4 The King’s Brother

She rushed to him and Sorrentino kissed and reprimanded her fiercely at the same time. "Why did you come here Helena? It's too dangerous." "I had to see you again," Helena cried. "I've missed my man." Sorrentino put his arm and led her away out to a quiet spot on the castle grounds. "Seeing you come in with him has put me in fresh pain again." Helena sighed and looked down. "Max, I must tell you something. I am pregnant." The guard staggered back as if arrows had pierced his soul. He bowed his head for a long time and just said nothing. Helena moved closer and wrapped her arms around him. "We should not have even risked it at all Max. I should have not continued working in the castle." She said softly. Sorrentino looked up and saw the pain in the woman's eyes. He made to say something but she put a finger on his lip. "Take me away from here Sorrentino. Let's run away. I can't become the king's concubine. I have pretended long enough." Sorrentino took the woman he loved in his arms. He had thought about this very thing for weeks. He wanted nothing more than to ease her pain. But he wanted to be sure it was something she wanted for it would not be easy. "When the time is right." He said softly. "You can’t imagine how glad I am to hear you say that. I assure you, we will leave here when the time is right." "I can't become the king's concubine." Helena said anger flashing in her eyes now. "I won't." "When the time is right." Sorrentino said again. As much as he wanted to make a break for it, taking a pregnant woman on a desperate flight with the King of Aerithor after them did not sound like something one did to the woman he loved. "Does Malcolm know about the baby?" He asked softly. "I have not told him yet." Helena said, sighing. "I'll hide it for as long as possible." "It's time for you to go in now." Sorrentino said. "When will I get to see you again Max?" She asked mournfully. "I don't know." Sorrentino said as he began to steer her back into the castle. "But we will work something out." Lucas Corrad, the king's younger and only brother was a brutal man who aspired for positions above his reach. But just like many things that were going on in Aerithor at the time, no one knew that. That was because, on the surface, he was probably the most jovial man you would ever meet in Aerithor. King Malcolm had always been kind to his younger brother. He had allowed him the choice of either living in the palace or looking up a place of his own anywhere he wanted in the kingdom. Furthermore, he made him the war chief of Aerithor. Although, thanks to the king's smartness and diplomacy in dealing with the kingdoms that surrounded them, it was unlikely that any war would be happening soon. Lucas Corrad had lands, women, children, and anything a man could wish for in this life. But he still wasn't happy. And that was because he wanted something more. Something he knew he couldn't have. He wanted to be king. When they were younger before he understood the workings of succession and all of that, Lucas would sneak into the throne room and gaze for hours at the huge magnificent mahogany seat adorned with the intricate carvings of the lion, and the seal; the symbols of Aerithor. He would stare at the high back embellished with regal velvet and the base supported by exquisite ornate legs and imagine himself sitting in it someday. Sometimes, he would even get in but small as he was then, he was like a drop of water in an ocean. Lucas would watch his father decked out in the royal robes stride around the palace, strong, purposeful, and completely in control. He liked that. He wanted that. He would hang around his father all day, always wanting to see what he did, how he did it when he did it. Sometimes, he became a plain nuisance. But then, he grew older and he realised to his horror one terrible day that he would not be king after all. No, that honour was reserved for his elder brother Malcolm. Malcolm who was always out frolicking with his friends both male and female who flocked around him like he was that awesome. Malcolm who did not seem to care about royal matters or the workings of the kingdom. He would get to be king simply because of the paltry matter of being born first. Lucas Corrad did not think it was fair. But of course, there was nothing he could do about it. And so he would not be detected, he had resorted to his smiling and jovial disposition. And it had worked. On the day of Malcolm's coronation, he had clapped and cheered along with everyone else. When all he wanted to do was go and bang his head against a few trees in the forest. But no one could know that. Malcolm had been kind to him. He had always been kind. He had asked him if he wanted a section of the castle. "I can't do this without you brother." Malcolm had said seriously the night before his coronation. "I need you to be part of my government. So for starters, you can choose to stay here in the castle. I will clear out up to an entire wing for you. Or you can pick any place you want. I'll relocate anybody, anywhere for you." Lucas had smiled pleasantly and thanked Malcolm his king for his very large heart and extremely generous offer. If the king didn't mind, he would like to move out. And so he had chosen a castle in the north close to the mountains. He had accepted the pitiful position of war chief with all the grace he could pretend he had. War chief? In a kingdom that never went to war. For Lucas, it was so obviously a compensation he knew he had to be a laughingstocktock throughout the kingdom. As far as Lucas was concerned, a kingdom needed war. Needed to assert dominance over their neighbours; and let everyone know they were in charge. Their father had fought wars. But Malcolm was soft. He called it diplomacy. But to Lucas, it was softness. If he was king, there would be wars for sure. But he wasn't king. So Lucas filled his days with mundane government meetings and ensuring the army was in top shape, war or not. But he never forgot his dream. Not even for a day. And so when his chance showed up on his doorstep one fine morning, Lucas Corrad did not look back. He remembered that day as clear as crystal. His personal servant had come into his room and bowed low. "My Lord, there is a tall man here to see you." "What did he say his name was?" "He did not say his name, my Lord." The servant bowed low again. "So how the hell should I know who he is?" Lucas had retorted. "Show him the way out and tell him to come back when he is ready to be normal." "He said if I describe how he looks to you, you would know him." Frankly, Lucas was not in the mood for such antics. But he decided to oblige anyway. "Okay go on. I'm listening." "Like I said, he is tall, extremely, probably close to seven feet," the man started to explain. "He has waist-length gray hair and beard, wearing dark robes and…my Lord where are you going?" The man broke off his description to exclaim for Lucas was already up and striding out of the room. There was only one man in the kngdom that fit that description. Nordveka the magician.