All That Is Evil Is Not Dark/Chapter 27

"The Spirit Lord?" Darin responded, startled. "A creature of legend. No one serves the creator."

"I have always served creation, Darin," Tralin responded. "You know that well. Your problem with me was my heresy of elemental conjunction."

"Indeed it was," Jano reiterated. "He was very vehement about that point"

"Yet all things happen for their purpose, I can imagine no one else better..." Tralin trailed, his voice cracking and bolts of electrical energy suffusing his being. He gave a brief shudder and a rain of ice began to fall inside the cabin.

"What is going on?" Jano asked, alarmed.

"Tralin took some kind of potion in Stone Deep. The king seems to be suffering numerous aftereffects from it."

"Metanoia?!" Cerin asked incredulously. "Your majesty, that potion is dangerous even in the physiologies it is designed for. You are a Drakel, there is no telling what kind of things it can do to you..."

"I have taken Metanoia..." Tralin paused and waved his hand, dispelling the ice storm. "I have taken the potion before, but never this much and never did I so close push myself to death."

"You must not take it again. You have apparently become very sensitized. Another potion and you might burn up with magical energy from within."

"Your well-placed concern is noted, now can..." Tralin halted and for a moment the assembled thought another wave was coming, but then they heard what had caught Tralin's attention: shouting had come awfully close to the ship.

"LORD REGENT!" a voice cried out. "You were seen boarding... We need to see you; it is urgent!"

Jano sighed and moved toward the door, but Tralin placed a restraining hand upon his arm.

"Your help has served us well and we would like very much to maintain your aid, but this is our problem."

Tralin moved to the cabin door and opened it, stepping out of the cabin.

"Lord Tralin!" the crier proclaimed, then, turning to his colleagues, whispered excitedly, "The prince..."

"We are sorry to inform you of your ignorance in such a manner, but I am no longer price of this nation. I am its king. Draynor is dead. I have been coronated."

This proclamation had the desired effect: the men fell silent in shock.

"Who are you that demands our regent's attention?"

"I am Clay, a traveler from Battleonia and beyond."

"All the way from Battleonia?!" Nel chirped, shocked. "I have family in those quarters."

"As you have come a fair distance, you shall not be denied, even though our day of coronation should be a celebration rather then a business day. We shall hear your concerns in our audience chamber."

"Must you talk like that, Trae...?" Nel said, stepping beside him. "This weird first-person plural."

"While on official affairs of state, I must, Nel. It is expected. In chambers and in meetings I have more leeway, but I must make my claim and announcement quite clear, and there is language with which that is accomplished as well as protocol."