The king was lost for words as he yelled at his son, Wesley, who was knelt before the throne, staring down at the king’s shoes with a blank face.
Ser Isec Batir stood like a statue beside his king’s throne, as was customary for the captain of the city watch. On the other side of the enormous bronze throne with its spearhead-shaped backboard stood the king’s personal bodyguard. The man’s name was Sen Dorval, and he was the largest person Isec had ever seen- easily two feet taller than Isec.
An absolute beast of a man.
The king had not yet knighted Dorval, on account of his history of violence which had earned him the nickname of ‘The Ogre’. But the man was built like a bull, so a bodyguard was a good fit for him.
The king continued hurling insults at his son. All Isec could focus on was what was to come next. His prince had made a reckless and potentially dangerous decision by harming and nearly killing Prince Petir at the tourney earlier that day.
It twisted Isec’s stomach. He was filled with dread about the repercussions that would surely follow. After so many years of heightened tension from the border conflict, it was the last thing anyone wanted to happen.
“I’d have half a mind to throw you in a cell and leave you to rot, boy!” the king spat, taking a sip of his wine. “You have set back relations between Caldaea and Ashen by a fucking century! We may never recover from this!”
The royal scribe struggled to keep up with the king’s insults, scribbling hastily across his parchment. The noise of the quill across the parchment became so loud, and Tobius so frustrated, that the king threw his empty cup at the seated scribe. The man fell off his chair, spilling ink all over the tiled floor.
“Get out, you imbecile! Get out, I say!”
Isec stepped in, gently placing a hand on the king’s shoulder. “My king, we always keep records of our official affairs. The scribe is only doing his job,” Isec stated calmly.
Someone needs to be the voice of reason in this shitfest.
“What part of this sounds ‘official’ to you, you moronic oaf?!” Tobius shouted. Saliva ran from his dried lips and his crown was once again lopsided. “Don’t lecture me in my own throne room, Batir. You there, scribe, get out of my sight.”
Isec bowed to his king and fell back into his place beside the throne as the scribe gathered his quill and parchment and shuffled away.
“And there goes my bloody wine too!” Tobius sneered.
This is going to be a very long day indeed.
Isec had already had to order the discontinuation of all the celebrations in the city after the prince’s maiming, and organise the city watch to maintain the peace while also ensuring the protection of the royal families back inside the fortress.
The stress had left Isec with a splitting headache, as if a hammer were repeatedly bashing him in the temple.
“I spoke the truth, father! I did what I had to do!” Wesley said, breaking the silence he had maintained since injuring the prince. His eyes were bloodshot from crying and liquid ran from the boy’s nose, like that of a bubbling child.
Tobius arose suddenly and was mere inches away from Wesley; Isec was half expecting the king to strike his son, but he didn’t.
“This wasn’t some lowborn thug you injured, boy! You cleaved the arm off the prince of fucking Ashen!” Tobius barked.
“He took her from me!” Wesley snapped back.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! So, you lost your favourite cunt to play with! I’ll get you another!”
Isec could not help but sneer at the king’s words yet did well to hide it from sight. The last thing he wanted was Tobius going after him as well.
Tobius continued spouting his fiery words while pacing back and forth. “I found you a young, fertile princess who happened to be from Alyria’s most powerful family. But instead, you decide to attack her brother and fuck her sister-by-law! Were you dropped on your head as a babe, boy?”
Wesley shook his head from side to side, weeping into his hands. “I…I’m sorry, father.”
The king fell back into his throne, clenching his fists on the armrests. He looked away from his son as he spoke more calmly this time. “Now, we’ve lost everything. Emery leaves for Dawnhill with his miserable family. Our new alliance is all but terminated. The king wants you tried and locked away and I’d have half a mind to do as he says!”
Wesley did not reply. Sen Dorval remained at his post, silent as a corpse.
Isec stepped in. “Surely, we can claim it was some sort of accident?” The king listened intently as Isec spoke. “We would need to bribe the herald in order to have him testify that it was only part of the duel, that the victor had not yet been officially called.”
“Threatening the herald would be more sufficient to maintain his silence, I’d bet,” Tobius said. “Fear speaks louder than money.”
“However… I doubt King Emery would settle for that,” Isec added. “We all heard the judgement. We saw it with our own eyes.”
“That we did,” Tobius said, glaring back at his son.
“And yet the prince lost an arm.”
“That he did.”
“What of my wife…Ciana?” Wesley chimed in.
Isec had been wondering the same thing. The Blacktrees were leaving the city as they spoke, with good reason. Petir was in bad shape after his maiming, and Emery wanted his kin out of Caldaea. Who could blame him?
But it begged the question of what was to happen with the new marriage.
Tobius rubbed his forehead. “She is still your wife, for now. Emery requested to take her with him back to Ashen, but I will not have it. You underwent
