The Jubul

"Troan boy, you've grown so much. I hope you are well now."

Her smile was warm and her voice gentle.

"Queen Hersana. You're still as kind as I remember. I will be better, thank you."

He stated, standing straight with his hands folded behind his back.

Hersana nodded, before letting out a sad sigh.

"It is unfortunate that your return here after so long was met with news of the king's passing."

Troan raised a curious brow at the statement.

'Do I sense suspicion against me in her words?"

He nodded and said. "Vitrus was loved by some, more than most. I am sure his death brought grief to his people." His eyes met her's, before adding. "And, a greater grief to his family."

A tint of sadness appeared in her eyes and she looked down at the floor.

"Truly," She stated softly before lifting her head.

"But a kingdom mustn't be left without a monarch for long. That is why the crown heir needs to be crowned as soon as possible to prevent unrest. Don't you agree?"

Troan nodded, albeit tentatively.

'What is she getting at?" He mused with a neutral expression.

Hersana smiled. "I knew you would agree."

However, when her gaze shifted to Kaydin, she let out a small sigh of frustration.

"However, your stepbrother has—other plans."

Troan glanced at Kaydin.

There was a sort of excitement in Kaydin's eyes as he prepared to address the issue.

"Before being crowned king, I aspire to find a queen! History has shown that every great king was made so by no small support from the woman they had by their side." He stated, casting a deliberate look Hersana's way.

She caressed her forehead and smiled despite herself, shaking her head lightly.

Troan looked between them before nodding in affirmation.

"That is wise." He stated before wandering into his thoughts.

'Though, he would need to be crowned king to make one a queen. In other words, the coronation comes before the wedding...

'Unless he plans to wed a widowed queen. The only widowed queens I know of on this continent are Hersana and my mother..."

The image of a union between his mother and Kaydin elicited a sort of revulsion within him, which dwarfed his sympathy for Kaydin in such a scenario.

'Kaydin isn't that daring." Troan concluded, shaking his head as if to get rid of the thought.

However, Hersana saw Troan's head movement as a sign of his disapproval of Kaydin's plan.

She believed her son had all the opportunity to find a wife after he was crowned king, and that delaying the ceremony would only complicate things later on.

She sighed and said. "At first, my son had proposed to find a girl at Naveth to make his wife. Luckily, I was able to dissuade him."

Troan was startled at the news.

Given how poor relations were between House Seasult and the nobles of the north who provided the bulk of ATAN's forces. If the head of House Seasult decides to marry a Navethian lady and make her queen, it would be tantamount to pouring oil into a smoking bush.

"Why not, Mother? They are the same as us! The Isles of man is full of them!"

Kaydin contested the issue.

"If Troan, a Chosen, the epitome of Nauvaus' religious and military might can choose a Navethian to be his Swordbearer, then why can't I do the same with a wife?!"

Troan grimaced; even though he saw this coming, it still stung.

"Son!" Hersana scolded with a frown.

Troan's expression was deathly neutral.

Kaydin glanced at Troan and immediately tried to apologize.

"Troan forgive m—"

Troan stopped him with a raise of his hand, and a momentary silence ensued.

Then he let out a soft sigh.

"The consequences of that decision still haunt me to this day, Kaydin. Believe it or not, I have been ridiculed, belittled, and mocked for my choice. But I do not regret it because it solely affects me... and maybe the prestige of the Sacristy."

He cleared his throat and went on.

"As king, you will bear on your shoulders, Davor, the Isles of Man, and Nauvaus at large. It is wise to stay clear of decisions that may bring about division and discontent amongst your people."

Kaydin was silent for a moment, mulling over his words with a troubled expression. Hersana looked upon her son with worry and pity in her eyes.

"I—assume you met a girl you liked during your escapade to Naveth."

Troan questioned, watching him with a gentleness in his eyes.

"H-how did you know?" Kaydin sputtered with an incredulous look in his eyes.

Troan shrugged lightly, "Just a guess. It was the only time you could have met a girl you like there..."

Kaydin had at one point sailed to Naveth where he dwelled for about a year.

"Ah, that's right," Kaydin said with a mirthless chuckle.

"Was she good to you?"

"Very." Kaydin's eyes softened and he smiled.

"I see..."

Troan let out an imperceptible sigh.

"It is unfortunate, but the crown always exacts a toll on its wearer."

"Hm," Kaydin grunted lightly, seemingly lost in thought.

With that, Troan turned his attention to Hersana.

"Since he has been dissuaded of this plan, what is the alternative?"

Meanwhile, Hersana tore her worried gaze away from Kaydin and said.

"He hopes to find 'love' at the Jubul."

"Ah." Troan blinked in realization.

The Jubul was a boisterous affair, popular across the empire and even beyond. Young nobles from across the land attended with their chaperones and servants to convene with other young nobles.

Indeed, many recent unions between houses today were formed as a result of special events hosted at the Jubul to facilitate this.

But there was a matter of security; the academy was large, and many visitors, tourists, and guests attended. Although there was always a high security presence during Jubuls, it still wasn't infallible.

Especially now, at a time when tensions were building up between the Great Houses of the empire. Not to mention, unknown enemies the late king may have made. If one counted the tens of thousands of Navethians who had migrated into Zanseth within the past decades, some of whom may have ill intent toward House Seasult, then it quickly became clear what a security nightmare this could become!

Troan considered it to be too risky as there were too many unknowns at this point.

He shot Kaydin a look of uncertainty, before trying to dissuade him.

"You—are unlikely to find a woman befitting your rank and status at the Jubul. The offspring of Great Houses don't often attend the Jubul."

Kaydin dismissed the issue with a wave. "Oh, don't worry about that.

"I had previously written letters to women of high status across the empire, informing them of my intention to attend the Jubul, the rest could be deciphered themselves." He informed, with a confident smile.

"Oh," Troan muttered, impressed. But he didn't relent. "Well, it is simply not safe to attend this year's Jubul."

"This is what I told him as well," Hersana said with a weary sigh.

"As Queen Regent and Mother of an only child. I have prohibited him from attending this Jubul without a formidable guardian."

Troan nodded, as that would be reasonable.

"That is sensible," He acknowledged. "But there are not many who can defend Kaydin from the worst types of threats.

"Who would you send? House Seasult's First Knight? The Captain of the houseguards? Or some powerhouse from the Imperial Dragon Corps? Maybe a popular adventurer? But can they be trusted?" He shook his head, and let out an exhausted sigh.

"Anyway, why have I been summoned..."

He trailed off, remembering the gift Kaydin had sent him—the masterfully sewn attire currently on him.

Suddenly, it all clicked in his head, and his eyes widened.

Hersana smiled. "You realized, didn't you? I intend to send you."

Troan's eyes twitched.

"You seem to trust me too much, Queen Hersana."

"You are Lord Seventh. The Ancestor's Chosen. It takes more than skill to be a Chosen. One thing I was taught is that every Chosen has a chivalrous spirit, and core values that mirror the Great Ancestor himself. As a Lord of Avalon, I should have nothing to fear from you. Moreover, it is my son's preference that you accompany him to the Jubul."

'So that's why I haven't been met with hostility ever since I arrived... But they may have erred in their judgment of me." Having thought this, Troan sighed and looked at Kaydin with sympathy.

"I apologize, Kaydin. I have an important mission to fulfill and I am running out of time."

At once, like a candle blown out by the wind, his confidence and positivity were gone, and he looked deflated.

"Oh...I see. I really wanted us to spend some time together. Make some pleasant memories as siblings before I become laden with the responsibilities of the crown. But I...understand."

Kaydin sounded rueful.

Troan felt something like this had happened before when they were children, and he recalled how he always conceded to Kaydin's wishes with these pity attacks of his.

He smiled wryly.

'I am not the same boy I was nine or so years ago. I have become colder, heartless to an extent." He thought, looking Kaydin in the eyes.

'But...perhaps my love for my family may sway me still."