Page 24 of The Divine Shallows
A look of morose shaded King Eamon’s visage. “His legacy shall not fade into oblivion. In his last moments, Lord Ewell expressed a dutiful wish for his legacy as protector of the realm to endure. Though he lived a long and illustrious life, he bore no heir. It was his desire to pass on his mantle to a successor deserving of this honor. Thus, I hereby bestow upon a worthy warlock the esteemed title of Commander of the Feyguard.”
The king’s proclamation resounded, “Let us celebrate the ascension of Eriden’s new Commander, Finnor Wynward! May he uphold the noble legacy forged by Lord Ewell and ensure the continued peace of our kingdom!”
Applause erupted throughout the banquet hall as Finnor graciously acknowledged the declaration before retaking his seat.
King Eamon raised his glass once more. “Let us revel in the riches we’ve reaped! Let the festivities of the Banquet of the Blessed unfold!”
With that, the string quartet launched into a lively tune, and the servant doors swung open on both sides of the hall. Kitchen staff emerged, carrying trays gilded with silver domes, which they presented to the seated guests. Gasps of delight filled the air as the domed trays were unveiled, revealing exquisitely plated dishes crafted from the finest ingredients. With the first course served, the guests indulged, and the hall buzzed with animated conversation.
Elowyn toyed with her food, her appetite seemingly vanished. Glancing to her left, she found Elyria and their mother deeply engaged in conversation, or rather, their mother was lecturing Elyria while she was forced to listen. Elowyn wouldn’t dare interrupt that.
Turning to her right, she wrinkled her nose as she observed Finnor devouring his meal with the voracity of a feral animal. “You must be famished,” she remarked.
Finnor didn’t spare her a glance as he replied matter-of-factly, “I haven’t had a proper meal in seven years.”
Realizing her comment might have sounded callous, Elowyn quickly amended, “Here, you can have mine.” She pushed her plate toward him. “Congratulations on your completion of the Trial and new role as Commander of the Feyguard.”
As Finnor reached for her plate, his hand halted abruptly. Swallowing his mouthful, he glanced at her briefly, his silver eyes widening in recognition before he swiftly wiped his mouth with a napkin. “No, I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to deprive you of your meal, Princess Elowyn. I apologize for my lack of manners; the aftershock of the Trial remains heavily on my mind.”
Elowyn offered him a tight-lipped smile. “Please, just call me Elowyn. Besides, I’m not particularly hungry, and I’d hate to see it go to waste.” Offering the plate back, she handed it directly to him.
For a moment, uncertainty flickered in Finnor’s eyes, but hunger won out. “Thank you, Princess,” he murmured, accepting the plate, and transferring its contents onto his own.
Elowyn laced her fingers under her chin and stared at the warlock, now curious. “If you don’t mind me asking, since Lord Ewell bore no sons or daughters, how exactly did he select you as his successor?”
A barrage of questions flooded Elowyn’s thoughts, but she cautioned herself to tread carefully around the newly marked divine warlock.
“Lord Ewell wasn’t bound to me by blood, but he was like to a second father to me,” Finnor replied.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Elowyn offered sincerely.
“It’s no matter. I was able to make my peace with it seven years ago before I crossed the Bridge Between Words. The last Sixth Day, LordEwell told me of the rare illness that afflicted him. The menders from the Healers Keep could do nothing for it… I knew he would pass during my time in the Trial. He revealed his plan to succeed his legacy to me upon my return as a divine warlock. His memory was the one thing that tethered me to Neramyr during the past seven years.”
Elowyn didn’t expect the candid response from Finnor. “That’s heartbreaking. I wish you could’ve had more time with him before his passing.”
“As do I, but the Moon Goddess determines the timeline of all fates. I often wonder if this hardship was also a part of her Trial for me,” Finnor murmured.
“You might be right,” Elowyn agreed with a half-hearted chuckle. “Enduring a cruel fate may be among one of her many tests.” She thought fleetingly of Elyria, born without the Goddess’ Mark, before swiftly changing the topic. “So, accepting the responsibility of being the newly appointed Commander of the Feyguard. That’s quite an undertaking.”
Finnor was nearly finished with his meal, scraping the last remnants onto his fork. “Yes, it is. I’ve wanted to serve the realm since I was a feyling.”
Elowyn recalled that the Fangwright warlock was of lowborn blood. For Finnor to have ascended into such a highly ranked position, along with becoming a divine fey, was an incredible feat for someone born with a commoner status such as his. His magic must be incredible. She questioned, “And how old are you now?”
“Thirty-four.” Finnor answered. In Neramyr, though rarely, the oldest fey could live into their thousandths if fate allowed.
“Really? You must have made quite an impression for my father to entrust you with such leadership at Lord Ewell’s behest,” Elowyn remarked.
Finnor nodded. “I first met Lord Ewell when my family moved into the inner districts of Eriden. We owned a renowned smithy in theoutskirts north of here, supplying weaponry exclusively for the kingdom, and at that time, we corresponded directly with Lord Ewell.”
He cleared his throat before continuing, “After some time at the forge, Lord Ewell persuaded me to join the cavalry of the Feyguard. Without his encouragement, I would have remained a simple blacksmith in the countryside. Though that life may have been straightforward, I wouldn’t have achieved the feats I have today—I always aspired to be more than just a blacksmith.”
Another group of kitchen stewards appeared, clearing their empty plates, and serving the next course. Elowyn extended her plate to Finnor, who accepted it graciously before resuming his narrative.
“After a few years in the cavalry, I was promoted to officer of my own unit. Eventually, Lord Ewell began inviting me to military councils held by the king, where I observed silently for years. Until one day, I spoke up on an issue, and to my surprise, the king was impressed with my suggestion. From that day on, your father acknowledged my potential.”
Finnor’s voice carried admiration as he spoke further, “King Eamon is a charitable ruler who values his kingdom and his folk above all. His Majesty was filled with pride when I was chosen by the Goddess as a divine candidate. If not for the generosity and opportunities he has offered me, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”
As Finnor continued speaking about her father, Elowyn’s aura became more reserved. If Finnor truly believed what he was saying about her father, he was deeply mistaken. She couldn’t help but wonder how many others her father had charmed into his good graces. Despite her reservations, she continued to listen to Finnor’s story about his life, offering him portions of her plate as he spoke. This went on for quite some time until the last dish was served.
