When the Igwe's head finally drooped and the musicians' playing grew sloppy, he rose from his seat.None of the Ameachi nobles noticed; they were too far gone.His men noted his movement but didn't stir, trained to wait for explicit orders.
Thane fell into step beside him as he exited the hall.
"Just a walk," Ragnar said quietly."I need air."Only then did the footsteps behind him stop, allowing him some time alone.
The gardens of the Ameachi palace were extensive, designed to impress visitors with their scale and cultivation.Paths wound between flowering bushes and ornamental trees, past small streams and artificial ponds where sapphire fish swam, scales reflecting the moonlight on the water surface.
Ragnar walked in silence, letting the cool night air clear the smoke of the hall from his lungs.He rounded a corner and found he was not alone.
A man sat on a stone bench beside a small pond, his back to him, his posture one of deep contemplation.He turned to face him; the moonlight caught his features.He was younger than the Okpalaeze, softer in the jaw.The Third Prince, if Ragnar remembered correctly.The one who'd spoken the least and drunk the most.
"Great Khan," the prince said, rising with a slight bow."I hope I'm not intruding.The gardens are usually empty at this hour."
Ragnar raised a brow, not even a hint of instability in the prince’s posture.
"You didn't drink tonight?"
He wondered if the cups he downed were simply full of water.
"Neither did you."
The corner of Ragnar's mouth twitched.“From my understanding, the Third Prince is a frivolous scholar whose heart belongs to wine and the Four Arts.”
The prince frowned, and Ragnar continued.
“It seems the rumours were exaggerated.”
The boy held both hands behind his back, straightening his shoulders as he spoke."My father thinks me a dreamer lost in old stories and useless legends.He's not wrong."The prince crossed the distance between them, close enough for conversation but not so close as to threaten."But dreamers tend to be blessed with foresight.”
Ragnar held no particular interest in their conversation, but the prince’s approach to getting his attention was refreshing."What legends interest a prince of Ameachi?"
The younger man was quiet for a moment, watching the water."Have you heard of Methuselah, Great Khan?"
The name stirred something in Ragnar's memory."I've heard the name."
"Everyone has; the village children recount the old stories under odara trees at night."The prince's voice took on the cadence of a storyteller, someone who had repeated these words many times in the privacy of his own mind."Methuselah was the first human king in the Era of Djinn.Not the first ruler; there were chieftains and warlords before him.But the firstking."
Ragnar waited for him to continue.
"He spoke to Titans; he raised them—the Titans—from their eternal slumber and bound them to his will."
"Titans are simply children's stories."Ragnar's voice was flat.
"I suppose."The prince met his gaze, and there was something knowing in those young eyes."But don't you find it strange?Every tribe has their legend of the Old Ones.Tarsyn has the Ekesi Akilli; the Grass Sea has the birds under Zephyr’s grace.The Bacchalia has the legend of Behemoth.How is it that around the world, there are accounts of Titans?Is it simply a coincidence?"
Ragnar's jaw tightened.
"Do not be angered by my words, Great Khan; I am making an observation."The prince turned back to the water."Contrary to popular belief, Methuselah wasn't a conqueror.That's what everyone misunderstands.The title 'King of Kings' doesn't mean he ruled over other rulers.It means he made them.He took chieftains and elevated them to kings.He took warlords and gave them kingdoms.Every royal line in Oblivia traces back to him in some way."
"A kingmaker."
"Yes."The prince smiled."A kingmaker.The only human ever to speak with Titans and live.The only one who could raise them.When he died, he was so beloved by them that Enoch himself took his body away, and no one knows where he is buried.The greatest Titan to ever live loved him so much as to personally bury his body."
Silence fell between them, broken only by the soft splash of fish and the distant strains of music from the hall.
Ragnar studied the young prince, finding the boy’s intentions murky."Why tell me this?"
The prince hummed."The idea of king as we—mortals—know it is inherently different from how the gods see it.Do you know of the divine right of kings, Great Khan?"
