The Chronicles Of The Council #1: The Sun's Tears

Chapter 39: Aebbé - Possibilities

"A thought, even a possibility, can shatter and transform us." - Friedrich Nietzsche.

The next day holds another ghastly surprise for me. After hours of attempting to succeed in whatever I need to try and do to satisfy lord Hoyt, he finally agrees to have Ria brought before me. She is ushered in by his scoundrels, her dress torn in places - revealing what should remain virtuous. What shocks me more than this vile breach, is the tear marks on her dirty face.

In all our years of friendship, I have only seen her cry once. It was almost two decades ago - the day after those boys died. After the endless meetings concluded, and father consoled me after all the crying, I arrived in my room to find a bawling Ria. She never told me why she was crying, but I held her as we sobbed together until well into the night.

They rush her out before I could find the words to say to her, which was a surprising while. What do you say to your best friend when you know she is being defiled, and you get told that you could stop it if you wanted to - yet you are utterly powerless? Sure as Darke not all will be right. I can't promise her that I'd even measure out revenge on her sake, because the possibility of me escaping grows slimmer every second. As I start to gulp, she was out of my view.

The knot in my throat and hole in my heart made it difficult to concentrate on obeying Hoyt's commands and lessons for the rest of the day, and Aelfraed suffered unduly.

"On Vayog Donnchadh! He wasn't lying when he said you know nothing! Absolutely nothing! It is like trying to teach a fish how to fly!"

I flinch at his invocation of the Sixth One's name. One simply doesn't invoke a Council Member's name lightly, especially not the cursed name of the Dark One.

"It is so difficult to teach one already so old! Perhaps you should have rather gone all the way to Da-Nel where Haimo could have tried to teach you."

One of his men's voices echo through the cave: "We could always request to have Haimo sent here."

Haimo? I am sure I have heard that name before.

Hoyt traces his chin with his forefinger and thumb. "Perhaps if I fail. For now, I will just need to be more persuasive. Princess, I am going to tell you a tale of how Ardam Vaubadon conquered Ligtland."

His narration unfolds over the course of a week - each day sharing an unbelievable revelation with me. His story seems too far-fetched to be true, and the fanatic edge to his voice makes me doubt his sanity and the truth of his words.

Ardam Vaubadon came from a highly feared and powerful family. My grandfather decided his sons should rule over Ligtland. He was a harsh man who killed off his own brothers when they denied him their support.

Ardam killed his first man at age eight, all while his father was supervising. From that moment on he was merciful in providing quick deaths to all his father wished death upon.

The things Hoyt tell me, are the opposite if what I have been taught and believed. Admittedly I never used to learn much history of Ardamland. My lessons consisted of Ligtland and the Council's deeds, and weaponry. I agree that the second was a rather unusual choice for a princess, but my father used to say that my lessons with him were his only escape from the political cage he built - until he became too sick and frail. Later on, when he was too wasted to move outside his room, and Friduric was the king without the crown, I had my lessons in my father's room. Most of the times he would doze off, a gentle snore reassuring me that he hadn't passed away - yet.