The march of the group was solemn. Everyone deep in thought or still reeling with what had happened mere moments ago. The knights sneaked glances at Ian, who walked in their midst like a foreign body, outwardly eerily relaxed again. His presence a constant reminder of what they had felt earlier. It didn’t help, that his own aura, though much weaker tugged on their overstimulated senses. In the centuries since the last Sidhe had walked the mortal real unveiled the memories of them had waned and most people had thought the old tales to be exaggerated.
But now, it didn’t seem like that had been the case. Rather it seemed like they had been overconfident fools. The old magic was far from dead.
Head knight Lorenz’ mind drifted even further, as a man who had been let on many more secrets than his brothers, he reevaluated many his believes. If one Sidhe could send his battle-hardened warriors to the ground with only lifting his veil, what would have happened if he tried. His gaze wandered to the boy, no the Sidhe, beside him. He was of the same blood as the prince. Hell, he was a prince himself. And even if he was half-human, that half was not weaker as he was a seventh son of a seventh son. ‘What kind of monster am I bringing back to our order. Against his will, mind you. I wonder if it was really a good idea to force matters in this case. I will take precautions against his powers. Everything will be good, just like it has been with that girl.,’ he tried to reassure himself, though his gut was still filled with ice.
It wasn’t long before they reached the orders flag ship, the Righteousness, that lay between her two sister ships the Resilience and the Resolve, that had been blocking the harbours entrance before. The Head knight left to report to the bishop motioning the knights to stay on the quay with Ian. Nobody seemed to want to take the place beside Ian until young knight from the very back of the group made his way to the front and placed his hand gently on the boy’s elbow. Almost respectful. Leaving him much more room to breathe. Ian shot a look back to where the Feodora had anchored only to find the place empty and the ship well on its way out of the harbour. His uncle had left. Now everything was in his hands. Again, his resolve threatened to weaken at the tall task he was faced with. Especially now, that he stood before the giant warship, that dwarfed his uncle’s ship by about three times.
‘She is a beauty, isn’t she?’, the young knight beside him asked his golden eyes hefted on the Righteousness’ tall figure.
Ian looked at him, surprised by the friendly tone and nodded, ‘That she is. Imposing.’
‘Not quite as fast as the prince’s Sidhe vessel, I bet. My gran always said the Sidhe’s ships could sail faster than a storm and appear out of thin air. Just as magical as the Sidhe themselves, she said. Did know an awful lot, my gran, you know, worked as a healer. Used the bid of fey blood she possessed for the people of her village. Never thanked her, always feared her, feared us. Didn’t matter to her, though. Saved many people, until she couldn’t save a Duke’s daughter. The order did save me than, me and my parents. Couldn’t do anything for her, though, burned her on a pyre they did.’, the knight told him in a whisper ‘I’ve been in the order ever since. To pay back the debt of my life they said. More like using my powers inherited from her for their goals.’
‘Knight Faolan, if you like the recruit so much, maybe you want to share your cabin with him then?’, head knight Lorenz asked in a growl walking up to them. Then looking sternly at his other knights ‘It seems like there is a reason, why we need our special recruits. Since all our pure-blooded human recruits seem to be afraid of a Sidhe that only a mutt with fey-blood didn’t shrink from duty. I guess it’s good for them to share quarters then, I wouldn’t want to rob you of your sleep.’
Ian who had winced at the term mutt looked at Faolan who wore a stoic expression. ‘He is used to it.’, he thought and even though it might be an act to get him to trust the young knight, he didn’t believe it. His new senses picked up a slight rise of magic in the man beside him, barely detectable, so miniscule he wouldn’t have felt it if Faolan’s hand hadn’t still been on his arm. ‘Interesting.,’ he thought his black eyes calculating as he held the young knight’s golden gaze. Maybe these tensions were something he could use. He would observe and plan, though his time limit of 20 days was rather short considering he had to break free and somehow meet up with his uncle in the middle of the sea. Not to mention he had to figure how to do that. 20days until his uncle would break his oath. 20days to be on the island of Tir na nOg.
‘Come on, princeling, the bishop wants to see you. Faolon, you can accompany your new bunk mate.’, Sir Lorenz ordered and then with a cold gaze towards the other knights he said ‘Scatter, make yourselves useful.’ As if they were children not knights. ‘No respect.’, Ian thought looking at the begruntled looks the knights shared. There was something rotten in this order, he noted.
Without further ado Faolan and Ian followed the head onto the tall ship. The moment he stepped on its planks Ian jolted as a hostile aura seemed to seep out of the wood. Then he saw it. Everywhere across the Righteousness’ surface were intricate inlays holy symbols in silver and iron.
The stay abord would be harder than he thought. He could already feel the symbols press down on his Sidhe nature.
He purposedly let his step falter for a moment before seemingly steadied himself as if he had been thoroughly affected by the symbols. Being seen as weaker than he was could serve him well, when he escaped. After the first effect had hit him by surprise, he felt near to nothing a constant hum, a slight strain, but nothing his magic couldn’t cope with. Noting that Sir Lorenz and the rest of the knights abord watched him closely, he smiled inwardly. He wanted to be underestimated. The only one who didn’t buy his act was Faolan. A small wink told Ian as much. He really needed to make this man take his side because if not it would be much harder not to be caught redhandedly.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
They reached the bishop’s quarters after passing several knights who stood guard. They let them through but radiated readiness, Ian noted. An intricate double-leaf door heavily ornamented with iron and silver inlays protected by two knights in full-plate-amor gleamed in the sunlight. The holy symbols here added to the pressure and Ian was honestly relieved it wasn’t him who had to knock on that door. On this ship in front of that door he felt weak for the first time ever since his thirteenth birthday. It was his first time his Sidhe blood had him at a disadvantage. Thinking about it he shot a look at Faolan on whose forehead a bead of sweat had appeared. His fey-blood handicapped him, too, more pronounced than his own it seemed.
Shortly after the head knight’s knock the bishop called for them to enter and the last pair of guard knights opened the door.
The room was lavishly furnished akin to a palace rather than to practical ships cabin. Ian disliked it immediately overladen with splendour too pompous. It left a bad taste in his mouth. The church that preached about helping the helpless and watched them starve in the streets whilst affording such surplus of wealth. Hypocritical at least.
The bishop was an ascetic looking man with too much jewellery. His thin fingers looked like they were about to break under the sheer weight of his rings and his thin frame drowned in his fur coat. If not for his hard and unforgiving expression he would have looked ridiculous, but now he looked dangerous like a man who had fun at seeing people suffer.
The thin smile which he wore on his lips looked rather painted than genuine as it never reached even near his eyes.
‘It seems like the peasant boy mother church has send us out to catch is hidden royalty. A prince of the Sidhe. I am honoured to make your acquaintance, your royal highness prince Ian Mac Lir. My name is Bishop Theodorus Malus of order of the holy cross.’, he said in a voice that sounded like it was used to give orders. A very warlike voice for a priest.
‘An honour, your eminence.’, Ian answered with a slight nod, ignoring the offered hand with the silver ring he was supposed to kiss. He knew he would have had to kiss it, if he hadn’t been royalty and technically higher in rank than the bishop before him. His uncle had told him to avoid any action his magic could interpret as submission or an oath. For though he didn’t yet feel the full compulsion of such actions as he would if he was sixteen, but it could still have hampered his freedom considerably. The bishop nodded and smiled knowingly in return.
‘I see. Your uncle took time to teach you at least the basics rules of the political games we play. A shame it would have been much easier, if you had spent your time abord the Feodora less studiously.’, the bishop declared in an amused tone ‘But that makes it only more fun to deal with someone of your pedigree.’, he nodded before turning to his head knight and asked ‘You brought our other special recruit? That means you want them to share an accommodation?’, and added as the knight nodded ‘Good idea. Maybe that will let us have an easier time with both.’, then he smiled diabolical at Ian and ordered ‘Since his Highness Ian is royalty, we should offer an adequate place for them to stay. I thought about the ornamented chamber for high ranked guests. We should offer any protection we can. So that nothing untoward happens.’
Ian’s stomach roiled at the mentioning of protection, ornamented and untoward in that particular tone. He was quite sure it meant sleeping in a lavish room where every centimetre was clustered with silver and iron holy symbols and extra guards at the door. His status protected him somewhat but also opened the door for the many mean niceties that every high-ranking hostage got to know when living with another clan. And placing Faolan with him was a barely concealed way to show the bishop didn’t trust the other fey-blood either.
But maybe he could make that work as an advantage, since the only person, who was able to really see through his sidhe magic would be positively pissed at the order, even more than he had already been. Ian smiled and acted ignorant, thanking the bishop though avoid phrases that implied obligation or real gratitude.
After a few more or less overt attempts to change that the bishop released them and ordered Sir Lorenz to guide them to their new quarters. Ian was quite relieved, that though he had been completely right about the interior design of his new accommodation, the added strain was minimal at least for him. Faolan was however far more bothered and blanched upon laying his eyes on the room’s protections.
The door had barely closed as he sighed ‘How am I supposed to even breathe in here. It feels like there’s a horse sitting on my chest.’, and added much quieter ‘And how comes you are completely unbothered.’ ‘Not completely.’, Ian answered in a hushed voice ‘There’s a strain, but that’s about it.’
Faolan nodded ‘Royalty, just like gran said. I know what to do.’, then sinking on one knee he took his sword out of his belt and presented it on both of his hands and pledged ‘I, Faolan of the green oak, pledge myself to thee, my liege, your royal highness prince Ian Mac Lir. I will be your vassal, your sword and shield.’ The flabbergasted Ian could feel the old magic take hold and responded the way his uncle had taught him. He had laughed when his uncle had him learn the answer to that particular pledge as one of the first things after he had recognized him officially as part of the family, which had been the first time Ian had felt the old magic take hold in him. That time it had been the acceptance of his name and the legacy it carried. This time it was a vassal oath that would make him to Faolan what Sean was to Ron. The fixpoint of his magic, his very core, which was about to be connected to the royal line of Manannan Mac Lir.
And when Ian accepted with a surreal feeling ‘I, Ian Mac Lir, prince of the Mac Lir lineage accept you, Faolan of the green oak, as my vassal, my sword and shield.’, two things happened first Faolan’s dormant core snapped into life fuelled by the injection of high sidhe magic and the knight fell down on his knees as he shifted into a wolf pup in the size of midsized pony, his fur the same sandy brown as his hair in human form. Ian who was beyond wondering said in a deadpan ‘That certainly explains the golden eyes.’
With a shake an equally bewildered Faolan returned to his human form and said ‘That was unexpected.’, before both of them sank onto the bed in the middle of the room. Without bothering to undress, as they were thoroughly exhausted from the highly magical ritual held in the worst place possible. ‘At least I am no longer alone.’, was the last thought both had before falling asleep as their heads hit the cushions.
