Mercy's Prince by Katy Huth Jones

capital offense during times of war. If
the Brethren were allowed to refuse to fight, wouldn’t it make it easier for
others to pretend to have a “conscience” against going to war so they wouldn’t
have to make any sacrifices? What else could he recommended to the king other
than their deaths?
    He continued to stare at the words until they
blurred together. Valerian rubbed his eyes and reread the phrase “forfeit their
lives.” Something occurred to him. Perhaps there was a way to follow the letter
of the law without having to execute all those peaceful men. Valerian took a
fresh sheet of parchment and began to write again.
    “I, Valerian d’Alden, by the grace of God,
Prince of Levathia, do decree that the pacifists known as the Brethren, of the
Village of Peace in the Southern Woodlands, must labor as the land’s needs
dictate for the duration of the war in order to ensure that necessary work does
not go undone while other men are taking up arms to protect Levathia from
invasion.”
    There. Involuntary servitude would be
sufficient punishment yet vague enough that King Orland would be able to put
the Brethren to any task he deemed most needful at the time. Gratefully he
signed the decree with a flourish and set his seal below the name.
    The sun’s rays came in the window, illuminating
the parchment. Turning over the first sheet, Valerian set it on top of the
stack. He would erase the ink when he returned. After all, parchment was not to
be wasted. Kieran quietly entered.
    “My lord, I apologize for not rising sooner.
What can I do for you?”
    “You can come with me to deliver this to the
king and then we can break our fast together.” Valerian picked up the sealed
document. He wanted to get the Brethren out of that miserable dungeon as
quickly as possible.
    Kieran glanced down at Valerian’s nightclothes.
    “Do ye not want to change first?”
    Valerian almost said he’d wait until after he
spoke with the king, but then he remembered the sudden call to arms the other
day.
    “I ought to be prepared, as you are.” He
indicated Kieran’s leathers and mail. “Then we’ll be ready to go to the
practice yard after we eat.”
    Kieran helped him fasten the hard-to-reach
lacings on his leather breeches and tunic as well as pull on the mail shirt and
boots. They found the page Gannon putting away his and Kieran’s cots in the
next room. The boy bowed to Valerian.
    “Good morrow, Your Highness. What is your will
this fine day?”
    Valerian smiled at the earnest Gannon.
    “Kieran and I must see the king. I’m afraid I’ve
left the bedclothes a mess for you.”
    “I’ll take care of that for you, Sire.” The
page grinned and hurried into the bedchamber.
    Valerian and Kieran left him to tidy the rooms
while they went next door and knocked. King Orland’s page answered and bowed
when he recognized Valerian.
    “I must see my father, if he is awake.”
    The page gestured for them to enter.
    “Your Highness, the king is in his bedchamber.
Please be seated and I will tell him that you’ve come.” The boy, who was older
than Gannon, disappeared into another room.
    Valerian sat on the edge of a cushioned bench.
This solar was too richly furnished for him to ever be comfortable in it. A
cheerful fire crackled in the fireplace, and the curtains had been opened to
let in the morning light. The gold threads of one of the tapestries glinted in
the light, and Valerian walked to it, seeing it as if for the first time. He’d
never before noticed that amid the embroidered dragons there was a man, and the
man held a sword. Just like in his dream.
    The bedchamber door opened, and the page came
out again.
    “The king will see you now.”
    Valerian frowned at Kieran.
    “I hope this won’t take long.”
    “Dinna worry about me, Sire.” Kieran sighed as
he leaned back on one of the chair’s overstuffed pillows.
    Valerian stepped into his father’s bedchamber.
His bed was as large as the one in Waryn’s room, only