“Lucrezia,” the king called and made a small motion with his hand for her to come. His eyes remained locked the wedding procession. However, his ears ignored the a cappella group who sung hymns to God. They were primed to hear what his seer would say.

“Did you confirm the lack of black mages in the audience?”

The lady who now stood slightly behind the king answered. “Yes, my angel hasn’t spotted any practitioners of the black arts.”

The king nodded. His paranoia had taken the better of him. He couldn’t be seen alone without her less, he gets cursed in the washroom, or in his sleep. “Then has your angel spotted any demons?”

Lucrezia looked down to the king and slowly inched her head down. His shoulders stiffened as he awaited her answer.

“Do not take me for a mystic. Angels cannot see demons, nor can demons kill angels. You, a king, should know this much.” The kings’ hands clung onto his chair’s wooden arm rests. If only she wasn’t … if only she belonged—

“I am no Precilla, and I cannot even stand next Engelia. My king sent me here not to protect you, but the agreements made between our realms. That is all,” said Lucrezia coldly.

The kings’ eyes started to burn as her eyes pierced his soul and scurried around for unholy truths. He turned to face the ceremony once again. His third son Bangiano wore a beautiful arrangement of cloths and furs. He stood atop a podium as the bride, a daughter of the duke of Carline approached him with her vows nicely fitted in a red letter. However, as the king was about to lose himself in the hymns of the a cappella group and the occasional lutes solos a voice ping ponged in his head, “If a demon wants you dead, you will die. However, I will not let anyone break the agreement, with this your lineage will continue to rule all your land.”

These words rebounded in the kings’ head; however, he couldn’t let rage boil, not even simmer. This witch could see steam a kilometre away. This witch was the only point of contact he had with the kingdom beyond the seas, the kingdom on the grand continent, the only kingdom which could and had helped him prevent the encroachment of the kingdom of Feeraneo onto his lands. As such, he spoke with respect. After all this wasn’t the first, nor the last time a king had bowed down to a seer. “I understand, just please take special care in your observations.”

She didn’t respond.

#

First person POV, kings’ perspective

I turned my attention back to the wedding. Now that the conversation had brought up the topic of my death, I wondered why no one had yet to make an attempt. The only game-changing event they could be waiting for would be this wedding. Well, I already knew this to be the case. The only reason I still wondered about the subject was to give myself a little bit of hope. However, as the priest took the letter from the bride and handed it to the groom. The room started to feel awfully hot, and dew found my forehead to be a nice place to rest.

I could call this wedding off, however, would this do anything to change the course of events? Evidently not, this wasn’t a battle of succession but of ideals. My son would still have the same right to the throne, his ideals would be the same, and his support network would not change. All that would be altered if this marriage was annulled is that he would have a weaker his grasp on the dukes. If I exiled, or even killed him, then my dynasty would end if the opposition were to win the war. At least in the present case, if …, no when the war comes to an end one of my sons will be king. If only I had ruled with a stronger fist. If only I had sent men to help the duke’s defence, if only, if only. Then I wouldn’t need to die.

However, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t try to survive. After all, if I did, the civil war could be avoided.

When the marriage had concluded, the sun had started to set. Nothing but a twinkle of orange light crept into the church. Since I had watched the light’s movement all day, it had made me slightly anxious at the prospect of not having any distractions. I didn’t want to look at my third son knowing he’d soon come for my head. I didn’t want to look at my oldest knowing he was anxiously awaiting my crown. I didn’t want to think of my second son whom I would soon join. I didn’t want to look at the nobles knowing they had already chosen sides; none of which included me. I didn’t want to look at Lucrezia knowing she wouldn’t move a finger if all parties decided to uphold their agreements with the kingdom of Magdolina. I didn’t play with my fingers under my robes lest they remind me of myself and my own worthlessness. I didn’t want to look at my draperies lest they remind me of the power I squandered.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“We have to head down,” said Lucrezia.

These words shook my soul. Splendid food was arranged in rows in the church’s main hall and the nobles were quietly awaiting my words. If only they were always so calm. If only they stayed that calm.

When I entered the hall, the sea of men split in two. If only it didn’t have the air of an execution, I would be greatly pleased.

At the end of the road my third son stood, arms locked with his wife. He looked happy; however, I knew he was a man with a cold heart. Although he proclaimed his wish for equality between mages, he did so with the most brutal goals. Although he wished for equality, his means would lead to enslavement, servitude, and famine. Although he knew that all on the continent had agreed that any country who embraced black mages should be put down, he decided to embark on this path to put down a few herders on the other side of the mountains.

“You are now a man,” I said as is tradition. I placed my hands atop the head of the bride and groom. Next the priest walked behind the pair and poured half a cup of wine on the groom, and then on the bride. As such, the marriage was sealed in the tears of God. I walked up the stage used by the priest and exclaimed some words for the occasion. The crowd seemed restless, so I let them eat.

Half an hour later, when the nobles had paid their respects, my son came up to me with a cup of wine.

“Father, do you want a drink?” He asked with a large smile.

It was no doubt cursed. “Yes,” I said. The words had slipped out. The next thing I knew blood flowed down my throat. Why had I accepted this faith? That was something I didn’t know, nor did I wish to know. “Give me another drink,” I said to one of the servants who always lingered around.

I held the stem of the silver cup with my thumb on one end and my index and middle fingers on the other. As my breath continued, the wine bobbed up and down. These waves were the proof of my life. Well, curses took time. No one would be impatient enough to kill me on the day of the wedding.

I finished the drink, a second, and a third. If I were to die soon, I might as well enjoy myself. When my fourth drink came, I looked into the cup. The waves had grown stronger. Perhaps the curse had started to take effect.

In the lord’s name, why do I have to die? I should have sent all my men to kill the herders when I had inherited the throne. That is what I get for looking out for my men, their lives, and well-being. When those lizard lickers came rolling in, I shouldn’t have struck a deal to preserve the life of thousands. No, I should have sent all my men to cut their throats. Let God cry blood if it means I can live. I looked down, the sun had set. I could only see the overly warm light of candles. My hand moved to embrace the cold pommel of my sword. My unfilial son was but a few metres away. His chest was unprotected, his drop of blood would most surely be small. If carnage rained, then so be it.

“Do you want a drink?”

These words came from behind me. A dark elf with a silver cup stood before me. Before I could react, he spoke again, “It’s a great honour to meet you. My tribe has seen the rising power of this country and wishes to open normal relations with you.”

With such unexpected words, I hesitated to speak.

“I understand if you do not wish to speak to me in this touching moment. We may speak again, however, please do accept my act of kindness and take this wine.”

“Although slightly forceful he seemed genuine enough. I took the wine; however, I wouldn’t drink it right away. It was one thing if my son poisoned me, however, letting a stuffy elf do so wouldn’t sit well with me.

When he left, I turned to Lucrezia, “can you see any traces of poison or curses in the drink?”

She shook her head.

“Wait, I forgot that you could see curses and poisons. Why didn’t you tell me earlier when I drank the other wine?”

“Because none of it was poisoned or cursed.” She took a step forward and leaned into my ear “You’re just slightly drunk and anxious,” she whispered.

I couldn’t accept those words. There were surely things even a seer could miss. After all, she herself said that she wasn’t the best. “Then if I die know that you are incompetent.” That was all I could say. I still drank the wine. It tasted good. And thinking about it. They didn’t need to use a curse to kill me. A knife, sword, or bow would do the job just fine.

“Although the drink isn’t poisoned. Perhaps you should slow down your consumption,” said Lucrezia, with her usual quiet and soft voice which didn’t match her tall stature.

I ignored her words and ordered another drink. However, as I received it the urge to pee overtook me. I walked in a straight line to the corner of the church, making sure not to bump into any relics and released a long stream. When I was done, I called for a servant to clean up and I drank up the wine which hadn’t spilled onto the floor.

With a relieved bladder, I sat down on a chair, drank one, two, three more cups. Unable to sit straight I made two servants sit shoulder to shoulder with me. They also made for good drink holders, each capable of holding two drinks and up to three if done awkwardly. I called for someone to try and fit a fourth drink in their hands. One failed and spilled two cups worth of blood.

“Lick it,” I ordered, “don’t waste a drop.”

He went on all fours, hands mired in blood and his light brown tunic turned black. As he licked the floor, his face scrunched up, no doubt from the taste of dirt and the texture of dust. For five minutes I watched him lick until I grew bored and let him clean himself. However, since the other managed to hold ten cups I let him drink half. Of course, the rest were mine.

However, as I was thinking up new games the general buzz of noise in the church stopped and I had a hard time hearing my thoughts. Soon after my vision turned to black.