Chapter Text
When Ryan first heard the sound, he thought it was coming through his headphones. He ripped them out with a pained gasp just in time to hear Michael yelling unintelligibly at Gavin. The noise didn’t stop. Ryan looked up to see what was going on and saw Gavin on the floor, covering his ears and cowering. Something was very wrong.
Jack and Jeremy were both out of the office, Jeremy kidnapped by Animation for voice work and Jack was running late coming back from a meeting. It was just the four of them in the room, so it was unlikely to be a prank. He hadn’t done anything, Michael was moving to stand protectively over Gavin while still yelling and cursing in what sounded less like a show and more like genuine panic. And Geoff…
It was Geoff’s silence that had Ryan on his feet before things actually got fucked up. He still froze when Gavin screamed for Michael though. As if it weren’t enough that Ryan had never heard Gavin sound like that before and it twisted every bit of empathy he had against him, making him feel suddenly ill. It also unbalanced his sense of reality. Michael had just been there. Ryan had seen him. He’d been checking on Gavin, standing over him like he could bodily shield him from the painful noise and now...it was like he’d done just that. If Ryan were relying on just his senses in the moment, he would deny Michael had even just been in the room.
Gavin screamed Michael’s name again, and Geoff started toward him. Alarm bells went off in Ryan’s mind instantly. Gavin had gone down first, and Michael had tried to protect him. Now Michael was gone. Geoff was moving toward Gavin…
Ryan didn’t even process his thoughts as words before he stepped into Geoff’s path. His heart was pounding and it was a miracle he managed the firm, calm sounding “Geoff, go.” Geoff made a sharp, high pitched noise of disbelief followed by several unintelligible syllables that contained both his and Gavin’s names and several attempts at multiple curse words. “Please.” Ryan said, unable to articulate further. Then Gavin’s voice cut off mid word.
Ryan didn’t even have to turn around to know he’d vanished without a trace just like Michael. It was fucking impossible but it was the new reality he had to adapt to. That he had to protect himself and Geoff from. With the screaming gone, suddenly the horrific, cutting noise that had started everything was so much louder and Geoff just breathlessly demanded “What the fuck, Ryan?”
“I didn’t…” he began, then he steeled himself and caught his boss by the shoulder, turning him and pushing him hard toward the door. “We don’t have time for this!” Ryan didn’t know what was happening, but that much was sure. All he knew was they were in emergency mode. Except the push read as a shove and Ryan hadn’t ever seen Geoff move like that, turning back to face him and closing distance with a hard shove of his own.
Ryan was already stepping back to minimize the force of the shove. He didn’t even think about what was happening behind him, it was a literal impossibility how could he possibly think about it? So Geoff’s hand was the last real thing he felt for several seconds before all of existence seemed to just be swept away in a bright white flash. He could still see Geoff, fractured, parts of the office his back had been to in perfect clarity with parts of vision he shouldn’t have. Then the outside of the office in some spaces as fragments winked into and out of plausibility. Ryan closed his eyes, stomach twisting. Generally, he liked a much more structured relationship with reality then this. Between the simple horror of that ear-splitting sound, two people and presumably himself vanishing, and the personal horror of the way Geoff had looked at him just then… some distant part of Ryan’s mind that managed to remain analytical asked if this was the first time he could properly use the word ‘Horrified’ to describe his condition without it being overstatement.
The sinking realization struck him how what he’d done must’ve looked. No wonder Geoff pushed him, he’d gotten between Geoff and Gavin while Gavin was in danger. Geoff and Gavin were genuinely like family. Ryan scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair squeezing his eyes shut and hoping desperately that Geoff would be more forgiving of a move like that then Ryan suspected he himself would be. The best case scenario was that this wasn’t a real emergency, and over time it would become the kind of grudge that grew into a joke. Just like the million and one horrible things he’d done to all of them in games that were justified because he was a rational, and therefore frequently awful, person.
Ryan finally opened his eyes again to find himself in a bedroom. A luxurious one, bordering on creepy. Four-poster canopy bed with thick, dark drapes. The walls were a dark polish wood, the floor half covered by an expensive looking embroidered midnight blue rug that matched the drapes on the bed and windows. The furniture, including the bed, a wardrobe, and a desk were similar dark colored wood, slightly darker even, than the walls. The doorway was rounded, the lighter brown door was heavy, and located opposite the foot of the bed. The single shaft of light from through the window made the whole room seem dramatic, full of shadows and beautiful in a way that Ryan might actually enjoy if he’d been presented with it in any other context.
Ryan approached the rooms single lightsource first, a simple circle cut through layers of wood paneling and stone. Outside he could see a fairly expansive garden, neat rows stretching all along a stone wall down to and around a distant corner. Beyond that, an elegant metal fence separated the garden from what could only be a training arena. Dozens of men in full platemail standing in rows as neat as the garden plants moving in perfect unison of carefully practiced strikes and blocks.
“...the hell?” he whispered. Ryan stepped away from the window and turned to cross toward the desk. It seemed intricately designed and held about half a dozen books or so shelved against its far back. The small window didn’t provide nearly enough light to read by in this dark room, so Ryan just pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the candle the desk provided. The glow was enough that he could make out the titles of the books.
A brief history of Wheyla.
Ruling by the will of the gods.
Household Spellwork.
Combat magic.
An Atlas of the Continent.
Ryan stopped reading the book titles and instead picked up the candle to walk to the door. Even though it appeared to be daylight Ryan didn’t know what the lighting levels in the hall would be. The door, it turned out, was locked. He wiggled the heavy wood for a moment before spotting the bolt near the top of the door and pulling it. Under the noise from playing with a lock, Ryan thought he heard footsteps outside the door.
So once he pulled the door open, the presence of two fully armed guards wasn’t as surprising as it should have been. The surprise was the shock on their faces as they trained their weapons on the door. Ryan lifted his hands, carefully showing that one hand was holding a table candle and the other was completely empty.
“Hi!” he greeted, feeling instantly stupid as their already shocked expressions grew startled, but neither guard lowered their sword. Deflating slightly, Ryan spoke a bit more carefully. “...I mean no harm, I’m as confused as you are. There’s no need for sharp things.” He was dangerously close to the line of just talking to talk so he shut up. To his surprise it worked and both guards lowered their swords, but kept them at the ready. Neither spoke, and tension settled over the situation.
It was broken by the approach of another man, flanked by another pair of armed guards. This man wasn’t in armor, instead wearing a long sleeved ankle-length robe made of silver cloth. He had thin, white hair and the robe seemed to almost hide a body that was just as thin and white. About a days worth of grey stubble was on the old man’s cheeks and he stopped suddenly as he reached the doorway.
His eyes were very blue.
A beat after locking eyes with the old man, the old man dropped. Ryan started to step forward to catch him until he realized it was a controlled fall, just to one knee. The old man looked down and spoke breathlessly. “Your Majesty. You’ve returned.”
Well this was obviously a dream. Ryan had always imagined a dream of being returned royalty would provide more information. Except the candle had weight in his hand. The moment still felt awkward, he was unprepared. Concluding that if this were a dream, he had complete control over it, Ryan started with a small test. He focused his will on the candle for a beat, then let go of it. He tried to convince his expectations that it would just stay there, hovering mid-air where he’d left it.
Impossibly, it did. For barley a second before crashing suddenly to the floor. Luckily the drop put out the small flame. Ryan took a mostly involuntarily step back, staring. He wasn’t sure if that meant it wasn’t a dream...it had seemed to...maybe he was imagining that. Regardless, he didn’t have full control over everything. Whether this meant the situation wasn’t a dream, or just that Ryan was particularly bad at lucid dreaming he didn’t know.
Either way, he was not prepared for this situation. So he did the only thing he could think to do. Ryan slammed the door in their faces. The heavy wood pushed the candle out of the room and Ryan quietly cursed that bad decision. Then he made his way to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to think through what had happened. What was happening.
There were soft voices outside the door for several moments. Then silence, followed by a hard knock on the door. “Your majesty I apologize for invading your privacy.” the old man called through the door. “...but we have much to discuss.” Ryan didn’t answer, and made no move to open the door. He hoped that if he ignored him long enough the old man would just go away and leave Ryan to explore in peace.
Instead, the door was pushed open a beat later, and the old man walked in, unaccompanied. He replaced the candle on the desk and turned to stare at Ryan. “...you’ve changed so much…” he said after a breath. Ryan sucked in a breath through his teeth, bracing to explain that there had to be a case of mistaken identity. “...yet so little…” the old man added. Ryan deflated again in the face of his awe. How do you tell a little old man in a shiny nightgown who looked like he might cry that he was wrong about who you are when some egotistical part of you isn’t even sure that he is? “I’m sorry.” the man said finally “I shouldn’t expect you to remember me. My name is Ivan, and I am the only man left in the capitol who remembers your last reign. I was only a boy though. I’d been brought from the west, near the border, to study with the palace healers. Today I’m the head sorcerer in the capitol. We only met once…” the steady, careful voice became momentarily wistful “...but I could never forget your eyes.”
“Look…” Ryan interjected, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. “...a lot of people’s eyes are this color…”
Ivan smirked and turned his head so his own pale blue eyes caught the stream of light from the window. “Myself included.” he interrupted. “So clearly, your majesty, I do not simply mean color.” Ryan went silent. Ivan continued “...kindness...darkness...mischief…it’s rare to see such a delicate balance in one man.”
Ryan made a slight disagreeing sound. He’d met dozens if not hundreds of people who balanced those traits and more as well if not better then him. ...the majority of his co-workers for starters. Not to mention he wasn’t sure how that could all be seen by looking in his eyes. “I’m...not so sure about that…” he started.
“Of course not.” Ivan interrupted. “You were always too humble for your own good. But tell me this. If you are not the prophesied return of our king, how did you come to be in his chambers, which have been locked from the inside for more than half a century?”
Ryan didn’t have an answer for that.
“I thought as much.” Ivan continued, smugly. “Now...I take it from your doubt you remember nothing of your rule?”
“...that’s correct.” Ryan relented, deflating in his seat. “How is that possible?”
“Presumably? Reincarnation.” Ivan answered honestly. “While the Kings passing was largely concealed it has been long assumed.”
“Hold on” Ryan interjected. “If I'm the reincarnation of your king....who’s been ruling my whole life?”
“A council of Lords.” Ivan answered. “One from each of your territories.”
“They’re not going to be happy about this, are they?”
“Why would they ever not welcome...” Ivan started, a bit too grandly. Then he sighed. “Unfortunately, you are clever as always, your majesty. Too clever, even. They'll be most disappointed with their inability to simply use you as a pawn. It may cause some unrest.”
“So...wouldn’t it be better if I just...didn’t return? Keep all of this quiet and just...pretend it never happened?” Ryan tried. He was still skeptical enough that rocking the boat over minimal evidence seemed pretty stupid.
Ivan smiled sadly, and missed the point entirely. “While that may be safest for you, unfortunately there has been tensions between the territories. Your return may be just what is needed to stop a brewing civil war.”
“Or cause one” Ryan mumbled, mostly to himself. “Look, I'm. I am honestly flattered by all of this but… I'm not even convinced of all this. How do we convince a group of Lords that have everything to gain from the King...never returning?”
The old sorcerer seemed amused. “Please, your majesty. Who do you take yourself for? Your crown has long been spelled to rest on no head but your own.”
Ryan startled “...and what does it do to...people who aren’t...me?” He asked, hesitantly.
“To them? To...oh. Oh no. No one places the crown. It goes to the rightful king. The moment you take the throne, the crown will find your head.” Ryan stared at Ivan in open disbelief. “...you think this is the first time you’ve been reincarnated, your majesty? Although, it is the first time you’ve passed without leaving an heir to give us a ruling line in your absence.”
Ryan took a moment to try to let the information settle. He breathed out a long sigh and fidgeted with his hands and knees. He was slowly reaching the conclusion that this was all just a dream. What else could explain all of this? It was a little wild, and detailed, for a dream though. “You know...ten minutes ago I was in a country that doesn’t even have a king? This is a lot to take in.”
Ivan stood at that. “I’m sorry, your majesty. Here.” He pulled three of the books from the back of the desk and laid them flat beside each other. Then flipped through each. Little flares of light surprised Ryan and he stood and moved behind Ivan to see what was happening. As the sorcerer flipped through the books every so often he would lightly tap a page and a white glow would ripple out from his fingertips for a moment then fade. Casual magic. A convincingly subtle display. Ivan finished up and turned to him. “I’ll leave you to your studies. I’ve marked these books so they’ll naturally open to the most relevant passages.” He smiled gently and put a hand on Ryan’s elbow. Ryan tensed, and Ivan squeezed in an attempt at being reassuring. It was a more familiar gesture then he’d have expected. Then he realized that the way Ivan looked at him wasn’t unlike how some fans did. Total admiration only understated by force of will. It was less than comfortable, and more than ever Ryan felt completely undeserving. It wasn’t even really him Ivan had known… “Take your time. It’s a lot to take in. Just know...you are our king and I and everyone in the castle will stand by that. And you.” another squeeze, then Ivan let go and slipped between him and the desk away toward the door. “There’s a guard posted, for your safety. Inform them if you wish to speak further and one of them will fetch me.”
Ivan knocked at the heavy door rather than opening it himself. While Ryan understood that it was probably because he was an old man and too frail to handle such a heavy door, the way an armed guard opened the door from the outside to let Ivan out, then shut it again without a word did nothing to help with the sinking feeling that he was trapped. Another deep breath later and Ryan actually walked over to lay down on the bed, hoping his mind would catch up to the events so far.
First of all… how much of this actually made sense? The answer was none. It was all absolutely ridiculous. Suddenly transported by, apparently magic? Which just didn’t exist. Into, what, another world? Parallel universe? Ryan realized suddenly that he had huge gaps in his understanding of where exactly he was. He could probably remedy that with the books Ivan had picked out for him. Then the paranoid question of whether or not he could trust books that appear in a scenario this ridiculous to not be equally ridiculous.
The truth was, piece by piece, a lot of this could be fake. An elaborate practical joke. Some fans or someone at work or both. There was probably a hidden camera somewhere in the room. Except for a couple things. The easy way Ivan had used magic, off the top of his head Ryan couldn’t think of a way to have faked that light effect with the touch of the fingers. Not one that wouldn’t leave evidence at least. He hadn’t checked for evidence yet though, and wasn’t sure he would. It had felt like magic. Ryan’s instincts were directly contradicting his rationality and it made him want to scream. He didn’t.
Instead he just pulled the quilted blanket tight around his shoulders and pushed his head into the pillows, pulling in on himself as he replayed everything that had happened. Forget Ivan’s little lightshow, how could someone have faked that fractured view with impossible angles? There were ways, of course, but nothing so seamless, and the expense for anything close would be prohibitive. Not to mention the worst part.
Michael and Gavin had just vanished. It was impossible but it had happened, and he could only hope that meant they were somewhere here. In this...Kingdom? World? The vague thought that he could leverage whatever power he had as the supposed returned king to help find them was more than outweighed by the risks of impersonating royalty. What would they do when the crown didn’t come to him? He supposed he could ask...there were too many variables. Despite Ivan’s kindness Ryan couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something of a minefield. Which of course cycled back to nearly a much concern for Michael and Gavin as for himself. If he was struggling he couldn’t imagine how they were doing. Then again, bullshitting was a special talent of Michaels, so if their situations even remotely paralleled his, they were probably fine.
Once he’d spent what felt like hours arguing out everything he knew in his head, Ryan got up and sat down at the desk. It was hard to focus on the words by candlelight. Eventually he found that Ivan had apparently marked a passage on the rites of kingship. Supposedly, the same man and his chosen successors had ruled for over a thousand years. The crown had been enchanted to recognize this mans presence on the throne. Ryan read a few pages past where the book had opened easily to initially and had found an account of an early conqueror-king who had apparently driven monsters out of a whole list of small nations and city-states and had demanded kingship in exchange, going so far as to completely wipe out populations that refused long enough. It sat a little strangely in Ryan’s gut, perhaps the worst that despite the book treating it as the tactics of a brutal conqueror, he saw kindness in the number of chances given each time. Not genuine kindness of course, but the sort of kindness one might temper a hard sort of ambition with. Small mercies that let murderers call themselves good men.
He flipped to the next magically marked page in the first book and found an entire chapter titled simply “The Provinces of Wheyla.” Apparently there were seven of them. The Capitol, both the city and its surrounding lands, were considered a province to itself. Meer, in the north, was the source of most of the metalwork in the kingdom, Niphodia in the east provided most of the luxury and beyond it Natton was some sort of religious center. Kelwhisper in the west, Coleco in the south, and Linnea in the northeast all...did something but Ryan found his eyes starting to strain from reading in the candlelight. Closing the first book Ryan waited a while before resuming. This time moving on to the second book. In all honesty he wasn’t too keen on the idea of being left alone with his thoughts right now. Too much had happened and he was being overloaded with information.
The second book was a spellbook, and Ivan had marked it to a household spell for lighting a room. He read it over more than once, curiousity growing. Ivan hadn’t mentioned whether the king could do magic or not. Although leaving him books and marking a page to light the room seemed to correlate. One thing for sure, if he tried and it worked that’d be pretty definitive proof it was all real. If he couldn’t, well, he was back to square one. Reading the discription Ryan wasn’t sure what or where the light source would be. As he started to feel uneasy about possible effects instead he took a moment to gather himself.
Three things happened at once as he finished reading the incantation aloud. The first was a sudden brightness that flooded the room. It was like someone had flipped on a lightswitch, and Ryan could now see the deep reds in the wood of the furniture and the texture of the walls. The second was an instant sensation of exhaustion that washed over him. It felt like overexertion settled on him in the space of a second. The third was he noticed the recommendation at the bottom of the page to use a focus tool, like a crystal or a wand for the spell. So apparently, that had been really stupid.
Ryan was pretty sure the book hit the floor when he stood up and pushed himself forward to fall on the bed. He managed to roll over just enough that his feet weren’t dangling off before he dropped off to sleep in a weird diagonal position across the bed. In the moment just before consciousness faded he noticed the room go dark again. Like a fridge light. The unbidden parallel was the last waking thought he had before passing out completely.
He didn’t quite remember his dreams when he woke, not entirely. Little details stuck. The weight of a crown on his head and a thick cloak on his back. A sword in his hand. It was nothing that couldn’t have been drawn from his career as an entertainer. No doubt he was just trying to process everything that had happened in the last...hour...before he’d gone to sleep. It was darker now than it had been earlier, and Ryan glanced toward the window to confirm the sun had gone down. He heard movement on the opposite side of the bed.
Ryan sat up suddenly. The boy crouching by the fireplace beside the desk jumped to his feet, equally if not more startled. Honestly he couldn’t have been more than fifteen, with messy hair and awkward limbs. “What…” he started.
The boy dropped to one knee and interrupted “I’m sorry your majesty! I was just lighting a fire to warm your room for the night.” he sounded terrified, and for an instant Ryan had to wonder what sort of man their King had been to inspire so much fear with barely any interaction. What sort of man, apparently he, had been?
He pushed the thought away and shook his head. “It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting anyone.” the boy seemed to tremble a moment and shifted slightly and Ryan turned to sit on the edge of the bed. “It’s alright.” he repeated “Really. I’m sorry for startling you.” The boy shifted nervously and Ryan sighed. “And for interrupting. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.”
“Thank you, your majesty.” the boy got back to his feet and went back to the fireplace.
“Thank you.” Ryan answered. He watched for a moment as the boy set about lighting a fire and started to ask “What time…” then realized how useless knowing what time it was now without knowing what time he got here. Besides, he could estimate the time from the light levels. The boy glanced to him and Ryan felt strangely compelled to ask...something. “...So it’s been a pretty exciting day around here, I take it?”
“Oh yes.” he agreed eagerly “Everyone is excited about your return.” He paused a beat, then added “your Majesty” in a rush, a panicked afterthought.
Ryan shook his head. “You don’t...need to call me that every single sentence. You don’t really need to call me that at all.” He paused, then added “I’m not even sure what I should call you.”
“My name’s Kyle, your…” he cut off suddenly and offered a tiny “um…” before repeating “I’m Kyle.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Kyle.” Ryan answered, smiling. A moment later a fire roared to life in the fireplace and Kyle stood and backed away, gathering his tools to take away with him. “Thank you.” Ryan repeated.
“Of course.” Kyle responded, turning and bowing at the waist to him. Ryan wasn’t sure if he could get use to that or not. “Would you like dinner to be brought to you or to eat downstairs?”
That was an easy enough answer. “I’ll eat downstairs.” because if he ate here it would start to feel like he was trapped. Ryan needed to explore a little bit. “Actually, if you have time, would you mind showing me around?”
Kyle hesitated a moment. Then nodded “I’d be happy to, your Majesty.”
“You don't have to.” Ryan clarified quickly.
The smile that broke across Kyle's face was genuine, and full of affection. “I’d love to. Really.” and Ryan couldn't help but grin back. The boy jumped forward and pushed open the heavy door with noticeable strain. Then he held it and called “Ready when you are, your majesty.” So so Ryan stood up and followed him.
Walking past armed guards in full plate mail, portraits of what he could only assume was past royalty, walking on soft carpet through what seemed to be simple luxury, Ryan gradually began feeling underdressed. Jeans and a t-shirt weren't the best outfit for a castle tour. Not too long after that Ryan concluded that being shown around wasn't all that useful. He was pretty sure between the random turns the halls took and the winding staircases that he wouldn’t be able to find his way back without guidance.
He couldn't help but notice the castle was spotless. The whole place was cleaner then he’d expected given their king had been away for half a century. Worn armor displays were polished to shine despite their obvious use, a theme that echoed across almost every detail of the castle.
Kyle did his best to explain which wings and rooms were used for what but it was far too much to take in all at once. Finally, he was dropped off in the dining hall. A long table of the same wood as his bed sat in the center of the richly decorated room. Kyle pulled the chair at the head of the table for him and Ryan sat.
“Dinner will be served shortly. I'll tell Ivan you're here. He was hoping to introduce you to the castle council.” And with that the young man rushed off. Ryan was yet again alone with his thoughts for a moment.
Whatever had had happened that morning at work, it has thrown Ryan into an all too real experience. More and more, dismissing it felt wrong. This was his reality now, and he had a lifetime of catching up to do.
The woman who walked in first looked to be nearly in her mid fifties. She carried the weight of a slowing metabolism and had red hair with grey coming in at the roots done up in a braid crown. Ivan followed, on the arm of a much younger man with dark hair who wore a shirt with an emblem of some sort emblazoned on the chest. The thin sandy blond young man who followed them had an arm around the waist of a girl who seemed barely in her twenties, wearing a simple dress and a timid expression.
The two women sat to his immediate right, the blond man just beyond them. Ivan and then his escort to the left. Ivan was the first to speak “Your majesty, I'd like to introduce Melanie, head of castle staff.” The older woman inclined her head toward him. “Lady Sylvia, city peacekeeper.” Ryan glanced with surprise at the younger woman. She smiled shyly at him and ducked her head. For someplace so midevil seeming there was more gender equality in roles then Ryan had expected. Not to mention the fact that this girl hardly seemed the type to wield much authority. Of course, it wasn't fair to make assumptions given the circumstance. “...and Lord Cameron of the Wheyla council, and of course, General Brett, commander of all the armies of Wheyla.”
“Indirectly.” Brett was the first besides Ivan to speak, correcting the old sorcerer with a fond expression. He looked to Ryan, warmth fading from his expression some as he explained “I’m in command of the castle guard and the troops of the Capitol. In military council I outrank my fellow generals from the other provinces, and in wartime I could issue them orders if necessary.” He glanced back to Ivan then met Ryan's gaze again, now with that warm smile again “Thankfully, that's been unnecessary since the early days of your previous reign, your majesty. We are, officially, in peacetime.”
“You’d never know it to hear Lord Ian talk.” Cameron mumbled. Followed by “My apologies, your majesty.”
Ryan shook his head “No, no, go ahead. I'm still learning.”
“Kelwhisper doesn't believe in peacetime.” Melanie bust out suddenly.
“Sure they do.” Brett answered, voice light. “Peacetime in Kelwhisper is when you carry a dagger in your boot instead of a sword on your hip.” A ripple of laughter went up around the table. Then Brett glanced to Ryan again. “My apologies, your Majesty. We sometimes make jokes at the expense of other provinces.”
Ryan shook his head dismissively. “Nothing to apologize for.”
It was strange how four words could completely change the atmosphere somewhere. Instantly, the five others seemed more relaxed. Conversation picked up and Ryan found it easy to ask questions when he needed. Soon he found it even easier to glean information from conversation. Some things fit together in a way that he began to make more and more accurate assumptions, that he confirmed with questions and was rarely wrong. It was easy enough to ignore how unsettling that was, how much it seemed to prove that he was some sort of reincarnated king whose memories were returning.
For now, he was just playing a role. Nothing more.
The meal was simpler then he expected, but plenty. Roasted chicken. Root vegetables hurriedly cooked in the drippings. Bread and butter so good Ryan almost filled up on that before thinking to take an extra serving of meat and vegetables. Melanie tried to apologize for the sparseness of the meal and brought up “a proper feast in a few days time…” and Ryan instantly set to reassuring her it was more than enough. About an hour into the meal, Ryan heard the buzz of voices in the next room and leaned far enough to catch a glimpse through a door left cracked open of several of the servers who’d brought dinner settling in for food of their own.
After dinner, Melanie led a small army of servers to clear the table and Brett offered to escort Ryan back to his room. Ryan tried to ignore the way the parting touch between the General and the old Sorcerer lingered. Whatever was between them wasn’t exactly his business although he was certainly in a phase of accumulating information.
At his bedroom door, Ryan turned to Brett and asked simply “...are you completely convinced I’m the returned King?”
Brett considered the question with a shift of his jaw, a flash of an expression just shy of a pout. Then he commented “An imposter would be too afraid of losing my confidence to even raise the question.” then the soldier rested a hand on Ryan’s arm, and reassured. “Your lack of memories is understandable. Even historically consistent with several of your incarnations. We have more evidence than usual though...The court sorcerer is the only one left alive who knew the old King, and well” he smiled suddenly, a wolfs smile. “If you’re tricking Ivan, the crown will reveal it. And I’ll be waiting to find out how you managed.”
The way General Brett clapped Ryan’s arm had the appearance of friendliness when Ryan could tell it was anything but. Ryan knew a threat when he heard one, and as Brett walked away, Ryan was left to conclude that had been a threat.
Newly motivated to get a concrete answer one way or another about all this, Ryan returned to the books at his desk. The bedroom was warmer than it had been earlier now, and lit by the low-glowing fire. Ryan adapted to reading by candlelight and stayed up well into the night studying this culture. Searching for any explanation as to what had happened to him, to the others, and anything to prove or disprove their wild claims.
Ryan just knew he could not sit on that throne unless he knew for sure.