A March of Kings - By Morgan Rice Page 0,57
he would ambush Thor and finish him off. He was assured that Thor would not return.
When Thor and Kendrick were out of the way, he would turn to Gwendolyn. She, too, posed a threat. After all, his father’s last wish was for her to rule. As long as she was alive, the possibility of revolt lingered.
Finally, most importantly, was the one issue that loomed on his mind most: the Dynasty Sword. Would he attempt to wield it? If he could, it would set him apart from every MacGil king that had ever ruled. It would make all the people love him, for all time. It would mean that he was the chosen one, the one destined to rule. It would validate him, and it would secure his throne forever. Gareth had dreamt his whole life of the moment when he would wield it, from the time he was a boy. A part of him felt certain that he could.
Yet another part of him was not so sure.
The door to his chamber suddenly barged open, and Gareth turned, wondering who could be so impudent as to barge in on the king. His face fell as he saw that it was Firth, strutting in past the guards, who gave Gareth a befuddled look. Firth had grown too brazen since Gareth had become crowned—he acted as if he ruled the kingdom with him. Gareth resented him barging in like this, and wondered if he had made a mistake in elevating him, in making him his adviser. Yet at the same time, he had to admit that he was happy to see him. A part of him was tired of being alone. And he hardly knew who he could be friends with, now that he was King. He seemed to have isolated everyone in his life.
Gareth nodded to the guards, who closed the door behind Firth. Firth crossed the room, and embraced Gareth. He leaned back and tried to kiss him, but Gareth turned away.
Gareth wasn’t in the mood for him. He’d interrupted his thoughts.
Firth looked hurt, but then quickly smiled.
“My Liege,” he said, stretching out the word. “Don’t you love being called that? It’s so becoming of you!” Firth clapped his hands in delight. “Can you believe it? You are King. Thousands of subjects stand waiting for your every beck and call. There is nothing we cannot do!”
“We?” Gareth asked, darkly.
Firth hesitated.
“I mean…you, my lord. Can you imagine? Anything you want. Right now, everyone awaits your decision.”
“Decision?”
“About the sword,” Firth said. “The whole kingdom is whispering. That’s all they’re talking about. Will you attempt to wield it?”
Gareth studied him. Firth was more perceptive than he thought; maybe it was good having him as an adviser.
“And what would you suggest I do?”
“You have to do it! If you don’t, you will be perceived as too weak to even try. They will assume that means you are not meant to be king. Because, in their eyes, if you truly felt entitled, then you would certainly try to hoist it.”
Gareth thought about that. There was some truth to his words. Maybe he was right.
“Besides,” Firth said, smiling, coming up beside him, linking arms and walking with him towards the window. “You are meant to be king. You are the one.”
Gareth turned and looked at him, already feeling aged.
“No I’m not,” he said, honestly. “I took the throne. It was not handed to me.”
“That does not mean you’re not meant to have it,” Firth said. “We are only given what we are meant to have in this life. For some, destiny is handed to them; others need to take it for themselves. That makes you greater, my lord, not lesser. Think about it,” he said, “you’re the only MacGil to have taken a throne, who didn’t sit back and have it lazily handed to him. Does that mean something to you? It does to me. To me, it means that you, and you alone of all the MacGils are the one meant to wield the sword, to rule forever. And if you do, just imagine: all the peoples, from all corners of the Ring and beyond will bow down to you, forever. You will unite the Ring. No one would ever doubt your legitimacy.”
Firth turned and looked at him, his eyes shining with excitement and anticipation.
“You have to try!”
Gareth pulled away from Firth, crossing the room. He thought about it, wanting to take it all in. Firth had a point. Maybe he was destined to be king.