Someone Else's Kingdom, BOOK II - Scene XLIX

Seaspell lay there on the huge bed, still in a feverish state of unconsciousness. The ornate beams and hanging drapes a royal frame for his delicate and dislocated soul. His room had now become the war room, and as his mother Maleeva sat doting and concerned at his side, all talk was of the expanding conflict.

"The rolling conveyer of new ships continues - the latest armada is ready to sail against Brynnyfirdia, as soon as the weather clears," noted one royal attendant, his voice terse and suppliant, "..though the supply of wood from the north is beginning to halt."

King Mizmeam stood there stoutly, listening, his mind forever reweighing the various fields of battle. He mulled over the lack of supplies from the Northern Kingdom with a drop of annoyance, but his own words focused solely on plans moving forward.

"Once we have conquered Brynnyfirdia we can at last move on to Tunida," he stated with confidence, his glee tempered by his own concern for the royal child lying febrile on the bed. He cast his black eyes down at Seaspell as he spoke, his mind briefly distracted before he continued on. "The beauty of leaving Tunida until last is that they'll hold their own ships back. They'll never fully leave the island undefended to save the Western Isles. So they'll just sit there, as we press forward." He looked again at Seaspell's cherubim face, as if repeatedly reminded of the boy's precarious state. As he did so the tall Tunidian captive, Coulema Galina, entered the room, accompanied by a guard. He likewise looked down at the young prince with care. The light, but strong chains around his ankles still a constant aide-memoire that for all his growing familiarity he remained both a stranger and an enemy in the royal household. Maleeva looked up at him as he entered, almost in an appeal for some words of help, but none were forthcoming.

"The boy is improving, we are sure," stated the king aloud, in a burst of forced optimism, trying to reassure himself as much as everyone else that the boy would recover. He then paced across to the window and poured himself a drink. The navy blue Keneeshkan skyline was shaded with grey and daunting clouds through the glass. As he looked out across the vista he could see the coming victories in his mind. The news that the Harbour Lands had almost fallen completing a piece of the jigsaw in his ambitious imagination. Yet again he turned and looked down at the sweet boy.

"When he awakes he will be the prince of a much larger kingdom."