"It is time," Titania's voice interrupted Roland's engrossment in the history book she'd given him. It was such a small volume that he was very nearly able to finish all of it.
"Oh, what a good boy you are! I gave you that book not long ago and you are poring over it. I could not ask for a better grandson. So filial! But now, Derek, we must go. The feast awaits and you are the guest of honor."
Roland was growing used to being called Derek, and it bothered him a small amount. The name had apparently been his from the beginning, but as far as he knew, he had always been Roland. Titania's efforts to change everything about who he was and where his loyalties should lay were wearing him down.
To her, he was a loyal prince of Rhone who had been struggling his whole life against the evil kidnapping murderers of Klain, and had returned in time to lead them to victory against his oppressors. The way she spoke of him, he was a prodigy warrior, a masterful strategist, and unfailingly sought what was best for Rhone.
In reality, he considered himself a son of Klain, a poor soldier, but a good doctor's apprentice. The part about being a son of Klain was on unsteady ground given the new revelations about his past. The 'poor soldier' was also being eroded by his work with the spear, and his father's backhanded compliment that he had not humiliated himself.
He needed a grounding for his identity to cling to, or Titania would doubtlessly shift it for her purposes. Being beloved royalty was such a seductive thing for an orphan boy to believe about himself... if not for those he loved.
He pictured Dr. and Mrs. Sherman, who had raised him from a young age. He called to mind his dim memories of Aunt Betty, who had risked everything to get him to a safer place. He pictured Finn, waving goodbye as he left. The recollection of that searing kiss drove back the creeping darkness. He loved her. He had to get back to her. What was right did not depend on what side of a war you chose, did it?
Right would always be right, and wrong would always be wrong. Mistakes could be made along the way, but the goal should always be for good, and accomplished in a good way.
He offered Titania his arm, and she took it, smiling up at him. He smiled back blandly, his thoughts still occupied with keeping a tight grasp on who he was, not who this calculating sorceress was turning him into. It was sickening that even though she had murdered his mother and he was fairly certain she was arranging his death, he still couldn't keep himself out of her manipulative grasp.
He wasn't precisely sure where the feast had been set up, and let Titania steer him from her position at his side. Another subtle psychological game, he admitted to himself. Leaving him directionless without her.
She had said Duncan would be giving a speech, and Roland wondered what leverage or manipulations she had used on the man to make him do it. Perhaps she had just ordered him as his monarch.
Roland had a feeling that she could escalate her control over others to whatever point was necessary to get what she wanted. It was part of why he submitted relatively easily to her control so far over him. He put up minor resistance here and there to be believable, but not so much as to cause her to increase her pressure on him.
He would save his resistance for something important, like preventing the devastation and genocide of Klain.
They arrived at the edge of the camp, in a clearing Roland had yet to visit. It was lined with long, low, hewn tables, with cushions on long lengths of canvas for seating. It made sense that a nomadic people wouldn't have an excess of furniture to travel with, and he was getting use to the lack of chairs. It made his posture more intentional, and increased his bearing and presence.
The guests were already seated, and remained so until Titania and Roland reached their places at the center of one of the long tables. They were arranged in a large formation around a central open area, where Roland assumed the dancing would be. A neatly arranged stack of firewood stood in the center, ready to be lit.
The sun was low in the sky, bathing the crowd in warm red and orange tones. Their faces were serious, and the sheer number of jet-black eyes focused on Roland made him want to shiver.
As they reached their places, the guests stood in unison. Roland looked to Titania for direction about what he should do. He really needed an etiquette coach for these formalities. She inclined her head slightly to the crowd, and he opted for a bow at a slightly steeper angle.
The corner of her mouth quirked slightly, which he hoped was in approval. If he was going to get much useful information tonight, he thought a good impression would be a decent start.
They sat, and the crowd followed suit. Prince Duncan, seated at Queen Titania's other side, rose to speak.
"Welcome, guests, to a feast for Derek," He cut his eyes to Roland. Was it strange that he didn't call him 'Prince Derek'? Roland wasn't sure.
"Though he has spent his entire life in Klain, now he is here with us." Queen Titania shifted ever so slightly in her seat. It wasn't enough to draw the eyes of any of the guests, but Roland suspected it to be a signal to Duncan to tread carefully.
"Our glorious Queen Titania sees fit to honor her beloved grandson, stolen away so long ago. And so we celebrate together." He indicated the torchbearer should light the bonfire, beginning the feast.
Queen Titania was clearly dissatisfied with the short speech, which Roland noted never admitted that he was Duncan's son, nor even directly acknowledged his identity. He was amazed that the crowd contained no murmuring, but perhaps in a land where the monarch might secretly murder anyone who got in her way, the gossips knew to hold their tongues.
The torchbearer lit the fire, and the feast began. Halflings came forward with trays of food to place at intervals along the table for the guests to serve themselves.
Roland fleetingly wondered if the low height of the tables was partly to allow the short halflings to efficiently serve the Rhone. He also thought they must be loyal, or fearful slaves to be trusted not to poison the food of their captors.
The guests all ate in relative quiet, speaking in very low tones. It was eerie for such a large crowd to remain so quiet... but then, the Rhone had spent generations in The Darkness where sound was nonexistent without light. Perhaps the sensitive hearing they doubtlessly developed during that time persisted.
In groups of twos and threes, the guests took turns leaving their places at the tables and coming to bow to the monarch and give words honoring Derek's return.
Roland repeated each of the names as Titania introduced them, trying his best to commit them to memory. He took quick bites of food between the visits; he was very hungry but it seemed incredibly rude to eat while speaking with someone who was standing in front of you.
Titania fielded most of the small talk and cued Roland flawlessly when he should say something. He was mostly interested in how far they had come for this feast, to indicate the spread of the Rhone encampments, but also their ranks, to try and get an idea of how many men served under them, at least relatively speaking.
He was having to commit all of the information to memory, one because the Rhone kept very little in writing, and also because if he were caught with a collection of military information it would betray his real purpose in playing along with Titania's game.
Roland shrank slightly under the genuine responses of welcome and relief the various commanders had to his presence. With the queen, he felt some discomfort, but knew it was a game. These men were genuinely proud and overwhelmed with joy to have "the lost prince" back in their midst. There was no real suspicion, distrust, or 'othering' of Roland in these greetings.
It made him feel like an imposter. If all he'd known of the Rhone was Duncan's coldness, Titania's manipulation, and the enslavement of another race for the purpose of annihilating his city, there would have been no remorse in his heart about betraying them.
But these soldiers and military leaders looked at him with hope, with joy, and with pride. To them, he was a long lost treasure finally come home. Titania's propaganda had taken root in their hearts and it made Roland feel ill with guilt for playing the role she assigned him.