The once grand throne room was now a decaying shell of its former self, bathed in a dull, ominous orange as the sun sank below the horizon. Neglect and abandonment had ravaged the space, leaving it unkempt and in disrepair. The brilliantly designed blue and silver laced tapestries that hung from the wooden ceiling banisters had faded and showed signs of wear, despite being untouched.
The overpowering musty odor emanating from the room was enough to deter all but those who had no choice but to attend an audience with the king, who seemed unfazed by the issue. He could almost always be found slumped over his armrest of the throne at the center of the room. During its construction, it was raised a few steps above the floor to ensure that all in attendance could gaze upon him without complaint - now only ghostly images of a distant memory.
With no one to keep him company except the dusty cobwebs and rotting meat from his latest meals that month, he was isolated with his thoughts – just the way he preferred. Resting his pale, patchy fist against his pockmarked temple, he sought refuge in this spot. It was his only solace... a place where he ate and sometimes relieved himself.
Unfortunately, for the past few weeks, an obnoxious raven had been cawing outside the window, disrupting his peace. Filleon glanced at it, wondering if it had anything better to do. Upon returning his gaze to the empty room in front of him, he couldn’t help but compare the bird to rats with wings – completely useless creatures, much like the priests and foreigners he had recently hired to cure his daughter. Magic, alchemy, and even religious pursuits. Nothing to show for it. His fist cracked against the strain of his sudden squeeze.
Would it be wise to see Sarai tonight? He contemplated. It might be the last time after all. Her illness seemed to always wane in his presence. A sudden flush of color upon her cheeks perhaps — but this was just wishful thinking. The blood she regularly coughed up made them both believe her body was merely attempting to expel the vile plague within. And again, more wishful thinking.
They both knew she was dying.
The large azure and silver-plated door slowly groaned open, only to be accompanied by a strained elderly voice, “Permission to enter, Your Highness?” A hesitant few steps echoed throughout the room.
“Is that you Thomas?” Only the king’s eyes reacted.
“Yes, your highness,” he replied, covering a hand over his nose. He bumbled forward, courtesy of the dilapidated hitch in his hip, and displayed a brass tray in front of him. It was covered with small cakes, and fermented goat milk in a large, jeweled, brass goblet. The stack of rolled parchment papers hidden behind the goblet made the king slouch more in his seat.
Filleon gruffed, “Take all but the drink; I wish to be alone.”
Thomas slowly moved his tray-hand away from the king’s eagerly extended arm. “I believe it would be best for you to handle the city’s affairs, even better, the kingdom’s sire,” Thomas angled the parchment on the tray closer to the king. “It has been some time since you have seen to the administrative needs of the ci-,”
The king quickly stood with rage in his eyes cutting Thomas off. “I am King Filleon Edmond Jura the Fourth! My only child is next in line to the throne. Without her, there is no royal faction to keep the other factions in check!”
Filleon didn’t eat or drink for hours, yet still found a way to spit towards Thomas’s face as he yelled.
Thomas smoothly wiped the spit from his face with a handkerchief from his pants pocket. “King Filleon, as the royal advisor to the throne since your grandfather’s time, I would suggest you heed my words. These are very important matters that may hinder what progress we might make with your daughter’s condition.”
Filleon fell back into his seat and grabbed the fermented goat milk on his way down, then sighed.
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“Let’s hear it then old man. What news must I listen to this time?” He said before taking a gulp.
Thomas placed the tray on a small table next to the throne and picked up the stack parchment.
“Very good, your highness. First on the agenda,” Thomas’s face grew grim, “Unfortunately, the city is in financial ruin because of your… exploi — efforts to save the young princess. Thankfully, the noble faction has picked up some of the costs to fund the country to support finding a cure and other aids for your daughter. However I do not believe they will continue to keep up such appearances.” His arm extended towards Filleon with the paper pointed in his direction.
Filleon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Can’t you take care of this Thomas?”
“Again, sir?”
“Yes, there is something,” he paused and looked out of the window where the bird still stood, meeting its gaze. “Something I must tend to..” His eyes broke contact and returned to Thomas before continuing, “I am to leave this very night and you are to ensure no one finds out.” His breathing grew a little heavier.
“My King, this is no-” Thomas caught himself upon catching the sight of blood slowly dripping underneath the armrest of the throne.
“Out with it, old man.”
Thomas cleared his throat. “As you wish, your highness. I believe now is the time to pay attention to the people of your country and not your daughter. Find others like those from the military faction to do this quest you seek to accomplish. There is only so much more the city and the kingdom itself can handle before there is an uprising. It would seem that the nobles began to make their move. They are after your life more aggressively each time they fail.”
“I know, which is part of the reason I must leave,” Filleon slowly stood and held his hand over his arm.
Thomas glared at Filleon’s arm and raised an eyebrow, “What about your daughter?”
“They won’t touch her as long as they believe I am still alive, it would cause too many problems for them as most of the military is still on my side, as well as Dimir,” Filleon said, with the slightest glimmer of hope cast upon his dark eyes. “I will be back as soon as I can. Some new information has come to light that leads me east over the mountain pass to find a cure for her.”
“I fear I do not know if she may live long enough to see your return, my King,” Thomas’s voice trailed off. He did not want to state the obvious but he believed the king needed to hear it nonetheless.
Filleon hobbled down from the perched throne’s steps and slowly walked past Thomas towards the main entrance. “Make contact with that servant boy… Jared, I believe, and inform him he is to prepare my things for a — personal trip.”
“I do believe you mean Charles, sire,” Thomas said plainly.
A caw from the large crow caught Thomas’s attention. The night sky almost made the bird invisible but something about its presence made Thomas feel unnaturally uneasy. Surprisingly more so than the bold threats and actions made by Ziro and his nobles against the king.
The dark underbelly of society were the only people holding up the economy of the kingdom at this point. Unfortunately, it was no secret that the noble faction were the ones running the show. The military faction could only do so much to make sure it was kept under wraps but this led to some of them working under the noble thumb. A sinking feeling slowly crept on Thomas. A feeling that time was merely running out until something happened.
Filleon stopped in front of the large azure and silver lined doors and turned his head back around. “Thomas?”
Thomas’s concentration snapped back to reality, “U-uh, yes, sire?”
“No one is to know where I have gone or why, understood? I am in need of counsel from a magical sort out of the kingdom. Especially Commander Illiah…damned elf is too duty bound to the kingdom and would find a way to stop me. I must do this alone as it is the only way to keep my daughter safe while I live. So far, it has been proven to me that none other than myself is capable of helping my daughter. It falls to me and only me.”
“Of course sire,” Thomas said reluctantly as he took a bow. “But if I may? Would it not suit you to ask Commander Illiah to help you in this endeavor? He and his dragon would surely make the trip swift and fruitful, I would imagine.”
Filleon gruffed and opened the large doors swiftly despite the pain surge through his arm, “No, this is something I must do myself. You, my daughter, and Dimir are the only people I can trust now.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow, then pressed his hand against his heart to show his servitude “As you wish.”
Filleon spoke up once more, “And one last thing, Thomas.”
“Anything, sire.”
“Keep a close eye on Margaret for me…”
“Consider it done, sire. I will make inquiries at once.”