XII

The throne room was a bustle of activity as nobles and courtiers intermingled, speaking and laughing as they took exquisite foods and drinks offered from the silver trays of the servants.

In the center of the chamber the master jester was hard at work entertaining. He had an entire troupe of scantily clad women, monkeys and some dwarves. There was juggling, fire spitting and aesthetic displays of artful magic that awed the onlookers as bands of bards, both foreign and not, played lively tunes.

It wasn’t even a taste of what was to come. The night had just begun and the Age or Readventure festival would continue for three days’ time—and they hadn’t even official started.

King Branlin smiled to himself. Glancing over at Neslyn, he found that she was smiling. She looked at him, feeling the same sense of excitement and accomplishment as he, surely.

“Well done, Your Majesty,” Jasier said from over his shoulder. “This festival will mark the age, if I may be so bold.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, feeling a sudden worry nag at him. “Everything is prepared for tomorrow?” I want my lords and their knights to march up the runner through the city to meet the other kings at our moot holding every banner of the land.”

“Yes, my king,” Jasier said. “All has been prepared and is ready.”

“The trumpets?”

“Yes, my king.”

“And the flower pedals from the people?”

Neslyn laughed musically. “Be still, brother. Everything has been prepared. The people adore you and are as excited as you are about the Age of Readevnture. They will not disappoint.”

“Hmm,” he noised, stroking his short beard. “Very well.”

She laughed again.

“What is funny, sister?” He looked at her then. “Do not laugh so much. The people will think you laugh at me.”

“I am laughing at you.”

“Neslyn!”

“Forgive me,” she said with a warm smile. “It’s just that you remind me of father with each passing day.” She wiped a tear from her eye.

Jasier turned and left them. He often had to do that to choreograph events. There were always runners coming for him.

“I do hope everything will be as I envisioned it,” he said. On the morrow they were to have a grand tournament of knights and adventurers. The knights would battle each other for the entertainments of the nobility and the common folk, and the adventurers were to do battle with horrifying monster, slaying them—in effect, establishing the theme of his Age of Readventure.

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Strategically positioned throughout the city, but mostly near the quarters of visiting nobles and royalty, harpists and singers would perform quiet melodies upon the subtle night wind.

“Your Majesty?” Jasier said as he returned. “Yes? Tell me something good.”

“Um—well… it’s Lady Brennovo again.”

“Ugh!” he complained. “I thought I told you to tell her to do whatever it takes to end that situation without disturbing anything!”

“Y—yes, Majesty,” he said nervously. “But it seems the situation has changed and more murders have been committed.”

Branlin felt surprised. “Let us talk in another place.” He got up.

“Where are you going?” Neslyn asked. “You can’t leave. You have visitors. They wish to greet you, brother.”

“I know,” he said. “I know. But it’s that matter again. The one I told you about.”

“Oh,” she said. “Is something terribly the matter? Have they not settled it?”

“A moment,” Branlin said. “Wait for me, sister and entertain our guests.”

She nodded, putting on a smile worthy of a queen beloved by the entire nation.

Dantera waited patiently while the king’s man fetched him. Swallowing hard, she found that she was quite worried about the situation. This killer—his magical talent was a force to be reckoned with.

The king strode into the empty room. It was a side chamber for the servants to eat in. He glanced about as if he was wondering where he was at.

“Lady Brennovo,” he said. “What is the matter? I thought I told you to handle the situation. Perhaps I chose wrong. Perhaps I should have chosen Lord Beatrin or Seilswerth.”

Dantera did not care a whit for the king’s growing lack of confidence in her, other than that it was eroding his ability to listen.

“Are you guarded, my king?”

“What?” he asked, cocking his head. “Of course I am guarded! I am the king.”

“I don’t see your guards,” she said.

He looked at her. “It was just a simple way to this chamber,” he said gesturing.

“And your man Jasier could easily be the killer, Your Majesty.”

“What?” Jasier asked, his eyes widening. “What are you—“

“The killer has a magical power,” Dantera interrupted. “He can change his face—his form. He can make himself look like others. Majesty, please.” She took a step forward and suddenly King Branlin took a step back from her.

“Don’t come any closer.”

Gods, she thought. She came with word about the killer and they were afraid of her, as if she could be the killer.

Well, at least he was afraid, she thought.

“I would not go anywhere,” she continued, “unless you have at least four of your guards at your back.”

“Truly?!”

She nodded gravely.

“This killer,” she said, trying to impress upon the king the seriousness of the situation. “He has already killed several of the castle guard, including Sir Cedryk’s second as well as one of my best adventurers. He nearly killed my protégé.”

Turning his head, he glanced at the wall. He seemed in conflict with something. Did he know this festival needed to be stopped, that the castle should be locked down and the killer hunted down until he was either slain or captured?

The king bared his teeth. “I have been planning this event for years. Not for myself! BUT FOR AEVALIN!”

Was he blaming her for what was happening?

He pointed an accusing finger. “I told you to handle the situation. Do so. Whatever is necessary!” He said the last word with a backhand of the air. “Make this situation go away.” Looking at her like he would strip her of her noble rank and have her thrown in the dungeons, he finally commanded, “Find that killer… and end him!”

The king turned and strode out of the chamber, slamming the thick wooden door behind him, forcing Jasier to come up short and open the portal himself to leave.

“Jasier!”

The man turned.

“His Majesty is in danger,” she said. “Protect him.”

Clearly regarding her with a seriousness she wasn’t accustomed to by him, he nodded and left her there in the quiet among the crackling hearth.

Dantera sighed heavily as she caressed the hilt of Ito Farralia, rubbing the grooves with her thumb.

She had a strong feeling that this would not end well.

It needed to stop.

Now.