Disclaimer: The original characters, settings and plot are the property of the author. I am no way associated with Celia S. Friedman and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made.
Written Jennifer in the 2008 Coldfire Fic/Art Exchange.
Introspection
It seemed the perfect day to celebrate a child coming into this world, to hope for a less troubled future for her. However, as King Gannon glanced across the room at the small gathering on the balcony, he wished for the fifth time that afternoon that he were, in fact, anywhere else – anywhere but in Merentha Castle, celebrating the birth of the Neocount’s daughter.
It would have been, however, seen as strange for him not to answer the invitation, not to celebrate with the man who had been his closest friend for a decade now. The man who had helped secure Gannon’s throne and bring about the beginning of an age now called Revival.
And Gerald Tarrant, Neocount of Merentha, was not someone Gannon particularly desired to offend. Not with the unification of the human lands still at risk of being challenged by any self-proclaimed warlord with a mob supporting him – although, even now, the armies of the Church of the Unification ensured that order be enforced in both East and West, and priests strived to free humanity from the false gods it worshipped.
But all this would not have been possible without the Neocount’s support, and that at least Gannon could admit to without feeling too guilty. As for the rest… Better to pretend that this was indeed a joyous occasion, to forget all about that argument that had ended all hope of the Neocount being more than just another supporter of Gannon’s reign.
In truth, it had been partly his fault, the king reluctantly agreed as he clenched the loose folds of his tunic sleeves in his fists. Long ago, he had been the one to introduce Gerald to Almea Grissom, the one to nurture the budding friendship and to finally approve of the marriage between them. He had been Gerald’s best men at the wedding, and he honestly wanted his friend to be happy, but…
But. It was always that ‘but’ that tormented Gannon, especially in those dark nights when he lay awake and wondered what could have been if he had followed his instincts, had selfishly kept Gerald all to himself. Then there would be no self-confident Neocount to aggravate even the most ancient chancellors, to rewrite the very canons of the Church, and to taunt the whole court with powers none of them possessed. No, Gerald Tarrant would have simply been the shy scholar haunting the castle library much like he had haunted the one in his father’s manor years before, where Gannon had found him immersed in books on the history of Earth and the Landing, hiding from his family’s disapproval.
It had been both a game and a challenge for the then-prince to take that slip of a boy barely fourteen years of age off the Baron of Aramath’s hands and set him loose on the unsuspecting world. Gannon had made a severe miscalculation, however – he had not taken into account the fact that Gerald Tarrant’s ambition equalled, if not exceeded, his genius.
It had been a subtle change at first, an appearance here and there followed by debates with the Church’s leaders. And before Gannon knew it, it was Gerald’s words and thoughts that were changing the very core of their belief, and they were waging a religious war to unify the whole continent in territory as well as religion.
Behold the Revival, the unhoped-for salvation of a society that had devolved from conquerors of the stars to a state that had resembled the Dark Ages on Earth.
Behold the rise of the Neocount of Merentha. Knight of the Realm, Premier of the Order of the Golden Flame. Prophet of the Law.
But somewhere along the road, the young man longing for attention and approval had been lost. The Prophet belonged to the Church. The Knight to the Realm. The Neocount to his wife and family. There was nothing left for Gannon to claim, no place for a man who had clung to tradition and propriety even as all he desired was to claim the youth he had stumbled upon by accident.
Overwhelmed by guilt, Gannon turned away from the picture on the balcony – the Neocount and Neocountess of Merentha, surrounded by well-wishing visitors – and made his way back to the main hall. He had received a missive from the Patriarch that morning, making mention of something regarding sorcery. He would let the affairs of the realm take precedence over his own feeling. Perhaps that way the shadow of Gerald Tarrant would leave him alone that night.