Chapter 35: Chapter 35

Indenuel changed into the outfit, staring at the man in the mirror, not recognizing him in the slightest. His hair was combed, completely free of tangles. There wasn’t a smudge of dirt on him. His clothes were a bright red and the gems glimmered in the sunlight. His shoes were delicate and would most likely fall apart if he tried to walk far.

“This is all ceremonial, of course,” Pablo said.

Indenuel nodded, smoothing the jacket out, feeling the gems. The boy of humble beginnings was dressed, polished, and combed until he looked like someone else entirely.

“I believe he’s ready,” the tailor said.

“Keep his measurements. He will require a set of Sabbath clothing for tomorrow,” Pablo said.

Indenuel said nothing. Maybe he should have. To require Sabbath clothes seemed an absurd request the day before, but the tailor did not look troubled by this.

The carriage outside the tailor shop was magnificent. And large. All four High Elders sat inside comfortably with plenty of room for him and Tolomon. It was a spacious carriage, just as beautiful outside as it was inside.

“Indenuel, my boy, you look marvelous,” Martin said.

Indenuel eased himself into the seat, trying to figure out the best way to sit so he wouldn’t wrinkle his clothes. “Thank you, Martin. You look nice too.”

All of them were wearing their white High Elder robes. They must be some sort of ceremonial ones, because the robes had gold trim around the edges.

“Are we headed to the banquet?” Indenuel asked.

“Yes. We will choose a fun little route through the city, a way for those who cannot make it to still feel a part of the ceremony,” Martin said.

“Oh. More waving, then?” Indenuel asked.

“You don’t have to. It’s mostly for show,” Dalius said.

“Where’s High Elder Cristoval?” Indenuel asked.

“His health does not permit him to drive around in the carriage long, but we shall meet up with him at the palace. He is already there waiting for us,” Dalius said.

Indenuel tried to smile.

“It will of course be an honor for you to meet the rest of my family, Indenuel,” Martin said.

“I would love to meet them,” Indenuel said.

“I’m quite sure you are going to spend all your time being introduced to everyone in the King’s Court tonight,” Dalius said.

Indenuel’s face froze. Better than dancing.

“Now, Indenuel, I’m curious about a few things,” Navir said. “I hope to use this time to get to know you better.”

Martin began waving out the window, smiling at the people watching. Indenuel had the feeling he was about to get interrogated.

“Alright. What did you want to know?” Indenuel asked.

“You grew up humble, yes?” Navir asked.

“I did.” He began fiddling with one of the gems on his jacket, wondering how long the orphan children could eat if he sold just this one gem he touched in his nervousness.

“How was your religious education?” Navir asked.

Indenuel tried not to let this question bother him. “Not well. Mountain Pass did not have an official minister, so we had a traveling minister come about once a month to preach.”

“A pity you didn’t receive more education. Well, no matter! We shall get you a tutor. You might be too busy with training now, but after the war is won and once you’ve learned to read, you are welcome to the High Elder’s li-”

Martin gasped. “Matching blue outfits! I love it!” He waved more vigorously as Navir stopped, giving him a look.

“I can read,” Indenuel said dryly.

Navir’s eyes widened. “Oh. Forgive me. I didn’t know.”

“I believe I mentioned that in some of my correspondence,” Martin said before he resumed his waving and smiling.

“So besides a lack of religious upbringing, what was it like growing up in Mountain Trail?” Fadrique asked.

Indenuel’s smile had turned stiff. “Mountain Pass.”

Fadrique’s smile was far more patronizing. “Mountain Pass.”

He picked his words carefully. Everything about Fadrique opened new wounds he thought were closed. There were too many aspects of this pompous High Elder that reminded him of Andres. “My religious upbringing wasn’t lacking. My mother taught me to read and told me many stories she’d heard about religion.”

“But she wasn’t a minister, as women can’t hold that position,” Fadrique said.

“No,” Indenuel said through thin lips. “But she did her best.” His temper began to flare, and he tried not to let Fadrique see it. “I was raised by a mother who had no one to support her when the entire town believed I was a child of a witch.”

“Is it because she tried to murder someone?” Fadrique asked.

Indenuel’s fingers curled into fists, his breathing turning unsteady. Martin warned him he would have to tell the other High Elders, but Indenuel did not want to talk about it anymore. The matter was closed, and he had moved on. Constantly defending Lucia for her choices was something he did in Mountain Pass. It was not going to happen here in Santollia City.  

Sinister pain built up in his wrists, though he didn’t notice it until Tolomon glanced down at Indenuel’s hands before shooting a warning look at Martin. Martin had stopped waving to the people outside and was doing his best to diplomatically get Fadrique’s attention.

“Do not speak so unkindly toward the dead, sir.” Indenuel didn’t realize how dangerous his tone had gotten.

Fadrique only smiled. “If we channel that temper of yours, this war will be finished by next week.”

“Fadrique,” Martin whispered. “Enough questions. We must explain to Indenuel what is to be expected of him in the first part of the ceremony.”

Unaware of how much corruption was building inside of Indenuel, Fadrique kept his carefree smile. “Of course. For tonight we must celebrate. You will finish this war, and the world will finally know peace.”

And you will be in control of all of it. Indenuel closed his eyes, easing himself out of the corruption. He was starting to realize why some people hated the High Elders.

***

They arrived at the palace. Indenuel concentrated way too hard on getting out of the carriage. Despite getting out of one all month, he was terrified of falling flat on his face in front of them all.

The four High Elders walked ahead of him, and Indenuel trailed behind with Tolomon at his side. “Are you alright?” Tolomon asked out of the side of his mouth.

“I’m fine,” Indenuel said, sharper than he intended. He closed his eyes, tugging at his collar. “Just nervous.”

Tolomon’s eyes darted every which way, nodding at some guards as he assessed the situation. “My first banquet here at the palace was when they introduced the new pupils for the Graduate program. There was a group of thirty of us, about to enter the most grueling year of our lives, chipping us down to five. I drank far too much and ended up vomiting on one of my instructor’s boots.”

You are reading story The Warrior at novel35.com

Indenuel paused, then turned his head to give Tolomon a questioning look. He broke his gaze away from searching the grounds to smile at Indenuel. “Try to make your first banquet more embarrassing, I dare you.” He spoke no words of comfort, and yet it was somehow. “I’ll be in and out of the crowd while you are presented to the King and Queen, but I’ll eat next to you tonight. I will see you there.”

Indenuel nodded as he slipped away. The palace was huge, certainly one of the largest buildings in Santollia City, but nowhere near the work of art as the Cathedral. Though it looked like it was built from the same stone, the palace seemed more gray and not nearly as intricately carved. It simply looked like a much bigger, much finer house. Indenuel was impressed by its size as it stood four stories above him, but he wasn’t distracted by it as he followed behind the High Elders as they entered the palace. The guards bowed to them, and Indenuel bowed back. Cristoval was there, mumbling to himself. Dalius took the chair as they walked down a beautifully decorated hallway.

“This way, High Elders,” a guard said.

They were there, without warning, in the biggest room Indenuel had ever seen. He had heard of nobility banquet halls, but he never expected something like this. There were huge lanterns, and over a thousand candles showing the paintings on the walls and even the ceiling. Doors were thrown open to show the beautiful gardens as the setting sun gave them the last remains of light. Music played, soft and low, with the aroma of roasted meats hanging heavy in the air. The nobility all turned, parting for the High Elders.

Don’t vomit on the King and Queen. I will not have a worse experience than Tolomon.

Indenuel gave a tiny smile at the thought as they turned toward the thrones at the end. The banquet hall was quiet, considering how many people were in here.

“King Ramiro, Queen Lisabeth.” Navir stepped forward and bowed low. “We have found him, your majesties. May we present Indenuel, son of Lucia, hereby to be called Indenuel the Warrior.”

Martin, Dalius, Cristoval, and Fadrique moved aside as Indenuel did his part, taking a few steps forward before bowing to one knee. “Your Majesties, it is an honor to finally meet you.” Indenuel glanced up at them, still on one knee. “Santollia is my home, and I wish to protect it.”

Indenuel stared at them, a part of him not believing this was happening to him. This was the King and Queen of Santollia he was bowing to. They looked regal enough, each with a gem encrusted sash over their shoulders, their gold clothing shimmering in the candlelight. They seemed younger than he expected, maybe because the High Elders were so much older. Queen Lisabeth had rich brown hair and a kind smile. King Ramiro’s dark brown hair was free of grey, though his beard had streaks of it. King Ramiro approached and Indenuel’s heart quickened, curling to protect himself in case, for whatever odd reason, the King decided to kick him.

Indenuel glanced up at him, unsure of what to do.

“Rise, Indenuel the Warrior,” King Ramiro said.

Indenuel did so, trying to keep eye contact with the King. Trying not to fiddle with his jacket. Trying to look like he wasn’t a poor orphaned boy in wealthy clothes.

King Ramiro reached out, laughing as he hugged Indenuel. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Indenuel was squeezed, his bones creaking as the King lifted him completely off his feet. Indenuel let out a breath, surprised, before he found himself on his feet again. “You, young man, truly have come at our hour of need,” King Ramiro said.

Indenuel tried to smile. “Thank you, sir. I… I truly hope I will not disappoint you.”

“Impossible. It has been foreseen,” King Ramiro said before turning Indenuel around to face the crowd. “He has come! We shall win this war yet!”

The entire room bowed and curtseyed at him. There were hushed yet excited whispers.

“We offer him whatever support we can give,” Queen Lisabeth said to the High Elders. “Warrior Indenuel may train in our finest fields in the finest militia in the world.” There were hearty cheers from some of the soldiers in the back.

Navir bowed. “Thank you, Queen Lisabeth. Your kindness and generosity are unmatched.”

“The Warrior has come! Let us celebrate!” King Ramiro shouted.

The cheers and applause returned. At first Indenuel stiffened, looking for somewhere to run, but then a realization came to him. He had been so afraid of the praise because he was waiting for the nobility to come take it away. Waited for them to prove he was just an orphan boy from a nowhere town. Waited to receive the lashings that would come from trying to be a higher class than you were. But it wasn’t so. This was the nobility. These were the elite. The King and Queen themselves were bowing and cheering. There was no one else higher, and they accepted him. The tightening in Indenuel’s chest disappeared. So many people, happy to see him. Praising his name. Praising him. He bowed to their praise, the first genuine smile gracing his face.

His mind was there, three months ago, tears in his eyes, doing everything he possibly could to heal Lucia of the illness that slowly killed her. He could do nothing, pouring all the healing power he could into her, and it not making a difference. She was withering away.

“Sometimes God wants His children home when He calls for them,” Lucia told him. “No more attempts, Indenuel. It is too much for you.”

But Indenuel didn’t stop. He kept pushing her full of healing, kept forcing her body to cooperate, but it didn’t work. Out of sheer desperation he went to Andres, begged for his help. Maybe Andres could see something he couldn’t.

Andres refused. Not even to look. He wouldn’t be caught tending to a witch. He then made sure the rest of the town knew the witch would die soon. Notes were pushed under his door, some written, most drawn, condemning Lucia to Hell, condemning all who loved her to Hell as well. On the Sabbath, the traveling minister lead them all in a prayer asking for the good spirits to protect the town from the demons that would come to collect Lucia’s soul soon.

Lucia died, and he almost killed the entire town in his grief.  

Indenuel looked up, seeing the cheers, hearing the applaud, and a part of him relaxed. No one would dare treat him that way again. He was the Warrior now. He didn’t have to fight for respect anymore. If only Mountain Pass could see him now.

***

It was a bit of a scramble to get the nobility seated. Martin and his family would sit at one of the four long tables facing the King and Queen as the other nobility were in circular tables just past them. Martin was about to sit at his designated table when Navir motioned to him. Martin nodded before following him to the gardens.

“You did not tell me he could read,” Navir said once the doors were closed.   

“Yes, I did. I know I did,” Martin said.

“I would have remembered,” Navir said quietly, his eyes darting all around the empty grounds.

“We’ve had a lot of correspondence. You must have forgotten,” Martin said.

“I never, never would have offered him the library if I thought he could read,” Navir said. “Do you know how many secrets are down there?”

“Why do you think I stopped you,” Martin said.

“Do you think he heard the offer?” Navir asked.

“We can suggest he’s not ready for it,” Martin said.

“Curiosity is far too dangerous. If we tell him he’s not ready, we might as well open the door for him to waltz right in and start reading,” Navir said.

“What do we do, then?” Martin asked.

Navir rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “Nothing. We do nothing. We never bring the library up again. We pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“The scholars? The King and Queen? Certainly someone will let it slip that it’s there, and he will come with questions,” Martin said.

“He won’t meet with scholars; he will meet with us. We will swear the King and Queen to secrecy tonight. We must do everything in our power to keep him away from that library,” Navir said.

Martin shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

“Do you want him to read what is in there?” Navir asked.

“No, of course not,” Martin said.

“Then secrecy it will be,” Navir said.

Martin nodded, a grave look on his face. “Very well.”

“Make sure the others know too. I will tell Fadrique. You tell Dalius. Tonight,” Navir said.

“Indenuel! Will you give the prayer on the evening meal!” King Ramiro’s booming voice was heard even outside.

“Yes. Yes, I will. Of course.” It was harder to hear Indenuel. The poor boy was probably panicking.

“Hurry, let us return,” Navir said.

You can find story with these keywords: The Warrior, Read The Warrior, The Warrior novel, The Warrior book, The Warrior story, The Warrior full, The Warrior Latest Chapter