Lifting his head along with his heavy body Yuven sat, his legs wrapped in cool silk bed sheets, the bright orange sun resting on his tired body washing him in a slight warmness. He sat there and thought, thought if he should get up and face the king or maybe if he stayed in bed he could relax, get more sleep, somehow not have to face the king's summons.
A hollow knock came from the door to his room, then a twist of the handle releasing him from his thoughts. And a beautiful female servant wearing an ankle high dress coloured with Nivaria’s favorite, red with stripes of gold running throughout, her arms scrunched with tight linen, her legs covered with the red silk of the dress. wearing red shoes that were like the dress lined with gold stripes. Her blonde silky hair laid behind her reaching her middle back. And her face was something the most skilled artist would have trouble putting on canvas, her full lips were coloured pink, her small rounded eyes were filled with the palest blue he’d seen with her eyebrows tracing along her brow a slight thickness to them and her small straight nose added to the beauty she had.
“I am here to escort you to the king’s room.” She said, Her voice flowing towards him like that of a cool wind slowly flying past, calm and confident.
He reluctantly got up grabbing the silk sheets and tossing them out of his way in one flick of his hand. The cool level marble underneath his feet felt unnatural; he had gotten used to the unleveled earth that he was usually under with plenty of rocks to trip you and shit for you to step on.
He walked towards the end of the bed opening a long carved wooden chest depicting a man brandishing his sword to the moon. It opened without a sound revealing a set of clothes, a set of clothes only a rich nobleman would wear. He turned to the servant.
“Where are my clothes?”
“Your clothes are being washed and repaired.”
“I didn’t ask for you to wash and repair my clothes.” He said in a low voice.
“When will my sword return to its rightful owner?”
“When you leave.” He gave her an unpleasant look. “Now, please put on the clothes we’ve provided for you.” He forcefully grabbed the set of nobleman clothes. It felt soft but some places looked uncomfortable. He tossed half of the clothes onto the bed wrinkling them, and changed into the pair of pants he’d not thrown onto the bed.
He tied the last leather strips of the doublet together and walked up to the servant who gave him an appraising look.
“I must ask, is it your liking? Not too tight?” Tugging the doublets collar he said.
“Yeah, not too tight at all.”
“Good. Now follow me.” She said, walking out the door, ignoring his obvious sarcasm. He scratched his neck and followed behind her.
She led him down a long hallway leading to a spiral staircase made of smooth stone. The hallway had two doors on each side about the same space apart with guards standing stiff next to them out of the doors way.
“No guards for me?” Yuven asked jokingly though his monotone voice made it sound more like a serious question.
“No need to guard someone who could kill five angry Ackurs with his bare hands, by himself.” The servant responded as they climbed the stairs.
“I see you’ve heard of me.”
“Yes, as has the King.”
Yuven thought about what monster he’d be killing for an aristocrat this time. Maybe a Ulthvor stuck in his wine cellar or maybe a Clikmer eating his cows.
They arrived at the end of the stairs that led to another hall like the other one except with more guards and only three doors. She led him down the hall to the door at the end before stopping inches from it and knocking three times. Yuven noted how she knocked for the king and not for him.
“Come in.” A muffled voice said through the door. The servant wrapped her slender fingers around the doorknob and opened the door in one swift graceful motion.
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Inside a fire caged behind an iron screen cracked and spit embers. A large masterfully made wooden desk with a chair on either side sat in front of a large window that let the morning sun in.
A tired, graying man who looked to be in his late sixties sat behind the desk hunched over various papers rubbing his forehead before grabbing a quill that rested in a metal holder, dipped it in an open inkwell and quickly wrote something on one of the papers in front of him.
“Ahem.” Yuven coughed. The tired graying man sighed and without looking up showed him his index finger on his left hand as he finished writing. Yuven made a contempt look and waited. The graying man put the quill back in its holder and gathered all the papers into a neat pile except for the one he wrote on, opened a drawer in the desk and put them inside, closing it.
The graying man then looked past Yuven and spoke to the servant.
“Take this to the captain of the guard.” The servant walked up to the desk, grabbed the paper and left the room heading straight for the captain. The tired graying man then looked at Yuven.
“I suspect you’re Yuven of Clamor?”
“Yes, now what do you want me to kill?”
“Straight to business I see. Well before that, I’m afraid you’ll have to indulge me in a conversation.” The graying man pushed the chair back and got up before engaging in a coughing fit, quickly grabbing his handkerchief from his pocket and covering his mouth for a short while. When the coughing lessened into nothing he stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket. Yuven noticed a splatter of blood on it. He walked with a slight limp wincing in pain so subtly most people would never even tell. He stood next to the window and looked out at the calm courtyard. “I trust you know who I am?”
“Yes, King of Noveria, Heworth the third.”
“Good. Now look at me.” The King turned and faced Yuven. “What do I look like to you?” Yuven measured up the King. His hair was a fading brown turning gray and short. His face was that of a tired old man's, his forehead wrinkled, his cheeks starting to sag, the skin under his blue eyes dark bags from nights of restless sleep.
He wore a red tunic embellished with gold lines throughout with long wool sleeves patterned like diamonds the trousers were black as the midnight sky his leather boots copied the trousers appearance gleaming from the blazing light of the fire.
“You look like a King…”
“Yes, and indeed I am but…”
“You’re old and in pain. Perhaps from an injury from an old hunt or battle. And there was blood in that cough earlier. You’re sick. If you haven’t been treated already it means it’s a sickness even the best sorcerer can’t heal.”
“Correct you are, correct you are.” He turned his back to Yuven. Staring out the window once again looking at the morning sun pausing before speaking again.
“Leachworm. That's what I have, diagnosed by the court physician.” His voice lowered. “I have little time left in this world, one month, That’s all I have.” His gaze turned to a bird in the sky circling a mouse in the courtyard of the castle. “Everything I have, all the money, all the power, everything means nothing if I’m not alive to use it.” He took a long pause waiting not for an answer or question from the man standing behind him but waiting for the bird he watched to dive and take the mouse.
The bird circled once then twice then as if it had lost interest in the mouse it left flying back to wherever it came.
“Perhaps your physician made a mistake?”
“No, I hired the best in the kingdom and I trust him with my life.” The king let out a small laugh then twisted his body with his heel and walked to a cabinet with glass planes that showed off an impressive line of different alcohols.
He opened it and grabbed a squarish bottle with a thin neck and simple brown label as well as two drinking glasses. He brought it back to his desk, setting the glasses down and unscrewed the cork that contained the cold dark brown liquid with a pop.
“Dwarfish whiskey. And Jailtet too. Expensive.”
“Very.” The king responded, filling the glasses till each were half full, then set the bottle to the side within reach if one's glass were too empty, took one of the glasses and slid the other towards Yuven's direction.
“Take a seat,” He said gesturing with his glass to the empty chair on the other side of the desk. “Drink with me.” Yuven walked to the chair, slid it back and sat grabbing the cold glass the King offered, raised it with the King and took a swig.
He set the glass back onto the desk and let out a refreshed sigh.
“War sits on the door of Novaria. A self proclaimed heir to the crown John Linston, a bastard in all rights has managed to trick a great sum of people, my people, to follow him into a sort of crusade to take what is “rightfully” his. Usually when this happens we send a platoon or two and scare the self proclaimed heir and their followers they usually end up renouncing their crusade and things go back to normal. But this time they didn't. Linston and his followers killed each and everyone of my men and gained even more followers.” The King took his glass and they both took another swig. “And now he and his followers are running around killing my guards and persuading the rest to join him and succeeding he's amassed quite the army, about two-thousand that's two of my villages that have gone over to him. There's been skirmishes between us ending in multiple victories for us and for him. Moral has been dropping for my men because of my absence from battle. All because of my damn sickness. Imagine how demoralized they’ll be when in a month their King is dead with no heir.”
“No heir? What about your son?” The King let out a small sigh.
“I guess it is time we discuss your job. You are to kill my son.” A surprised look flashed across Yuven's face and a silence filled the air. Yuven started to open his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the King. “Before you say anything he is no longer human he's been afflicted with a curse of some sort and yes I've consulted many shaman and others the like before you that have all come to no avail, they all tried and failed to cure him, dying in the process, so I've come to the decision to have him killed. I will give you a fair price for your work, four thousand all in your choice of currency. But would ask you for a favor. Try to cure my son if you can, if you end up killing him out of self defense or because you think it impossible then so be it, at least you tried.” The King grabbed his glass again as well as Yuven, raised it high and both of them took another swig finishing their drinks. “Now, I've got things to do. Ask any questions you have to the servant.” He said, waving his hand.
The door swung open and the same beautiful servant that had led him here walked through the door and stood waiting for Yuven by the side of it. Yuven slid his chair back, got up and went out the door, the servant leading him back to his room.