Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [43]
Sarene nodded. Sitting on his throne, Iadon finally made his decision regarding the case. He declared with a loud voice that the runaway peasant did indeed belong to the first noble, but his children would remain with the second. “For,” Iadon pointed out, “the children have been fed all this time by their current master.”
The peasant didn’t cry out at the decision, he simply looked down at his feet, and Sarene felt a stab of sorrow. When the man looked up, however, there was something in his eyes—something beneath the enforced subservience. Hate. There was still enough spirit left in him for that ever-powerful emotion.
“This won’t go on much longer,” she said quietly. “The people won’t stand for it.”
“The working class lived for centuries under the Fjordell feudal system,” Lukel pointed out. “And they were treated worse than farm animals.”
“Yes, but they were raised to it,” Sarene said. “People in ancient Fjorden didn’t know better—to them, the feudal system was the only system. These people are different. Ten years really isn’t all that long—the Arelish peasantry can remember a time when the men they now call masters were simple shopkeepers and tradesmen. They know that there is a better life. More importantly, they know a government can collapse, making those who were once servants into masters. Iadon has put too much on them too quickly.”
Lukel smiled. “You sound like Prince Raoden.”
Sarene paused. “Did you know him well?”
“He was my best friend,” Lukel said with a sorrowful nod. “The greatest man I have ever known.”
“Tell me about him, Lukel,” she requested, her voice soft.
Lukel thought for a moment, then spoke with a reminiscent voice. “Raoden made people happy. Your day could have been as sour as winter, and the prince and his optimism would arrive, and with a few gentle words he would make you realize just how silly you were being. He was brilliant as well; he knew every Aon, and could draw them with perfection, and he was always coming up with some weird new philosophy that no one but Father could understand. Even with my training at the university in Svorden, I still couldn’t follow half of his theories.”
“He sounds like he was flawless.”
Lukel smiled. “In everything but cards. He always lost when we played tooledoo, even if he did talk me into paying for dinner afterward. He would have made a horrible merchant—he didn’t really care about money. He would lose a game of tooledoo just because he knew I got a thrill from the victory. I never saw him sad, or angry—except when he was at one of the outer plantations, visiting the people. He did that often; then he would come back to the court and speak his thoughts on the matter quite directly.”
“I’ll bet the king didn’t think much of that,” Sarene said with a slight smile.
“He hated it,” Lukel said. “Iadon tried everything short of banishing Raoden to keep him quiet, but nothing worked. The prince would find a way to work his opinion into any and every royal ruling. He was the crown prince, and so court laws—written by Iadon himself—gave Raoden a chance to speak his mind in every matter brought before the king. And let me tell you, Princess, you don’t know what a scolding is until you’ve had one from Raoden. The man could be so stern at times that even the stone walls would shrivel beneath his tongue.”
Sarene sat back, enjoying the image of Iadon being denounced by his own son before the entire court.
“I miss him,” Lukel said quietly. “This country needed Raoden. He was beginning to make some real differences; he had gathered quite a following amongst the nobles. Now the group is fragmenting without his leadership. Father and I are trying to hold them together, but I’ve been gone so long that I’m out of touch. And, of course, few of them trust Father.”
“What? Why not?”
“He has something of a reputation for being a scoundrel. Besides, he doesn’t have a title. He’s refused every one the king tried to give him.