Upon an obsidian throne adorned with gold, a middle-aged-looking demon sat at the centre of the Bazahian Kingdom. In front of him stood his retainers. It was an argument between them about which course the Kingdom should take against the rebels. Serik Albimbert watched them in silence. He hadn’t yet shared the identity of the rebel’s leader. He knew many longed for the past king to regain the throne. His bloodline was filth compared to his. So was his magical prowess. Fortunately, his wealth gained him some powerful allies. In the end, the time he spent licking nobles' boots wasn't wasted.
“We should summon Lord Ahlers, so he can explain his act of treason! Raising an army without royal permission is unacceptable!”
“Summon the enemy and show him our belly?! It is best to crush Ginargzar as fast as possible!”
“We should cancel the festival and tighten the laws. The enemy may already be in our midst.”
The king raised his hand. The room quickly fell into an eerie silence. All eyes were on him.
“The festival shall not be cancelled. It is not only my 250th year of reign but cancelling it would reveal the troubles the Kingdom is now facing.”
While most of the demons praised the king for his decision, a minority frowned at it. Ignoring them, Albimbert continued.
“Send a letter requesting Ginargzar’s surrender. In the meantime, prepare the ten thousand men when they refuse the terms.”
The king frowned. He felt everything was too simple. With his staff, he lifted it slightly before smashing the end on the floor. “Bring me a map!”
In a hurry, the servants were rushing to complete the king's order. Within a minute, the map was unrolled in front of the sovereign's careful eyes.
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His attention was drawn to the areas surrounding the capital. In order to suppress Bamunz and Vrocaster, he tightened the Western borders of his home, Narakzir. Adding so many soldiers to Ginargzar's army was only possible through Tessazalut. On the West side was Ginargzar and on the South end, Nuzan.
“We are surrounded,” he muttered in realization. “Does Nuzan have an army?” he asked, swallowing his distress.
“It does not, Your Majesty.”
Albimbert sighed in relief as the tension in his shoulder slightly dissipated.
One of his subjects shared his worries and asked. “What about Aisakar? Currently, we do not have a good relationship with them. Couldn't they ally with the rebels and provide Nuzan with troops?”
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“We should investigate both the borders and the Lady of Nuzan.”
“Lady Eris guarded these borders. Without her, much unrest would have fallen on our people. Throughout the years, she has always shown her loyalty to the crown. Can you imagine what she would think if we doubted her at a time like this?”
Some snorted. “To support His Majesty would be an honour for her, what doubt could she have?”
Once more, the King stopped their argument with a movement of his hand. “Lady Eris has been loyal for countless years. There is no need to create friction between us. However, our relationship with Aisakar is another matter. It shall be investigated. Now, on other matters…”
It was only until noon that Serik Albimbert walked out of the throne room. Exhausted, he walked back to his private quarters. There, three maids were waiting for him. They helped him disrobe the multiple layers of formal wear before he dismissed them.
Doubt and concern clouded his mind. He didn’t believe it could be this simple. Especially since Kian killed the Lord of Ginargzar, the land was worthless. Nibbling on his lower lip, the king walked around his room endlessly.
A knock on the door interrupted him. “What?” he snapped as he felt targeted by the world.
“It’s your lunch, Sire.”
“I don’t need it,” he answered with a wave of his hand, although the servant on the other side of the door couldn’t see him.
“Understood.”
It had only been a few minutes when another knock was heard.
“What?!”
The door opened. Azeth entered the room with urgency and placed a map on the nearest table. He unrolled it. On the map, he placed painted wooden pawns while he awaited the other demon to approach.
“What happened?”
“I just received a letter from a spy I planted in the West,” the friend explained as he took it out and placed it on the table.
Albimbert grabbed it and unrolled it. Scanning its content, Azeth explained how the Lord of Nulundarar raised an army in the Acrilas province. Many ships were also being constructed rapidly to transport soldiers across the ocean.
“Is all the Western part of the Kingdom overtaken by the rebels?” Albimbert asked in shock. He did not know of it. It had always seemed to him that Ginargzar was the only one. “For how long?” he gritted his teeth.
“Over a year,” Azeth whispered shamefully as he expected Albimbert’s fury to fall over him.
As he predicted, the king swore, flipped furniture and verbally abused his friend.
“Over a year! Are your men incapable of completing their tasks?” the king panted as he glared daggers at the kneeling man.
“My apologies, there were a lot of conflicts and-”
“Worthless, I don’t want to hear your excuses. I want those ships destroyed, and the traitors beheaded! Do what you need to do, no matter the cost.”
“But what will the citizens think? Our reputation-”
“What do peasants know? You only need to do as ordered.”
Azeth gritted his teeth and bowed his head in defeat. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You can leave,” Albimbert waved him away.
Azeth stood up and walked out of the room. Not once did he look back at his old friend. The crown changed him beyond recognition. It pained him to see their relationship degrade to this point.
Quickly, he reached his office and sat on the chair behind his wooden desk. Azeth sighed as he combed his hair through his fingers. From the corner of his eyes, he eyes the writing kit tidily stacked away. He hesitated. He will obey the orders he was given. The ships shall be destroyed, and the traitors beheaded. But he couldn’t do it alone. Picking up his pen, it smoothly glided on a piece of parchment paper. As per the content, the soldiers guarding the shared borders between Narakzir, Bamunz and Vrocaster were to be dispatched to Acrilas, and he was to join them. Satisfied, he put his pen down. Azeth neatly folded the parchment letter before sealing it inside a letter with his own wax stamp. His decision will determine the winner of this war. Taking this approach would, he hoped, restore glory to the Bazahian Kingdom.