#but outside of a certain ring of kingdoms there's countries who are way more tolerant and provide trade and supplies to mikhail's kingdom

[barbatos-sama]

minette in this...

[fericita-s]

For the Good of the Many

The next story in the “When All is Lost” series that @the-spastic-fantastic and I are working on to tell the story of Agnarr & Iduna. As always, thanks for beta-ing and helping me work through this @the-spastic-fantastic!

This takes place after the “Ring in the Season This Year” story.

That night in his too-big room, Agnarr got out of bed and began to pace by the fire, giving a quick “No thank you,” to the servant who knocked and asked if he needed anything. He thought about Eir’s and how the children came to live there.  Agnarr wondered if anyone thought about putting their fourteen-year-old prince there, instead of installing him as their new King after the death of his father. What a relief it would be, to be free of the duties of leading a kingdom, especially leading a kingdom through grief so deep as theirs, and through dangers more real and present than Arendelle had seen in several generations. With their best engineers and builders and diplomats and soldiers gone in the mist, Arendelle was struggling.  It was a small kingdom – already the council had conscripted their women along with the men in order to replace military losses in the North.  What new sacrifices could his people make to ensure their standing among their more powerful neighbors?

He also found himself thinking of Iduna and the losses she had suffered. He wondered at the depth of them and if she felt them pressing the breath out of her, making it hard to breathe and hard to think.  He thought they might have that in common.

Seeing her and talking to her, he had found it hard to breathe and hard to think, but it didn’t feel like grief. It was a pleasant shortness of breath, a delightful confusion. He wanted to feel that way again. He wanted to see her again. He thought about her smile and her easy manner with the younger children.  He thought about how she gave up going to the Yule Bell ceremony, and her willingness to take care of children she didn’t know well. He marveled at how she could bring brightness to others while being sad herself.  Then, abashed, he thought about how the King of Arendelle should seek to sacrifice comfort, bring joy, and give the people something to hope for. The new year was coming soon and it would not do to have a monarch paralyzed by his own grief.  He had to be the confident and strong king his people needed. Or, at least, he needed to pretend for the good of the many.  His resolve strengthened, he went back to his bed, large and cold, and dreamed of winds that pushed and pulled him up, lifting him over stones, and through mist.

***

The next morning the council convened. The council was a trying place, even in the best of times. Today was among the worst. Usually the council was able to disband for the winter holidays, but this year was different.  They were working at a brisk pace to keep up with the needs of their citizens. And since the usual joyful cheer of Yule was deadened by the absence of so many loved ones, the council had not objected to the extra sessions. If anything, Agnarr thought they were using the occasion as an excuse to take out their anger on one another instead of their loved ones. The few loved ones that remained anyway.

The Minister of Trade, Captain Calder, wanted to explore new trade routes. The Minister of War, Lord Hannesel, was certain this would invite disaster.

“We’ll never be able to man those ships! We already have women on the castle guard!  We’ll have to start conscripting ten-year-olds next.”

Agnarr thought of the ten-year-olds at Eir’s, eager to play and explore, still very much children. Being a confident, strong leader was going to be harder than he reckoned during his pacing the night before.

The district leaders were adamant that their ruined cobblestones or crumbling footbridges were worse than anyone else’s, and the Minister of Health was convinced that if the merchants selling lutefisk were not required to add a specific amount of salt to their treating solutions, the toll on citizenry would be catastrophic. And in the room, the absence of loved ones lost to the Northern Expedition felt tangible, a grief able to be seen in its heaviness of presence.

Lord Hannesel was droning on again. “If other countries learn of our recently depleted force, they will be on our shores before we can mount a defense. They may have already been so told. There have been far too many whispers of foreigners about.”

Agnarr felt anger uncoil in his chest immediately, and did his best to conceal it, to keep it from reaching his face. His father had always warned him to show little emotion when making decisions known. It was the way to be respected and followed. No one would trust a ruler who was ruled by emotion. “Conceal what you feel. Don’t let it show. Give a strong, steady answer or wait until you can.” He could hear his father’s voice as though he was standing next to him.  The speech had been given often to Agnarr when he was angry - usually when  Agnarr wanted to read and his father wanted him to practice archery or fencing.

“We don’t need ten-year-olds as soldiers,”  Captain Calder sneered as he spoke and Lord Hannesel gave a huff of irritation.  

Agnarr interrupted the overlapping replies of the other ministers and councillors. “We don't need to cut off contact, we don’t need to root out foreigners.  And we don’t need to give ten-year-old children deadly jobs. Ten-year-old children should be in school. We should build a school. A new school, where all the children can attend together.” The council looked at him in astonishment. In his short reign, the king had not said much. And now he proposed a school? This brought more loud voices and arguments from the room, and finally Agnarr stopped them by pushing his chair out and leaving the room.

He sent Kai in to close the meeting according to protocol. Kai was barely older than him, but loved nothing more than observing and ordering the strict rules of the royal court. Agnarr had seen him hovering by the door, waiting to help.

Just now what would help Agnarr was a walk outside. The weather was cold and cutting, and the tears in the corners of his eyes were drawn out by the cold.  Probably.  It was hard trying to put aside his mourning to lead.  Especially with a group of leaders who were acting like children.

Agnarr thought of the children he had spent Yule with, and about how there was so much promise in them. Iduna with her ability to help Iggy and Stig recover from their illness, Aksel who was quick with a helping hand to unload the gifts, Jac who helped the little ones assemble their bells, and Eydis who wanted to read every book that had been delivered.  With school, with the best tutors and units of study, what might they become? Arendelle had lost some of its most able citizens.  Training a new generation in science and engineering and the advancements in transportation and productions: that was the way forward for his people. A school. A school funded and run by the royal family of Arendelle. Which of course, was just him at the moment.

***

The next day in the council chambers, Agnarr stood and told his councillors what they would be doing next. He wasn’t sure if as a fourteen-year-old king he truly had that power, but he decided to assume he did.  This was the first idea that made sense to him since becoming king.  It felt like a way out of their valley of kingdom-wide grief.  

“People feel pinched now, there is not enough, too much is missing. But we have always been a kingdom that stands for the good of the many. We will bring in teachers and start an academy. We will begin a new era of science, of advancements, of triumphs in engineering  and industry.  The children will go to school. All the children.  The ones in the village, the ones on the mountain, and the ones at Eir’s. A school that goes beyond what has been taught in the kingdom thus far.”

“Where should we have it? Here at the castle?” Agnarr could hear the disbelief in the Lord Hannesel’s answer, but chose to ignore it.

“Yes, we should have it here at the castle. We are a nation that invites each citizen to take part in its triumphs.  Any child ten or older shall be invited to come and study. No one shall be forced, but all are welcomed.”

Agnarr looked around the table and saw a nod from Captain Calder, a shrug of agreement from the Minister of Health, and some other tepid support.  The Royal Academy would proceed.

***

As he walked with Kai on the castle grounds after the meeting, they mostly kept silent as they avoided icy patches on the path. Agnarr was relieved to have the support, however mild, from the council.

Did he want to learn, and have others learn, to make his small nation strong, or did he want to stop being lonely? Did it matter? A king must do what's best for his country, but if that aligned with what he wanted, all the better.

Kai asked, “Is there anything I should do for His Majesty today?”

Agnarr cleared his throat and spoke in the voice of a king. “Yes. You will help organize the new school. Dispatch instructions to the palace tutors to prepare lessons for large groups of students, and begin to search for new tutors as needed.  Send word to the citizens, including the children at Eir’s.” At the name “Eir’s, ” Agnarr’s voice cracked.  He adjusted his necktie and kept walking, the heat from his cheeks making the cold air more tolerable.

Even as he directed Kai to begin the preparations, he felt the desire to see Iduna apart from any plans for his kingdom.  Maybe she could teach him how to be helpful to his kingdom the way she was helpful at Eir's. Maybe she could teach him how to live in mourning, how to make it through the mist of grief that still seemed to surround him and paralyze his ability to think, to plan, to dream. Maybe they could help each other, and maybe he could hold her hand and see if it felt as warm as her smile.