“Come in, take a seat,” I offered.
“Your Majesty, glad to see you, even if I did hope to receive you in my humble abode...”
“Not that humble,” I bared my teeth. “I would even go as far as to say, quite ostentatious. Two hundred twenty-six thousand gold just for the decor...”
“Oh, really, Your Majesty? Where would a simple servitor find so much money?”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to find out.”
The documents prepared by my ghosts were damning evidence. You can’t hide from a spirit, not really. They could get into any place, eavesdrop on any conversation, peek into anything, and you wouldn’t even know.
And the ghosts told all about how one thrall was taking bribes, the other shagging churchwomen right in the temple, and that one—young and handsome parishioners. Of course, I presented everything as anonymous reports, but it was still a pretty formidable collection of evidence.
The Confidant winced.
“Your Majesty, this is slander...”
“And what if I distribute them tomorrow across the entire country and order a review?”
“The Bright Saint wouldn’t look lightly on that.”
“I doubt he will descend to present his case. As for his servants... Well, go on, servitor, say it out loud: excommunication. Will you threaten me with that?”
“Oh, Your Majesty! How could I?”
“You could try. But I have an army. I have people...”
“Well, yes. While you aren’t excommunicated.”
“That’s right. Thing is...”
Another pile of papers appeared next to the first.
“Go on, have a look.”
Those documents were also presented as tip-offs, in which various people complained about the Church. The servitors aren’t holy people anymore! It’s high time to bring them to heel... It’s just not the same; now, back before Rudolph’s time...
“See? Of course, people would resent it. But not everyone, far from that. And there are enough of them for me to kick you out of the country.”
“And then, Your Majesty?”
“The Tevarrians won’t attack us anymore. They’ve had enough.”
“A very murky case, Your Majesty.”
“Then clear it up. It’s been almost half a year, and you’re still scratching your heads! You should have found the perpetrator a long time ago, or can’t you work without faking the evidence?”
“Your Majesty!”
“And don’t play coy. How many witches have you burned at the stake? Dozens! And how many of them were real? Bright Saint willing, one out of a hundred, I should know...”
I wasn’t worked up. I was simply pressing the servitor to ask me a simple question.
“So what do you want, Your Majesty?”
I laid out a paper in front of him.
“Sign it, and today, I will announce it to the entire kingdom.”
He was a fast reader.
“What! Your Majesty, this cannot be!”
“That’s just how it was during my grandfather’s reign. Do you have a problem with that?”
Of course he did. To lose everything, roll back to square one, give away what the Church had grabbed... Lots of things!
“B-but...”
“You have a choice.”
The servitor resisted for some time after that. He tried reproaching me, appealing to my conscience, doing anything, but to no avail.
In two hours, a herald walked into the square and declared: the tithe was revoked, and nobody was obliged to pay it anymore. All mages, witches, warlocks, and necromancers were hereby persecuted only through the royal court. The first Church trial would signify the death of all the judges, as the warlock’s fate would befall them, too. A burning elicited a burning, a hanging meant gallows.
All the ceremonies became free as well. People could give the church gifts, but only by their own will. If any servitor asked for money, they would be judged by the royal court.
In a word, I revoked all of Rudolph’s laws.
And so, the heralds flew in all directions.
I wasn’t kidding myself; the Church would never forgive me. They might not kill me, but they would try to control me, press me, do whatever they could.
Yet I was a half-demon. Let them try. I’ll handle them.
Oh, and one last thing. Each servitor was obligated to dedicate one day of the seven to the sick and poor and visit prisons, hospitals, almshouses, even brothels and the gutters. Help the needy, cure the wounded... They wouldn’t do that, of course, but I couldn’t waste an opportunity to bring down those scum. I hate it when people piggy-back on the most holy feeling a person could have: love. After all, fundamentally, what is religion? Faith in an infinitely kind entity that loves us and would never abandon us. Faith that our nearest and dearest would wait for us beyond the veil...
That was true, I could agree with that. But that didn’t give the templars the right to persecute, burn, punish or pardon, take money... They had their obligations: help, protect, console. Even the Hounds once had been supposed to defend people, and what had they turned into?
All I was doing was trying to bring them back to their roots, and that was it.
***
Two days later, Carlie gave birth. It was a girl, the spitting image of my uncle, a gorgeous blonde child.
Mistress Eliza helped me. In the slums, children were a dime a dozen, including newborns. And while the mother was resting after the labor, thanks to a sleeping potion, we replaced her child with another blond baby.
Carlie’s daughter, whom I named Luisa Amalia, was sent to Torrin, together with her nurse, to be cared for by Cassie, Mira, and Martha. Meanwhile, Carlie got “her” daughter, after which I told her that I wouldn’t cede the throne to a girl. We’ll see how she turns out.
The viscountess could go back to her husband. He had already searched the entire capital, together with the Chartreuses, several times, in fact. She cursed and called me names worthy of the most eloquent of stable hands, but I had expected that. I sent the viscountess home in a closed carriage, sedated, and returned to the palace.
There, I sent everyone away and headed down, to the Heart of Alethar. I cut my hand, touched the stone with my palm, and it absorbed the blood like it had never been there.
I did everything right. I took the throne of my ancestors, I avenged my mother, I...
But why was I so restless? Would I have to stay alone for the rest of my life? What a bleak fate...
I met dawn at the altar. A huge dark snake coiled around me, hissing me a lullaby, trying to keep me warm. I had to go up and relieve my worried friends, receive the reports from the ghosts, deal with the Chartreuses... I had to do so much. And that was good, really—no time to mope.
I did everything right. I won. But I couldn’t help but feel that my main battle still lay ahead.
Well, I am a half-demon. I am the king. I have a duty.
I stood up, gave the snake a parting pat, and went to the throne room.
I will prevail.
But what was that empty feeling inside my heart?..
End of Book One.
From the Author
Dear friend!
Thank you for reading! I was happy to share this story with you and hope you liked it. If so, please, remember to leave a review, it will support me a lot.
I sinsierely read all yours reviews and comments, they help me and inspires me so much, I do really appreciate each and every of them.
The Second book in the series ‘Half-Demon’s Fortune’ is available to pre-order from Amazon.
Also, I’d like to present you a first book in my series A Medieval Tale! The first sample you can find a few pages below.
Thank you, my friend!
- Best wishes, Lina J. Potter
About Lina J. Potter
Call it inspiration, the voice of a Muse, or plain obsession... but I felt I had to write it down or else my brain would explode with all these
characters longing to come alive.
Lina J. Potter has been dreaming up stories for as long as she can remember. She started putting her tales on paper when she was around ten years old. Despite that, the first her story came alive only in 2011.
Her literate pseudonym helps her saving her family and daily routine inviolable. She is laughing while remembering how her colleague at work decided to discuss A Medieval Tale series with her, having no idea she was speaking with the author herself.
Nowadays Lina J. Potter lives in the town of Tambov with her husband, daughter and two cats. She has a light-hearted approach to writing. Whenever she is not writing, you can find her practicing karate and lace-making. She avoids personal publicity and shies away from the literary limelight, preferring her quiet life to focus on writing.
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Book Recommendations
A Medieval Tale by Lina J. Potter (5 books series)
A tale about a Medical school graduate who dies suddenly in a car crash… only to find herself reborn, in the middle of a dilapidated castle during Medieval times.
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Dear friends! If you enjoyed this story, then we hope you will continue the adventure. As a gift to you all we have added a sample of my other series ‘A Medieval Tale’ for you to try.
A Medieval Tale
First Lessons: Book One
What does it mean to be happy?
Aliya stood on the train platform waiting for her parents. Her suitcase, full of presents for them, was pleasantly heavy in her hand. She didn’t care that she’d had to work nights as a janitor in a supermarket in order to earn money to buy those presents. Any job was a good job, even if it didn’t pay much.
For Aliya, happiness was going home to the small town where she grew up. That might not be enough for some people, but it was enough for her.
Aliya’s father was an officer in the army, and her mother was a nurse. They had traveled from base to base, raised Aliya, and finally settled in the small town she called home. Aliya’s mother, Tatiana, put her heart into her profession and taught her daughter to love it, as well. Aliya had chosen to go to medical school and was in her fifth year of training to be a surgeon specializing in abdominal surgery. When she finished, she planned to live and work at the military base where her father was posted. Her goal was to graduate and gain some experience before returning to her hometown. She liked it there. She also liked Alex, a handsome officer she was looking forward to spending the rest of her life with.
Aliya had a printout of her grades—all A’s—folded in her purse, and she had just recently assisted with her first operation. According to the rules, she wasn’t far enough along in her program to operate, but the surgeon kept a close eye on her, and the operation was a success. It was just a case of appendicitis, but she was proud of herself and couldn’t wait to tell her parents.
She kept an anxious eye out for her father’s old car, which soon enough came around the corner and parked. Her parents jumped out, and Aliya was hit with a wave of familiar joy. She was alive and healthy, and with the two people she loved best of all, and they were alive and healthy, too.
***
A quarter of an hour flew by before Vladimir was able to get his wife and daughter back in the car and turn the wheel toward home. Their overwhelming joy was interrupted halfway home when a large truck came roaring over a hill in the middle of their lane. Vladimir swung the wheel to avoid a collision and would have managed it if another driver hadn’t stopped in the same spot on the shoulder to send a text just two hours before. That car left behind a large puddle of oil that sent their car skidding. It flipped several times before hitting a tree.
A last, despairing thought shot through Aliya’s mind, Is this it? I don’t want to die! I want to live! Then everything went dark.
***
With only the full moon for light, an elderly woman picked her way through the strangely quiet forest. She wore roughly made wooden shoes and carried a large basket.
In the moonlight, tree branches seemed like monstrous claws, and an owls’ hooting filled her with blind fear. But the darkness did not dissuade her; she knew where she was going.
Finally, she reached a small hut in the center of a clearing. Cheery in the daytime but in the moonlight, the stream running by the hut became the river of the dead, and the garden seemed bare and empty. To the woman’s eyes, the door to the hut looked like the jaws of a beast.
She took a step forward. There is no way back, she thought, scratching at the door.
Several minutes passed before it opened, and an old crone—like a fairytale witch—appeared in the doorway. Her gray hair fell uncombed around her shoulders, and a wart sat on her chin. Her once-white nightgown was dirty and patched. But it was her black eyes that distracted the old woman. They were bright, intelligent and surprisingly youthful, Like the eyes of a young girl, she thought.
“What do you want?”
The woman offered her the basket. “This is for you.”
“I asked what you wanted.” The crone made no move to take the basket. From out of nowhere, a large, white cat appeared at her feet, rubbing against her legs. It looked up at the woman with red eyes. In the wavering light from the hut, the cat seemed like an evil spirit that had come from hell to take her soul.
She did not retreat. “I want you to help My Lady.”
“Help her? How?”
“You know all about it, Moraga. Lady Lilian has been in a bad way for three days now. Her childbed fever will take her to her grave. The doctor came and gave her a cleansing and let her blood, but the fever won’t let go. I don’t want her to die.”
The old witch shrugged. “But what does your lady wish for?”
“She wants to die.” The woman looked down. “I know she does, but I…”
The witch’s face softened. “I understand. Even with all her faults, she’s like a daughter to you. You love her. Let’s see that basket.”
“Yes. And this.” As the woman took a purse from her belt, something in it jingled. “This is also for you.”
“Good.”
The witch didn’t bother to look at her fee. She put her hand under the woman’s chin and lifted her face so she could see her eyes.
“I will give you something—something strong. You will mix it with milk and give it to her to drink. Then, you’ll need to sit by her bed and call her by name or call her by the name you used for her when she was small. Talk to her about anything, but keep talking. If she decides to live, she will come back to you.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
The corner of the witch’s mouth twitched. “My remedy can bring a soul back into the body, but it won’t work if the soul doesn’t want to stay. Do you understand?”
The woman nodded.
“It all depends on you. If you get through to her, she’ll come back. Otherwise, she’ll be gone forever, and nothing will help.”
The woman nodded again. “I will do it.”
“Then wait here; I’ll bring you the remedy.”
The witch disappeared back into her hut, leaving the woman on the step. She was still afraid of the forest noises and the trees stretching out their claws to her, but she waited for the medicine, thinking of the walk back through the forest.
When I get home, I will do everything as the witch instructed. I don’t want to lose my girl. I will call her name—Lilian, Lily, Baby. She’ll come back to her old nanny. She just has to.
Secrets and Lies
The first thing Aliya felt was pain.
And the second.
And the third.
Then she opened her eyes. The face hanging over her gave little cause for optimism. She doesn’t look like a nurse. Aliya closed her eyes. She remembered the car flipping, the sound of her neck snapping. I ought to be in the hospital, she thought, knowing it would take at least a year of rehab to get back on her feet.
Half-Demon's Revenge Page 40
