Chapter 13: Alcor

King Alcor III of Duncan was furious. The news of his son had reached his ears just a few hours ago, so his rage was all but fresh. At first, his concern for his heir’s well-being overrode his anger, but when he heard of the boy’s condition as well as the one who was responsible for it… his fury knew no bounds.

The king paced back and forth across the throne room’s carpeted floor. His face, which was often called inscrutable by many of those who knew him, was now tight with obvious ire. The knights standing by in the throne room, whose duty it was to guard the king, looked upon their liege with worry. They had never seen the usually stoic man so furious.
Alcor ceased his irritated steps when he heard the guards outside the room slam their lances down onto the floor. It was a signal for the porters to open the giant doors. The uniformed men quickly did as they were bid, pulling open the two immense barriers to allow the tall form of the court magician to enter. Ghaldor strode into the room, his many layers of clothing billowing behind him. The old man stopped when he was but a few paces away from the king before bowing low and regally.

“Your Majesty,” he said in greeting.

Alcor’s tight frown remained on his face as he addressed the wizard. “Ghaldor. Where is the girl?”

“Girl?” Ghaldor asked after rising from his bow.

“Yes! The girl!” The king shouted, utterly not in the mood for any of the old man’s games. “The girl you summoned! The girl who almost killed my son! That girl!”

“Ah,” Ghaldor said, as if just now realizing who it was he had been talking about. “Amelia is safe. Inside my workshop.”

“Well bring her here, damn you!” Alcor shouted once more.

“If that is your command,” Ghaldor said.

“It is!”

“Though before I do, I must advise you against doing anything rash.”

King Alcor looked dumbfounded at the old wizard. “Rash?” He asked, unwilling to comprehend what Ghaldor was saying to him. “That witch grievously injured my son! My heir! The future king of this kingdom!” Alcor’s voice grew louder and louder as his temper rose. Those outside the throne room could probably hear his shouting through the thick rock of the walls, but he didn’t care one bit. “I don’t care one whit if she is a Hero or not. She has to pay!”

The king gritted his teeth and began to pace once more in agitation. “The physicians say that his sword arm is all but useless! That they will need to remove it for the boy’s own good! She made a cripple out of my son, Ghaldor!”

If Alcor was looking for any sympathy from the old wizard, then he was sadly mistaken.

“Prince Callion is a fool,” Ghaldor stated without reservation. “He dared to attack a Hero. The idiot is lucky to be alive!”

The king’s eyes widened in absolute fury. “You dare!” He shouted. If it was anyone else but Ghaldor who had said those words, Alcor would have had them strung up. But the wizard was much too important to the kingdom. Ever since he had first been admitted to his service, the old man had time and again proven his worth. Ghaldor had been instrumental in the prosperity of Duncan during the last twenty years. To lose such a valuable asset would be disastrous.

Ghaldor did not back down, despite the king’s outrage. “All witnesses present during the incident corroborate Amelia’s version of events. The prince was the instigator.”

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“Impossible!” Alcor said, unwilling to believe his son to be in the wrong. “They must be mistaken. Or lying.”

“We’re not just talking about the testimony of mere commoners, Your Majesty. Four noble children saw the prince ruthlessly beat Amelia down.” The wizard did not relent. “Princess Riltara was there as well. Even she is willing to testify as to her brother’s crimes.”

The king’s tense face deflated. His daughter had been there? She had seen Callion attack the Hero?

“What happened to the prince was completely justified,” Ghaldor continued. “Whatever it was that Amelia had done, she had done it in self-defense.”

“This can’t be! The prince would not be so foolish! Perhaps it was a mere jest, or an accident! The girl must have overreacted!”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. But I myself have seen Amelia’s injuries. What your son did was no prank, and certainly no accident.”

Alcor’s shoulders slumped. As his anger slowly dissipated, all that was left within him was grief. He placed his head into his hands and sighed. “Damn it, Callion.”

Ghaldor approached the king’s sunken form and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Your Majesty, you must not lose yourself to this. Your kingdom, your people, will need you for what is to come.” The old wizard’s lips curled up into a small, manic smile. “The Hero that I… that we have summoned, she has finally discovered her power. Now is a time for celebration. All the other non-aligned kingdoms will soon look to you for leadership. Now is the time to show the world Duncan’s full worth!”

The Hero. It was always about the Hero with Ghaldor. For twenty years the old man had filled Alcor’s head with grand promises. Of the glory and prosperity a Hero would bring to Duncan. Of how having a Hero would propel his kingdom to greatness, to stand toe-to-toe and on equal footing with the superpowers of the Alliance. Oh, how he had so willingly swallowed up the old man’s pretty words. How he had dreamt of a brighter, more splendid future for him and his lineage.

And now, all those dreams seemed to be coming true. His kingdom had summoned its own Hero. The Hero had discovered her powers. And soon, the entire world would bear witness to the glory of Duncan.

And the only thing it had cost him, in the end, was his son’s arm.

His heart ached when he thought about his boy. Of when he was younger, of how he had been so serious and dedicated to becoming a proper prince. Oh, how Callion had worked his little heart out, not only in learning the intricacies of politics but in mastering the martial art of swordsmanship as well. For years he had thrown himself into his lessons, ignoring pursuits that children his own age often chased after. Such dedication to duty for someone so young. Alcor had been proud of him.

But now, all Callion’s hard work was for nothing. He was forever maimed, not just in body but also in name. No longer would he be remembered as the diligent student and the dutiful prince. His future accomplishments, no matter how grand, would never wash away the stains of today’s events. Callion would be forever remembered as the foolish prince who dared raise a hand against a Hero before paying a terrible price for his transgression. He would be a living lesson for generations to come that no matter how high your station, a regular man may never stand up to those chosen by the divine.

“I must go,” Alcor told Ghaldor while rubbing at his weary face. “I must attend to my poor son. The queen is beside herself with worry and has been waiting patiently at his bedside for him to awaken. My place should be with them.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” The wizard bowed in respect.

The king nodded, quickly shuffling off towards a side door with his guards soon following. He was so preoccupied with his own dark thoughts that he did not notice the look of grim satisfaction that appeared on his court magician’s face.

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