Praetorian Rising, стр. 101

Vesyon glanced at the heading again, wishing more than anything that he imagined the words as he read them:

The High Court cordially demands you attend the Thirteenth Aspera Munera Praetorian Trials.

"No," Vesyon said, resolutely slamming a palm on the marble banister. "I won't let him do this. If he's going to pull more innocent Asperians into the fight, then I'll go to the trials to challenge it."

"By yourself, hmm?" Langhorn said in a mocking jest.

"Don't be ridiculous, you know I can't take down the crown by myself," Vesyon shot back.

"Not all the men in Romeo Village are enough, Vesyon. We need to extend our reach into other territories outside our borders."

Vesyon grunted in response, slamming his pipe against the flattened expanse of his palm. "There's no one else besides Phillip's men that I am certain I can count on.  Those beyond the border would kill us just as quickly as they'd kill LeMarc. We have no allies."

"Oh posh," Langhorn snorted in response. "I know the old treaties would hold tight for those outside Aspera. Many remain loyal to the true heir, the rightful High King of the Five Shores!"

"Oh, dear Ma'Nada," Vesyon said on a sigh of exasperation. He'd heard the story so many times in his life that it'd become a joke how seriously some Asperians took it, including Langhorn. "Now is not the time for imaginary stories or make-believe. Don't you think 'the chosen one' story-line fated to lead the people to salvation is a bit old?" Taking in a deep breath of the crisp night air, Vesyon could taste the slight chill of blossoming winter. He felt the icy tendrils grip at his vocal chords, and it chilled him down to the bone.

Langhorn shook his head, his brows drawn together. "For a man so determined to live a life of freedom and happiness, you're sure going about it strangely. The prophecy lays out the truth my boy; the true born Lowenhaar will take the throne."

"Screw the prophecy, you old man. For all Aspera knows, LeMarc is a true born. He states that fact himself."

"Just because the High King says something is true, are you going to believe him?"

Vesyon stared daggers at Langhorn before relighting his pipe and taking an extra-long drag on the smoldering leaves. "It doesn't matter what I believe. The last thing Aspera needs is another heavy-handed ruler forcing his or her thoughts over this land. The people need freedom, Langhorn, and they want to have a voice. The prophecy you cling to is an old myth. Just a story to tell children at night to ensure hope exists. LeMarc is the High King. The only savior Aspera will have are those willing to fight against the crown, not some prophesied child born some sixty years ago. Aspera doesn't need to bow to yet another monarchy focused on its own agenda and not the true needs of the people."

"That crown is the only thing holding Aspera together," Langhorn said in a clipped tone as Vesyon snorted, sufficiently cutting him off.

"That's total hogwash. The people hold this land together."

"You forget that I was there. I saw when High King Lucas's brother Logan sent his wife Vivienne away from Alpha Quarter. I was the physician meant to help her through the birthing, but she abandoned her station before the child was due," Langhorn snapped back in a harsh whisper.

Vesyon shook his head in a wearisome way. "Yes, but you didn't. Vivienne disappeared, and she died along with her unborn child. There's no proof the heir is alive. There's no savior or chosen one. There will be an army of men and women, Praetorians and Rogues, that will fight to the death for the land and the life they deserve. We don't need a High King or Queen to lead us."

"And if you take LeMarc down, remove the monster from the throne, what then? Who will rule Aspera if not the heir to the crown?"

He didn't have an answer for that and hadn't allowed himself to think of what life would be once LeMarc was gone entirely. There was so little he did want, and in the smallest form, he was desperate for the pure simplicity of solitude. A moment’s peace living out his long days in White Wall in his old living quarters. It was an impossible dream, he knew that, but it was far more realistic to him than searching for the promised heir to take a crown they had no clue what to do with.

"I have no time to concern myself with what will come next. First, we must defeat a High King. When we win, the land and its people will decide on the structure of rule. I have nothing to do with what is decided. I'm promised to Camille and her safety, and I will live to serve her."

"Horse shiat!"

Vesyon's eyes blazed with anger as he whirled on the man. "You're out of line, old man!"

"No, you are! Do you have any idea what you're saying! Aspera needs a leader, a voice to lead them to victory. If not the heir to the throne, then an honorable Asperian to show them how to achieve what they are fighting for. You can't honestly think that existing fulfill a single promise you made many years ago is a life worth living. You are meant to lead."

"I don't want to be their leader," Vesyon replied curtly.

"Vesyon," Langhorn said, his tone soft and pleading. "You have to come to terms that Jesabelle is gone; she will never be with us again. I understand you made her a promise to protect Camille, but you can do more than that. You can protect Camille's future as well as her present. Both of you could live in peace. Is that not what you want for her?"

Vesyon ignored his words and hunched his shoulders in annoyance. "Aspera will find a way."

Langhorn snorted. "Say what you want, child, but once you remove one snake another will slithered into his place. Unless