Free Mercy's Prince by Katy Huth Jones

enough to know he would find
no pleasure in ordering the execution of peaceful men.
    Personally Valerian sympathized with the
Brethren’s choice. When Waryn was alive, Valerian had chosen to live the
peaceful life of a monk. But desperate times dictated that a man put aside his
personal desires and sacrifice for the greater need. That was the duty he’d
been taught by his grandfather and his father.
    “Prince Valerian,” King Orland said through
gritted teeth.
    “Yes, Your Majesty?” Valerian’s stomach
clenched. Was the king angry at him?
    “As
our heir to the throne,” the king continued, “we desire that you decree a
suitable punishment for these men, the Brethren, who refuse to fight with us
according to the dictates of their conscience.”
    If
the king had slapped him, it could not have been a greater surprise than this
request. These men had to die for their disobedience, for wasn’t their refusal
to fight treason? But the king must have commanded Valerian to decree the
punishment so he would not have to put these men to death, for didn’t the king
alone have that power?
    Again
Valerian regarded Gabriel, who measured him calmly, without fear. Then Valerian
studied the faces of the others, some of whom appeared resigned to their fate,
but more than one showed alarm, especially the younger ones.
    “Your
Majesty, these men should be imprisoned here until I have made my decision.” It
was probably not what his father wanted to hear, but he was not about to make a
decree of such magnitude without searching for precedent in Levathia’s laws and
history.
    King
Orland stood. He glowered down at Valerian before speaking to the guards.
    “Take
them to the dungeon.”
    Before
Gabriel turned to leave, he caught Valerian’s eye and smiled. Valerian looked
away, unsettled. But he could not stop staring at the braids of each of the
men. Most hung to their waists, a few even longer. How it would feel to wear
that constant reminder of a solemn oath?
    As
soon as the doors closed behind the last man, King Orland dismissed the
assembly. Caelis lingered, but then he glared at Valerian and strode after the
others. Valerian started to leave also, but the king put a hand on his
shoulder.
    “A
word with you, Valerian.”
    “Yes,
sir?” He turned to face his father.
    “Don’t
take too long to make your decision regarding their punishment. It is good not
to be hasty in your judgments, but too much time breeds indecision.”
    “I
understand, sir.”
    “It
would be such a waste to execute those men.” King Orland frowned. “I would
rather find a way to convince them to fight.” He turned on his heel and exited
through the hidden door behind the throne that led directly to his chambers
above.
    Valerian
clenched his teeth. He didn’t see how anyone could change their minds,
especially not Gabriel’s. That man, he was sure, would die a terrible martyr’s
death before he would ever consider altering his convictions. It was a trait to
be admired or at least respected. With a sigh Valerian hurried to the Keep’s library.
He had a lot of reading to do.
    ***
    As he strode toward his room, Caelis laughed.
It echoed in the narrow hall sounding maniacal, even to him. King Orland had
ordered Prince Valerian to enact a punishment upon the Brethren that fit their
crime of refusing to fight. No doubt the hapless prince would order the
pacifists to pay in sheep or hand-crafted wooden boxes, or whatever they were
known for.
    “Bah!” He spat on the floor. He’d grown up with
a healthy disgust for the pacifists, and seeing them now in the throne room
merely solidified his contempt. How dare they refuse to come to Levathia’s
defense! Only parasites would refuse to defend the land that gave them life.
The king should have ordered them executed, not deferred the decree to his son.
    Caelis stood before the door to his room, glowering
at the unadorned wood. Waryn’s door was carved with dragons and intricate
scrolling. How far Caelis