The ceremony had been beautiful; he was told it would go down in history as one of the best. It had taken three days for the palace staff to organize all that needed to be done. Flowers had been ordered and delivered, food baked and cooked. Letters sent to all the noble families residing within the city and out. All had been invited to the funeral and ceremony, but not all had been able to make it. Some sent letters as a means of an apology, others sent chests of gold.

Logan had shaken sweaty and scented palms and found himself nodding and thanking people that all but reeked with sycophancy. It would have been unbearable had he felt himself entirely present for the proceedings. Looking back, he barely remembered a single moment. Each of the three nights had been some dinner with supposed conversation he could no longer recall with faces he could not picture. Blessings were made and wishes said, but no matter how hard he tried, he could recall none of it.

Logan was certain that sitting in his library a day after his father was finally put to rest in the tombs below the castle, was the first time he had been alone since the parade. The silence had brought him back to his body. 

He looked upon the papers that had been handed to him by one of his father’s advisors– My advisor now. His sigil was needed on most of the documents. Logan leafed through them and found the dotted line and empty space where his pen and wax were needed. He had no doubt that it was needed to begin the process of anointed a new King. First, letters would be sent, notifying all the kings of the Twelve Kingdoms that Lethilian was about to crown its newest king. 

After that, there was the coronation to plan and the banquets that surely followed. Rooms and quarters would need to be prepared for the guests and dignitaries and he was fairly certain that there was a document in the pile that awaited his approval to recall the Legion Warriors to help clean up the streets. 

Rumour was that the Thief King had died in a bar fire the night of the parade. He had not been seen or heard from since, at least not to Logan’s memory. He tried recalling if there had been a report, but none came to mind.

There was a small knock on the door that broke the silence and his reverie.

“Come in,” he croaked, leaning his head into his hands, hoping it was nothing important. He sighed deeply when Bastian walked in. “It’s you.”

Bastian tilted his head. He stood still for a moment before walking over to the mantel and pouring himself a drink from a decanter that stood full. Without asking, he poured Logan one too.

“I feel like a wraith,” Logan said, accepting the drink. He waited for Bastian to take his seat before taking a sip. “I move about this castle, but feel nothing but cold.”

Bastian turned the glass around in his fingers. His silence unnerved Logan. It was usually Bastian who spoke when Logan felt unmoved to speak. 

“I take it the meeting with the captains did not go well?”

“They want me to take my father’s place as marshall.”

Logan blinked in surprise. “That’s–” Surprising was too light a word for it. “Did they not fight for the position? Did nobody want it?”

“It’s not that they did not desire the position,” Bastian assured. “I think they see me as biddable and weak.”

“They see me biddable and weak,” Logan corrected.

“Perhaps they see the both of us as such. Being younger than any marshall in history to one of the greenest kings gives them an advantage over us. They have years of experience and wisdom and they think they could impart this to us over time.”

“Did they say this to you?”

“Not in so many words,” Bastian took a long gulp of the spiced wine. “But through their generosity I see them taking the opportunity to gain more control over Lethilian. They fear change, but desire it if it is their own will.”

“I did not realize our father’s held such a strong hold over their ambitions.”

“Our fathers made a good team. We could be the same in time in their opinion.”

Logan snorted. “Two orphan boys. One a mighty warrior and the other a sovereign of the books.”

Bastian smirked. “I will accept the position if you need me, Logan. The Gods know I do not wish it, but I think you will be needing people you can trust at your side for the first few months.”

“I will always need people I can trust,” Logan stood, beginning to pace the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “It is my mind that I do not trust.”

Bastian gave him a questioning look.

“My mind still tells me he lives. That they all live. That what we... what happened was just a dream, or something I read in one of these books.”

“Grief hits us all in different ways.”

Logan turned to face Bastian. “How have you been? We have barely spoken and I am sorry for it.”

Bastian waved away the concern. “You know my father and I were never close. I was only ever an heir to him, but” his friend sighed, “the reality of being entirely on my own is hitting me slowly and for that I feel anger.”

“Towards?”

“Everything. The Thief King for taking away the chance of reconciliation. My father for being so cold-hearted throughout my childhood. My mother for dying and me for leaving.” Logan waited; Bastian wiped at a single tear. “If I ever become a father, I swear I will do better. I swear I will give my son or daughter a choice in their lives.”

Logan smiled, knowing that a choice was a luxury not always given, no matter where one lived. “I hope to see you as a father one day.”

Bastian nodded, finishing his drink. He set the glass on Logan’s desk and looked up. “We need to think ahead, but not so far ahead. Have you given thought to who you will take council from?”

“You mean besides for the advisors?”

“Allow those heritage artifacts to continue in whatever mundane chores your father had them doing prior. Give them half the opportunity and each one of them will individually try out-do the other by getting closer to you.”

“Well, you will be by my side? I do not wish to force the position on you, but if you are willing, I fully endorse the decision.”

“I will take it, but I know nothing of politics and governance, Logan. A start would be to secure your hand with Gemima.”

“Wonderful, so on top of my coronation, an engagement party is needed. I shall add that to the list.”

Bastian’s brow furrowed, his fingers drumming against his thigh in a slow beat.

“What of Lord Dorian?” Logan asked eventually. “His stay is indefinite and he has a perfectly neutral stand in the affairs of our kingdom. So far his advice and council has proven to be exceedingly helpful and he did save Sophia, Gemima and I.” Logan licked his lips. “My father did not trust him though.”

“Perhaps request to see all trade agreements with Cyllindale. Perhaps Dorian was attempting to renegotiate an old agreement and your father would hear none of it. Best to know the history and facts before making a decision.”

“But if the history is satisfactory?”

“Then I see no harm in asking for his assistance for a short amount of time.”

Logan smiled. “I am sure living quarters in the palace would sweeten the deal for him. He has been residing in an inn since arriving.”

Bastian meshed his fingers and stretched them above his head. “What do those pages hold?”

Logan sat down again, sinking low in his chair. “Documents that require my signature or stamp of approval. I dare say my life has become an endless cycle of paperwork and decisions, but I think it has already begun.”

“Sounds like you are begging me for help,” Bastian laughed.

“You hate reading for more than a few minutes.”

“Yes, well the distraction would be welcome.”