Princes and King

As expected, the following weeks were intense. Jäwell learned how to be a leader, he learned how to be a commander, a prince, but he mostly spent his time struggling to learn how to read. Jäwell hated books more and more and Miroïr was amused to see his brother in such resistance to knowledge. 

They were sitting together for hours trying to figure out how to make Jäwell more receptive to the importance of reading but that was a lost cause. No matter how hard Miroïr was trying Jäwell always ended by going to train with his different swords. 

This day, Miroïr managed to keep him attentive longer, he was truly happy to see how his brother could focus for once. When he asked him a few questions about the text they had just worked on...

"…"

He realized that Jäwell fell asleep and, honestly, Miroïr couldn't tell for how long. He felt a wave of desperation in his heart. Jäwell must be a ruler and this included the knowledge of the decrees he was going to sign. He sat in front of his sleeping brother and took a deep breath.

Then, he heard a voice behind him, the voice was soft and nice. Strong and fragile. 

"You seem tired."

Miroïr turned on himself as he saw the amused expression of the King. He bowed in respect. 

Zarkhaïm was a very beautiful man, yet scary. Something in his allure was making everyone respect him out of fear. Miroïr was the inverse, his fragile and wicked appearance always pushed everyone to bully him. If it was not for Jäwell's strength, Miroïr would never make it to this age. He shook his head as he answered the king.

"It is fine, my brother just needs a bit more time and..."

The King came close to him and interrupted him.

"Come with me."

Miroïr followed, obediently as they went together in the gardens. Zarkhaïm stood in the middle of the inside court and pointed at a tower of the castle.

He was smiling all along, something warm was in his eyes as he was watching Miroïr.

"This tower," he said pointing in a direction, " would you like it? I can imagine you training mages inside. Our army would know no equal with men as powerful as you."

Miroïr felt his jaw dropping and his heart skipped a beat. He stared at the King in awe and didn't fully understand everything. His particular talents must remain hidden. Zarkhaïm stepped next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Miroïr felt the cold skin of the King through his shirt and it sent a shiver to him like death itself was embracing him. Zarkhaïm was very close to him at this moment. He approached his face next to him, almost like touching his cheek, his voice was deep and low, and Miroïr listened to him with admiration. 

"I believe in you." 

Miroïr was taken aback by this, he didn't understand why the King would be so kind to him. After the King left, Miroïr found himself touching his cheek unconsciously. He saw his hand trembling, but that was no fear. 

Miroïr quickly took his quarters in the tower and he felt home in no time. He gathered a little group of people with abilities and potential, and after only a month, the tower of the mages was a powerful institution at the service of the king.Even if the population didn't approve of such things and rumors spread, things were going as smoothly as they were planned.

Miroïr made a habit of going to the gardens, enjoying the quiet of the night and the scent of the flowers. For his greatest pleasure, he was sometimes joined by Zarkhaïm.

Miroïr was formal with him, he cared about etiquette, but the king was amused about his behavior. Miroïr bowed as usual as Zarkhaïm joined him that night.

"You don't need that with me," the king said in a soft voice.

Zarkhaïm was distant and very close at the time, Miroïr could never understand what his intentions were. He sat next to Miroïr on the stone bench. 

"People start to talk, they are scared. Tomorrow during the meeting I want you to come up with a solution to integrate the mages into the society publicly."

Miroïr listened to him carefully. He already thought about this issue, he already had planned a solution, and was waiting for an official meeting with Zarkhaïm and Jäwell to talk about it. Zarkhaïm had a smirk, in the darkness of the night, Miroïr had the sensation that the king's face enlightened suddenly.

"But I know you already have a plan, right?"

Miroïr was surprised, he nodded in silence. He didn't know how to react, it was like Zarkhaïm knew him more than himself. The King stood up, his long black cloak followed him, Miroïr watched him in awe, everything about Zarkhaïm at this moment seemed surreal. He almost raised his hand to touch him, but he stopped himself before reaching him. Zarkhaïm turned to Miroïr and smiled at him with a warm smile.

"I will see you tomorrow then, I cannot wait to hear what you will tell us."

Zarkhaïm walked away slowly, disappearing in the shadows. Miroïr stayed there, on the bench. As he watched the King leaving, he whispered mostly to himself.

"Thank you for believing in me." 

The next day during the meeting, Miroïr presented his idea. 

If the country was globally at peace, there were attacks very often at the border and the villages around were not protected. Miroïr had the idea to work on a magical shield that would protect every non-armed person. This way, civilians could be spared. That was a massive project. By protecting the civilians, Miroïr was sure that the population would be more open to the idea of having mages among them. 

If the generals thought this was ridiculous as they didn't believe in this kind of power, they had no choice but to accept the proposition. Whether they liked it or not, Jäwell and Zarkhaïm supported Miroïr.