The city around the king's castle was something.
Built around the series of stone towers that could be seen around the kingdom, the city would go from small huts to great bridges and walls to open aired palaces and balconies in a block.
Stone and marble and wood were foundations, and fountains poured water into small rivers that eventually flowed into the moat.
Even throughout the war between the two houses, it had never been taken. Even when the outcast king left, the current king spared the beautiful city.
There was celebration in the streets a few days after Swordfall, the announcement, and the destruction of the outcast king's army.
Songs were sung. Banners flew.
Even those who were loyal to the now dead king were glad war was over.
As a small parade was going in the king's honor, a group of the most beautiful women were marching towards the castle.
Beautifully dressed in long robes or cut pieces, with mixtures of modest royalty or heart stirring exotic cultures, from exposed long hair to majestic head coverings.
They followed their counselor, their tutor and leader, who herself, was of striking beauty.
Adira was the most beautiful of them all, however.
And all knew it.
Why she was not the queen, nobody knew. Well, she knew.
Her family had been loyal to the dead king. She had been raised and groomed one day to be his bride, or to go to one of his sons.
Perhaps this king.
But for now, she had been selected as one of his concubines.
They all followed their madam, knowing they were under the eyes of everyone.
A large horse was heard near them.
They slowly turned as they kept walking, as Abner, still in recovery, rode up to see his new king.
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Next to him was Beniah, his faithful.
Adira's eyes met Beniah.
His face showed jealousy and rage when he realized who he was looking at, but kept the peace as it always did.
Adira simply smiled back.
"Greetings Beniah," she whispered, as she kept walking, following the rest.
"Adira," Beniah said back, watching his true love being taken away from him.
Joab sat on his horse, looking at the king's castle and the city before him.
The fire inside only grew.
He closed his eyes and thought of the funeral days before.
Asahel laid in the center of the camp, as all of the army, dignitaries from the king, holy men, and royal families stood in a circle around his cold body.
Joab and Abishai were standing at the front as the holy man spoke prayers.
Asahel's white, pale body was covered in flowers, with his daggers in his hands, crossed over his chest.
Joab was still a snarling animal.
Grunting and sobbing and wheezing.
"Brother," Abishai pleaded.
"Damn you," Joab said back.
Larkin was in the very back, dressed in black. Her eyes had no more tears. Her tongue had not tasted food or water.
She decided she would soon see Asahel again.
There was a murmur.
The crowd parted, as Abner, Beniah, and a few of the king's own family came forward.
Abner did not look at Joab. He just stared at the body.
The kingdom was united, and the king knew this grave situation could cut the kingdom in two.
Thus, he sent Abner, who was still bleeding, to the funeral of the man he killed.
"I could kill him now," Joab whispered to Abishai, not daring to look at Abner.
"Wait," Abishai said.
It was odd that with all of the death from the Swordfall, the attack of the giants, Amelik's siege, and the destruction of Abner's army, that Joab's dead
brother was getting the funeral of a knight or a commander.
But it was Joab's brother, and Joab could do what he wanted while he still had some semblance of power.
Abner came to Asahel's body, and grabbed the corpse.
Abishai pulled Joab back.
Abner blessed the body he killed, and held the hand of the dead like it was his own.
He then acknowledged Joab and Abishai, and turned and walked out with his entourage.
Joab stared at the castle, tears in his eyes.
That was days ago.
It felt like it was minutes before.