The Name Of A Sorcerer

Father And Son

Night had settled over the royal palace. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows of Prince Phillip's chambers, casting pale light across polished marble floors and shelves filled with books on politics, history, and warfare.

Unlike Prince George's quarters, there were no wine bottles, no musicians, and no laughter. Everything was perfectly arranged.

Phillip stood beside the fireplace, staring into the dancing flames. Across the room, Darius quietly closed the door before checking the hallway through a narrow crack. Only after making certain they were alone did he turn back.

"We're running out of time."

Phillip didn't answer immediately. He continued watching the fire. "I know."

Darius walked closer. "The proclamation will happen soon. The entire court expects His Majesty to name Princess Liora as Crown Princess."

Phillip's jaw tightened. "It should have been me. I was born first. I studied harder than either of my brothers. I learned diplomacy, military strategy, and the law. I've spent my entire life preparing, and yet... my father intends to place the crown upon Liora's head."

His hands slowly curled into fists. "What greater humiliation could there be?"

Darius lowered his voice. "Then we cannot wait any longer."

Phillip nodded. "The poison must be used before the proclamation."

Silence settled between them. Finally, Darius spoke again. "But who delivers it? We can't do it ourselves."

Phillip began pacing. "The royal tasters examine every meal. The kitchen staff are watched constantly, and the servants change every few hours. It has to be someone close enough to reach the King's table... yet insignificant enough to avoid suspicion."

Darius rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "There are plenty of servants who could be bribed."

Phillip shook his head. "Gold buys loyalty, and it also buys betrayal. I refuse to trust a stranger with something this important."

The room fell silent once more, and each passing second seemed heavier than the last.

Then —

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Both men froze, and a cold feeling swept through the room. Another knock echoed. "My prince?"

Phillip slowly turned toward the door. Neither he nor Darius spoke.

The guard called again. "His Majesty requests your presence in his chambers."

The color drained from Darius's face. "He knows."

Phillip looked at him. "He found out."

Darius began breathing faster. "It must be the druid. Ashake. I told you that elf couldn't be trusted. He must have used his sorcery. He saw everything. We have to leave. Now."

Phillip remained perfectly still. "Run?"

Darius nodded frantically. "We still have horses. We can reach the southern border before sunrise."

Phillip's expression hardened. "No."

"My prince—"

"No." His voice was calm. "If this is the end... then I will face it. I would rather die as a prince... ...than live forever as a coward."

He walked toward his bed, reached beneath the wooden frame, and withdrew a finely crafted dagger. Its blade caught the moonlight. Phillip looked at it for only a moment, then carefully concealed it inside the waistband of his trousers beneath his cloak.

Darius stared at him. "What are you doing?"

Phillip answered quietly. "If my father has truly discovered everything... then I will not leave this palace without settling matters."

He adjusted his cloak until the weapon was completely hidden, then walked toward the door.

Darius caught his arm. "My prince..."

Phillip looked back. "If I do not return... forget my name."

Without another word he stepped into the corridor.

The palace seemed strangely quiet. Every footstep echoed against the stone walls. Servants bowed as he passed, and guards saluted him, yet each familiar face only made his heartbeat louder. He climbed the final staircase leading to the royal apartments. Two elite guards stood outside the King's chambers, and neither showed any sign of suspicion. One opened the heavy wooden door. "His Majesty awaits."

Phillip inhaled once, then entered.

The room was warm. A small fire crackled softly in the hearth, and King MacGil wasn't dressed in royal robes. Instead he wore simple nightclothes, looking less like the ruler of a kingdom and more like an aging father enjoying a quiet evening. He sat alone beside a small wooden table, and a pot of steaming tea rested between two cups.

The moment he saw Phillip, a gentle smile spread across his face. "My son..." He motioned to the empty chair opposite him. "Come closer."

Phillip slowly pulled out the chair and sat across from his father. For a few moments neither of them spoke. The King calmly poured tea into two cups. Phillip never touched his. Instead he looked directly into his father's eyes. "Why did you summon me?"

King MacGil sighed softly. "There is something you deserve to hear from me before the court hears it."

Phillip already knew. He could feel it.

The King folded his hands together. "Soon... I will publicly name Princess Liora as the next ruler of everything that lives and breathes in Valoria."

The words struck Phillip like an arrow. He laughed bitterly. "So that's why I'm here? You summoned me just to watch my heart break? To mock me?"

The King slowly shook his head. "No, my son."

Phillip suddenly rose from his chair. "No? Then tell me why!" His voice echoed throughout the chamber. "The throne is rightfully mine! I am your firstborn son! I have spent my entire life preparing! I studied every history, every treaty, every battle. I trained harder than anyone! I did everything you ever asked of me!"

His breathing became ragged. "So why... why do you hate me?"

King MacGil quietly stood. "I do not hate you."

Phillip stared at him.

"I simply... ...do not trust you."

Silence filled the room, and those words hurt far more than anger ever could.

Phillip's voice became quieter. "...Why?"

The King slowly walked toward the window overlooking the sleeping Capital. "Because you are brilliant. You see opportunities where others see walls. You understand politics better than many nobles twice your age, and you possess a mind made for strategy."

Phillip frowned. "Then why am I unworthy?"

MacGil turned back toward him. "Because wisdom is not the same as intelligence. You become angry too quickly. You make decisions before thinking of their consequences. You believe the end always justifies the means. When someone stands in your way, you remove them. You rarely ask whether you should, only whether you can."

Phillip lowered his eyes.

The King continued. "A ruler cannot afford that. The throne demands patience, mercy, and restraint. The lives of thousands rest upon every decision. If a king acts from pride, entire kingdoms burn."

Phillip remained silent.

MacGil stepped closer. "I fear that power would make you cruel, and that fear is something I cannot ignore."

Phillip clenched his fists. "So... that's it? My life has no purpose?"

The King smiled gently. "No. Quite the opposite. You have a destiny greater than the throne."

Phillip slowly looked up.

The King placed both hands behind his back. "You are the cleverest of all my children. The most calculating. The one born with the mind of a general." His expression darkened. "And war is coming. Westeron prepares even now. Our spies confirm it. They gather soldiers, they strengthen their borders, and they forge new alliances. It is only a matter of time."

Phillip listened carefully.

"I have a task that only you can accomplish. You will travel to Westeron, not as a prince but as a shadow. You will learn everything — the strength of their armies, their battle formations, the source of their magic, the limits of their mages, the weaknesses in their castles, and the loyalties of their nobles. And when the time comes, you will destroy them from within."

Phillip's heartbeat quickened.

The King smiled proudly. "If you succeed, you will become the greatest hero Valoria has ever known. Children yet unborn will know your name. Bards will sing your victories for centuries, and statues will stand in your honor. The throne is not the only path to glory."

He looked deeply into his son's eyes. "The crown is heavy. The king belongs to everyone. He is watched every hour. He cannot truly laugh, he cannot truly rest, and he cannot truly be free. I do not want that life for you. I want something greater. I want you to become a legend."

Phillip felt tears forming. All these years he had believed his father never cared, never noticed him, never loved him. But now he realized how wrong he had been.

His voice broke. "...I'm sorry."

King MacGil smiled warmly. "So am I. I should have told you this long ago."

Phillip stepped forward, and his father opened his arms. The prince embraced him tightly. For the first time since he was a child, the King held him close.

"I love you, Phillip."

The words shattered the final wall around his heart. "I love you too... ...Father."

Neither spoke for several moments. Eventually Phillip stepped back, his eyes red and his face wet with tears. The King gently placed a hand upon his shoulder. "Go. Get some rest. We have much to prepare for."

Phillip nodded silently, then left.

The palace corridors blurred before his eyes. He barely noticed the guards saluting him or the servants bowing. All he could think about were his father's words: I love you.

When he reached his chambers, Darius immediately stood. "My prince! What happened? Why did the King summon you?"

Phillip quietly closed the door behind him. He removed his cloak, sat heavily upon his bed, then looked at his oldest friend. "...I can't do it."

Darius frowned. "What?"

"I can't kill him."

Silence.

"My father... ...loves me."

Darius stared at him as though he had lost his mind. "What are you talking about?"

Phillip shook his head. "I was wrong. I misunderstood everything. He never hated me. He only wanted to protect the kingdom."

Darius's face hardened. "So that's it? We've risked everything. I bribed criminals. We found the witch. We bought the poison. I helped you cover your tracks. And now... you've changed your mind because he hugged you?"

Phillip stood. "I'm ending this."

Darius stepped closer. "No. Think! In a few weeks your sister will be named the crown princess. You'll spend the rest of your life bowing to her. You'll be forgotten. Everything you've worked for... ...gone."

Phillip looked him straight in the eyes. "I don't care anymore. I will not murder my own father."

Darius's jaw tightened. For a long moment neither man moved. Finally Darius gave a slow nod. His voice had become cold. "I see. If that's your decision... ...then I have nothing more to say."

He turned, opened the chamber door, and walked out without looking back.

Phillip watched him disappear into the darkness of the corridor, wondering if he had just lost his true friend. But the thought left as quickly as it came. He had known Darius all his life, and when tomorrow came he would take him to the whore house, and all would be forgiven.