by J W Cotter
The First Forest:
The Veiled King
Standing in the middle of a long room in the midst of various portraits and marble busts the youngish man moaned and muttered to the several painted and sculptured faces.
“Why is it doing it?” he asked loudly as he looked from one bearded old man to the next. Clasping his hands around the cold head of a man not quite older than he was he asked him the same question. None of them responded. “I bet you’re finding this humorous old man?” he said meanly to the last portrait right at the end of the long room, just to the left of a large dais. “Your children died before you and as hard as you tried to fight it death came for you too and now look, as much as you hated the thought here I stand the new King of Nuvarin and I cannot even sit on the Throne! This is your doing” he climbed up upon the dais and stood in front of the large chair carved from wood that was over a millennium old. It wasn’t the most attractive piece of furniture in the room but it certainly was the fiercest. Looming over everything, it required the climbing of five large steps before one was able to sit upon it and look out over the room and through the tall windows beyond. From there it was said that the King could see everything. Unfortunately for the new King, he wasn’t able to see much. “Please, please let me sit down” he begged the Throne as he climbed the five steps and slowly turned to face the empty room. Placing his hands on the arms of the chair, on which all the names of the previous Kings of Nuvarin were eloquently etched, he lowered himself onto the hard wood. He found himself smiling as he relaxed into the chair, even the ominous carving of an old man with his eyes closed on the back of the Throne drifted from his mind. Then, like the other times before, it happened. First the arms started to break and splinters were sent flying into the King’s hands, he clenched tightly and refused to move. It might only all be a test, the first time he sat on it he jumped at the sound of the breaking wood. The second time he lasted until a piece of wood lodged itself into his lower back. Everyone thought he was mad, none of them had ever witnessed the spectacle and when he went looking for a healer with the back wound, there was none, no back wound. The splinters continued to dig deep into the skin and there was no stabbing in the back this time, but suddenly the legs of the Throne started to fracture and before he knew it the King found himself tumbling down the steps of both the Throne and the dais landing in a heap on the floor. Angry he stood up and shouted at the chair which again looked exactly like it did before he sat down. “You stupid piece of wood, you’re going to be sorry!” Then he thought he was crazy. The eyes opened up and a mouth that was never etched in appeared.
“You are not the rightful King, there are others before you” it said in a gravelly tone, as if it hadn’t spoken in centuries. The King was livid, he was the rightful heir and he wasn’t going to let some old chair keep him from ruling.
“I did warn you” he replied even though the eyes had now closed and the mouth again gone. He walked to one of the busts and then he slowly returned to the dais and climbed the steps one more time, metal dragging along the tiled floor. “I think it’s time for a new Throne” he smiled as he lifted the axe and brought it down with such angry force that one of the arms shattered instantly sending shards of names all over the room. Then it was the other arm followed by the seat itself and finally the back, he enjoyed hacking the scary face into pieces.
With the immense pleasure the King was deriving from chopping the Throne into kindling he was unable to hear the banging on the numerous doors which in his plan not to be seen as the Throne ridiculed him, he locked. Suddenly they all burst open and in spilled numerous guards all dressed in the Velvet colour of the Vadsaria name. At least forty of them, with weapons in hand rushed into the long room and encircled the King who was sweating and breathing heavily. One guard took hold of the axe just as it was about to deliver another splintering hit, and the King seethed.
“How dare you, you will hang for that”
“My Grace what have you done?” a voiced asked and as the King turned he could see the guards part and along walked a heavy set man dressed in the finest of clothes and with ginger red hair that had a slight white twinge. “My Grace this is a most unholy travesty” he continued as he picked up a piece of timber with a closed eye on it.
“I wanted a new Throne” he replied like a spoilt ten year-old before moving down the steps and toward the centre of the room, the guards still creating a barrier around their liege. “Get out get out, I don’t need protecting” he shouted as one of them was slow in moving out of the path of the King’s long strides. They were obedient and just as fast as they arrived in the room, they left. Standing again in the midst of busts and portraits the sweat dripped from every pore with beads still forming on his forehead while his shirt was drenched through. “I need water” he shouted and in quickly ran a young boy with a jug and as soon as the King snapped it out of his hands he ran away, faster. The man approached the King again.
“My King what you have done” he started before being interrupted.
“A travesty, you’ve already said that”
“And that is what it is; there is no doubt about it. For the past millennium the Rulers of Nuvarin have sat upon that Throne, it has almost become like a King’s right hand” he said to his own detriment. The King struck him hard across the face.
“This is the King’s right hand!” he roared as he shook his hand in the man’s face. “And I am King” he finished before moving towards the large arched exit at the end of the hall.
“Yes you are my Grace, for our penance” he whispered the latter softy so as to be sure not to be heard. Then like a well trained dog, he followed his Master down to the arch. One of the doors was slightly open and the King had half slipped out into the corridor and he was screaming and roaring again. “I want him here now” and “bring the scheming witch with him” were the orders he was shouting at the poor trembling guard.
“My Grace perhaps we shall wait in the Council Chambers?” the man asked looking at the ground afraid to meet his gaze. The King looked at him and saw the red mark on his face.
“Sometimes I don’t know my own strength Calyn” he said smiling gently and placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Your Grace is the strongest warrior in Nuvarin” Calyn replied to which the King laughed heartedly so much so that his face too became a little red.
“I needed a good laugh, now let’s go to the Chambers seeing as the Throne room will need a bit of sprucing up” he said as he began to walk down the corridor. “You” he said pointing to one of the guards. “Tell them to bring the prisoners to the Chambers” he ordered before continuing down the corridor and up a small flight of stairs and passed a number of stationary guards, two of whom opened the small iron door that led to the Council Chambers. The room wasn’t exactly the nicest in the palace; it had only a long table and solid wooden chairs that were as ugly as they were sturdy. There were no paintings on the walls, no carpets on the floor and only a small amount of light was able to shine through four tiny slits on one wall. The smell of burning oil and the smoke from hundreds of candles watered the eyes as soon as one entered the room. In the beginning the room was used as a secondary arsenal, one close enough to the Throne room in case attackers got so close to the Monarch, but eventually another King found a better use for it. Vian the Vicious began using the room for his Council meetings when he became annoyed when they started to drag on for hours and hours and on more than one occasion from dawn to dusk. So he made the Council convene in one of the most uncomfortable rooms in the palace in the hope that business would be done quick and he was free to enjoy the benefits of King. The idea was a success, not one meeting since then has lasted more than an hour as the fumes and intense heat generated caused many a man to faint and many more resign so as to leave the room.
As Calyn and the King entered, passing the keeper of the chamber, Calyn slipped something into the hand of the King and he in turn placed it un
der his belt.
“Greetings Good Council” the King said and all those who were seated at the table stood immediately. There were nine members of the council but only five, most of them handpicked by the King to become members of the thirty-sixth council of Nuvarin, but only five were present at the moment. “Please be seated” the King continued as he took his seat at the head of the table. “I see some are missing”. None of them said nothing in reply but merely looked to each other in trepidation. “Well I hope they hurry, this isn’t my most favourite of places!” he said smiling. The King was very skilled in hiding his true feelings when he needed to. Only a few shards of paper and feathered quills were on the table, not a jug nor glass nor piece of fruit in sight, they were deemed too welcoming. “So Idyna, how are you today?” the King asked as he shifted in the seat to face the woman to his right.
“I am well your Grace, thank you for asking” she replied, her voice dulcet, like her face. Idyna was the youngest member on the council and by far the most hygienic, as the others sweated through their clothes, her sleeveless silk blouse allowed what little air in the room to brush against her skin. Officially she was referred to as the Supreme Lady Justice; she was the one who governed all things law, with the blessing and agreement of the King. Her appointment was seen as somewhat unfair as she had only been a practicing barrister for three years, while there were numerous senior barristers and nine judges for the King to choose from but he picked her from obscurity and she was proving to be an inspired choice. Just as he was about to greet The Miser, the man in charge of the City’s monies, a little scuffle could be heard coming from the bottom of the small stairs that led to the chambers. It was a woman’s voice and from its raspy tone the King knew exactly who it was and his cheeks blushed slightly.
“I will not give you it, now get out of my way” the voice carried up the stairs and into the chamber.
“But Ma’am you are not allowed comforts like this in the chamber” the Keeper responded.
“I am the King’s Cousita, his deputy and if I want to bring it with me I will” she announced her position in a sure bid to intimidate the keeper.
“Ma’am it is not permitted to bring comforts to the chamber, now give it to me please and I will ensure its safe keeping”
“I’ll give you a slap for safe keeping if you do not get out of my way” and with that there was a slight thud and none of the listening members knew whether or not she had delivered on her threat but up the stairs they heard heavy footsteps and breathing and in the door she burst. She was a woman of some considerable size; she had to inhale in order to get through the frame of the door and as she entered the room she wiped sweat from her brow and fanned her face with a bright green lace fan. “That little runt should be locked up” she puffed as she moved up along the room to the King. “So sorry Harold” she begun to say and the King’s face tensed up. “I mean your Grace, he tried to take the fan off me, and last time I was in here I nearly melted” she said kissing the King on the cheek.
“Well you obviously won Mother!” the King replied as he took hold of the fan. “You know he was just doing his job but I’ll overlook it just this once” he smiled handing back the fan to his mother.
“Gentleman, Idyna greetings” she said as she walked back down the room and took her seat at the end of the table directly opposite her son and as she sat the table shook as her large belly bumped off it. “Well I see I’m not the only one who’s late” she said to the group and just as she said it two more people entered the room.
“Apologies your Grace, we were stopped by the guards, they told us we weren’t needed” one of them said, a man in his fifties with a scroll of paper under his arm.
“They said there wasn’t a Council meeting occurring, apparently they were lying, perhaps General you should have a word with them” the other one said, a young woman who was as subtle as a shovel in the face. The General rose to his feet. A magnificently tall man many wondered was there some bit of giant in his genes as he towered over all the rest, sitting or standing.
“How dare you speak to me with that tone” he retorted. His voice was old and gravelly and his thick brown eyebrows were raised in anger until he felt the King’s touch on his arm prompting him to sit down.
“Now now General I do not think Anne meant anything by her comments, she is just a little frustrated by the run-around” the King said as he stood. The General sat down, still seething; Harold wasn’t the only one quick to temper. Anne and her male companion Nyang were the two elected members of the council known as the Voices. The people of Pastorious voted them on to the council for a five-year term for them to fight for the plights of the public. “I apologise sincerely for this muddle, you see there is a council meeting today but it is in relation to the security of Pastorious and as both of you are aware only the members of the council appointed by me are to be present” he said sweetly, his mother snorted a sign of haughtiness which the King ignored.
“But your Grace I strongly believe the security of Pastorious is an issue that affects the people of Pastorious and therefore we should be at this meeting” Anne replied, her voice dripping with imagined authority. Nyang wasn’t so forthcoming in joining Anne’s plight to be allowed sit at the table; he was practically backing away to the door.
“I agree Anne and perhaps we shall look at changing the rules in the future but for now please let us get on with the issue at hand”
“And what issue is that?” she replied her voice losing the little bit of respect it had at the start of the little debate.
“An issue that is for the Security Council”
“Well you’re the King, change the rule and allow me to sit at the Security Council” she retorted, not liking the idea of being forced away from a meeting that could prove very important.
“Oh for goodness sake get out would you, he said this is a meeting for the appointed members and you were not appointed” the King’s mother snapped.
“Well said Gertie” the General lauded her little outburst.
“I still think I should be here” she retorted as she wasn’t the type of person to back away from an argument when she believed her opinion was right.
“Oh for heaven’s sake” Gertie shouted and she heaved herself out of the chair and pounded the few steps to Anne and man handled her out the door, Nyang had darted down the stairs as soon as she started to get up.
“This isn’t right” Anne shouted from the middle of the staircase.
“Well everybody here doesn’t care and we are the only people who matter” Gertie replied and banged the door shut. A little round of applause filled the chamber as she sat down to which she greatly admired. Born Gertrude she was the previous King’s niece and from a young age was always jealous of not being a direct royal. Her mother, the dead King’s brother, wasn’t exactly the kindest of women and when she became a widow she took Gertrude her only child and moved out of Pastorious and settled in one of the King’s many castles far away. There she drank herself to an early grave and when Gertrude returned, she was almost twenty years of age and stone, her girlish looks were gone along with her innocence and she was lucky to be married off to an old Lord from one of the small towns in Nuvarin. Again she was forced to leave and live with another hard drinking, mean lout for another twenty years. Finally her fortunes changed when a mere six months ago, the widowed Gertrude was summoned back to Pastorious with her only son Harold by the ailing King. His son and youngest daughter had died while his eldest daughter disappeared. It turned out that Harold was the closest living heir and with great annoyance in his face the dying King conveyed this to Gertrude who tried her best to hold back her joy. Soon after he died and her son was in the midst of his Coronation she was appointed the King’s Couister, Cousita seeing as she was the first woman to hold the title, and she became the second most powerful person in Pastorious and she swore to Leon and Leonora that she would never be forced out again.
Then the
re was a slight rapping on the door and in walked an elderly man, easily the oldest in the room with a neck so wrinkled it resembled a stocking that had been left on the floor for weeks.
“My apologies your Grace, my legs don’t carry me as quickly as they used I’m afraid” he said as he sat down across from the General who just gave him a nod of salute.
“No apologies necessary Lyam, we would always wait for you” the King lied; he was getting ever so good at it. From the inception of the council there was a clause that when a monarch died and the heir created a new council the Cousita of the previous council would be automatically placed on the new council and known as the Original. Occasionally the Cousita might not be in a position to join the new council so the next ranking member would be chosen. Lyam was in perfect condition to take the position of Original, much to the King’s annoyance as the former Cousita he was incredibly close to the dead King and worse to his living widow.
“Can we start please, I’m already making a puddle” Gertie grunted as she shifted in her seat allowing a few more drops of sweat to fall to the puddle on the floor. “This heat is unbearable” she added as her chubby wrist started to flex the fan.
“Yes, yes we shall start. I call this security meeting of the Council to order. Firstly, the members; Supreme Lady Justice” he said to which she replied “Regalo Gratia”, “General Easting” to which he replied “Commander”, “The Honourable Miser” to which the quiet man seated by the end near Gertie replied a barely audible “Graaa…..grrraa…grrraaa…..Grace” he finally got the word out following a little thump from Gertrude. She wasn’t very trusting of the bumbling Miser and she always felt he was the type of person who could peel an orange in his pocket “The Most Pious Padre” the King said with a slight bow of his head, to which the rather burly gentleman on the other side of Gertie replied with “A blessing to your Grace”. “Original” the King uttered to which the old man retorted with a simple “here”. That caused one of Gertie’s eyebrows to rise significantly but the King shrugged it off. “And finally, the King’s Cousita, Deputy of Matters, Keeper of the Peace and Chair of the Council, the Duchess”. Gertrude loved when she was announced by her entire title, it was almost euphoric for her every time the words came falling out of anyone’s mouth and she proudly wobbled in to a room or lifted her numerous chins with a wide smile. Truth be told, the last title was one she asked to have added, there hadn’t been a Duchess in Nuvarin for centuries but ever since she was a child she dreamed of being called that more than a princess. She was never one to aim quite high.
Introductions were made, seats were taken, sweat was dripping and it was time for the meeting to begin and as soon as the King banged his golden lion’s head on the table a tapestry behind him moved and from behind it came a soldier with a prisoner bound in chains. All eyes were on the prisoner as the soldier moved her along the wall of the room and stood her behind the Lyam and Idyna. The poor woman was shaking, her clothes were rags and the bags beneath her eyes showed she hadn’t slept properly in days.
“So this is her” Gertie said aloud staring with disdain at the woman. “She’s a big one!” she added to the chuckle of most of her fellow members. The woman was indeed big but she was no way near the rotund size of Gertie who was still sweating even though her green fan was almost breaking apart with the ferocious movement.
“Lady Justice, the floor is yours” the King said. She gathered a few parchments of paper and stood up.
“Your Grace, esteemed members of the Council, Duchess. Here is Coque D’aragon” she paused as a slight rumble of surprise ruffled through the few members. “She is charged with high treason, murder and aiding the illegal departure of two women to the New World” Idyna continued as she placed one piece of paper back on the table.
“I still can’t believe those stupid pile of rocks are working” Gertie snorted, wiping her brow with her already drenched sleeve.
“My dear Lady, those stupid rocks are the Veil between this world and the next and for centuries they have thankfully remained dormant. Now the curse has worn off and new threats face Nuvarin, who knows what will come through” Lyam passionately said to Gertie who was practically rolling her eyes in front of him.
“Well they weren’t so dormant twenty-odd years ago when the late King Vance’s daughter and grandson disappeared through them” she snarled. At the mention of the dead King all members of the Council covered their mouth in a mark of respect to never speak ill of the dead. Gertie of course also covered her mouth, but not in a way that hindered her speaking.
“That was a dark night in Pastorian history, and thankfully we found a Jip” he stopped abruptly. His face reddened slightly and he shifted in his seat.
“You found a what?” Gertie inquired leaning on the table, her fatted arms folded out in front of her.
“Nothing, we found nothing” Lyam replied regaining his composure and air of superiority. Gertie left it go, she knew that once the old man had closed his mouth on a matter it was never going to open again, she knew there were others in the palace who would know and who would be more easily influenced.
“Indeed we must try and find a way to stop the Veil from causing havoc but all in due course, today we must deal with the matters at hand and then we shall find a solution to the Veil” the King said calmly glancing at his mother who nodded her approval. “Lady Justice we apologise for the interruption, please continue” he added, his hand outstretched toward her.
“Thank you your Grace. Ms. D’aragon has confessed to all crimes put against her by the city of Pastorious and in my position as Supreme Lady Justice I strongly press for the punishment of death” she finished to silence. Taking her seat the others just looked at Coque. It was obvious she had been beaten; there were even a few scars that would have been left by a whip on her legs.
“Has she not said anything?” Lyam asked croaking his head back to look at Idyna.
“All the prisoner has said is that she has fulfilled her destiny and that now is her time” she replied.
“Now is her time? Time for what?” Gertie barked as she got up from her seat which took her a couple of attempts. Wobbling over to the chained woman she took her by the shoulders, squeezed and peered deep into her eyes. “Now is your time for what dear girl?”
“Now is my time to die, the zephyr carries no more words” she answered in a mechanic tone. They stared at each other their eyes not leaving each other’s gaze until finally Gertie had reached a verdict.
“Bonkers, utterly bonkers” she diagnosed and left the girl and returned to her seat, a large sweat stain on her back and buttocks.
“Right then, a vote” the General said. “All those for the death penalty” he added and hands crept up toward the rafted ceiling, except Gertie, hers shot right up sending a film of sweat all over the Miser who shuddered. The Original kept his hand down and he was the only one, the King’s hand was raised and although not unanimous, the death penalty it would be. Coque nodded, she had known this day was coming and its outcome.
“Please take the prisoner back to the dungeon, death will be at sunset” the King proclaimed. The guard took hold of her bruised arm and began to lead her back to behind the tapestry but she did not go quietly.
“The Red King will rise again, the prophecy will be fulfilled” she declared before the guard shook her slightly, but she was determined. “The Doppel” but before she could finish the guard smacked her hard and she silencened.
“I was right, downright bonkers” Gertie yawned before proclaiming that the room would be the death of her. For a few moments the entire table sat quietly, all of them trying to avoid each other’s gaze because for some of them sending a woman to her death required a few moments of reflection. “Right if your Grace allows it, shall we proceed?” Gertie asked, breaking the silence although she had been doing it since it started with her heavy breathing and voluble huffing.
“I shall” he replied and there was a u
nanimous sign of relief as the stifling incense scented heat was even beginning to break the Original, who had spent most of the past half century serving inside the dreaded room. “Guard, the next prisoner” the King shouted and once again the tapestry started to move and the guard came out once more. This time the prisoner was a man, in his thirties with a scruffy beard and balding spots. He stood in the same spot as Coque and tried not to make eye contact with anyone, especially the General who was staring at him with such anger it even made Gertie feel uncomfortable, well almost. “Lady Justice” Harold said and again Idyna got to her feet and explained the prisoner.
“Here is Matthew Boone, a man who joined the Army at the age of fourteen and over the course of twenty years has risen to the esteemed position of Forest Lieutenant with his Forest being the first” she was interrupted.
“And we all know how well he fared there” Gertie heckled.
“Mother please” Harold said even though her comment had obviously made him smile.
“My sincere apologies Idyna” Gertie said, however most things Gertie said weren’t sincere especially when she used the word sincere. Idyna smiled, it was best to smile when it came to Gertie.
“Boone is charged with treason. He is accused of plotting with the Widow Queen in challenging the King’s right to sit upon the Veiled Throne” Calyn squirmed slightly while Harold was unperturbed.
“TREASON TREASON TREASON” Gertie shouted loudly as she banged her saucepan sized fists on the table causing it to jump slightly.
“Yes we heard Lady Justice” Lyam snarled to which Gertie responded with another bang on the table, closer to the Original’s hands.
“So we shall vote” Idyna said taking her seat at the table and glancing at the others.
“Just one minute please” the King said getting up from his faintly larger seat. He took the arm of the prisoner and walked with him, taking him down one side of the chamber passing the backs of the General and the Miser before stopping behind his mother. “This man is a true soldier, taking his oath of service at the age of twelve and committing his life to protect Pastorious and its people” he said to his council all the while slipping out the item he had placed under his shirt and discreetly placing it in the hands of the prisoner. “There is no doubt in my mind that he is loyal to Pastorious and the Royal family he has sworn to protect. Sadly, the Widow Queen is part of the Royal family and she has shown her trust lies elsewhere” he continued before moving up along the other side of the chamber before stopping almost immediately, directly behind the Original. “The Widow Queen in her immense grief for her dead husband, son and daughter has succumbed to hysteria. She believes that her grandson and daughter are in the New World, longing to find a way to come home. So once the Veil showed signs of life she plotted her escape and I know others helped her along, ones who too have divided loyalties” he said looking at the General while placing his hand on the Padre’s shoulder. It was difficult to tell who felt uncomfortable because of the King’s speech and who was uncomfortable because of the ever increasing temperature. All of them were sweating and all of them bar Gertie were staring in every direction except the King’s. “My mother always told me that it was hard to tell the difference between some flowers and weeds, she said the ones that pluck from the earth easily are flowers while the tougher ones to uproot are weeds” Gertie smiled and nodded as the King moved back up along the chamber to his seat, leaving the prisoner behind, on his own. “I think that poor Boone here is a flower tangled in a nest of weeds that is about to be plucked from the earth for a crime done on someone else’s behalf” he said looking at each member of the council. “But he is the one being charged so he is the one being punished. I take it you are calling for the death penalty Lady Justice?”
“I am your Grace” she replied baring glancing at him.
“Very well, all those in favour of the death penalty raise your hand”. This vote wasn’t the same; it was as if all of them were waiting to see what the other would do. Harold in his capacity of King was able to cast his vote last, so he watched. The first hand to rise was Idyna, followed by Gertie who actually apologised to the prisoner.
“I know dear you are not a weed but weeds have a way of engulfing even the strongest of flowers” she said before looking at Lyam. He slowly raised his hand and then the other members followed. There was a brief moment of silence as they all waited for the King’s reaction and then for a few seconds madness erupted. Gertie’s screams filled the chamber and the running of Idyna for the safety behind the tapestry were all caused by the prisoner wrapping his chains around Lyam’s neck and pulled tightly. The Most Pious Padre had taken the most extreme measure of sheltering beneath the table while the General immediately stood between the King and the attack. Gertie was too big to move quickly so she remained seated watching and screaming as the Original’s face turned a frightening purple and then blue until his eyes lost all life. The prisoner released his chains and took a step back before swallowing something and falling almost immediately to the ground with a foamy residue escaping from his mouth.
“Everyone okay?” Calyn stupidly asked.
“Okay? Okay? I just saw a man be strangled to death, how could I possibly be okay? I need a bloody drink” Gertie retorted as the poor green fan was beginning to rip from the increase in flapping. Suddenly the keeper burst in the door followed by eight guards and the room became an oven. “Two of you, take the King back to his apartment and never lose sight of him” the General ordered and the King was ushered out of the chamber passing the dead as he went with Calyn naturally following. “Two of you head for the Wet dungeon” was his next order. Idyna was long gone, the tapestry led to a corridor that led to a small staircase that eventually led to another set of stairs that would eventually have her in the midst of wet dungeons so called because instead of cells, prisoners were placed in cold dirty water twenty-three hours a day. “Duchess you should leave, here these fine soldiers shall escort you back to your apartment” he said taking the woman’s fat hand while beckoning two more men.
“Fine soldiers, ha, we’ve just seen what your fine soldiers do” Even in the midst of a terrible atrocity Gertie was never one to soften her words. But she left, not quietly though as she gave one howl of grief as she took one last look at the Original. Then the Padre was coaxed out from beneath the table and he gladly took the armed escort back to the safety of his walled Cathedral Village where his own guards stood. All that was left was the General and the Miser, who did not move from his seat in all of the action.
“You know for a moment there I thought he knew” the General whispered as he took his seat again next to the Miser.
“The King only knows what he is supposed to know, nothing more” the Miser replied with a smirk.
“Poor Lyam though, do you think the King put the prisoner up to it?”
“And who do you think put the King up to it?” the Miser replied getting to his feet. “Ruling is a tricky thing, it puts a crown on your head and a target on your back” he added before disappearing out the door and down the stairs.
