Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [405]
“Ham and the others respect me.”
Tindwyl raised an eyebrow.
“They do!”
“What do they call you?”
Elend shrugged. “They’re my friends. They use my name.”
“Or a close approximation of it. Right, ‘El’?”
Elend flushed, setting one final book on the stack. “You’d have me force my friends to address me by my title?”
“Yes,” Tindwyl said. “Especially in public. You should be addressed as ‘Your Majesty,’ or at least as ‘my lord.’”
“I doubt Ham would deal well with that,” Elend said. “He has some issues with authority.”
“He will get over them,” Tindwyl said, wiping her finger along a bookcase. She didn’t need to hold it up for Elend to know there would be dust on its tip.
“What about you?” Elend challenged.
“Me?”
“You call me ‘Elend Venture,’ not ‘Your Majesty.’”
“I am different,” Tindwyl said.
“Well, I don’t see why you should be. You can call me ‘Your Majesty’ from now on.”
Tindwyl smiled slyly. “Very well, Your Majesty. You can unclench your fists now. You’re going to have to work on that—a statesman should not give visual clues of his nervousness.”
Elend glanced down, relaxing his hands. “All right.”
“In addition,” Tindwyl continued, “you still hedge too much in your language. It makes you seem timid and hesitant.”
“I’m working on that.”
“Don’t apologize unless you really mean it,” Tindwyl said. “And don’t make excuses. You don’t need them. A leader is often judged by how well he bears responsibility. As king, everything that happens in your kingdom—regardless of who commits the act—is your fault. You are even responsible for unavoidable events such as earthquakes or storms.”
“Or armies,” Elend said.
Tindwyl nodded. “Or armies. It is your responsibility to deal with these things, and if something goes wrong, it is your fault. You simply have to accept this.”
Elend nodded, picking up a book.
“Now, let’s talk about guilt,” Tindwyl said, seating herself. “Stop cleaning. That isn’t a job for a king.”
Elend sighed, setting down the book.
“Guilt,” Tindwyl said, “does not become a king. You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
“You just told me everything that happens in the kingdom is my fault!”
“It is.”
“How can I not feel guilty, then?”
“You have to feel confident that your actions are the best,” Tindwyl explained. “You have to know that no matter how bad things get, they would be worse without you. When disaster occurs, you take responsibility, but you don’t wallow or mope. You aren’t allowed that luxury; guilt is for lesser men. You simply need to do what is expected.”
“And that is?”
“To make everything better.”
“Great,” Elend said flatly. “And if I fail?”
“Then you accept responsibility, and make everything better on the second try.”
Elend rolled his eyes. “And what if I can’t ever make things better? What if I’m really not the best man to be king?”
“Then you remove yourself from the position,” Tindwyl said. “Suicide is the preferred method—assuming, of course, that you have an heir. A good king knows not to foul up the succession.”
“Of course,” Elend said. “So, you’re saying I should just kill myself.”
“No. I’m telling you to have pride in yourself, Your Majesty.”
“That’s not what it sounds like. Every day you tell me how poor a king I am, and how my people will suffer because of it! Tindwyl, I’m not the best man for this position. He got himself killed by the Lord Ruler.”
“That is enough!” Tindwyl snapped. “Believe it or not, Your Majesty, you are the best person for this position.”
Elend snorted.
“You are best,” Tindwyl said, “because you hold the throne now. If there is anything worse than a mediocre king, it is chaos—which is what this kingdom would have if you hadn’t taken the throne. The people on both sides, noblemen and skaa, accept you. They may not believe in you, but they accept you. Step down now—or even die accidentally—and