Thomas Langton and King Liam

Reflections by the Lake

The lake behind the estate was still, its surface glassy beneath the pale morning sky. @King Liam of Thelidor sat on a carved stone bench, a book open in his lap. His brow furrowed as he read, lips moving silently. Thelidorian guards stood at a respectful distance, their armor catching the light like quiet sentinels.

@Thomas Langton stood nearby, his staff resting against his shoulder, eyes drifting toward the horizon—toward @Delia, where the regency council whispered and weighed.

"They all say different things," Liam said, not looking up. "Some lords say I should be a fighter. Others say I should be generous. Another says legacy is everything."

Thomas stepped closer. "What do you think?"

Liam frowned. "I don’t know. I want to be good. But I don’t know what good is."

Thomas sat beside him, silent for a moment. Then he pointed to the lake.

"See the trees? The hills?"

Liam nodded.

"Those aren’t really trees and hills. They’re reflections. Images of the truth."

Thomas lifted the veil from his shoulder and held it up blocking the view of the horizon, leaving only the reflections of the lake.

"Most of the time, you’ll only see the reflections. You might never see the truth itself. But if you study the images long enough, you’ll begin to understand."

Liam looked at the water, then back at his book. "So I should keep reading?"

"Yes," Thomas said. "And keep asking."

Liam nodded, his shoulders relaxing. He turned a page, eyes scanning the text with new intent.

Thomas stood, gazing at his own reflection in the lake. He touched the north star etched into his staff, then began walking slowly down the banks.

Short and long voyages

The chamber was quiet, save for the soft clatter of toy soldiers and navy boats on the polished floor. @King Liam of Thelidor, sat cross-legged in a patch of sunlight, his crown resting beside him like a forgotten ornament. @Thomas Langton, Chancellor and priest of Stella Maris, stood nearby, watching the child with a gaze full of care and weight.

"The Durnmeres (@House Durnmere)want me to marry," Liam said suddenly, placing a soldier atop a boat. "They say it’s good for the realm."

Thomas knelt beside him. "Do you know what that means?"

"A wife," Liam said. "Someone I don’t know. Someone who’ll live here. They say it’s duty."

Thomas nodded slowly. "And what do you think?"

Liam frowned. "I want to do the right thing. But I don’t know if what they ask is right."

Thomas looked at the boy, the child who bore a crown too heavy for his years. "You’re already doing the right thing, Liam. You’re asking questions."

Liam moved a boat across the floor. "Did you ever like a girl?"

Thomas smiled faintly. "Yes."

"Did she like you back?"

Thomas paused. "I think so. I hope so."

"What happened?"

"We had a voyage. A long one."

Liam looked up. "Marriage is a voyage?"

"Yes," Thomas said. "Some choices are short voyages. Some are long. Marriage is long. You don’t have to start it just because someone says it’s time."

Liam nodded, his shoulders relaxing. "I like being a boy."

"Then be a boy," Thomas said. "You have time."

They sat in silence for a while, the sun shifting across the floor.

"Thank you," Liam said. "For listening."

Thomas smiled. "Always, my lord."

Liam returned to his soldiers, humming softly.

Thomas stood, his gaze drifting to the high windows. He felt the weight of the regency, the wolves circling, the innocence of the boy he had sworn to protect. And somewhere in the depths of his thoughts, he felt the pull of Nimue—her voice, her warning, her love.

He would need all of it.

Correspondence: @Thomas Langton to @Sister Nimue

Nimue,

I write to you from the high towers of @Delia, where the boy-king plays with toy soldiers and speaks of marriage. Certain courtiers press him toward betrothal. They speak of duty, of legacy, and alliances. He is seven.

The wolves circle. They see me as one of them. Perhaps I am. But I am his friend. I am his priest. And more frequently I am his shield.

He asked me today if I ever loved a girl. I told him yes. He asked if she loved me back. I said I hoped so.

I watch the long shadows within these halls and see dark crystals. I look, expecting you to turn my head.

In tide and memory,

Thomas

Correspondence: @Sister Nimue to @Thomas Langton

Thomas,

Your letter reached me in the quiet hour before the vigil. I read it twice.

You are not a wolf. You are a flame. But flames attract shadows. You must be vigilant, for you walk a dangerous path. But it is the right one. Protect him. Teach him. Let him be a boy.

Tell the king about a sea maid you know who fell in love with a man from above. And how that man left her side to fulfill a great purpose. She waited each day, just above the waves, watching for the light of his north star. I enclose a shell. It is from the deep. It has never touched the surface until now.

I remember the rays of light that pierced the darkness. I remember your warmth.

In tide and longing,

Nimue