Wayne received the prince in the parlor. Also present was Rebecca, whom Wayne had dragged along to see how things were done.
Edmund Martell, the most favored heir of the current High King of Andraste, Denethor II. Wayne hadn't known this prince before, but in preparation for the trip to the capital, he'd specifically had Hestia and Viscount Andrew bring him up to speed on the contemporary royal family. So he knew quite a bit.
Denethor II was now elderly, yet had few children. Apart from his youngest son Edmund Martell, he had only one other son and one daughter.
The eldest son, Wyman, was exceedingly mediocre in ability, timid by nature, inept at political maneuvering, and a persistent headache for the old king. But since Denethor had spent the entire first half of his life with only that one son, Wales had been named crown prince for a full seventeen years. Then, late in life, a favored consort bore the High King a set of twins. Princess Versalia Martell and Prince Edmund Martell.
Compared to the lackluster eldest son, the twins seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. From a very young age, they displayed exceptional talent, their martial prowess and intellect alike drew lavish praise from their court tutors. The old king, long agonizing over the succession question, was saved at last. With barely any hesitation, he revoked his eldest son's crown prince status and prepared to transfer the right of succession to his new children.
Court and country raised no objection. Even Prince Wyman himself accepted the arrangement with equanimity.
Andraste's succession was not limited by gender, but the crown ultimately went to Edmund Martell, not because the old king decreed it, but because Princess Versalia voluntarily renounced her claim to the throne before the new crown prince was announced, entering the Church of Holy Light and becoming a nun at the Cathedral of Radiance (she had since risen to the rank of High Priestess). This was obviously a pre-arranged outcome. The old king duly bestowed his blessings upon his daughter, saw her into the church, and then named Edmund as crown prince. And so the Andraste royal succession was completed in remarkably smooth fashion.
Many believed Versalia's "conversion" was actually a calculated royal move, a way for the Andraste king to plant a member of royal blood as a high-ranking figure within the self-governing Church of Holy Light. A princess who had renounced her claim to the throne and devoted herself entirely to the Lord of Light was someone the church simply couldn't refuse, both symbolically and pragmatically. But there was also the opposite view. that this was a sign of the Church of Holy Light's growing influence and encroachment upon the crown.
Both camps had plenty of adherents, but in Wayne's estimation, they were probably all armchair strategists talking out of their backsides...
Wayne wasn't interested in the power-sharing behind these royal stories, or rather, he wasn't yet at a level where he could form meaningful opinions about such things. So he simply focused his attention on the young man before him.
Edmund Martell was a thoroughly handsome man who managed to combine martial vigor with scholarly composure. His bearing was textbook-perfect. After a brief exchange of greetings, Wayne was already whispering to Rebecca.
"See that? Take notes. Stop thinking about hitting people with fireballs all day."
Rebecca wanted to remind her ancestor that the person who'd just been egging her on to fireball someone was him, but she was afraid of getting smacked and kept quiet.
Edmund wore a courteous, well-practiced smile. "I hope you'll find the accommodations comfortable. If the attendants or maids fall short in any way, please speak directly to Steward James."
"Don't worry, nothing makes me more comfortable than being in my own home," Wayne settled into a high-backed chair. "You've kept the place in good shape. Practically the same as seven hundred years ago. You even reproduced my favorite tea set, impressive. Sit, please. No need for formalities."
"Preserving a hero's home is preserving our glory," Edmund said with a mix of curiosity and respect. "I won't pretend otherwise, I grew up on stories about you. I even have a set of replicas of the weapons and armor you used, right in my room. I used to fantasize about pioneering new frontiers and defending the people, just like you... Unfortunately, neither a crown prince nor a king gets to live that freely."
Wayne looked the prince up and down several times, until the young man shifted uncomfortably. "Is something wrong?"
"Loosen up when you're talking to me. Don't act like you're facing some stuffy old man," Wayne waved his hand. "I've been dead for seven hundred years, sure, but I was only thirty-five when I died. Not that much older than you."
A flicker of embarrassment crossed Edmund's face. "Ah, you're right. I can't help adding those seven hundred years to your age..."
"There's definitely a seven-hundred-year generation gap," Wayne smiled. "For instance, back in our day, people were a lot more direct. All it took was a fight or a drink to get down to business. But people these days insist on half an hour of pleasantries first."
Edmund blinked, then suddenly laughed, as if a weight had been lifted.
"I knew it, you wouldn't be as difficult as my father imagined. He spent ages lecturing me about minding my manners. I kept telling him that too much small talk just gets on people's nerves."
"See, I like that way of speaking much better," Wayne nodded. "So let's be direct. You're here today to sound me out?"
"...That's a bit too direct..."
"Ancient people were all straightforward," Wayne said with a wave, thinking to himself that the fellows who'd been dead for centuries weren't going to climb out of their graves to argue. At least within human society, he was the only one who could freely put words in the ancients' mouths, so he might as well say whatever was convenient. "So don't beat around the bush either. Your old man sent you here to find out what someone who just popped out of a grave is planning to do, right?"
Edmund shrugged. "This wasn't Father's idea. He's far too cautious, even if he wanted to learn your intentions, he'd never do something as rash as sending me to ask directly. This is my own initiative, and I... am genuinely curious about your purpose."
Wayne gestured for him to continue.
"You've been awake for some time now. You must know that a great deal has changed in seven hundred years, especially... the changes from a hundred years ago." Edmund glanced at Rebecca. "Are you here for House Seawright's interests?"
"That question is too broad. Of course I'm here for House Seawright's interests, the real question is which interests," Wayne looked at the prince. "From my perspective, there's quite a lot I could lay claim to. The most obvious one, House Seawright's hereditary, irrevocable ducal title and the entire Southern Marches, that alone is a very large, very discussable point, wouldn't you say?"
Edmund froze, apparently unsure whether Wayne was serious. But he forced a smile and answered. "Your title and lands were inherited by your descendants after your death. Subsequently, your descendants violated kingdom law and were unable to retain their title and estates. All of this took place within the framework of kingdom law..."
Wayne shifted his posture, leaning toward Edmund with a half-smile.
"Yes, according to kingdom law. But according to that same law, my heirs can only fully inherit my title and estates after my death. While I am alive, only my eldest son holds my secondary title and possesses limited 'Legal Proxy Rights.'* All Seawright descendants other than the eldest son hold noble status only, with no legal authority whatsoever. Obviously, I am currently alive. And there is not a single clause in Andraste law that addresses how to determine when the inheritance rights of a person who has died and come back to life took effect, when they expired, or how to resolve contradictions arising during the period between."
(Legal Proxy Rights: In Andraste law, the right of a qualified noble heir to act in the family's name, enjoying corresponding privileges while bearing corresponding risks and responsibilities.)
Edmund: "...?!"
Wayne spread his hands.
"So the very first step doesn't hold up. The inheritance was invalid. That Gormon from a hundred years ago should never have been a marquis, nor should he have held any Legal Proxy Rights for House Seawright. All you did was take things that were never rightfully his from someone who never had the right to hold them."
Rebecca stared blankly at her ancestor, never having imagined such a maneuver existed. Meanwhile, in the next room, Amber had her ear pressed to the wall. She turned to glance at Ser Byron. "Incredible, he's even more shameless than me!"
Prince Edmund, sitting before Wayne, was on the verge of a facial breakdown. His mouth twitched for a long moment before he managed. "But who could have anticipated you'd suddenly come back to life when the laws were being written... Besides, you did actually die once."
"So when you're talking to me, set aside all that logic and those rules. They became void the moment I threw open my coffin," Wayne laughed. "Of course I'm not here to reclaim the confiscated territories or my descendants' titles. I know everything that good-for-nothing did a hundred years ago. If I'd been there, I'd have beaten him to death myself. The crown's judgment was correct, and I have no intention of overturning it. I just want you to understand. if I actually wanted to go line-by-line through the kingdom's legal code and argue over House Seawright's inheritance interests, there would be an enormous amount of technicalities to pick apart, because a huge portion of the succession clauses were drafted around the question of whether or not I was dead."
"All right, all right, I get it," Edmund raised his hands in surrender. "You just said people from seven hundred years ago were blunt and didn't know how to argue in circles, but from where I'm sitting, you might be harder to deal with than my debate tutor."
"I didn't just live through Andraste's rough founding years, I also experienced the Gondor Imperium at its peak. So don't underestimate the ancients," Wayne said with a smirk. "When we were savage, we could eat raw meat and drink blood. When we were refined, we could give a single red wine thirty-six different names, each with its own fourteen-line poem."
"...That is genuinely impressive," Edmund conceded with full sincerity. "Then might we discuss in detail the matters you intend to raise with my father tomorrow at noon..."
Wayne nodded, thinking to himself that it was just as he'd expected.
Compared to tomorrow's public audience, this was the real negotiation...