Episode 232: Promotion (Konrad)

It wasn’t an ending, he reminded himself; it was a change. All endings led to beginnings, like ouroboros, the self-consuming snake.

Perhaps someday, he would return to the gancanagh island and eat that.

For the time, he walked. When he had walked so far that the the last trails of the borealis had faded from the sky, leaving only inky blackness and Konrad’s own thoughts, he made his way to the apartment where Corban lived with his husband Jace.

He neglected to knock; Corban was likely asleep, and Konrad would know right away if Corban wasn’t, if he was on the cusp of walking into their bedroom at a bad time.

As it happened, Corban and Jace were both awake, watching a movie in the darkness of their living room.

The whites of Corban’s eyes shone in the light from the hall. He stood, ready for work. “What is it?” he asked.

When Konrad was Corban’s age, he’d still been on fire, indignant with anger over his situation. In contrast, Corban was collected, patient, capable.

It was impossible not to admire.

“Do you have a moment?” Konrad asked. He cast an apologetic look toward Jace, who waved from the couch.

Corban kissed Jace and the followed Konrad into the corridor. He closed the apartment door behind him. “What is it?” he asked again.

“We had better talk in the dungeon,” he apologized.

They walked together, neither of them leading the other. This was the end of Corban’s training. He – and, Konrad hoped, Spence – would begin a different journey, of trial by experience. It would forge them in a way no lesson of Konrad’s would ever manage.

He keyed himself into the dungeon for the last time as the head of security, held the office door open for Corban to enter first.

They sat.

Konrad considered his words. They would stay with Corban a long time, possibly through the remainder of his life.

“The time has come for me to step away from my work in The Dells,” he began.

Corban shifted, waited.

“My experiences the past few weeks have demonstrated that this kingdom needs someone competent, someone younger with new ideas, with sound training and experience.” He looked at Corban, whose face had drawn itself into a wan expression.

Corban studied him, serious. His fingertips drummed against his chin.

He broke into a smile, which became a laugh.

It disarmed Konrad’s mood. “What is funny?” he asked.

“Why don’t you just come out and say it?” Corban laughed. “You never hide like this. So you’re quitting?”

“Stepping down,” Konrad amended.

“Right. I thought you wanted Spence to take over.”

“Would you rather I offered the position to him?”

Corban laughed again. “No. I’ll take it. Does the queen know?”

“I’ll tell them in the morning.”

They sat in silence briefly while Konrad sorted which thing to share with Corban next. He understood the role, the responsibility, the routines which Konrad had set in place. He had the faith of the military and the family both; if he chose not to bring Spence on as a partner he would be capable enough on his own.

Spence would be hurt.

Tomorrow, Konrad would pull him aside and speak to him, before he began the delicate work of investigating the fates of all the Alandrial family following the last war. It would be an undertaking.

Talking to Spence, explaining the choice, would be an undertaking.

“And the king?” Corban pressed. “Does he know?”

“I’ll tell him in the morning as well,” he assured him.

“Can I?” Corban asked.

It was one of the most difficult points between Spence and Corban: Either of them would have preferred to tell the queen and king themselves rather than leave it to Konrad.

The choice, to go to Corban, came down only to Konrad’s confidence that, of the two, Corban was more likely to desire a partner rather than attempt to shoulder the entire job himself. He had a strong sense of his own limitations and the ability to delegate to the right person.

He would recognize that Spence was the right person, in many ways, to protect the kingdom at his side.

Spence, if Konrad offered him the job, would likely feel a thirst to prove himself. Accepting help at the highest level wouldn’t even cross his mind, Konrad suspected.

“You may tell them,” Konrad said. “If you like.”

He reached to the clip at his belt, the carabiner that held all the essential keys; a master key to the guest rooms, the dungeon keys…Corban had many of these himself, but not the full set.

He thumbed the screen on the control computer. “We need to change the administrator on the accounts to you; you’ll have full reign over the security system of the palace, as well as over the prison.” He’d trained Corban in this system a dozen times, likely more, but it didn’t hurt to remind. “From here you can streamline who among the security and military personnel can enter which buildings. Scipio and I had meant to set it up so that you could set up exclusive access to family bedrooms, as well.”

Corban nodded his head, his eyes on the system and its idiosyncrasies as Konrad ran him through the layers of embedded security.

As they talked through the system, the plans, the strengths and flaws, Konrad took care to emphasize the idea that security and military might be separate entities. The decision to hire Spence would have to be Corban’s, but it didn’t prevent Konrad planting the seed.

Carefully, he sowed.

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