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CHAPTER 5
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Efficient information disbursement is crucial to maintaining an informed government of qualified individuals. Without it, most of your time will be wasted in meetings rehashing what everyone already knows—just to stroke some bigwig’s ego. Please don’t ever be that bigwig. We have enough of them already.
— A disgruntled I.D.D. philosopher
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The room was a strange contradiction of opulence and pragmatism, so much so that Alex couldn’t decide where to focus.
Even the second time, this room just rankles me, Alex thought, his eyes sweeping over the deep red plush tapestries and the ugly, utilitarian chairs beneath them. It’s like someone tried to make an office look elegant without having the faintest clue what elegance is.
“Now that I can hear myself think, you mentioned we have something to discuss?” Alex said, sinking into one of the uncomfortably practical chairs.
Gashon frowned slightly before replying, “So you could hear me earlier. Such petty games do not befit the position of King Alexander—”
“I prefer Alex,” Alex interrupted with a grin. “Or Your Majesty, if you must. Alexander just feels too stuffy, you know?”
Gashon exhaled but complied. “As you wish, Your Majesty. Now, let’s get down to business. As you may already know, Charles died while choking on a chicken bone—”
“You guys are really running out of ideas over at the I.D.D.,” Alex quipped. “Even I could come up with something more realistic than that. No one’s choked to death with access to the galaxy’s best medical care in over 4,000 years. Where do you source your talent these days?”
Gashon scowled. “Whether you believe it or not, Charles died during his chicken dinner. Furthermore, I suggest you refrain from insulting your subjects before you assume the—”
“And another thing,” Alex interrupted again, his grin widening, “are the Imperial Guard just for show? I mean, 999 deaths in a row? My man, the level of incompetence here is astounding.”
“We can’t help it if the King decides to take his meals alon—”
“Last thing, I swear,” Alex cut him off once more. “How has this empire even stayed together for the last thousand years? With all these Kings and Queens dropping like flies, someone must be holding it together. The only one with the power and influence to do that is you. So why not cut the bullshit and just take over, hmm?”
Alex leaned back, genuinely curious. This had been a common topic of speculation among the royal family—back when there had been enough of them to hold family gatherings. Gashon essentially ran the empire anyway, so why not make it official? Unless...
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“Unless you’re scared,” Alex added, his voice quieter but sharper. “Scared of whatever’s killing the royal family. It used to be the leading theory among us that it was the cabinet trying to gain more power, but let’s be real—they couldn’t kill a fly even if it handed them a knife and said, ‘Please.’ They’d argue about how to do it until the fly died of old age. That tells me it’s not them. And I doubt it’s you, which means you have no fucking clue who’s been killing the monarchs.”
Gashon remained silent as Alex paused to catch his breath.
“Are you finished?” Gashon finally asked, his expression unreadable.
Alex held up a finger, inhaling deeply. “Almost. One last thing: why this room? There are far better-suited ones on the ship. Hell, even an officer’s quarters would be an improvement. The way this red clashes with the ship’s aesthetic? Disgusting.”
Gashon watched Alex for a long moment before chuckling softly. “When we arrived and you greeted us with that... enthusiastic gesture, I knew you wouldn’t be yet another wisp of a monarch who’d waltz through the palace before becoming another name on the body count. But I didn’t realize how right I was. You have some spunk, Alex.”
Alex blinked, surprised. This is different. Last time, he barely spoke to me at all. Was he really just waiting for me to die?
“To answer your questions,” Gashon began, steepling his fingers, “yes, we’re running out of ideas at the I.D.D. Have you ever tried covering up over 100 deaths of the empire’s most important individual? Let alone 999? As for our talent pool, most of it comes from District 3. Their technical schools are the best in the galaxy.”
He leaned forward. “Regarding the Imperial Guard, we’ve tried everything. Rotations, recruiting solely from branch families, increasing their numbers to 10,000 per estate—it doesn’t matter. The royalty keeps dying. It’s frustrating beyond words. I’ve come to think of the royal family as my children, and seeing so many die has taken its toll.”
Gashon’s eyes locked onto Alex’s. “And yes, I’ve been holding this empire together—for 10,000 years, not just 1,000. As for why I don’t ‘cut the bullshit,’ as you so eloquently put it, there are two reasons. First, I made a promise I intend to keep. Second, the Royal Charter and Contract demand that the monarch come from your line. Any deviation risks a civil war, which I will not allow. I’m not scared of the position, but my taking it would do no good.”
He leaned back with a faint smirk. “And I agree with you about this room. But since Queen Sherry created it and requested it be used for introductions to the palace, I’m bound by tradition to honor her wishes.”
Alex exhaled, his earlier sarcasm fading. Sherry’s terrible sense of humor suddenly felt more poignant. She was never his favorite Aunt, but she was family all the same.
“Well,” Alex said, meeting Gashon’s gaze. “It seems I misjudged you. Maybe you’re someone I can work with. Let me make one thing clear: I have no intention of dying—not now, not ever.”
Gashon raised an eyebrow. “Bold words, considering your last 999 predecessors.”
“I have a plan. Not a good one, but something,” Alex replied. He leaned forward. “To start, I need everything we know about the void realm.”
Gashon bolted upright, his eyes wide. “ARE THEY THE ONES DOING THIS?!”
Alex smirked, leaning back. This conversation’s about to get very interesting.