FIVE - Silvan

A member of the King's Guard is tasked with the announcement of the Exiling Ceremony.

Silvan stood outside the Throne Room opposite Vanderford.  They stood silently, awaiting the King’s judgment.  Things are definitely getting worse around here.  Never in my lifetime have there been two Exiles on the same day.  People are getting desperate.  Somebody has to do something or it won’t be long before the entire city is Exiled.

He had been present on one occasion only a few years earlier when there had been multiple executions on the same day, which was unusual in itself, but executions and Exiling Ceremonies were very different events.  Executions were rarely public events like Exiling Ceremonies were, and thus didn’t effect Xantomian morale like the Exiles did.  The more people were exiled, the more people in the city began to talk.  And Silvan had definitely noticed a growing sense of distress amongst his fellow Xantomians.  As soon as I signal that another Exiling Ceremony is about to begin… people are going to go crazy.

Silvan remembered a story he heard when he was young about a time when there had been five men exiled, not only on the same day, but at the same time.  It was the largest Exiling Ceremony ever held, before or since.  It had been ages and ages ago, apparently.  Nobody remembered if it was actually true.  The story stated that the five men had snuck into the castle, presumably to assassinate the King�"was it Xanthus III or IV?�"while he slept.  It had been in a time before the King’s Guard had formed, before anyone in Xantom worried about internal threats.  Back then, the only thing anyone worried about were attacks from Bareland Beasts.

The King’s Guard was formed the day following the event.  No one knew why the assassins wanted to kill the King.  Things were better back then�"there was enough food for everyone to have their fill, supplies were replenished regularly and were plentiful�"there wasn’t any reason why anyone would have wanted to kill their King.  Of course there were rumors, but that was all.  As it often is with stories, the ones with the most unanswered questions are retold the most, and it had been passed down through the generations and become history.

If Xanthus VIII were anything like the previous Kings, we wouldn’t be in this mess.  Exiles wouldn’t be so regular and supplies wouldn’t be as depleted as they are.  We wouldn’t have to hear about the multiple new deaths in the Outskirts every single day from the Guards and the Gate.  I’m surprised no one has tried to kill this King.  He’s a more likely target than any of the previous ones.  If I were still living in the Outskirts, things might be playing out very differently.

Silvan had only recently been promoted to the King’s Guard.  He had worked his way up through the ranks and the various types of Guards until finally Xanthus had grown to trust him.  As Silvan was the only guard who formerly lived in the Outskirts, he understood the way things worked out there and the way the people thought.  Xanthus had never even spoken to anyone from the Outskirts apart from making announcements or meeting with people before sentencing them to Exile or death.  Because of this, Silvan had proven himself to be invaluable to the King, something he felt had isolated himself from the other members of the King’s Guard.

He did everything as he was told exactly when he was told, without question, leading certain other Guards to shun him when they weren’t on the job.  They still hadn’t done anything to hurt him or his daughter, but he feared that something might be coming if he didn’t win them over soon.

He heard a sound coming from up the hallway.  Someone was coming.  He turned to look at Vanderford to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.  Vanderford’s eyes stared into the darkness where the sound was coming from and didn’t waver for a moment.  Then the intruder stepped into the light of Silvan’s torch.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Esmarine.  You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?  Something going on?”

“The King is deliberating… he’s about to pass judgment on someone.”

He saw her thinking.  I never know what’s going on in her head.  Sometimes I wish I had a son instead.  He might be easier to understand.

“Who is it?” She asked at last.

“At this point, that’s none of your business,” Vanderford chimed in.

“I’m the daughter of one of the King’s Guard,” she snapped.  “I’m not going to tell anyone.  Daddy?”

Silvan sighed.  Still my only weakness.  “It’s a kid.  A young boy, we aren’t sure who.  He was trespassing in the home of the Head of the Hunt and stealing his food.”

Esmarine didn’t respond at first.  She was thinking again.  Silvan moved the torch to illuminate more of her face.  Her expression revealed nothing.

“I hope he gets exactly what he deserves,” she said at last.  Something in her voice sounded off, but Silvan couldn’t pinpoint it.  “You’re right, Dad.  I shouldn’t be here right now.  I’ll go back home.”

“That’s my good girl,” Silvan said.  He gave her a hug, which she half-heartedly returned before whirling around and disappearing into the blackness of the castle.

“That was strange,” Vanderford said as soon as they could no longer hear her footsteps.

Silvan turned to look at him.  The dark made it hard to make much of him out, but his large, sturdy frame was silhouetted against the darkness behind him.  His massive brown beard protruded from his face in an unnatural way that made it look as though someone had sewn a patch of Bareland Beast fur to his chin.  His strength was unmatched by anyone in Xantom.

“What was strange?”

“Her reaction.”

“What about her reaction?”

“There wasn’t one.”

He was right.  Anyone else in the city would have had something to say about the fact that there was likely going to be a second Exile only a few hours after the first one.  Esmarine had said nothing, but elected to go home.  That should have been a sign in itself that something was off.  I can never find her at home, she’s always going off exploring the city and getting into trouble.

He shrugged off the thought.  This was Esmarine they were talking about.  She had always been a bit of an enigma.  She had never gotten along with kids her own age.  Silvan had asked her why, but her only response had been that kids her own age were boring.  Instead of spending time with them, she nurtured kids who were younger than her, or sought out company with random adults in the city.  On one particular occasion, after searching for hours, Silvan found her in the house of an old man named Riordan, a former member of the King’s Guard.  She was asking him questions about service and what it meant to be a Guard.  This was long before Silvan had been promoted.

When she got a little older, she would spend her time roaming the top of the wall around the city.  He found her one day sitting with her legs hanging off the edge, staring into the darkness of the Outskirts.

“Get down from there,” he told her.  “It’s dangerous.”

“Everything is dangerous.  I’m safer up here than if I were living out there.”

He hadn’t had a response to this.  Even if she fell, she would be immediately escorted back inside and treated by Willoughby for any damage she may have caused herself.  If they were still living in the Outskirts, a Bareland Beast could attack them at any time.  Whether or not Esmarine had any memory of living in the Outskirts when she had been very small, he didn’t know.

Now, Esmarine reacting with silence to what he had told her only made sense to him, even if it had troubled Vanderford.  He brushed it off.

“It’s Esmarine,” he said.  “What type of reaction would you have expected her to have?  She’s not like everyone else in the city.”

“I just hope she isn’t going to do anything stupid,” Vanderford said.

Just as Silvan was about to respond, the doors to the Chambers opened.  He stiffened and straightened his back, standing in profile to the King.

“The boy is to be exiled.  Vanderford, take him to the entry hall and hold thim there until the city has been alerted.  Silvan, that’s your duty.”

“They’re going to enjoy this one,” Vanderford said.  There was something odd about the way he said it.  Was it resentment that Silvan sensed there?  Or something else?  Vanderford took the boy and the two of them disappeared down the hall.

“Silvan.”  Xanthus spoke with firmness and power.  “The boy is from the Outskirts.  When I asked him how he managed to get into the city, he said the Guard at the front gate let him pass.  Did we install a new Guard after the one Quintessa murdered this morning?”

“We did, Sir.”

“Was he informed of the rules about letting children into the city without an adult chaperone?”

“He was, Sir.”

“Then I’m going to need to have a word with him in the Throne Room after the Ceremony.  Make sure you speak to him directly and tell him to report to me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh, and after you signal the beginning of the Ceremony, report back to me in the Healer’s Room.  If I’m not there yet, wait for me.  I’ll be meeting with Zultan and Castiel beforehand.  I have a special task for you… something that needs doing in the Outskirts.”

If it’s in the Outskirts, of course I’ll be doing it for you.  Sometimes I think doing your dirty work in the Outskirts is the only reason I was promoted in the first place.  “Absolutely, Sir.  It will be my pleasure.”

Xanthus nodded and disappeared back towards his Chambers.  Silvan immediately headed for the stone stairwell that led to the roof of the castle.  The stairwell was in the back corner of the castle, in an enclosed turret.  The stairs spiraled upwards for hundreds of feet before opening to a small, mostly empty platform.  The only thing there was the drum and a large mallet to beat it with.

Silvan picked up the mallet and held it firmly in his hands.  I hope everyone’s ready.  Things aren’t going to be the same in Xantom after this.  If people were complaining about food shortages and increased crime before… I can already hear the rumors spreading, people talking about we need a change, and they won’t be wrong.

He pulled back and swung forward, hard.  The mallet collided with the thin, stretched out material covering the drum, causing a massive BOOM that reverberating across the city, then faded into nothing but a hollow echo in the quiet air.  When the sound had dispersed, he swung again.  The sound bounced perfectly off the side of the Dome and carried out across the streets and over the wall for the people in the Outskirts to hear.  Twice more, he swung the mallet, and twice more, the sound felt as though it shook the city.

The four beats of the Castle Drum could only mean one thing.