Be patient with yourself friend! I know it's crummy but you've gotta rest up! It sucks for sure, but taking care of yourself now means you'll feel better later on! 🫂🩷
Plus Leighus would probably strap you to a bed if you kept wanting to do stuff- heck, alaric would too :P
thanks, Anon, you're sweet
...
WHY WOULD YOU INVOKE THEIR NAMES!? AAAAAAAAAAA-
AAaaa...
zzzzz
Alaric: apologies for the interruption, Anonymous. We will be taking this post over from here. Move along now.
This is the final part to the Hallanheld and Ledyanoy arc in Frederick's story! It's long, so most of it is going under the cut!
“You are going to give me a heart attack, Lad.”
That was the first thing Frederick heard upon waking.
“Ap’l’gies…” he mumbled.
He huffed when he noticed he was back in the bed he had learned to call home for these past weeks.
“How long…?” Frederick tried.
“I can barely make out what you’re saying, Son,” Galiot said.
“How long until we go home?” Frederick managed.
Galiot burst into a fit of laughter, which Frederick in his sleep-addled mind found most impolite. His brows furrowed into what he hoped was a withering scowl. That seemed to make Galiot laugh harder.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Frederick,” he wheezed, “I suppose you would ask that after all you’ve been through. We have to have King Njord’s coronation first, and once you’re fit for travel, we’ll go.”
“When’m’I fit for travel?”
“When I say you are.”
Galiot turned and Frederick followed with his eyes. Leigheus approached them, maintaining a thin façade of calm with a neutral expression that Frederick could see right through.
“Are you mad at me?”
Galiot managed to turn his chuckle into a cough. Leigheus took a deep breath before speaking.
“Prince Frederick,” he said, “I have been your physician for your entire life. I have lived over three hundred years. I have served the Highcrest family from the very beginning of Ridire itself. And never in that time have I met a Highcrest more reckless, more stubborn, more impulsive, more injury-prone, than you. These past few weeks have been my own personal hell, because despite your proclivity for near-death-experiences, I care about you. And just when I got you patched up from the last brush with death, you went and fought the now-former king of Ledyanoy. One on one. With a wound that was yet to fully heal. Am I mad? Exasperated is a more fitting term.”
Somehow, Leigheus got all of that out without so much as raising his voice. Frederick blinked slowly, too tired to be properly afraid.
“I love you, Leigheus,” he said quietly.
“Yes, I love you, too,” Leigheus replied with a sigh.
…
Frederick sat with the rest of the procession as the priests led Njord to the Crystal Seat. It had been used in Ledyanoysian coronations for centuries. The seat itself was made of quartz, while the base consisted of polished, carved stone. It sat upon a mound covered in snow and winter flowers. Njord sat on the seat in royal Ledyanoysian regalia, along with his Hallenheldian formal wear. He held in his hand the staff that had once belonged to Aspen. The priest walked him through reciting a special oath. Njord placed his hand on a sacred crystal and began.
“I, Njord Edelkalt, son of Weland Edelkalt, do hereby pledge my complete devotion and service to the land and people of Ledyanoy. I will deliver justice and mercy as determined by our laws and customs. I will make every effort to uphold the peace of our kingdom. I will maintain the welfare of my people. Should I break this sacred vow, may my end come in a swift judgment of ice and snow.”
Aspen’s crown lay on a cushion. It had been cleaned and polished. The priest said a few words, then placed it on Njord’s head.
“King Njord Edelkalt of Ledyanoy,” he declared.
“King Njord Edlekalt of Ledyanoy!” the procession repeated.
Njord stood, and the applause was so loud and raucous that it surely should have caused an avalanche.
“Ledyanoysians. My first act as king,” Njord motioned for Weland to join him on the mound, “is to unify with Hallanheld. Hallanheld will remain its own village, and it will be under the full protection of Ledyanoy. May this act usher in a new era of peace between our lands.”
Weland bowed to Njord. Njord bowed back.
“You’re not supposed to bow, Njord, you’re a king,” Weland whispered.
“I am a king, but I am your son first,” Njord replied, “and I would not be here today without you and your guidance.”
…
The party following the coronation lasted almost an entire week. Frederick and the Ridirians only stayed for the first few days. To say that Frederick felt homesick was a gross understatement. The night before they left, as Frederick was enjoying the festivities, an unfortunately familiar face strode up to him.
Frederick casually repositioned his drink so his hand was covering it.
“Prince Frederick.”
“Lord Torsten,” Frederick greeted.
“Marvelous thing you did for the Ledyanoysians,” he said, “they needed better leadership, and you stepped in and gave it to them.”
“It was what the people wanted,” Frederick said, “and Njord is a good man.”
“Yes, yes,” Torsten said, taking a sip of his ale, “but it is important to keep in mind that the people do not always know what they want. What they want and what they need can be different. Take Hallanheld for example. They didn’t want reunification with Ledyanoy at first, but in the end, it is what they needed.”
“The Hallanheldians consented to the unification prior to the coronation,” Frederick pointed out.
“Hm. Yes,” Torsten said, “but we cannot always be so fortunate.”
Sir Galiot came over, stepping between them. His expression was neutral, friendly even, but in his eyes burned a scornful distrust.
“Your highness,” Galiot said, taking Frederick’s arm, “Leigheus wants to have a look at you. Make sure you’re fit for travel.”
“You’d best be off,” Torsten said, “we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, your highness.”
Galiot’s gaze hardened. He started leading Frederick away.
“I don’t care what the investigators said,” Galiot whispered, “I don’t want you anywhere near that man.”
“I don’t disagree,” Frederick replied, “thank you for the rescue, Galiot.”
“Aye. You can count on me, Lad.”
…
Frederick flopped into his bed. His bed. Not a Hallanheldian bed. Not a tent cot. Not a dungeon floor. No, his nice, warm, Ridirian bed in his own room. They had arrived at home just hours ago, and Frederick was more than eager to wash up and go to sleep.
A knock came at the door. Frederick groaned into the pillows. What now?
“Yes?” he called.
Queen Morgana opened the door, stepping inside. Frederick sat up and let her embrace him.
“You look exhausted,” she said, taking his face in her hands.
“It has been quite the month,” Frederick replied.
“I’ve brought something to help you sleep,” she said, producing a vial.
Frederick smiled through the dark circles under his eyes. He took the vial and drank. He settled under the covers and watched as his mother tucked him in.
“I’m not a child, Mother,” Frederick yawned.
“Hush,” Morgana said, “you will always be my child; and I know you enjoy this, whatever you may say.”
Frederick blinked several times, his eyelids getting heavier each time they closed. Morgana climbed in bed next to him and held him close. Frederick was too drowsy to protest. She pressed a tender kiss to the crown of his head just as he drifted off. Finally. The adventure was over, and things could get back to normal.
This part is super super long, so it's going under the cut!
Frederick’s anxiety was not unfounded, much to his dismay.
Hushed, worried voices and shuffling footsteps woke him in the waning hours of the night. He stirred, sitting up with bleary eyes. The fire had died some time ago, and it wasn’t until a nurse hastily built another that Frederick had any idea what was going on.
Nurses laid Njord Edelkalt on a bed while a Hallanheldian doctor came up, still in his sleepwear. Njord’s breathing was shallow and labored, and he clutched his right arm like his life depended on it, which it did, if the blood trickling between his fingers was anything to go by.
As the doctor began to examine and operate, Halvard hobbled into the space with his crutch.
“What’s going on then?” he yawned.
“It’s Njord,” Frederick whispered.
“What!?”
All they could do was watch; the nurses would not let either of them near the bed, and eventually even Leigheus was called out to assist. Between a moment and an eternity, they had done all they could. Njord’s arm had been stitched, bandaged, and set in a sling.
“You are lucky to have an arm at all,” Leigheus remarked, “who did this to you?”
“Ledyanoysians,” Njord breathed through gritted teeth, “…please…do you have- gah! Anything… for the pain?”
Leigheus produced a vial and offered it to him. Njord drank at once, though by his grimace Frederick could tell the liquid inside was horribly bitter.
At this point, Frederick and Halvard were finally allowed to approach the bed.
“Ledyanoysians? Did you see their faces?” Halvard asked.
“They came in the darkness,” Njord said, “there was little light at first. They attacked me in my tent; I managed to get outside, and in the moonlight, their Ledyanoysian blades glinted at me. They fought without honor; A Hallanheldian or Ridirian would never fight an unarmed opponent.”
He paused, relief softening his features as the painkiller kicked in.
“I thought they would grant me the mercy of a quick death, but they left without striking a final blow.”
“Why would they violate the truce?” Halvard asked.
“To force him to forfeit,” Frederick said in thought, “if he doesn’t show up tomorrow, then King Aspen automatically gains control of Hallanheld, and he wouldn’t have to even unsheathe his sword.”
“Can we not prove the Ledyanoysians sabotaged him?” Halvard asked.
“It’s only… my word… against theirs… the Ledyanoysians will never accept it, and then we’ll be right back where we started; with more bloodshed.”
“At least where we started is better than where we’re going.”
A flame seemed to ignite in Frederick’s head.
“If I recall, didn’t King Aspen say he accepted the challenge, and all the rules of succession by combat?” he asked.
“What good will that do if we can’t prove his side cheated?” Njord mumbled.
“We won’t need to,” Frederick said, “I have an idea.”
…
The blow of a horn blasted across the battlefield. Aspen approached the designated trial ground, dressed in full Ledyanyosian armor.
His opponent approached him, helmet closed over his head and wearing the battle garments of Ridire.
Aspen laughed, the sound echoing off the trees.
“Do I take this to mean Njord Edelkalt forfeits? What a shame! Well, I suppose the war is-”
“Not quite,” the Ridirian said, “per the rules of succession by combat, if either challenger is unfit to fight by the time of the trial, then he may choose a Second to fight in his place.”
Njord hobbled forward, supported by Halvard and Weland.
“As all may see, Njord Edelkalt has been grievously injured and is unfit for battle.”
Aspen’s expression soured.
“I seem to recall the rules mentioning that the identity of the Second must be made known at the time of combat,” he sneered, “so, unless you are willing to unmask yourself-”
Frederick pulled the helmet from his head, letting his hair fall in curtains around his face. He ingored the gasps that fell from the Hallanheldian and Ridirian side. He could feel his father’s eyes burning into him. He didn’t dare turn around, for fear of seeing the stark, protective anger that would ultimately dissuade him from going through with this.
“I am Prince Frederick Highcrest of Ridire, and Njord Edelkalt’s Second.”
Aspen’s pale face burned red with anger.
“It was foolish of you to present yourself on a silver platter,” he said, “You slipped my grasp once, I won’t let that happen again.”
Frederick unsheathed his sword and assumed an en garde position. Another blow of the horn, and the fight was on.
Their blades locked. Frederick had the advantage of skill, but Aspen didn’t have any healing injuries to worry about. Aspen would surely notice how Frederick favored one side over the other and would use that to his benefit. Aspen thrust, Frederick parried. Though Aspen fought dirty, his anger made him sloppy. Frederick slashed, managing a graze to Aspen’s underarm. Aspen cried out, his attacks becoming more frenzied and unorganized. Frederick used the momentum against him.
In the midst of the battle, Frederick heard a popping sound under his armor. Oh Alberich. Leigheus was going to kill him if he didn’t die first. He needed to wrap this up. Slash, parry, beat, thrust. Advance, lunge, retreat, lock. Pivot. Sweep. Finally, disarm.
Frederick held the blade inches from Aspen’s throat, panting heavily. Aspen was just as winded.
“Stand down,” Frederick ordered.
“Are you so cowardly you will refuse to kill me?” Aspen spat.
“Do not conflate my mercy with cowardice, Aspen,” Frederick responded, “this fight is over.”
Cheers erupted from Hallanheld, Ridire, and surprisingly, even Ledyanoy. Frederick turned to make his way back to Njord. He heard shifting in the snow behind him. He turned just as Aspen was about to plunge a dagger into the back of his head.
Aspen never got to do so. The pommel of Stormstrider’s blade came down on the deposed king. Aspen fell face-first into the powder beneath him.
“King Frederick,” Stormstrider nodded.
“Ah,” Frederick said, “thank you, Captain. About that…”
Frederick took Aspen’s sword from the ground and presented it to Njord.
“As of this moment, I am abdicating my claim to the Ledyanoysian throne. I have chosen my successor, Njord Edelkalt of Hallanheld.”
Njord took it.
“Thank you, your highness,” he said.
Frederick bowed.
“Your majesty.”
A raucous cacophony of cheers and elation rippled out from the battlefield. The war was over, however short-lived it may have been.
Stormstrider and his men bound Aspen in chains and carried him off to a tent. He would wake up with no crown, and a lengthy list of charges laid against him.
As the people rallied around Frederick to congratulate him, he caught sight of his father’s face in the crowd. Beneath the expression of anger, Frederick saw fear, and beneath the fear, relief.
Hrethric pushed through the masses directly towards him. Frederick sighed, stiffening. He knew this was coming, even if he came out of the fight completely unscathed, but he still didn’t want to experience it.
“Frederick,” Hrethric said.
The crowds fell to a whispered hush.
“Father,” Frederick greeted, “before you say anything, you ought to know that- ah!”
Hrethric embraced him so tightly that Frederick was sure he was going to dent his armor.
“I am proud of you, Son,” he said.
The cheers returned with renewed vigor.
Hrethric squeezed a little tighter.
“Do not ever do something like that again,” he went on, “do you understand?”
“Yes, Father, I…mm…”
“Frederick?”
“…I may have popped a stitch…”
“Frederick!”
Darkness encroached on his vision like a sudden nightfall. He could hear the joyous shouting die down to concerned gasps. His legs refused to support him any longer. He fell limp in his father’s hold.
“I don’t f-f-feel well…” Frederick mumbled, “I wanna go home.”
“Stay with me,” Hrethric said, “we’re going to the healing cottage.”
“Hmm…”
Hrethric repositioned Frederick so he was leaning against him. Galiot pushed through the throng and came to support Frederick from his other side.
“You are mad, Frederick,” Galiot said, “absolutely, unequivocally, completely mad.”
The crowds parted to let them pass. They quickly but carefully made their way back through the gates of the village and to the healing cottage.
“Where is Mother?” Frederick asked.
“We’ll send for her,” Hrethric said, “just hold on.”
For what must have been the millionth time in the past two weeks, strong hands laid Frederick on the cursed bed in the healing cottage. Nurses worked at removing his armor while Leigheus came down the stairs.
It was only when the elven doctor started cleaning the wound that Frederick allowed himself to go under.
So...I may or may not have binged the Frederick lore and I am thoroughly invested. Question for you: how does Leigheus cope with the stress of the Frederick's risk-taking existence?
EEE I'm so glad you're interested!!
How indeed; that is the question, isn't it? Leigheus finds that surrounding himself in nature helps, listening to the peace of the gardens compared to the chaos that is Frederick.
Um um... does Leighus have any hobbies or like stuff he does when he's not worrying over the prince? (I'm back to thinking about my favorite elf doctor ^^")
ALSO
Would Alaric ever work with another kinda shady doctor?
Hi Halobun! Let me think...
Leigheus likes taking care of a few plants in his windowsill. A Ridirian sapphire lily he's had for decades is one that comes to mind (imagine a lily that has vibrant blue petals) along with the classic white lily. He also has a few orchids.
Leigheus also enjoys meditating in nature, especially near a water source.
He enjoys reading too. He's a good apothecary, but he's nowhere near as reckless with it as Frederick is.
And it might interest you to know that Leigheus is skilled with throwing knives and daggers. Most people don't know it because he isn't one to show off, but he always makes time to practice!
As for your other question-
Alaric works with a lot of other semi-shady doctors, actually! He's not the only doctor in his network, he just happens to be the head of it. There are a couple other doctors in his building that answer to him, and each satellite facility across the country has doctors that he regularly keeps in touch with.
