Chapter 83 - The Confrontation (Patreon)

Erik looked around at his coven, and nodded to himself.

Good.

The magic had worked. He could almost feel the other members of his coven inside his magic. He now had sworn brothers and sisters in magic. 

Which got slightly odd when he remembered that Alexandria was his fiancee, but language could be imprecise at times.

Erik spent a moment just enjoying himself. Being in the moment. Here, under the stars and the rising moon, with his closest friends as a crisp breeze blew across them. In this moment, he wasn’t Heir Morsin, future Duke of Ireland. He was just Erik, doing normal wixen things with his friends.

The silence was beautiful, golden almost. The silvery light of the moon-

“HECK yes!” Sora shouted at the top of her lungs, jumping up and punching the air. “That was TOTALLY COOL! Let’s do it again!”

The moment was gone, and Erik shook his head with a weary sigh.

“You idiot.” Alexandria hissed.

“Yeah, I’m not usually throwing around insults, but Sora, that was kinda dumb.” Vivian said. “My grades aren’t the best, but even I know you can’t do more than one coven ritual.”

All in good fun, no need to step in yet. 

Sora rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“You know what I mean, and you’re dumb if you don’t.”

And that was his signal to step in. He subtly adjusted how he was holding himself to properly project presence, and clapped his hands once to bring attention to himself.

“We should get going!” Erik said. “We could balance here and chat the night away, or we could go home, grab a beer, and properly celebrate.”

Was this a good time for it? He quickly scanned everyone’s face, his eyes flickering from person to person. Yes, yes it was. A little bit of incentive here to get everyone moving at a respectable pace, while also sealing the high of the event.

He wanted to knuckle his forehead.

OR.

In more practical, human terms - he wanted to give his friends a present. While he was at it, he should carve out some time for just him and Alexandria. She was supposed to be more than just a friend, but that would never happen if he didn’t make the effort. Then he needed to talk with his father, check in with his non-Camelot friends, meet up with a number of the people in Dublin that made the Duchy run - it was only a few years until he took over, and that wasn’t the time to say ‘oh hi I’ve been gone for years and I’m back, what’s the situation?’ - talk with the people that ran Dublin itself, do his homework… busy busy busy, there was never a quiet moment.

Or rather, when there was, Sora had to be loud about it.

Erik wasn’t at the top of his class, and he would never would be in the running to be at the top. There simply were far too many other things competing for his attention, and he’d made his peace with it. The trick was to make the people who were at the top of the class want to move to Ireland.

“I got a little something to celebrate our coven formation.” Erik said.

Sora’s eyes lit up.

“Erik goodies! Oh, those are the best! Come on, everyone, let’s go!”

The cleanup was simplicity itself. The ritual had consumed the paint used to draw the array, as well as the sacrificed cups. There was nothing messy left, just all of the tools.

Getting down was a problem. Sometime during the ritual, the ladder had fallen over, and now the five of them were on top of the dolmen with no easy way down.

“This is easy.” Sora said, bending her knees.

“Please don’t jump off.” Felix said.

“Jump off? What, do you think I’m nuts or something?” Sora asked.

The glances the other four traded said exactly what they thought of that. Sora scoffed.

“No, no, look. Two of you grab my arms. Slowly lower me until you’re lying down, then I’ll just drop the rest of the way. Easy. Even though I could just jump off the top, we’re not that high up. It’s what, two meters?” She fearlessly leaned over the edge. “I’ve dropped from higher than that in Stravolux, no problems.”

“Onto grass.” Erik said. “You’re dropping onto stone here.”

Sora waved him off.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d still be fine, and I’ll even let you all lower me. Come on, the night’s burning and we’ve got Erik presents to get to!”

Erik and Felix grabbed Sora’s arms, and slowly lowered her over the side. She wiggled out of their grip and gracefully dropped the rest of the way.

“See, nothing to it.” She said, then got the ladder for the rest of them.

Fifteen minutes later, the five of them were flying north, back to Galway. The line for the Argo was predictably long, but they were back at Dublin before midnight. The five of them were high on life as they approached the castle, weaving through the massive party that was being thrown. 

Vivian froze as they walked up to the gates of the castle proper.

“Uh oh.” She said, ducking behind Alexandria.

She was too late.

“Vivian C. Merryweather!” Her mother stormed over. “You are in so much trouble young lady.”

She grabbed Vivian by the ear, who yelped and started to protest. Her mother ignored her, and her father rushed over, storm clouds brewing on his face.

“Apologies, Heir Morsin. I need to have a conversation with my daughter.” She turned back to Vivian, and started to frog-march her out.

“We’ve been worried sick! Running away from home like that…”

The four remaining members of the coven watched Vivian get dragged off, the rest of the partiers ignoring the family drama. Erik awkwardly chuckled.

“Well… I did get a set of coven rings for us, but I think that’ll have to wait until Vivian’s back. It’s not fair to do it without her. Party?” He asked.

“PARTY!” Sora whooped and jumped into the fray. 

Erik offered an arm to Alexandria, who slipped a hand through it.

“Party.” She whispered in agreement.

============

Erik nervously went over his mental checklist one more time.

He had his talking points. He had his questions. He knew the proper etiquette for this. The timing was good. His father - the Duke - was in a good mood. It was a time of day when the Duke had no other appointments. His clothing was perfect.

Taking a deep breath, Erik knocked on the door of the solar and waited. He tried to discreetly rub the sweat off his palms.

“Enter.” Duke Morsin’s voice boomed out two minutes later, and Erik walked into the familiar room, filled with contradictions, much like the Duke himself.

He was raised on distant shores, yet was now the ruler of Ireland. He didn’t care what he or his retainers wore, but insisted on proper dress for Erik. He was a mage, but he was just as likely to use his focus to hack someone apart as he was to cast a spell through it. He gave off the impression that Dublin Castle was as secure as possible, and yet his solar was deep inside the heart of the castle, not a single wall shared with the outside. The sunlight filtering in through the ceiling was an illusion, bespelled to look like the weather outside. 

One wall of the room was dominated by a detailed map of Ireland, with a number of scribbled notes attached by pins. One was filled with reference books and treaties - economics, politics, statecraft, military strategy, legal theory, history, religion and more. Another was filled with filing cabinets of paperwork, ones that magically shared space with his retainer’s offices, for easy movement of paperwork. 

The last wall was dedicated to his family, or as Erik cynically thought to himself, his children. There were barely any traces of his mother, simply some artwork from their wedding, a single embroidery piece, and a few dribs and drabs.

From Erik and Aoife though, there was quite a bit more. Scribbled artwork in crayon from when they were young children, assignments they did particularly well on - or Bjorn simply found a liking to - letters they had written him, mementos of outings they had done together. The mug from Erik’s first beer, the first bouquet of flowers Aoife had gathered for Bjorn, forever preserved with a stasis spell. And, possibly rarest of all, space for further achievements and accomplishments. 

They were pressed up against the wall that Bjorn would look at whenever he glanced up from his desk, the background to any visitors sitting or standing across from his desk. 

“Son.” Bjorn boomed, standing up from his desk and opening his arms. Erik hugged his dad, then stepped back.

“Sit. You have something you wish to discuss. With me, or with the Duke?” He asked, settling back down. 

“Primarily the Duke, but also a little with you. I’m unsure where the line is.” Erik said, steeling himself again.

Bjorn sat down, put his feet on the desk, and gestured.

“Speak.” He said.

“Alexandria Renard.” Erik said. “Why was I not told what happened, why have we taken no action on it? The attack on her was a proxy to an attack on us, and we simply allowed it to slide?”

“Some good questions.” Bjorn said, and Erik internally grimaced. Not a promising start. “Let us discuss retaliation, which we should’ve discussed years ago.”

Oooh, Erik did not like where this was going. A sense of impending doom was rapidly rising. Erik had fucked up somewhere along the line, and he didn’t know where or how. He just knew he was about to get a gentle verbal correction that would eviscerate him so much harder than any lashing. There was only one correct answer.

“Yes, your grace.”

“I am the Duke of Ireland in Logres. Let us not bandy words, I took the seat with might and magic, with iron and blood. My ascension started a bloody war, a war that would still be ongoing if it wasn’t for The Hollowing killing off too many people. From there, I have walked a long road to legitimacy and recognition. As poor and weak as the BAT is, we defer to them in their domain. When other lords pass their own version of justice, we do not step in to contradict them. These lessons you should know.”

Erik flushed and lowered his head. He did know them, and he could see how they applied to Alex, but it was still an attack on them. One they couldn’t let pass!

Still, Erik was being trained to take his father’s position. Not to simply cower when faced with an apparent authority. At the same time, he needed to strike a careful balance - he was not the authority at this time. Always a tightrope to walk, although one with a safety net. Far down.

“I understand not extending our reach outside of Ireland, but doesn’t this concern Ireland? And what about the information aspect of it?”Bjorn pointed behind Erik, and he turned.

“Bring me the assignment with the green sheet on it.” He said.

Erik had no idea where this was going now. His assignments had always been proud displays, never had they been part of a discussion. He dutifully took the assignment off the wall, smiled at his name on the cover sheet - he’d worked so hard to make his name neat, and that was the phase where he’d been experimenting with fancy flourishes on the K and N on his name - and brought it over to the Duke, all while furiously thinking.

What was it about this assignment? What could…

He glanced over it again, memories returning to him as his face slowly drained of blood.

Oh no.

He had an idea of where this was going.

Erik presented his assignment with two hands and a small bow. The Duke rapped his desk with his knuckles, and Erik dutifully put it down, standing at attention.

“Do you understand?” The Duke asked. Erik swallowed, fighting back tears of shame.

“Yes, sir.” He said.

“Explain it to me.” He said.

“The assignment was to find important articles in the newspaper.” Erik slowly said. “I don’t quite remember doing it, but I’m going to assume I only looked through the major headlines, and wrote my paper on that. The events around Alexandria were deeper in the paper, and I missed it. Am I correct?”

“See for yourself.” Bjorn unhooked his axe from his belt, and twitched it in the direction of his filing cabinets. An old, yellowed newspaper came flying out, and landed in front of Erik. He picked it up with no small feeling of dread.

And yes, there in the back, was an article about the acid attack on Alexandria.

“I missed it.” Erik whispered to himself.

“Aye, you did.” The Duke said, not unkindly. “Are you going to miss things in your paperwork again?”

Erik mutely shook his head, trying to fight back feelings of dread. What else had he missed? What traps lay in the assignments on the walls? Should he review them all himself?

“Didn’t think so.” Bjorn shook his head to himself. “I’m sorry, but the lessons you learn best are the lessons you learn yourself. As for sending a message? At the time, I didn’t want to reignite hostilities that had just started to cool. For another? It’s not my problem. You are a man now, Erik, and you must act like one. It’s your problem, and to my understanding, you’ve just formed your own vengeance coven. What are you going to do about it? My knowledge and advice is at your disposal. You can let it go, with all the consequences that’ll entail. You can take subtle revenge. Bloody revenge. Exterminate everyone involved. Each action, however, will come with its own consequences, good and bad, with different parties and factions.”

Erik thought hard, realized he was in over his head, and that while everything was a test, it wasn’t always about finding the answer.

“Father, what advice would you give me?” Erik asked. 

Bjorn grinned.

“The biggest piece is to check your thoughts for external influences. Specifically, you’ve just magically sworn revenge against the people involved, and you’re suddenly taking action. I know you’re bound to it, but it’s worth meditating and examining your own mind to ensure your actions are measured and reasonable.”

Erik nodded, taking a mental note. Bjorn was absolutely right about that.

“If it helps, I was planning on having this conversation several months before our ritual.” He said.

“That does help.” Bjorn said, then switched into his lecturing tone.

“Lars and the rest of my raiders will take a lack of action as weakness, and you’ll undermine your base of support. I doubt there’d be an outright mutiny, not with me enjoying a quiet retirement but looming in the shadows, but you know there’s a world of difference between a willing volunteer and a reluctant conscript. At the same time, if you overtly retaliate, you’re building a reputation. Especially in your early years, that reputation’s going to follow you. If you covertly retaliate, you’re back at the first problem of undermining the very people you rely on to keep your seat. What conclusions can you draw from this, so far? Keeping in mind, there’s a few more paths I can think of, but are tricky, and you’ll be able to come up with a few inventive ideas of your own.”

That was true, but Erik wanted to analyze the options placed in front of him.

“Investigate to get a precise list of the people involved and who helped. Covertly abduct them, or otherwise make them go ‘missing’ in a deniable way. Then invite my close friends and the people in power, and make a local display of removing the threat. I get to preserve my reputation outside of Ireland, send the image I want, while demonstrating to my inherited power base a type of strength they like to see, will respect, and will follow.”

“A good first analysis. Now, other things to consider…”

Bjorn and Erik plotted for hours, the Duke even waving off several more meetings.

Just good father-son bonding time.