.

"Your Majesty." Flynn drops into an elegant bow before he sweeps into the room like he owns it. He sees several of the people look away and smirks.

Smart.

Flynn leans in and kisses the hand offered to him. "Apologies for being late, your Majesty," he says. "Your library is as fascinating as always."

The current ruler of the Kingdom of Zephania, Calum di Zephania, chuckles. "You have not missed anything of great importance." He gestures towards the empty seat to his left and Flynn sits down. Opposite him, to the right of the king, sits a strict looking man, Agnar Athelward, Head of the Royal Guard and his guardian. The older man shoots him a stern glare which he promptly ignores.

He hears Agnar sigh before he begins to talk, "In two days, a diplomat from Naran'Ard will be arriving. We hope to expand our trades of steel into the ports North of the capital."

There is usually one reason he is called to sit in on these meetings. Flynn feels several gazes on him, and he shrugs. "Understood."

He receives another stern glare, but Agnar merely nods when Flynn looks at him. "Glad to know you understand," Agnar says.

"I shall leave it to you, Flynn." King Calum smiles at him with pride-filled eyes, and Flynn is reminded of a proud master who's dog had successfully shown off a trick.

I shall leave it to you.

It has always been like that. King Calum is ruler through nothing, but lineage. He is a figurehead, the anchor of loyalty, and Flynn doubts the king himself even knows this. Still, he puts on a charming smile because the man holds power, and he is just not bright enough figure out that Flynn is one of many that control him. "Of course, your Majesty."

  *-*-*-*-*  

Zephania is the land of the Gods, or so Flynn has often been told. Once, when he had still been dressed in rags rather than fine silk and ate out of waste containers than off of plates, he may have looked over the walls surrounding the Gadael slums, and he too might have believed that the occupants of the royal palace were indeed Gods.

Now though, as a fellow inhabitant of said palace, Flynn knows that it is anything but.

It has been twelve years since he had been pulled out of the slums and by now, he is sure no one will see any traces of the street rat he had been as a child. He has never told anyone by himself, and he is sure that those who had known have long forgotten, and those who did not know would not believe him.