The King's Assassin

by M.M. Brownlow

The morning certainly wasn’t a whole lot of fun for the new king either. Eryk suddenly had a funeral to plan, and he quickly discovered that a royal funeral took a lot of work. There were letters to be sent by fast couriers to every kingdom Bacovia had ties to, a public viewing to be arranged for once the body was prepared, and the funeral itself, which involved coordinating with the head of the religious orders in the city. The only thing he didn't have to do was prepare the body itself. The healers took care of that, using a combination of mundane and magical techniques to prepare and preserve the corpse. Eryk was grateful that his uncle’s funeral three years previous was still fresh enough in his memory that he had a reference point to use to start his planning.

  On top of all of these immediately necessary duties, he also had the more ordinary duties of running the kingdom thrust upon him too. Many things would be postponed until after his father’s funeral ten days from now, but Eryk found himself unexpectedly in the middle of a half-negotiated treaty with Madelia, the kingdom to the north. He had no idea what had been accomplished to date, but he also knew that it would not be a good idea to delay finishing the treaty for the length of time that it would take to complete the royal funeral. One small bit of good fortune was that Branden had his father to help pass along the details of what had happened in the negotiations up until now, and he, in turn, could pass that information on to Eryk.

  Once Eryk had seen the healers started on their work, he had the treaty negotiations scheduled for the afternoon, and then he penned the letters for the couriers. Finally, he decided that he should at least try to eat something, so he went back upstairs to his rooms to dress quickly, choosing a black linen tunic with short sleeves and lightweight black pants. The sun was still shining outside, so he didn't want to wear anything too heavy. He was certain that the color alone would be enough to keep him overly warm.

  Branden met Eryk outside of his door as he exited his suite. Branden had also retired to his rooms to change, and he was ready to face whatever the day had in store for them. As they walked back down the stairs toward the dining hall, Branden tried to strike up a conversation.

  “I've been told that your belongings will be moved into the royal suite this afternoon, once the servants have had time to clear away your father’s personal things.”

  “They don’t need to rush,” Eryk commented. He saw no need to hurry into his father’s soon to be empty quarters. It was bad enough that there was a formal coronation ceremony looming on tomorrow’s horizon; he didn't really need the rooms today.

  Eryk had certainly never thought that all of this would be his so soon, and had, in fact, tried his best to avoid any of these duties at all. If he had thought having a wife to care for was bad…having a whole kingdom was far worse. He sighed, already missing the freedom that he had enjoyed just the day before.

  Branden frowned at Eryk’s dismissive comment. He would have thought that Eryk would be thrilled to be in the royal suite. They’d dreamed of it as children, and now that the reality was here, Eryk didn't seem very enthusiastic. Branden understood that Eryk had just lost his father, but one would think that having part of your dreams come true would spark at least a little excitement.

  As they entered the dining hall, Eryk noticed that Durham, Cora and little Davin were there already, all dressed appropriately in black. Byron was also there, wearing one of the black armbands the guard commonly sported when they mourned the passing of someone. Aislynn was conspicuously absent. Eryk frowned a little, and Byron noticed his restless glances, eyes moving from table to door and back again, as if looking for someone.

  “You told her to stay away from you,” Byron commented a bit acidly. “You said that you didn't want to see her again, and she’s obeying your command. She’s dining elsewhere, in case you wanted to know.” His disapproval of the situation was glaringly apparent, and his tone was bordering on being entirely disrespectful, which could be dangerous in certain company.

  Eryk continued to walk toward his new chair at the head of the table, but Durham interrupted his progress by stepping into his path.

  “Are you fighting with your princess?” He sounded genuinely concerned, but Eryk didn't trust that for one minute. He’d never liked his cousin’s uncle. There was just something off about the man.

  “Not exactly, no,” Eryk said. Technically, he wasn’t fighting with Aislynn. He’d ordered her away, and she was doing what she was told, finally acting like a properly raised noble lady. For once.

  “Well it’s a shame that she isn't here,” Durham commented. “I was starting to become fond of her. She is certainly…something, isn't she?”

  Eryk decided not to bother being drawn into a conversation with Durham, especially not about Aislynn, and he took a step around the man. He took his seat, and the servants began to serve the meal. Eryk selected only a little of the food being offered to him, and he ate less than half of it. He had no appetite, but knew that his body needed fuel, so he forced himself to take one bite at a time until he just couldn't bring himself to eat any more.

  During the meal, Eryk was aware that Durham and Branden were talking, but he didn't care enough to pay attention. They both seemed to sense that his thoughts were elsewhere, and seemed content to leave him out of the conversation entirely.

  When he was finished pretending to eat, Eryk sighed and stood, nodded to the servants, and then he left the room to prepare for the council meeting he had to deal with for the rest of the morning. Branden was quick to follow, knowing that Eryk would need an advisor at a time like this, an advisor who felt nothing but sadness for the old king’s passing, and optimism for the new king’s reign. Branden felt that he fit that description perfectly.

  The council had eight members who were responsible for finances, defense of the kingdom, defense of the city, merchants, artisans, healers, religion, and diplomatic relations. They were all gentlemen, each selected for his post by Tarren. While there were currently no women on the council, there had been in the past, and the only member of the current council who Eryk really knew was Byron, who was responsible for the defense of the city. Also present at the meeting were Branden, as Eryk’s chief advisor, and the royal secretary.

  Everyone was assembled and waiting when Eryk and Branden entered the council chamber. They were all dressed somberly in black, except for Byron, and everyone expressed their condolences when he entered. Eryk just nodded in acknowledgement of their comments, took his seat at the head of the table, and brought the meeting to order.

  “So what’s first on the agenda today?” he asked.

  “Well, your Majesty, we should likely start by going over the procedure for tomorrow’s coronation ceremony.” This was Father Jonas, who was the religious advisor on the council, and the head of the religious orders in the city.

  They went over all of the details: where Eryk would stand, what he would say, who would do what. They ironed out the finer points of the ceremony, and then they all moved on to other business.

  “I know that you were supposed to have until Midsummer…”

  “No!” Eryk straightened up in his seat, trying to look intimidating. His precious freedom was vanishing before his eyes, by leaps and bounds.

  “But your Majesty, a bachelor King is a very dangerous thing,” said Lord Geoffrey, the commander-in-chief of Bacovia’s army. “It is very easy to envision overthrowing a kingdom when there is no direct heir.”

  Eryk knew that they were right, but he just couldn't admit it aloud, not yet. He sighed. “How long will you give me?”

  “Well, your Majesty, the sooner the better. Having a fiancée at your side for your coronation would be ideal…” He trailed off, seeing Eryk shaking his head at that. “Well, definitely before the funeral then, so that you can attend your father’s funeral with your fiancée at your side. That gives you nine more days, since the funeral is the morning of the tenth day from now.”

  “I will think about it,” Eryk p
romised. Remembering last night, there were only a few of the ladies he’d danced with who stood out in his memory. He hoped that this would help him make a decision that he so dearly didn't want to make. He knew he had to though; he’d run out of time.

  “Is there anything else?” he asked.

  “No, your Majesty,” the secretary said. “Everything else has been postponed until after the funeral.”

  “In that case, I will bid you all good day.” Eryk rose from his chair and left the room, planning to have a light lunch in his study before meeting with the Madelian emissaries that afternoon. Branden was right behind him, and Eryk was reminded briefly of Cheta and the way she would follow Aislynn around everywhere.

  Damn that woman, he thought, anger flaring up again. How could she betray this kingdom like that? And to make matters worse, I haven’t seen her all day and she’s still haunting me. Eryk growled to himself under his breath, and sat down to his lunch, determined not to think about her again. Instead, he picked up the secretary’s notes from the previous diplomatic meetings with Madelia and started to read.