Death of a King Read online

  “Mayhaps, however, I see no reason for exclusion,” stated the elderly high priest.

  Gunthar couldn’t mask his surprise. Wil’s account disagreed with what he just witnessed. Who lie’s here? If I speak out, the architect will flee. This requires cunning. I entered a game of wits which I lack by comparisons. My moves may save or kill the prince, he pondered.

  Gunthar was grateful for the priest’s support. He was aware Ceron favored the prince and didn’t want to compromise his position. “Perhaps a vote?” he ventured.

  Ceron arced a brow, most curious, he thought. “We have no mystery here. However, should you wish to remain, I see no reason for exclusion also,” Ceron addressed the hall. “All in favor of allowing his stay, say I.” Six showed their support. Gunthar observed the opposed as did Ceron. He was surprised the supporters extended from all groups, wizards, clergy, laborers, craftsman, farmers and husbandry. Ceron feinted counting. “All opposed?” The remaining raised their hands. He repeated the facade as he studied the people and wondered why the council was suddenly divided. “Well well well, it appears we have a tie,” he stated with a pasty grin.

  “How vote you Ceron, since your vote is the decider?” ask the instigating mage.

  “Should I decline, the great knight will believe we conceal something. Should I be in his place, I too would presume so. However, since we hide nothing, I vote, I.” The opposed were outraged, calling him a spineless mass, a groveler. One shouted, stop licking his boots.

  Their behavior surprised the old knight as Ceron tried to restore order. “Please!” Gunthar aided the magistrate in regaining stability. He repeated himself several times and went ignored. Frustrated and determined to end the bickering, he made his way to the center of the hall, as they continued. Gunthar unsheathed his blade preparing to thrust it into the stone floor. Ceron noticed and immediately prepared himself. The blade’s grinding sound shrilled in their ears as it passed through the stone, followed by a thunderous boom.

  The screech resounded from the hall grabbed the passersby’s attention. They yelp then glance towards the terrifying rumble. Some of the denizens ran to investigate, others fled clear.

  The stunned council glanced around, not knowing what happened. Ceron played the fool and studied the members in pretended confusion. With obvious satisfaction, the old knight scanned the hall. Then slowly withdrew his blade from the stone, again it shrieked loudly. The magistrate didn’t expect it a second time and covered his ears. “Never have I been so appalled! You shame me….” he sheathed his blade, “I will remain as the ear of the crown!” No one rebutted. They regained their composure while murmuring. Ceron saw nothing out of character with the council members.

  They continued the proceedings wearily and gradually returned to normal, though weary eyes glanced at Gunthar now and again. The instigating mage focused on the lord knight. He ignored anyone that addressed him, not masking his distaste for the knight.

  The old knight was aware of the Curator’s delay on other matters but inquired about his return. Curious he was the only member not present, Gunthar thought.

  The session came to a close by mid-noon, and there was no mention of the prince. Gunthar leaned forward on his seat, “Pardon, what of Lord Dregous” he asked.

  Ceron quickly stood, “My dear knight, that was the first issue addressed.”

  Gunthar exercised protocol, “Kindly do me the courtesy.”

  “Of course,” he turned his attention to the venerable priest, “Would you please?”

  “Gratitude magistrate,” then addressed the knight, “He is doing well, though his sleep suffers.”

  “Have you seen him yourself?”

  He seemed unbothered by the question, “A dutiful acolyte is assigned that task.”

  Gunthar returned to his seat and leaned forward, “I see. Is this acolyte trustworthy?”

  “Trust is not the issue. A task is given and must be completed in the name of our order.”

  “I would like to see this acolyte,” Gunthar was confident he trapped the priest.

  The mage feinted rubbing his chest and discretely grabbed his amulet while whispering. Then masked his smiled by passing his hand over his mouth in pretended annoyance as he waited.

  “As you wish,” the priest addressed a temple guard, “Fetch Wil.” The guard departed as did some council members. A half-hour later, he returned with Wil.

  The acolyte addressed Gunthar as though they met for the first time. It was strange, the acolyte seemed indifferent. The old priest requested him to repeat his report. Wil addressed the knight with a slight leer, “I am pleased to report, the Dark one is doing well, though his diet and sleep wanes,” he announced.

  Gunthar managed to conceal his shock as a chill ran down his spine. The reports were different and wondered what Wil was doing. He wondered if conspiracy lurked in every shadow. How many wishes the prince ill, he thought.

  “Satisfied, lord knight?” the old priest glanced as Gunthar masked his concerns, which made him look ill, “Are you well?”

  “Aye,” he didn’t trust the venerable priest’s pleasantness. Perhaps his friends may aid, Gunthar thought. His famous stony face surfaced, “I heard enough,” stating satisfaction is against his principle for lying.

  “I trust satisfaction?” the magistrate knew the old knight wouldn’t lie. Gunthar’s answer will clue him.

  He offered a glare at Ceron and wondered why he always asks questions that put him in a position to lie. He wasn’t going to play his game. “As stated, I heard enough…,” then stepped away from his seat, signalling his escorts as he headed for the door.

  Ceron got his answer, he avoided lying. That only meant Gunthar suspects something and didn’t want to give himself away. Stating, he heard enough, was his way of being dissatisfied. The magistrate wondered if his friend suspected someone here.

  The venerable priest raised a hand at Wil, “You are dismissed.”

  “Have I been offensive in some way?” Wil displayed a slightly mocking tone. Ceron caught it and glanced between the two. Something is amidst, he thought with a dreadful fright. The magistrate had a nose for finding schemes. It was in his nature to be aware of his surroundings and how people spoke since his cutthroat days.

  “No no, you have done well,” said the high priest. Wil bowed while stepping back and exited. The acolytes’ single bow snared the magistrate’s attention. The young man always bowed repeatedly and humbly before the old high priest as he departs. “Most curious, would you not say?” the old priest questioned.

  You noticed, Ceron wondered while rubbing his portly chin. They were alone, “Quite; what do you suppose brought that on?” he hoped the old man would volunteer information or even a clue.

  The old priest tapped his fingertips together with pursed lips, “Curious Lord Gunthar joined us today. Ceron Studied him, “Perhaps he felt it was required.” Good Gods, you have not noticed! Intrigue surrounds us man like a plague, the magistrate thought.

  Chapter 2

  Prejudice, hate, disposition, is the spindle for spooling plots. My first journey to the surface I was subject to many ill pleasantries. Humans despise me for being Drouwen, so they plot my demise. I knew not why then, though I do now. I fault them not. As the saying goes, kill him while you can…

  Historical footnotes Recorded by a student mage.

  During Dregous’s first month of incarceration, Seeker occupied her time learning the domestic life to care for Crystal. Laundry was the first she learned. They finished their final load when they spotted priest Tuke Flaring walking towards them.

  “Tuke comes,” Millie smiled.

  “And what brightens your lovely face?” she failed to give a straight look. Millie’s continual smile alerted the Drouwen assassin. “Care your thoughts. He is a dear friend,” she offered a gentle smile.

  Millie slightly raised her brows, “I do not know Angelique, it seems like more,” and hauled a load of clothes glancing at Tuke making her way into the house.<
br />
  Seeker saw a sweet warm friend… “Oh please,” she said with a chuckle.

  “It does to me.”

  “To you what looks, dear Millie?” Tuke approached.

  “Women talk is all,” she answered with a mischievous grin.

  Seeker looked at her and laughed, “Pay her no mind, we jest.”

  “Truly, all know my love for…”

  Seeker interrupted, “It is a woman’s jest,” she smiled with a wink. Her wink was an unconscious reaction and realized what she did. The Dark Elf continued her chores pretending nothing happened and prayed her dark complexion hid her blush. He must have realized what she did, there’s no way he missed it.

  Oblivious to Seekers' flirtatious play, a curious expression daubed his face, “A woman’s jest?” when it dawned on him, “Oh my…, I see,” Tuke looked around embarrassed. “Umm, is Crystal around, I figure riding lessons would be in order,” he changed the subject and thought he was discrete.

  “She is by the barn,” Seeker replied.

  Millie stood at the doorway looking at Tuke, “She tends the chickens.”

  He excused himself and headed that way to surprise Crystal with her first riding lesson. Seeker watched him. “What better way to a mother’s heart than through her child,” Millie entered the house.

  He is so sweet… Great darkness, what are you thinking, Seeker’s thoughts surprised her, and felt a slight sting of fear.

  ***

  Gunthar marched to the Knights temple with his men in tow, through the crowded streets of Riverdale. A wagon creaked passed as the horse clocked its hooves on the cobblestone streets. The sun birthed elongated late noon shadows along the ground and buildings. They passed the Yellow Dragons foot inn, “Lawrence.”

  “My lord?” he glanced at the passing wagon.

  Gunthar too glanced at the cart, “What made you of acolyte Wil?” he asked then stopped, debating where to go.

  Lawrence habitually rested his hand on his pommel, glancing back at his lord knight. He thought a moment before answering. Wil, from what he recalled was always a jittery fellow but humble and respectful. The Wil they left at the hall, was sure, poised and confident, “Curious to say the least. It is as if, it wasn’t him.”

  Gunthar nodded as Lawrence spoke, “Aye… as thought I,” he was grateful Lawrence noticed. He changed directions and walked on as though patrolling.

  Lawrence trained and served under Lord Gunthar since his squire days. The old knight was always sure of his action and never questioned himself. For the first time, his mentor seemed uncertain. They walked about town until the shadows were diminished by the city walls. The light blue sky turned crimson as the sun continued going down. “What do you make of it my lord?” Lawrence finally broke their silence.

  Gunthar’s confidence wavered in the presence of intrigue. He wished he had the nose for it. “I know not, but whatever it is…,” he paused. The princess came to mind and the promise he made, “I gave the princess my word he would be safe under our care,” Gunthar shook his head. The meeting with Wil still fresh in his mind, “You did hear us, even though the door was closed.”

  “Aye my lord.”

  “So you heard his report?”

  “I did.”

  “Then it was not my imagining… good,” he countered. “I fear the architect may slip away if we are not cautious. This requires a delicate hand.”

  “Architect? What do you have in mind, my lord?”

  “Well, my friend, hence his companions. They may have the means to reveal the conspirator,” Gunthar cautioned they weren’t followed and directed back to the Yellow Dragons foot from the opposite side.

  The old knight motioned Lawrence to head for the inn when it came into view. He opened the inn door for his lord, someone stepped out. The man expressed gratitude, the young knight replied in kind, he ushered his Lord in, then followed.

  Meredith the barmaid, greeted the knights as they took a table near the hearth. Her long black hair draped over her shoulders, partially resting on her breasts. She padded her wet hands dry with her apron while taking their order. Gunthar didn’t see the princess’s friends.

  The old knight touched her elbow when She turned away, “Pardon.”

  She glanced, “My lord?”

  “Where are the princess’s companions?”

  “Which one, the Half-Elf?” she asked.

  “No…,” he hastily said, more than he intended.

  His quick response aroused her curiosity, “What of Angelique or Tuke,” she added.

  “Aye, Him…” he blurted, “Him…” the priest’s name eluded the old knight.

  “Tuke?” she ventured.

  “Aye, him.”

  “What would you have me do milord?”

  “Would you be a dear and deliver a message?” Gunthar kissed her hand, an absentminded expression of his affections for her.

  “I am here to serve,” she curtseyed and wondered the significance of the coming engagement, “What is the message?”

  “I wish to speak with him as soon as possible. But be discrete and casual, to arouse no suspicion.”

  Meredith poured their brews, all the while wondering. Wondering the urgency of the message burned with a curiosity almost too difficult for her to bear. Moments later she handed them their drinks. She returned to the back and grabbed her shawl then exited the rear door. The barmaid headed for the mansion without so much of an upward glance to see where she was going.

  “Hold!” said a man with a stern voice startling Meredith. Her feet and hands grew cold and numb from the fright. Two constables guarded the front gate, one barred her way with a polearm.

  With a yelp, she stood fast, then tried to regain her composure, noting the one barring her was the one that startled her. “Good evening,” she stuttered while rapidly blinking and her heart raced.

  “State your purpose,” the other said evenly.

  Meredith pulled her shawl tighter to chase away her chill, “I bring word for Tuke Flaring.”

  “I will ensure…”

  She interrupted, “Lord Gunthar insisted Tuke only,” she held her ground nervously.

  They studied her small frame, barely standing 170 centimeters, with a childlike face, “Wait here,” he ordered. The other guard inspected her.

  She discretely studied the surroundings. More guards stood beyond the gate, stationed in different points. Among them were five knights.

  The Guard returned with the priest. “Meredith my dear, it is good to see you…?” He approached her and sensed her worry, “Is all well?”

  Meredith smiled seeing the priest, “I am well, and you?” the guard stepped away as Tuke glanced at him.

  “Also well,” he replied, “What brings you out this night my dear…, oh did I forget to pay our meals?”

  Meredith looked between him and the guard, “No no, our saviors' coin has no value at the inn….” she said, then whispered, “I bring a message from Lord Gunthar.”

  He led her a few meters away out of earshot, “What troubles you?” he asked.

  “Lord Gunthar wishes to speak with you.”

  “Curious, why did he not come?”

  She glanced between Tuke and the streets. “I thought as well,” hugging against the cold. “I have a displeasing feeling,” she muttered.

  “Pardon?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  He sensed her worry, it ran deep, “I see… …did he state his reason?”

  “No, only that he wishes to speak to you,” Meredith shuddered against the cold.

  “Truly,” he wondered, then sensed a growing fear within her.

  “I fear something horrible awaits.”

  He studied her eyes and wondered what Gunthar wanted to talk about. Meredith’s fear struck him like a ping in his chest. He would have to inform the princess urgent matters arose requiring his attention, “Wait here,” Tuke padded her hands pleasantly. Her hands clamped against her arms did little to still the chill as she shivered.
He returned to the guards, “Please inform the princess I must take my leave.” The guard stepped away.

  Tuke came alongside the barmaid, “Come, my dear, let us see what the lord knight requires,” he whispered.

  ***

  Gunthar consumed the last of his ale when Lawrence indicated the main door. He glanced, then stood, “Greetings dear Tuke, always a sight for ailing eyes,” Gunthar grasped his forearm firmly. He addressed Meredith, “My gratitude.”

  “Greetings lord Gunthar,” Tuke sense a heightened worry from the knight as they took their seats. “Your request concerns me, considering the hour.” The barmaid started to leave.

  Gunthar held a hand at Tuke, “Forgive me,” then addressed Meredith, “Mere, where do you head?”

  “Tend others, my lord.”

  “Do you have a care for the prince?” he asked softly.

  Her heart skipped with widened eyes, “You know I do my lord.”

  “Then join us.”

  She sat, “He is in danger, aye?” she whispered.

  Tuke's gut went cold with grave concern, “Is this true… is he periled?”

  They glanced at the priest. Gunthar’s eyes flashed wide, almost alarmed, “A mutual friend,” he answered, the barmaid clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her shock.

  “Great Gods, no,” Tuke whispered.

  Gunthar glanced casually about, ensuring secrecy to his satisfaction, then explained. The barmaids’ eyes pooled. Tuke couldn’t mask his concern.

  Lawrence gently touched Meredith’s shoulder, “Steady love, discretion must be our shield if we are to save him,” he whispered. She hastily wiped her eyes and nose.

  “I am a simple Adept of the fourth class,” Tuke struggled against the lump in his throat.

  “Perhaps so, but you attract many people, hopefully, one with a good ear?” Gunthar phished.

  Tuke shook his head when Meredith blurted, “I may know of one,” startling the men.

  “Good Gods woman!” Gunthar whispered as he regained himself, “Lower your voice. Who do you know?”

  “The brown woman, Angelique. I believe she is a tracker,” she glanced between Tuke and Gunthar. “Over the past few weeks, we talked,” Meredith whispered.