Read Online Throne of Llewyllan (Book 2) by Ben Cassidy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ben Cassidy
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for the Modern State . He pulled it out of the bookshelf and flipped through it curiously.
Bathsby finished pouring the brandy, and glanced up at the Ghostwalker. “Hartland, eh?” he said with a smile. “Some intriguing ideas, but too theoretical for my tastes. Here you go.” He pushed the glass of brandy towards Kendril.
Kendril replaced the book, and walked over to the desk. “Are all of these books yours?”
Bathsby settled back in his high-backed chair, sniffing the brandy. “Most of them. I taught myself to read when I was in the army. I haven’t stopped since.”
Kendril settled into a chair on the other side of the desk, and picked up the glass of brandy. “That’s quite commendable. Most people wouldn’t have bothered.”
Bathsby took a sip of the alcohol. “I was a determined lad,” he said wistfully. “I had designs to change the world, back then.”
Kendril tasted the brandy. “Have you?”
The nobleman laughed. “Not yet. I’m still just a simple soldier, Kendril.” His face turned serious as he looked at the long bookshelf to his right. “Besides, the world doesn’t need me to change. It already is changing, and faster than most men seem to like.”
Kendril set down the glass. “What do you mean?”
Bathsby sighed. He tapped the glass in his hand with his finger. “Look around, Kendril. Here in Llewyllan time may seem to stand still, but outside of these borders all of Zanthora is transforming into something completely new, totally unique.” He gestured up towards a blue volume on the bookshelf. “That book, for instance. Observations on the Celestial Movements , by Sir Francis Urqart. If he’s right, Zanthora may not be the center of the universe after all.”
The Ghostwalker nodded slowly. He picked up the glass again. “I’ve heard of his ideas before. They’re not entirely convincing.”
Bathsby shook his head, leaning forward excitedly. “Perhaps not, but that’s not the point, Kendril. Urqart is a sign of the times. He represents all those who are beginning to ask the forbidden questions, to delve into matters that have been ignored for far too long.”
Kendril gave Bathsby a curious glance. “You seem remarkably interested in astronomy for a simple soldier.”
The nobleman laughed, and leaned back again in his chair. “But it all connects , don’t you see? Our grandfathers fought each other with swords and shields, locked into a feudal system and following a rigid code of chivalry. Nowadays a nation cannot be considered great unless it owns a battery of cannons, and the knights of yesterday have been replaced by the musketeers of today. It’s all a part of the natural course of change. The world is changing, Kendril, and Llewyllan is in danger of being left behind.” He fell silent, looking up at the tartan above the door.
The glass clinked as Kendril lifted it from the desk. He took a short taste, then settled back in the chair. “You sound as if you don’t have much confidence in the King,” he said.
Bathsby snorted. “The King? The King is tottering old fool. His time has come and gone, only he doesn’t know it. He still holds jousting tournaments, for Eru’s sake. Jousting tournaments!” The nobleman laughed bitterly, and shook his head. “No, my friend, Llewyllan is not changing as it should, nor will it as long as an outdated, backwards monarchy continues to rule.”
Kendril paused, the brandy glass still in his hand. “So what exactly are you proposing?”
Lord Bathsby saw the expression on the Ghostwalker’s face, and gave a hearty laugh. “Nothing extreme, I assure you. Just observations, that’s all.” His smile faded. “But Llewyllan is in danger, in danger of being left behind because of its stubbornness to change.” He gestured to one of the maps on the table. “Our nation is in a delicate position, Kendril. We are not a populous people, and we are not a powerful one. The Lion’s Gate is the only pass through the Shadow
Bathsby finished pouring the brandy, and glanced up at the Ghostwalker. “Hartland, eh?” he said with a smile. “Some intriguing ideas, but too theoretical for my tastes. Here you go.” He pushed the glass of brandy towards Kendril.
Kendril replaced the book, and walked over to the desk. “Are all of these books yours?”
Bathsby settled back in his high-backed chair, sniffing the brandy. “Most of them. I taught myself to read when I was in the army. I haven’t stopped since.”
Kendril settled into a chair on the other side of the desk, and picked up the glass of brandy. “That’s quite commendable. Most people wouldn’t have bothered.”
Bathsby took a sip of the alcohol. “I was a determined lad,” he said wistfully. “I had designs to change the world, back then.”
Kendril tasted the brandy. “Have you?”
The nobleman laughed. “Not yet. I’m still just a simple soldier, Kendril.” His face turned serious as he looked at the long bookshelf to his right. “Besides, the world doesn’t need me to change. It already is changing, and faster than most men seem to like.”
Kendril set down the glass. “What do you mean?”
Bathsby sighed. He tapped the glass in his hand with his finger. “Look around, Kendril. Here in Llewyllan time may seem to stand still, but outside of these borders all of Zanthora is transforming into something completely new, totally unique.” He gestured up towards a blue volume on the bookshelf. “That book, for instance. Observations on the Celestial Movements , by Sir Francis Urqart. If he’s right, Zanthora may not be the center of the universe after all.”
The Ghostwalker nodded slowly. He picked up the glass again. “I’ve heard of his ideas before. They’re not entirely convincing.”
Bathsby shook his head, leaning forward excitedly. “Perhaps not, but that’s not the point, Kendril. Urqart is a sign of the times. He represents all those who are beginning to ask the forbidden questions, to delve into matters that have been ignored for far too long.”
Kendril gave Bathsby a curious glance. “You seem remarkably interested in astronomy for a simple soldier.”
The nobleman laughed, and leaned back again in his chair. “But it all connects , don’t you see? Our grandfathers fought each other with swords and shields, locked into a feudal system and following a rigid code of chivalry. Nowadays a nation cannot be considered great unless it owns a battery of cannons, and the knights of yesterday have been replaced by the musketeers of today. It’s all a part of the natural course of change. The world is changing, Kendril, and Llewyllan is in danger of being left behind.” He fell silent, looking up at the tartan above the door.
The glass clinked as Kendril lifted it from the desk. He took a short taste, then settled back in the chair. “You sound as if you don’t have much confidence in the King,” he said.
Bathsby snorted. “The King? The King is tottering old fool. His time has come and gone, only he doesn’t know it. He still holds jousting tournaments, for Eru’s sake. Jousting tournaments!” The nobleman laughed bitterly, and shook his head. “No, my friend, Llewyllan is not changing as it should, nor will it as long as an outdated, backwards monarchy continues to rule.”
Kendril paused, the brandy glass still in his hand. “So what exactly are you proposing?”
Lord Bathsby saw the expression on the Ghostwalker’s face, and gave a hearty laugh. “Nothing extreme, I assure you. Just observations, that’s all.” His smile faded. “But Llewyllan is in danger, in danger of being left behind because of its stubbornness to change.” He gestured to one of the maps on the table. “Our nation is in a delicate position, Kendril. We are not a populous people, and we are not a powerful one. The Lion’s Gate is the only pass through the Shadow
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