Chapter Twenty-One: Nokon’s Day

Nokon had made one request for his eighteenth birthday. No speeches. It was, he thought, a perfectly reasonable request. Unfortunately, his mother had interpreted it as no lengthy speeches, his father had interpreted it as no unnecessary speeches, and Walric had interpreted it as an invitation to prepare one.

"I've written four pages," Walric informed him as they entered the family dining chamber.

Nokon rolled his eyes as he sat in his designated chair. "Then I hope you've brought something to burn them with."

"Five, actually. I remembered another particularly embarrassing story." Walric sat down beside him with a smug smile. 

"Walric."

"I could make it six."

Nokon gave him the longest glare that he could before he got bored. "You're a terrible brother."

Walric smiled. "Yes, but I'm the eldest son, so you'll have to endure me."

"Until Father dies," Orther observed, appearing behind them.

Walric turned. "What?"

"Then you'll be king, and it won’t just be Nokon, we'll all be required to endure you."

Nokon looked at Orther with genuine affection. "You see? That's why he's my favorite."

"I'm standing right here," Walric protested.

"We know," Orther replied. "You've been reminding us since birth." Their laughter followed them into the chamber. Unlike the great hall, the family's private dining room had been decorated with little regard for royal ceremony. Flowers spilled from silver bowls, candles stood among plates of sugared fruits, and a ridiculous arrangement of eighteen tiny banners had been strung above Nokon's chair. Cedoric had already stolen a sugared plum from the centerpiece; Rylla caught him and held out her hand until he surrendered a second one he had hidden in his sleeve.

He stopped beneath them. "Who did this?" Cedoric raised his hand. "Of course you did."

"I counted them myself." Cedoric told him proudly.

Orther folded his arms. "That explains why there are nineteen." Cedoric immediately began counting again.

"Don't listen to him," Wrena called from the table. "There are eighteen."

"Seventeen," Rylla corrected, reaching down to pick one that had fallen off of the wall and then put it back into place. “Now it’s eighteen.”

Wrena glanced at her youngest sister. "You could have made all of them obsess over counting how many there actually were."

"I considered it." Rylla shrugged, finding her seat by her younger brother. 

Wrena grimaced "And?"

Rylla sighed. "Mother said we were to be kind to Nokon today."

Wrena smiled. "She said nothing about tomorrow."

"Which," Rylla replied solemnly, "is why I've saved my best tricks for tomorrow."

Nokon pressed a hand over his heart. "Surrounded by enemies. On my birthday."

"Family," Wrena corrected.

"There's a difference?"

"Not in this family," Rylla said. Wrena leaned toward her and whispered something that made Rylla burst into laughter. When Nokon demanded to know what had been said, both sisters refused to tell him. For a moment, looking around the room, Nokon thought he might actually enjoy himself.

Lioraen arrived shortly afterward, followed by Malrik and two attendants carrying a small wooden chest. Nokon eyed the chest suspiciously. "Please tell me that isn't another ceremonial sword."

"Would you prefer a ceremonial shield?" Malrik asked standing in front of his large chair instead of sitting. 

Nokon tried to peer into the chest. "I would prefer something that doesn't require polishing."

"Then I fear you'll be disappointed." His father took his seat at the head of the table.

Lioraen settled beside him, smiling at the collection of banners above Nokon's chair. "Cedoric?"

The young boy beamed with pride once again. "Yes, Mother?"

"They're lovely." Lioraen smiled at her younger son, her heart close to breaking inside. She reached to smooth his hair, then stopped herself, as though she feared he might notice her hand trembling. Cedoric was too busy admiring his work to see it. 

Nokon counted them again. There were eighteen.

You might thank him. The ghost voice from the relic he carried said. 

Nokon stared at his plate. "I was going to."

Walric looked up. "Going to what?"

Nokon looked up at him blankly for a few second before he responded. "Thank Cedoric."

Walric looked confused. "Then why haven't you?"

"Because everyone keeps interrupting me." Nokon scoffed. 

An unfortunate burden for a man who speaks so much.

Nokon reached for his cup. "Nobody asked you."

The table went quiet. Orther slowly turned toward him. "Nobody asked whom?"

Nokon closed his eyes. "Walric."

"I hadn't said anything," Walric replied.

"Then consider it a warning." His patience was fading. He wondered if he could get to the door faster than his father could order him back. 

Orther looked between them, grinning. "He's finally lost his mind."

"Finally?" Walric asked.

Orther nodded in agreement. "You're right. That happened years ago."

Nokon decided it would be safer to drink his wine. The meal began with a blessing from Elmara, who had insisted that adulthood deserved proper acknowledgment before the Veiled Flame. Nokon endured it with admirable patience. At least until Rylla caught his eye from across the table and made an exaggerated show of falling asleep. He nearly laughed into his cup.

Elmara noticed. "I would appreciate a little reverence."

"I'm being reverent," Nokon insisted.

Elmara refused to excuse her brother’s actions. "You're smiling."

"Am I forbidden from finding joy in the Flame?" Nokon questioned. 

Elmara took a moment to arrange her thoughts. "That's not what I meant."

"Then I am confused." Nokon stated, folding his arms. 

"You frequently are," Elora said, and everyone looked at her awkwardly. 

Leonah reached across the table and squeezed Elmara's hand. "It was a beautiful blessing."

Elmara's expression softened. "Thank you."

Leonah gave her award winning smile and squeezed her hand. "I mean it. You always seem to know what to say."

"Not always." Elmara mumbled as she tucked a stray blond hair behind her ear. 

"More often than the rest of us," Leonah replied.

Elora rested her chin on her hand. "She certainly knows more words."

"Elora." Lioraen hissed. 

Elora looked at her mother as if it was the first time she had seen her during the dinner. "What? It's a compliment."

Leonah laughed softly. "You two haven't changed at all."

"We've changed enormously," Elora said, looking at her sister curiously. 

Leonah looked at her pitifully. "You're still arguing about the same things you argued about when we were children."

Elora’s brows touched. "That's because Elmara still insists on being wrong."

Elmara opened her mouth to object, then caught the amusement in Elora's eyes. Instead, she smiled. For a little while, the three sisters spoke quietly among themselves. Leonah passed Elmara the honeyed pears before taking any herself and asked about her work at the sanctuary. Elora listened with an attention she tried to disguise as indifference, tracing the rim of her cup with one finger. When Elmara mentioned Thyren, Leonah tilted her head. "Wasn’t he the one who walked you back after the trouble outside?"

"He made certain I got home," Elmara said.

"That was kind of him," Leonah replied. "I’m glad someone was there."

Elora set down her cup. "He seems to know when you need someone, even when you insist you don’t."

Elmara glanced between them, unsure whether to be grateful or embarrassed. "He is a friend," she said, a little too carefully. Nokon looked up.

Nokon chose violence. "Speaking of the sanctuary, you've become rather fond of Thyren, haven't you?"

Elmara's cheeks colored. "He's been very helpful."

"Helpful," Nokon repeated.

"Yes." Elmara gave him a warning stare. 

Nokon went on anyway. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Nokon."

Nokon smiled, especially when he saw his parent’s shift in their seat. "I'm merely pleased you've found someone who can tolerate you for such extended periods." Orther burst out laughing. Elmara threw a folded napkin at him. "On my birthday!" Nokon exclaimed.

"Then behave like an adult," Elmara replied.

It was Walric who brought up Sah'ir. "I may be leaving again before the month is out." The conversation shifted almost immediately.

"Again?" Lioraen asked.

Walric nodded with a mouthful of meat. "Father and I have discussed it."

"Discussed what?" Nokon asked.

Walric looked at him annoyed. "A diplomatic visit."

"To Sah'ir?" Leonah asked, making eye contact with her brother. .

Walric glanced toward her. "Yes."

She straightened in her chair. "How long will you be there?"

"That depends on the negotiations." Walric said, feeling a little sick to his stomach. 

Leonah looked down at her plate. "Who will receive you?"

Walric considered her. "I imagine the usual officials. Why?"

"No reason." Leonah shook her head. 

Orther smiled into his cup. Nokon noticed. "Oh, there's absolutely a reason."

Leonah frowned. "There isn't."

Orther sighed. "Then why do you suddenly care who receives Walric?"

Leonah glared. "I care about diplomacy."

"Since when?"

Leonah was not in a mood to play with her much more free brother. "Since I learned that you clearly don't."

Walric laughed. "Well, if you have any particular diplomatic concerns, sister, I'd be happy to carry them."

Leonah returned her attention to her plate. "You're all insufferable."

"Another family tradition," Orther said.

A servant entered carrying a sealed letter. Malrik accepted it, broke the seal, and read silently. The conversation continued around him, but Lioraen noticed the change in his expression."Something troubling?"

"Nothing that cannot wait." He folded the letter and placed it beside his plate. Nokon watched him for a moment before returning to his dinner.

Cedoric had been waiting for a suitable opportunity to discuss Ash. Unfortunately, suitable opportunities were difficult to find when everyone insisted on talking about politics, marriage, and other unimportant things. "Ash nearly threw me yesterday," he announced.

Walric turned toward him. "Nearly?"

Cedoric’s happy face for being noticed quickly changed. "He didn't."

Walric looked at his youngest brother with a lot of judgement. "Then I assume the horse was feeling generous."

"He was frightened by a bird." Cedoric said quietly. 

"A bird?"

"A very large bird."

Walric thought for a moment. "How large?" Cedoric held his hands apart. Walric considered the distance. "Remarkable. A bird the size of a dinner plate has defeated one of Korvethis's finest horses."

"He wasn't defeated!" Cedoric shouted louder than he meant. 

Walric’s face didn’t change even when the thirteen year old yelled. "Of course not. He merely surrendered the field."

Nokon laughed. "Perhaps Ash should accompany you to Sah'ir, Walric. He might improve your diplomatic strategy."

Walric looked at Nokon, amused. "By running away from birds?"

Nokon decided to be smart. "By recognizing danger before you do."

Orther leaned back. "That would certainly be an improvement."

Walric looked between his brothers. "Have the two of you been planning these insults?"

"No," Nokon said.

"Not yet," Orther added.

Cedoric laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. Walric reached over and steadied the cup before it tipped. "Careful," he said, giving his youngest brother's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Mother will make you clean it."

"She'll make you help," Cedoric replied.

Walric sighed. "And there is the true burden of being heir."

The second letter arrived during dessert, just as Orther tried to steal the last sugared fig from Walric’s plate and had his wrist caught for the effort. This time the letter was brought directly to Lioraen. She read it, glanced toward Malrik, and folded it carefully beneath her napkin. Cedoric asked whether she wanted to see how well his new riding gloves fit; she smiled and told him she would in a moment, then held her hand over the hidden letter.

Wrena noticed. So did Rylla, but neither said anything. Instead, Wrena leaned closer to her youngest sister. "If you keep staring, Mother will know you're curious."

"I am curious." Rylla confessed. 

Wrena blocked her vision of their mother this time. "Then learn to be curious discreetly."

Rylla smiled. "Is that what you do?"

"Of course." Wrena said smuggly. 

"You're terrible at it."

Wrena placed a hand over her heart. “Such cruelty from my own sister."

Rylla played along. "I learned from the best."

Wrena kissed the top of Rylla's head. "Then there's hope for you yet."

Across the table, Nokon stood. Everyone looked toward him. "Oh, don't look so frightened," he said. "I'm not giving a speech."

"Thank the Flame," Orther muttered.

Nokon ignored him. "Since it's my birthday, I've decided to give everyone presents."

There was a moment of silence. Lioraen blinked. "Nokon, darling, that's not how birthdays work."

Nokon looked at her and then around at the table of confused siblings. "Whose birthday is it?"

"Yours." More than half said. 

"Then I believe I should be allowed to decide how it works." Nokon said with a slow smile. 

Walric shook his head. "That is a remarkably poor understanding of authority."

Nokon decided that was worth a jab. "Then it's fortunate you aren't king yet."

"Give him time," Orther said.

Nokon had prepared nine small parcels, one for each sibling, and two more for his parents. They weren't grand gifts. For Cedoric, a new brush for Ash, its wooden handle carved with a tiny horse. For Rylla, a small notebook with a clasp, because she was forever collecting observations she refused to share. For Elora, a curious little compass purchased from a traveling merchant, its needle occasionally wandering somewhere other than north. For Elmara, a beautifully bound collection of old prayers. For Leonah, a delicate silver hairpin fashioned in the shape of a flowering branch. For Orther, a finely made traveling ink case. For Walric, a small whetstone in a leather pouch.

"For when your tongue grows dull," Nokon explained. Walric laughed.

For Wrena, a tiny silver locket. She opened it and found a miniature portrait of all nine siblings, painted from a sketch Nokon had secretly commissioned. Her eyes filled immediately. "Oh, Nokon."

Nokon shushed her. "Don't cry. You'll ruin the evening." She stood and embraced him anyway.

And for his parents, two simple gifts: a pressed flower preserved beneath glass for Lioraen, and a small carved wooden figure of a boy riding a horse for Malrik. His father turned the figure over in his hand. "Where did you find this?"

"You gave me one like it when I was little," Nokon said. "I broke it. You were very angry."

Malrik’s gaze didn’t leave the figure. "I remember."

"I thought perhaps you ought to have one now." Nokon said thoughtfully. Malrik studied the carving for a long moment. Then he smiled.

The third letter arrived before the plates had been cleared. Malrik opened it with considerably less patience. His expression hardened. "Galileo Veyren," he muttered.

Lioraen looked up. "The white cloth?"

Malrik sighed. "Another gathering. Another disturbance."

Walric straightened. "How serious?"

Malrik read more of the letter. "Serious enough that the city guard is requesting additional authority."

Wrena frowned. "Were people hurt?"

"The report doesn't say." Malrik turned the page over, searching for the guard captain’s recommendation rather than any account of injuries. 

Wrena looked towards her brothers. "Then perhaps we ought to find out."

Malrik set the letter down. "The concern is whether this movement intends to challenge the crown." Malrik pushed the letter aside to make room for the untouched dish before him, then drew it back when he saw the captain’s seal.

"Surely that depends on what they're asking for," Nokon said.

Lioraen spoke. "Their methods are becoming increasingly disruptive."

Nokon decided to not let it go. "That wasn't what I asked."

Walric glanced toward him. "There's a difference between grievance and disorder, Nokon."

Nokon tilted his head toward his older brother. "And who decides when one becomes the other?"

Walric looked towards his father before he continued. "The crown has a responsibility to maintain peace."

Nokon’s head titled farther. "Does it have a responsibility to listen?"

"Nokon," Malrik warned.

An excellent question.

Nokon clenched his jaw. "Not now."

Malrik stared at him. "What did you say?"

Nokon bit the inside of his cheek. "Nothing, Father."

There was anger in Malrik’s eyes. "You seem to have a great deal to say this evening."

"Apparently." Nokon said looking down at his plate while he picked his fingernail. 

Lioraen placed a hand on Malrik's arm. "Perhaps this can wait until morning."

Malrik looked at his wife as if she just demanded the construction of a new castle. "The guard cannot wait until morning."

Lioraen held back any anger that was bubbling up to the top. "Then the guard may receive its answer without requiring all our children to participate."

Silence settled over the table. Walric lowered his gaze. Wrena reached for her cup. Orther studied his father with an expression Nokon couldn't quite read. And Cedoric, who had been happily examining his new horse brush, looked suddenly uncertain. Nokon hated that most of all. "It's my birthday," he said at last.

Malrik looked at him. "So it is."

Nokon looked his father straight on. "Then I would like to request that nobody discuss rebellion, treason, diplomacy, or military appointments for the remainder of the evening."

Orther raised a finger "May we discuss marriage?"

"No."

"Excellent. That leaves very little." Orther tapped his finger on the dirty plate in front of him. Elora laughed. The tension broke, though not entirely. It was Orther who reopened the subject of marriage. Not intentionally…at least, that was what he claimed afterward. They had begun discussing a visiting noblewoman whom Wrena described as exceptionally pretty.

"I thought her companion was prettier," Leonah said.

"Which one?" Elora asked.

Leonah smiled remembering the woman. "The one with the dark curls."

"Oh, she was lovely." Elmara spoke up. 

"Orther seemed to think so," Nokon observed.

Orther went very still. Walric turned toward him. "Did he?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Orther replied.

"That's interesting," Nokon said. "Because you spent an extraordinary amount of time speaking to her."

Orther started to tap his foot. "We were discussing trade."

"Naturally." Nokon said with a sly grin. 

"She's very knowledgeable." Orther explained. 

"Of course she is." Nokon’s expression changed very little. 

"And she's engaged," Orther snapped.

The table fell silent. Then Walric slowly smiled. "How do you know that?"

Orther closed his eyes. Nokon began laughing. Even Malrik looked amused. "Well," Wrena said, "at least one of us is making progress toward finding someone."

"Progress?" Orther protested. "She's engaged!"

"Not very successful progress," Rylla observed, reaching past Wrena to claim the last sugared fig while the brothers were distracted.

Walric raised his cup. "To Orther. May his next diplomatic endeavor involve someone available."

Nokon lifted his own. "And may he learn to inquire before becoming attached."

Orther glared at both of them. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," Nokon replied.

Orther grabbed his drink and mumbled, "Give me time."

When the final dessert had been eaten and the candles burned low, Lioraen rose. "There is one more gift."

Nokon groaned. "Mother."

"From your father and me." Malrik stood beside her. The wooden chest was brought forward. Inside lay a document bearing the royal seal and a heavy signet ring.

"Today," Malrik began, "you reach your eighteenth year. You are no longer a child of this house, but a man entrusted with its future."

Nokon looked toward the ring.

"By my authority as High King, I grant you the title and holdings of Count of Vaelmoor." He paused, allowing the words their full weight. Nokon listened as his father named the lands and obligations that would now belong to him. A household. An estate. People who would answer to him first. Responsibilities that could not simply be refused.

He slowly bowed his head. "Thank you, Father."

Malrik placed the ring in his hand. "I expect great things from you." Across the table, Lioraen looked at Cedoric, who was showing Walric the horse carved into his brush. She looked away before either boy noticed.

Nokon closed his fingers around it.

And what do you expect of yourself?

He did not answer, not aloud anyways. 

Later, when most of the family had retired, Nokon remained beside the dying candles. Cedoric appeared in the doorway. "Are you coming?"

Nokon kept staring at the candle. "In a moment."

His youngest brother approached the table and studied the last little candle. "Do you have to blow it out?"

"Eventually." Nokon told him. 

Cedoric frowned. "I wish we could celebrate your birthday forever."

Nokon laughed. "Forever? You'd grow tired of me."

Cedoric shook his head. "No, I wouldn't."

"Even if I gave you a horse brush every year?" Nokon asked. 

Cedoric considered this. "Perhaps a new horse instead."

Nokon finally understood. "Ah. There it is."

Cedoric grinned. Then, without warning, he wrapped his arms around Nokon. "Happy birthday."

It took him a second, but finally Nokon held him close. "Thank you."

When Cedoric had gone, Nokon remained where he was, watching the little flame.

Forever is a very long time.

Nokon glanced toward the empty chair beside him. "You're telling me."

And yet your brother seemed quite certain.

Nokon gave a slight chuckle. "He's thirteen. He's certain about everything." The voice fell quiet. Nokon looked down at the signet ring resting beside his cup. He had been given land, authority, and a future. He had given away a handful of small presents. Somehow, he thought he'd received the better gifts. At last, he leaned forward and extinguished the final candle. His eighteenth birthday was over.