He stood by the window in his usual silk robe, chewing on a pleasant thought, overlooking the Knights' training, and the sloping roof tops that stood near the castle. The clouds were few and light, broken apart and adrift a vast sea of azure. It was a pleasant day with a pleasant breeze and a warm sun to cuddle hardened bones. A day he could lean on the window, forget the caw of the crow and the cracking pavements, and let the world hold him high. And the world holds him high, high above the mud that the rest was covered in, so his pride told him.

The door came ajar, and in stepped Ilmey followed by 3 of her maids, all of them had hunched backs and drooping contortions. You always imagined them with bumpy spinal cords sticking out their slender backs. They wore smiles that made you forget how to smile and brought about images of dunces in the garden wondering among the old.

She looked around the room disapprovingly, and said to the maids: "All of you may leave." It was a command, and one that they followed with the utmost haste. The door was quickly shut, and there they stood together and alone. They had interrupted him and brought about a bad mood, his pleasant thoughts dissipated with the creek of the door. He could sense her chocking expectations. Of what? He wasn't so sure. Expectations of him, for herself? Something in her seemed to have changed since the Red Kings death and his coronation. An anxiety for life had arisen from some primal depth, and now she went about hurriedly. A quickness to her step that wasn't there before. And their private relationship had become mechanical.

"It's been done." She announced, "I put her in her room, she'll wake up in a few hours."

She was speaking of Lameriy Hctiblive, she had finished the ritual to extend her life.

"That's good to hear." Said the sorcerer. He had been worried about Lameriy's reluctance to cooperate with his plans, and her desires had become less subtle and more demanding. So, with that out of the way, thought Danial, she should have nothing left to complain. Following this line of thought he imagined her soldiers under his command and bringing the order he so desired of his country, back into his hands. "Tell the servants to prepare something, so we may celebrate when she wakes up."

"She's not trustworthy." She said for the 100th time.

"You don't know her." And he replied with the same answer she has heard a 100 times. She sighed and walked out the door, leaving the door slightly and uncaringly open, having left the sorcerer alone to listen to her clicking steps slowly fade down the hall. She's simply paranoid, she doesn't know Lameriy like I do, he assured himself, for Ilmey had had a negative disposition towards Lameriy ever since their meeting. An opinion, many had of Lameriy, her personality after all was something that brought along difficulties for the ones around her.

He slowly walked to the door and closed it, and having done so he felt intense rage. His frustrations having kept under by the weather and a pleasant morning suddenly erupted into volcanic wrath and throwing his arms and fists at anything that will receive it he slammed at the crystal statue of the rain god, smashing it into a thousand fragmented pieces. Observing his lack of control and temporarily subduing his rage, he groaned at the shattered pieces scattered on the floor. Clutching his skull he thought: when will he return, thinking of William. Then his mind took to the nobles who regarded his crown to be a joke. Something of humor and good cheer that allowed them to do whatever they pleased. Or his own Knights that had forgotten their duties. Gangsters walking around in full-view, swinging their arms in the sunlight, arm in arm with the soldiers. "An epidemic of rats." Is what he called it, "An epidemic of rats." And Zejimal, where had he gone? Where had he gone!? Missing. Is what they had told him. He goes out to find one hoodlum, a rat, a spy, one snake in the hen house and he goes missing! Missing! Vanished into thin air, they told him.

'A pleasant day.' He was going to say.

'Best we've had in weeks.' She would have replied.

The sounds of knights practicing below, of metal clashing and clanks of armor filled his room. He took his seat behind the desk. Taking the first sheet of paper from a stack on his desk, he quickly read over the contents and singed it, putting the paper to the side. He went on doing so until the stack was reduced to nothing. It was not until a maid came to tell him Lameriy had awoken did he remove himself from his duties and his desk.

It was around time for dinner when Lameriy awoke. They waited patiently at the table, chatting about current affairs and so on and so on... Thus delaying the dinner for Lameriy further, awaiting her appearance. It took her almost an hour to prepare herself, and appear before the members around the dinner table. When the menu was brought forward she called the cook to have the chicken chunks removed from her chicken soup. "Please." She said, "Please, remove them, I can't have them. I am feeling awfully dreadful." It was spoken to the maid but said aloud for everyone to hear. And when the chunks were removed she went on: "I've been feeling terrible ever since I woke up, I'm not sure I can eat at all." And turning to Ilmey: "Ilmey dear, are you positive everything has gone well, I've been feeling dreadful. I haven't improved at all."

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Danial interrupted before Ilmey could answer and said: "Perhaps, this can all be discussed in private. After the dinner."

"O, of course, if that's what you'd like. But I'm not so sure I can have dinner at all." She complained but proceeded to sip on her soup with suspicion.

They ate dinner in silence. The food seemed to lack taste of any kind, except for Lameriy who "had no appetite", but they all ate their portion as if it was their duty.

And when dinner ended Danial and Ilmey followed Lameriy to her room. Ilmey closed the door behind them, and Danial asked "what's the matter?"

"Everything went as expected." Ilmey assured her.

"The ritual was a success. I don't know what you were expecting but you shouldn't feel any different." Danial told her, "It will only delay, it will not prevent aging, nor make you younger. As I have already told you many times before."

With a frown, and throwing her arm over her face she fell back on her bed. "O Danial, how could you do this to me?" She said in an exaggerated voice imitating weariness and pain.

Ilmey was about to raise her vehement objections when Danial stopped her with a gesture.

Laying back, with an arm over her face she continued: "I feel worse than I was."

Over dramatic as always, thought Danial.

She sighed, showing an exaggerated sense of sadness and melancholy, and drew herself up. Pointing to a cabinet. "Ilmey dear," she said, "I need a drink." She sat hunched and leaning against the headboard.

Reluctantly Ilmey opened the cabinet and found 2 bottles of whiskey, a bottle of rum, bottles of red wine, 3 types of liquor, and a bottle of gin and brandy. "Some red wine, dear. Some red wine." Ilmey took out the bottle of red wine and poured her some which she downed and held out the glass for another fill. After having 4 drinks, fifth in hand, sipping. She said: "I don't think this is what we agreed on Danial."

"What we agreed on..." He repeated to himself. "Maybe you've had too much to drink." He said, "We can discuss this tomorrow, when you are sober."

"No! I have had too little to drink! I drink too little, that's the problem." She downed the glass she was drinking, and held out for another. Hesitantly Ilmey filled up the glass. "No, I haven't had enough at all." She said glaring at Danial. "Danial, when did I ask you to treat me? How many years had gone since I asked you for this ritual? How I've aged..." She emptied the sixth, and held out for more, and the glass filled halfway when the bottle finished. "Get another one dear," she said, "get the brandy."

Danial pulled up a chair. Slouching over it, rubbing his skull, he asked, almost pleading, "Lameriy, I don't know what you want from me? I have kept up my end of the barga-"

She cut him short and declared, "And I have kept mine!"

"Now," He said as calmly as his voice would allow, "my studies, my magic, and my years of toil aren't so cheap that-"

"Cheap!" She screamed, and laughed hysterically, monotoned, her countenance twisted in self-mockery. "Yes, now everything I have done for you has been cheap! Has it!?" How instantly her expressions changed, her laughter died, with rage coursing through her veins. "No, Danial, no more. I was young! When I asked you. How many times I had asked you Danial. Every year, for how many years? But it was always a 'no'. You lectured me on mortality like the hypocrite that you are." She flared her nostrils when she spoke the word 'hypocrite', "I had let it pass. Hadn't I Danial, I still considered you a friend, a mentor, and forgot all about immortality. Then when that King came along, all of that seemed to matter not, all of a sudden it was just a part of business."

Slouched on his chair, a frown across his face, he sat listening, his old wrinkles hiding his boiling blood. She had made it impossible to say anything, and Ilmey poured herself a glass.

"No more! No more!" She shouted, and there ended her speech. She was breathing heavily, asking for another glass.

Danial took this pause, this chance to say: "Well, hypocrite is a bit much. And you seemed alright with 'business' only a day ago."

"No more!" She shouted once again, and added, "Danial the soldiers will not be yours. But they are coming don't you worry about that, but when they get here I expect an official request for vassalage of Tengai to Naybole from the King himself."

She was drunk, Danial thought, for she was being bold. Too bold! To speak in such manner, and no one to protect her. But he held back, grinding his teeth, did she expect this out of him, did she perhaps think he was too much a coward. Such thoughts were rushing through Danial's mind when she simply fell back and passed out. Perhaps she had had too much to drink.

As soon as they realized what had happened, and how drunk she must be; Ilmey was the first to ask. "Was what she said true?"

Was she drunk or telling the truth? But it seemed they would be denying, to claim it was all a drunken speech she would soon forget. Though an ember of such hopes still flickered in the back of their minds, the truth was plain to see.

He got himself to the cabinet and made himself a drink.

"I told you! I told you! She can't be trusted." Ilmey was screaming. Her own plans had been thrown astray, and she blamed him. Looking at the women who would end his term, he could think of only one way... "We'll put her in the dungeon."

That stopped Ilmey cold in her panic. The women that would end both their futures was laying there spread apart with glass in hand.

"What will we tell the soldiers, what will we tell Karkasa, what will we tell Nolybab?"

"Missing. Same as Zejimal."

"How? Why? The soldiers won't listen to us. No, no, this won't-"

"It'll work. The soldiers will listen to us in her absence. Go get Flubo, and make sure no one notices you."

"How long? This won't-"

"Shut up, and get me Flubo." He said in a hushed tone, the veins on his temple pulsing, the glass cracked in his hand.

Not saying a word more, she went out and fetched Flubo.