By now, Luther hoped that Iris was over the hills and heading for Kadmus’ easternmost border. She left with whatever she and her attendants could carry on horseback. Leaving in a carriage was too suspicious, so Captain St. Moore arranged four horses to take them out. They would rent a carriage when they were outside of the capital.
They also dressed in as worn and tattered clothes as they had, which were taken from some servants. Luther gave Iris a nondescript leather pouch filled with all the gold plates he had on him at the time.
Not two hours after he was told that his brothers would reach the capital in a week, Iris, her two attendants, and Captain St. Moore had left the royal grounds through the back entrance. He stood from the ramparts of the east tower, watching them ride off.
Luther closed his eyes and leaned back against his plush leather chair in his study. He took a deep breath, a bit regretful.
He should’ve sent his father out in similar fashion instead of allowing him to use a carriage and be escorted with all the pomp of a handful of royal guards. His father had known luxury his entire life and insisted that he wouldn’t ‘crawl out of the city like a wounded animal’.
His father used one of the royal carriages and had several trunks tied on top and on the back of it, along with a wagon to follow with even more items. Luther had to plead with him to take as little as possible, as the more he brought, the more he’d stand out.
What if his brothers’ forces caught them on the road? There would be no way to outrun them weighted down with so much.
Yet, his father insisted.
“If they are able to oust you, you will need sizable wealth to survive and retake the throne,” his father had told him. There was no room for negotiation. Luther already knew that. It was already asking too much for the Third Consort to bring one extra wagon with him.
He would have preferred if his father left sooner, as Iris did, before he sought counsel with Duke Seneca on what should be done to prepare for a confrontation. The Duke of Seneca told him to start closing the gates, limiting when they should be open, which ones remain open, and then seal the gates.
This would allow the citizens to prepare, either by stockpiling for a siege or fleeing, while the armies were still marching towards them.
Luther did just that, but his father lagged. He could only hope that the Third Consort slipped away before the encroaching armies caught him.
Now, with many of his supporters fleeing and those he cared about of direct harm’s way, he could focus on fortifying the city and try to negotiate with his brothers.
That was where Beks came in. He couldn’t leave the royal grounds and be captured, but he worried that his brothers would kill any random messenger he sent, so Luther decided to place his hopes on someone they all knew and, to some extent, trusted: Chamberlain Wilton.
All his brothers, himself included, respected the man their mother’s age for his service to the crown, both before their mother took it and after. He had been a steadfast figure in royal life longer than Luther was alive. Beks also held the man with respect and, though they were on opposing sides, they parted on good terms, with Chamberlain Wilton still caring enough for Beks to give her something warm to wear when she was exiled.
Beks and his brothers wouldn’t harm Chamberlain Wilton,
Luther wrote a short, but thoughtful letter to appeal to Beks. He invited her to the Gilded Palace, swearing not to keep her, but only wanting to talk in person to negotiate and avoid bloodshed. Beks’ heart was always with the people, so she would try to avoid any harm coming to them if she could.
He gave the letter to Chamberlain Wilton and assigned two royal guards with him.
They had been gone all day and with each passing hour, Luther grew more and more anxious. He tried to convince himself that everything was fine, and that Chamberlain Wilton wasn’t captured and detailed, but was trying to negotiate on his behalf and encourage Beks to come back with him.
It was sunset when Chamberlain Wilton returned. From the window of his study, he could see the main gates. When he noticed them open from the corner of his eye, Luther shot up from his seat. He nearly pushed the chair back in the movement before rushing to the window to make certain that the gates were opening for who he hoped.
Three men on horseback returned, as they had left, and Luther let out a relieved breath. At first glance, they appeared unharmed.
He left his study and walked towards the front of the Gilded Palace. Two stewards were taking the horses from the guards and Chamberlain Wilton, who was dismounting as Luther came down the steps.
Upon the sight of him, Chamberlain Wilton bowed. “Good evening, Your Majesty.”
“Are you well? My brothers didn’t hurt you, did they?” Luther asked.
Chamberlain Wilton took his head. “No, Your Maj-”
“And what about Beks? Did she say anything?” He craned his neck. “But she didn’t come with you.”
Chamberlain Wilton took a deep breath. “Your Majesty, perhaps we should take this inside,” he said.
Luther furrowed his brows, but nodded. It was a bit awkward to be debriefed at his front door. “Very well. Come with me.” He turned around and made his way back up the stairs, back tracking to his office. He stepped inside and immediately went to his desk.
Chamberlain Wilton entered after him and Luther motioned for him to take a seat. Chamberlain Wilton closed the door behind him before taking a deep breath and walking across the room to sit on one of the chairs in front of Luther’s desk.
He seemed to think for a moment, trying to figure out where he should start. Luther held his tongue to allow the man who had just returned from an enemy camp to reply.
After mulling it over, the older man finally raised his eyes and met Luther’s gaze.
“King Laurence is alive.”
The words struck Luther as if the Chamberlain had physically pushed him. His brows shot up as his eyes went wide. He held his breath and stood in place, his stunned expression turning to confusion and disbelief before he shook his head.
His lips pulled into a weak smile and he let out a laugh, as if the Chamberlain were joking badly with him. “No...no, that can’t be-”
“Your Majesty, I saw him.” Chamberlain Wilton shook his head. “No, it’s better to say that I met him.”
For a moment, Luther stopped breathing.
If it were a royal guard who made this comment, or even one of the courtiers who supported him, he could have his doubts. He could brush off their observation under the belief that they didn’t know Laurence well enough. After all, there were few people who spent enough time with his eldest brother to identify him in an instant.
It was a shame that Chamberlain Wilton was one of those people.
Luther let out a low, trembling breath. “How...how are you sure?” He continued to cling to the hope that the Chamberlain made a mistake.
Chamberlain Wilton’s expression became sympathetic. To what, or whom, Luther wasn’t sure, and didn’t want to dwell on it, but caused him to shift in his seat.
“Your Majesty, I was there the day he was born. I was present when he spoke his first word. Walked his first steps. I held the umbrella over his head when he entombed his father,” Chamberlain Wilton said. His eyes reddened a bit as he swallowed hard. “I have no children of my own; I’ve dedicated my life to the royal family, but as such, I see King Laurence as one of my own. More so than the twin princes, who were sent away years ago. I don’t dare call myself anything more than a guide for him, absolutely not a parent, but like one, I would recognize my own son in a glance.”
Luther’s eyes began to mist over. “Is it really Brother Laurence?” His voice was tight. His emotions were mixed with none stronger than the other. Relief that he was alive. Confusion at his sudden appearance. Frustration and fear that he had returned.
If Laurence was alive it meant that it was not his turn to be king.
But he already was.
Chamberlain Wilton nodded his head once. “Yes. I am certain. In fact, I’d say he looks better than before. Before he was taken away, before he fell and was in a coma, there was a shadow over him. As if he carried the world on his shoulder.” Chamberlain Wilton let out a small, helpless laugh. “I suppose it was. His mother had passed. Two of his brothers were missing. All he had was you...Lady Eleanor....” The man paused and raised his eyes. “And Lady Rebecca.”
Luther took a sharp breath. “Lady Rebecca....Beks....” Her name reminded him of the whole purpose of Chamberlain Wilton seeking out the enemy camp. “Did she get my letter?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Luther leaned forward, his heart hanging in his chest. “And did she reply?”
Chamberlain Wilton held his gaze. “Yes.” Luther didn’t say a word, silently ordering him to elaborate. Chamberlain Wilton reach into the inner pocket of his coat and took out a folded piece of paper.
There was no fancy way seal or embossed or gilded lettering. The paper itself was of low quality. “Is this her reply?” Luther asked as he took the letter that was extended to him. Chamberlain Wilton nodded, but didn’t say a word. Luther unfolded the top third of the paper. The top was blank.
He furrowed his brows and opened the bottom half. It was also blank.
However, in the center third, in familiar handwriting written with black ink were a few simple sentences that sent a chill through him.
“Lady Rebecca has refused your invitation to come to the Gilded Palace to discuss terms that will avoid violence and bloodshed in the city.” He heard Chamberlain Wilton talking as his eyes read over the letter, over and over, both seeing the words, but not comprehending what they were saying. “She says that you have until the dawn of the third day to place a white flag on the pole of the west tower as a sign of your surrender, and to peacefully step down off the throne. If there is no white flag at dawn on the third day, their army will enter the city.”
There were no words of affection. No gentle coaxing in Beks’ letter.
It was a straightforward demand.
A threat.
Luther’s hand began to tremble. “You are certain she wrote this?” He didn’t want to belief it. Beks had always been lenient towards him. She never fought him. Her only major act of defiance was to reject his pardon and accept her exile.
Chamberlain Wilton let out a sigh. “Yes. Lady Rebecca wrote it in my presence and it was approved by King Laurence.” He looked at Luther with caution. “Your Majesty, their army is almost here.”
“How could she reject my invitation?” Luther stared at the words that held no emotion or nostalgia that he had when he thought of her. Did she not miss him even a little? They were engaged his entire life! Surely, she must’ve had some affection. He looked up at Chamberlain Wilton and frowned. “Was she forced to write this?”
“No, Your Majesty. In fact, she came up with the demand. King Laurence only nodded his head in agreement.”
His chest hurt. Leading up to receiving the letter, it felt as if his heart had been in a vice. Squeezed and squeezed, until just when he thought it would release to ease him, a knife sliced through it.
His chest heaved as he took deep, forced breaths.
Beks was his chance to keep the throne. If anyone could convince his eldest brother, it would be Beks. Not him. Not the senior members of the court. Not Duke Seneca, not Chamberlain Wilton. Not even Lady Eleanor.
Only Beks, with that mind that had been turned into a tool for the monarchs of Kadmus.
If Beks didn’t listen to him and helped him convince Laurence, then Luther would have had no chance to keep his throne peacefully.
“Leave me.” Laurence fell back against his seat, his hand still gripping the piece of paper.
Chamberlain Wilton looked as if he wanted to say something, but lowered his head instead. He rose to his feet, bowed, and turned around to leave.
The wooden door closed behind him, leaving Luther to sit in silence as the last fading light of the setting sun vanished in the horizon, and left his study in the door. Chamberlain Wilton must’ve said something to the guards and servants outside, as no one came to bother Luther.
No lanterns were lit.
He remained seated in the dark, trying to make sense of the letter. He was sure it was Bek’s handwriting. He’d spent years studying notes she’d given him that she’d handwritten. He could recognize her handwriting with all its subdued flourishes and even spacing at once.
But her words were so cold and distant. As if she were talking to a stranger and not the man she was supposed to marry once.
His eyes crinkled up. Is that why?
Did she refuse him because he fell in love with another? Was she doing this out of spite?
As long as it was for the sake of the kingdom, for the safety of its citizens, the Rebecca of Caroline he knew would not put personal feelings over practicality. It was how she was raised to think and act.
Him remaining on the throne was for the best of the kingdom. As long as his brothers agreed, there would be no war of succession. Then again, couldn’t the same be said for him? If he stepped down, as Beks demanded in the letter, then the throne would be given back to Laurence.
It was a bloodless transfer of power.
But he had already been coronated. His name was written in the royal logs. Kings didn’t step down. They died with a crown on their head, their in power or on their knees.
If he stepped down, he’d have no power. Who would protect his father? Who would protect Iris? And their baby? His stomach dropped at the thought of his helpless family being threatened by his brothers.
They would let him live, but would they let his father live? What about Iris?
Luther’s breath hitched. None of his brothers would like Iris for the sheer reason that Luther had chosen her over Beks, whom they loved.
But he should have his own say in his marriage, shouldn’t he? And it wasn’t as if he was the one who broke the engagement. It was Beks who broke it because she didn’t want to be the Wife of Convenience. She even had a royal order from Laurence approving of her doing so. How did she even get such a thing?
The more he thought about it, the more he felt it wasn’t fair.
He was more than willing to honor the engagement and marry Beks. He was in a position to do so. She would’ve been a legal, honored wife. And, as the Wife of Convenience, she would have more political and royal power than Iris. Wasn’t that enough for her?
If she married him, she would still be able to enjoy the honors she was promised, and could still engage with governance, as she was trained to do. She wanted to keep power when Laurence was in a coma, so why didn’t she do so when given the opportunity?
They had discussed having other partners before. Shouldn’t she be happy that he fell in love?
A knock came from the door. Luther didn’t answer at first.
“Your Majesty, the two royal guards are here to report.”
Luther raised his head. Before they left, Luther had told the two royal guards two things: first, make sure Chamberlain Wilton was safe and returned alive, and second, assess the enemy camp. It wasn’t the most honorable thing to do, but it was the most prudent. His father told him to have more than one source of information and to cross-reference what he learned.
“Let them enter,” he said, straightening up. He opened a drawer and put the letter from Beks into it before closing it as the door opened.
The two civilian dressed royal guards bowed their head at him. “Your Majesty.”
“Rise,” Luther said. “How was the enemy camp?”
“We were caught by their patrols well before we reached the camp, but they escorted us in and kept their eyes on us the entire time,” the first guard replied. “Though it doesn’t seem very big from the city walls, the current camp is quite large.”
Luther frowned. “Exactly how large?”
The two men glanced at each other and seemed to hesitate. “Your Majesty, it is possible that if every individual in that camp were to take up arms, they would be almost equal to the amount of royal guards protecting the royal grounds.”
Luther’s frown deepened. “Has their entire army arrived?”
They paled at this and shook their heads. “No, Your Majesty. We heard some Jasper-speakers in the camp speak of others, meaning there is one or more groups of the army that have yet to arrive.”
“How much more?”
“We don’t know, but they were clearing space in the field. If I was to guess, at least double or more.”
Luther wanted to swear. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Do they have siege weapons?”
“No, Your Majesty. They were mainly heavy calvary and foot soldiers. We suspect them to be the missing prime battalion that had been led by the Second Prince.”
“Did you see my brothers?” he asked.
“We were told who the Second Prince was and we...we were taken to meet King Laurence,” the second guard told him. He furrowed his brows, almost unsure. “We suspected he was an imposter, but....”
“It really is him, isn’t it?” Luther asked.
The two guards nodded. They weren’t young men, nor were they too old. However, they were old enough and high enough of a rank to have had a chance to guard Laurence, and were thus familiar with him.
Though Luther’s initial instinct was to deny it, after hearing Chamberlain Wilton’s testimony, he was starting to doubt what he knew.
“King Laurence is alive, Your Majesty.” The first guard’s words drew him out of his thoughts. Luther blinked.
“Do you know how he survived?” Luther asked. They shook their heads. “What about the Second and Third Princes?”
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“The Second Prince seemed to have gone into hiding, which would explain why his battalion disappeared. The Third Prince was not present,” the first guard replied. “The Duke and Duchess of Caroline were there, as was Lady Rebecca.”
“Princess.” The second guard spoke, somewhat distracted. Once the word left his lips he tensed and at up straight, his lips in a tight line as if to show that he hadn’t said anything.
The first guard sent him an annoyed look as Luther narrowed his eyes and leaned his head a bit forward over the desk.
“Princess?” The two guards were tense and the room had heavy air. Luther frowned. “Speak!”
“Your Majesty, we were escorted out of the tent and left the Chamberlain alone to discuss with King Laurence, and as we were being taken to an area just outside the camp to isolate us, we overheard many people talking about ‘the princess’, but Kadmus doesn’t have a princess.”
This was true. The late Queen’s direct line above her had been killed and no female child had been born since. Lady Eleanor, if she had married Laurence while they were outside of Kadmus, would have married him when Laurence had the title of ‘king’, thus she would’ve been Queen Eleanor.
Iris also married him when he was already king, so she was titled Queen Iris. Beks didn’t have any royal title.
Did he have a family member he didn’t know about? Confusion filled his face.
“What princess are they talking about?” he asked, looking at the two guards as if they had been the ones to misunderstand. “There are no princesses of Kadmus.”
The two guards seemed more uncomfortable than ever. They avoided his eyes and looked anywhere but at him. “The...the Second and Third Prince....”
“They were married....” Even their voices seemed to want to brush it off, but Luther frowned more so.
“My Second and Third Brother were married? When?”
The first guard grimaced. He swallowed hard as well. “I asked around and was told that they signed formal marriage documents when they were in Langshe.”
“So, they’re both married?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“To whom?”
“The same woman.”
Luther’s head jerked back. “What? Can they do that in Langshe?” He seemed to shake his head in disbelief. He knew the customs there were different, but not that different. “And they married the same woman?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Well, was she there?” They continued to look reluctant to tell him and Luther found himself growing impatient. “Who is she? What is her name?”
The two guards seemed to try to keep their mouths closed for as long as they could, but under Luther’s demanding look, the second guard cracked.
“Rebecca of Caroline.”
╔═════════════════ ∘◦ ♔ ◦∘ ═════════════════╗
“Do you love me?” He was six or seven when he asked her this. He was just an ignorant child with no deep knowledge for something as complex as love, but he’d heard guards and servants speaking to it.
His own father professed it to his mother almost daily.
When he saw his father sweep his mother into his arms and then speak of love, his mother’s face would light up. It made his father happy. It made him, their son, happy as well. If love made people so happy it was a good thing.
And he was told that a particular love happened between a pair of adults who would get married.
He was going to get married.
So, Luther had waited and waited in his villa for her to come find him after her studies so he could ask.
It had taken her longer than usual. She said that she had gotten a new book to read and it was interesting, so she had lost track of time. If ‘Brother Laz’ and ‘Brother Lucian’ didn’t visit her after their riding practice, she would’ve lost all track of time.
“Do you love me?” he had asked before she even took a seat on the ground beneath the tree in his yard.
His mother’s chubby little foster daughter with her soft, red cheeks, her big gray eyes, and her black hair with that shock of orange had looked at him, confused. She thought for a moment, making him nervous, and then nodded.
“Yes!” she had said decisively in her childish voice. Luther’s face had lit up like his mother’s, but before he could revel in the elated feeling, Beks had continued and dampened his mood. “I love a lot of people. Mommy, Daddy, Brother Deo, Uncle Timur, Brother Laurence, Brother Laz, Brother Lucian, Melon Cake-”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Luther had waved his hands in front of her to stop her. “But you love me the most, don’t you?”
“No, I love Mommy and Daddy the most.”
Though her answer was disappointingly straightforward, he could accept it. After all, he loved his father the most. “Second to them.”
Beks had pursed her pink lips. “It is a tie. I love a lot of people.” She said this, as if it were such a burden to have a big heart.
“Well...who do you love more? Me or your bro-”
“Brother Deo.”
He had frowned, but persisted. He decided not to compete against adults or anyone too old, which included his own eldest brother. “Then...me or my Second or Third Brother.”
Beks had thought for a moment, and then reached out and took his hand. His heart had quickened and their eyes met.
“Your brothers.”
Luther let out a small, bittersweet laugh as he now sat on the ground, at the base of the same tree in his villa yard where they used to play. He stared at the small wooden swing that he’d had repaired hanging from one of the lower branches.
He remembered becoming flustered when he heard her answer, but she had tried to rationalize it. She actually didn’t seem him all that often, which Luther knew. He stayed with his father often. In fact, he hardly saw his brothers.
Beks saw his brothers more than he did. She saw his brothers much more than she saw him. It was natural that familiarity bred affection.
At the time, it didn’t matter much to him. He knew that she would marry him.
Except she didn’t.
She’d broken the engagement, accepted exile, and then married not one, but two of his brothers.
For the life of him, Luther didn’t understand why.
After the guards told him, Luther reacted with immediate denial, saying they were lying or misheard. After he sent them away, he summoned Chamberlain Wilton and asked.
A hint of annoyance graced the man’s face. He said that it seemed that the royal guards heard as well. Luther wasn’t sure if that flash of annoyance was at the guards or at Beks, but Chamberlain Wilton confirmed it.
In Langshe, Rebecca of Caroline held the title of Princess Consort of the twin princes, who were the first cousins of Emperor Zhan.
Chamberlain Wilton said that since they were not formally wed in Kadmus, Beks did not have the formal title of Princess in Kadmus; however, the cavalry members and Laz’s battalion often referred to her as such, choosing to use her higher title as a form of respect.
Luther wondered if she had married his brothers for the title or out of spite for him having wanted to marry a Wife of Choice. He played with the idea that Beks had married to get back at him.
But even as he hoped that was the case, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, and in his heart, told him that Rebecca of Caroline married for love.
If she wanted the title or power, she would’ve remained at his side.
She had married someone else for love, and the pain Luther felt realizing this was as if his heart was ripped apart by her bare hands.
He held back his cries, but the tears wouldn’t stop falling as he curled himself back against the tree trunk and shook.
Why did she do that to him? Why did it have to be his brothers? Were they better than him? Did she always love them more? A thousand questions ran through his mind, but he lacked answers. The pain seemed to contort his insides and part of him couldn’t understand why.
He was in love with another woman.
Yes, he loved Beks to a certain extent, but it was mostly respect and trust. They were friends and she was always there to support him. He had always expected her to be at his side, that even when she pressed that stamp of needles on her smooth forearm to give herself an exile marking, he hadn’t thought that she’d become this distanced from him.
He grasped the sides of his head.
He didn’t understand why he was so upset. He was in love with Iris. He gave his first time to Iris. He choose her, married her, and wanted to have children with her.
Why did it hurt so much to know that his ex-fiancée married his brothers?
Now, they would have her support. They would have her background, her intelligence. They would have her guidance, her counsel, her trust.
Luther stared at the empty swing.
His brothers would have the woman who could make a kingdom an empire. His body went numb.
“No...no....” He shook his head. He couldn’t accept that answer. If he accepted it, it meant he made a terrible mistake. It meant everything he worked for was worthless; that his father miscalculated and doomed them.
His father strengthened his political support. His father’s family funded it. His father spoke up for him, advocated for him. His father knew he’d fallen in love with the new oracle and arranged for her to come to Kadmium.
Everything his father did was for him.
He couldn’t be wrong.
Luther closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree. He took low, deep breaths to try to steady his rapid heart.
This wasn’t a mistake.
His father wasn’t wrong.
He needed to stay on the throne. Only by staying on the throne could he confirm that his father was right to guide him and not let all his work be in vain.
Only by staying on the throne could he assure his father’s and his family’s safety.
“Your Majesty.” A voice seemed to call to him, piercing the haze of his thoughts. Luther lifted his head and saw Chamberlain Wilton standing before him with a worried expression. “You have been in your villa for two days.” His voice had a hint of nervousness. “The dawn of the third day is coming. What are your orders?”
Luther blinked. Had he really been sitting there for two days? He vaguely remembered eating and moving around his villa, answering questions, but....
“It’s been two days?”
The uncertainty in his voice seemed to worry the Chamberlain, and the guards and servants behind him.
“Your Majesty, are you all right?”
“I’m fine....” Luther shook his head once and began to push himself up to prove it. As soon as he got to his feet, he began to wobble and the guards rushed to steady him.
“Your Majesty!”
“I’m all right! I’ve just been...thinking,” he said.
Chamberlain Wilton kept the concerned look on his face. “Your Majesty, we have a problem and need your orders. We’re lacking royal guards to guard the royal grounds.”
“What?” Luther looked up, brows knit and frowning. “We called back all the royal guards that were in the vicinity. How can we be lacking?”
“An illness has swept through the barracks as of yesterday evening,” Chamberlain Wilton told him. “All the royal doctors are on call trying to dispense medicine, but the guards need time to recover. Time we don’t have. The dawn will break soon and-”
“How many guards do we have?” Luther cut him off as his heart slammed against his chest.
“Only about enough for one change of guard, Your Majesty.”
Luther’s stomach sank. That was a fraction of the number of guards he’d anticipated. Once those guards needed to switch out, there was no one to take their place. What would happen when they faced his brother’s army?
Just a portion of his brother’s army was equivalent to all the royal guards they had on the premises.
“What about the city guard?” Luther asked.
“They are securing the city walls, as instructed,” Chamberlain Wilton told him. “They are the city’s first line of defense.”
Luther couldn’t call them to protect the royal grounds and leave the rest of the capital defenseless. They were short on people. If he wanted to even request negotiations with his brothers, then he couldn’t appear to be completely helpless.
“Arm the servants.”
Chamberlain’s brow shot up. Behind him, the two servants gasped. “Your Majesty...you want us to-”
“Arm the servants. Have them concentrated in the Gilded Palace while the royal guard ready themselves to defend from the outer grounds,” Luther said.
Chamberlain Wilton’s lips were parted, speechless. “Your Majesty-”
“Do as I say!” Luther shouted, pulling his arms away from the guards. “Do not forget that I am still your king!”
“But we are grossly outnumbered,” Chamberlain Wilton said. He took a deep breath and stood up straight. “Your Majesty, if I may be so audacious as to recommend that we surrender.”
Luther was walking away when he heard him. He stopped in mid step and slowly looked over his shoulder. “Surrender?”
“They will march upon the city in a matter of hours with many times more people than we have total within the royal grounds,” Chamberlain Wilton told him with a firm look. “If you want a bloodless resolution, then we should surrender.”
Luther’s eyes crinkled up. “Never.” His breath was short and he shook his head. He clenched his jaw. “I became king when no one else could! I led this kingdom while those before me vanished! My father worked tirelessly to ensure my smooth transition! To gain supporters! If I surrender, what will all of it have been for, Chamberlain? What? I will not surrender!”
He marched back into his room, leaving Chamberlain Wilton behind along with two servants. One of whom was holding what looked like a white bed sheet.
He pretended he didn’t see it and left his villa.
There were fewer guards than normal lining the halls, adding to his unease. As he reached his study, he found Duke Seneca standing outside, looking exhausted.
For a moment, Luther felt a bit of hope. Duke Seneca was the oldest of the dukes and highly respected. It was thanks to him that most courts would pass smoothly and stay focused.
“Duke Seneca.”
“Your Majesty,” Duke Seneca looked at him with a gaunt expression. “We’ve done what we could, but if the army comes, we will be unable to defend ourselves.”
Hearing his words hardened Luther’s heart once more. He frowned. “Were there no other suggestions from the court?”
“The court?” Duke Seneca’s eyes widened for just a moment before narrowing. “Your Majesty, the court has fled.”
Luther stopped with his hand over the door handle of his study. He turned his head to look at the old man. “What do you mean?”
“When orders to close the gates were given, many courtiers supporting you fled the city.”
It was as if the air was squeezed out of him. “All of them?”
“I don’t believe all of them-”
“Then call back whoever is left! We must produce a solution!” Luther stepped into his study and closed the door behind him before Duke Seneca could have a chance to retort. Inside his study, he paced, his hands shaking as his mind tried to think of a way to at least buy him time.
However, he could think of nothing.
Chamberlain Wilton knocked on his door, but Luther sent him away in a fury, telling him that he didn’t want anyone to bother him until Duke Seneca called back the remaining courtiers. Those who remained must’ve been sympathetic towards Laurence, so perhaps he could convince them to stop Laurence’s invading army.
Perhaps even force his brother to speak to him directly.
However, his hopes were dashed when Duke Seneca returned. The old man looked out of breath with sweat on his brow, and appeared more exhausted than he had been when Luther saw him waiting at his door.
Duke Seneca met his eyes and shook his head. “Those courtiers whom I was able to contact have either stated that they support King Laurence’s return or insisted that they could do nothing and would protect their homes.”
Luther narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling me they refuse to come?”
The old man nodded. “They refuse to come, Your Majesty.”
Luther shut his eyes and almost fell back against the door frame. Chamberlain Wilton, who stood to the side appeared anxious.
“Your Majesty,” he said in a strained voice. “The sun will rise soon. We should surrender.”
“No!” Luther almost stomped his feet on the ground. “I will not give in to their threats!” He shoved past them.
“Your Majesty, where are you going?” Duke Seneca called out.
“To see just how many of them we’re dealing with!” He went to the west tower. Beks was right about pointing it out, as of all the towers of the Gilded Palace, the west tower had the best view of the city and could be seen well outside the city walls.
He climbed up the stairs, becoming out of breath before he reached the top. A guard led the way with a lantern and offered to help him up, but he refused. When they reached the ramparts around the domed roof, the royal banner was still flying above.
Luther set foot on the stone floor and caught a light in the corner of his eye. He turned his head and walked around the dome to face the east.
A thin sliver of orange broke the horizon.
“It’s dawn....” Chamberlain Wilton had followed and his breath shook.
Luther stared out in the distance. The sight of the sunrise was almost surreal.
“What was that!?” Someone shouted behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts. Luther turned around and rushed back to the west side, following the stunned gaze of the guard who led him there. Luther’s eyes went wide as he saw flames shooting up into the dark sky in the distance.
“There!” Chamberlain Wilton pointed to the north as another series of flames shot into the sky, as if in response.
“Lord Chamberlain!” the guard grasped the old man’s shoulder and pointed to the city wall.
Luther held his breath as flames shot up, forming narrow pillars of fire floating above where each of the gate houses were. His eyes were drawn to the main gate house, which was on a direct road leading to the front gates of the royal grounds. He let out a breath and waited.
A bright flash of white light shot into the sky before exploding like a shower or glowing rain drops.
“Was that us?” Luther asked as dread wrapped around him.
Chamberlain Wilton licked his lips and slowly shook his head. “No.”
Beyond the walkways on top of the thick city walls dots of light began to appear. Luther swallowed hard and gripped the stone sides of the ramparts.
“Those are torches,” the guard said as he turned his head. He released a trembling breath. “Your Majesty...Lord Chamberlain....” He walked in a little circle. “We are surrounded.”
Luther’s eyes crinkled up. “Then...this is it,” he said. “Chamberlain Wilton, go and secure the royal grounds. Have everyone who can follow the procedures.”
“Chamberlain Wilton threw him one last pleading look. “Your Majesty-”
“I will not surrender,” Luther said. “Iris and my father are not here. If my brothers succeed, they will not let my family go.”
Chamberlain Wilton closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and exhaled before bowing towards Luther. Without a word, he left the ramparts. The lone guard with Luther glanced at him.
“Your Majesty-”
“Go and secure the door of this tower,” Luther told him. “I will watch from here.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The guard bowed and followed after Chamberlain Wilton.
Luther stood in place; his eyes fixed on the approaching tide of lights. As the sun grew higher in the sky, the torch lights moving towards the city went out, but in their place, the sea of soldiers and horses in neat rows were revealed.
The closer they got to the city walls; the more Luther grew anxious. As the first wave arrived, there were no archers on the city walls. There was no yelling or the sound of distant battle. Then, the scenario he feared when he saw the fire pillars and the light came true.
Across from him, down the widest street in the city, the thick wooden door and heavy portcullis of the main city gate house rose.
Laurence’s ‘invading army’ didn’t race in. They didn’t start burning everything to the ground. The quiet streets had been ready for such, and thus all the doors and windows were barricaded.
They didn’t need to be. A wave of warriors on horseback entered the city first. If Luther didn’t know any better, one would think that this was a parade. The pace was slow, relaxed. The horses lined the street, creating a protective barricade before soldiers and riders bearing Laurence’s sigil on hanging banners led the way.
From that distance, Luther couldn’t make out his brother, but he knew that Laurence was close. Who else would such pomp be done for if not his eldest brother, King Laurence.
They reached the central plaza and Luther could make out a wagon being pulled along behind several rows of horses and soldiers. There seemed to be an endless amount of them. All the gate houses had lifted their doors and iron bars to let in a parade of soldiers and horses. They didn’t do any harm; their focus was on getting to the royal grounds.
Luther couldn’t bring himself to move or tear his eyes away.
The bannermen stepped to the side and Luther caught sight of King Laurence. His eyes moistened as sourness filled him.
“Brother.” Laurence was alive. Luther wanted to scream out and ask him why was he coming back now? Why didn’t he come back earlier? Why did he abandon them?
He didn’t have a chance to even think about how to yell out his words. With so few royal guards left, they’d come together to focus their defense on the front gates of the royal ground. Once that gate was breached, there was only a dried-up moat separating the Gilded Palace from the outer grounds.
Even if the moat had water, it was easily bypassed by a wide stone bridge. They had no time to disassemble it.
Luther heard yelling in distance. A volley of well shot arrows took out the closest row of royal guards and more archers aimed if any grew closer.
The iron gates were held closed by a thick lock and only the gatekeeper had a key. The gatekeeper should’ve been armed and inside the Gilded Palace already.
It turned out, the key wasn’t needed. Luther squinted. He saw a man with long, black hair standing on his saddle through the narrow bars and behind the metal plates that made up the lock. He seemed to be moving something around and then the sound of creaking metal was heard.
A moment later, several soldiers pushed the gates opened and archers on horseback rushed into to clear the way.
The man who had unlocked the gate rode back, receiving a pat on the shoulder from Laurence, also on horseback, before turning his horse to ride beside a beautiful woman with black hair and a streak of orange.
Luther’s heart jumped. He found himself leaning over the stone wall to get a better look at her only to feel his heart strangled once more when he noticed a man identical to the man who opened the gate riding on the other side of his former fiancée.
With identical Langshe features, it was easy to tell who they were even after having been gone for years.
His Second and Third Brother seemed to casually chat with Beks as several paces in front of them, an entirely different scene of chaos was taking place. Royal guards fell with ease against the overwhelming numbers of soldiers and cavalrymen. They were pushed further and further back.
Luther shook in place as they turned along the other side of the moat. A man with a spyglass rode beside Laurence and lifted his hand, pointing to Luther on the west tower. For a moment, Luther almost ducked behind the wall, but stopped himself. He couldn’t cower now.
“Luther!” Laurence’s low voice was filled with authority as he yelled across the moat. “Raise the white flag and surrender!”
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” Chamberlain Wilton’s voice came from the stairwell. “The flag!”
Luther rushed to the door and slammed it closed, pulling down the latch to keep Chamberlain Wilton from coming out. Heavy thuds sounded against the door as Chamberlain Wilton’s muffled voice said something about urgently raising a white flag.
Luther didn’t answer.
He couldn’t help but want to be defiant. He would not be threatened. He was crowned King of Kadmus!
“Bring out the prisoner!” Luther heard another voice and looked over the side of the ramparts.
The wagon that had been following the entourage wasn’t one he’d seen before, but from the thick iron bars that crisscrossed across the sides and top, it was clear that it was meant to transport an animal.
Or a prisoner.
He watched as Laurence stood to one side as his Second and Third Brother stood to the other with Beks between them. One man had climbed on top of the wagon and unlocked a pair of cuffs that were holding up a man.
The man inside crumpled to the ground, but someone grabbed his ankle and pulled him out. He nearly fell to the ground as he came out of the back entrance of the wagon. Luther narrowed his eyes.
He’d seen those clothes before, though they appeared dirty and unkempt.
Two guards, one on either side of the prisoner, lifted him up and pulled, or rather, dragged him to the edge of the moat.
Luther remembered once reading that his mother had executed people on the edge of the moat.
His heart shook and his stomach twisted. Dread filled him as another man stepped forward and began speaking.
“Charged with conspiracy against the crown, he is found guilty. Charged with assisting in the near death of King Laurence dun Kadmus, he is found guilty. Charged with assisting in the assassination of Duke Robert of Caroline, Duchess Sybil of Caroline, Lord Amadeo of Caroline, Lady Rebecca of Caroline, Lord Thaddeus of Caroline, and Lady Dorothy of Caroline, he is found guilty!”
“What? “ Luther shook his head. His brother and Beks’ and her family were nearly assassinated?
“What is the name of the guilty party?” Laurence asked as he stood to the side.
One of the soldiers standing and holding up the feeble man in what used to be expensive clothes, grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair, and pulled his head up.
All the blood drained from Luther’s body.
“Petus of Hessing, Third Consort to the Late Queen Leticia.”
“Father!” Luther screamed, nearly falling off the side of the tower. “Stop! Stop, wait! Brother, no!”
His cries were either unheard or ignored as Laurence announced the punishment in accordance with Kadmus law: beheading.
“Lord Douglas.” Laurence stepped aside and motioned for the man who had read the charges to step forward.
Luther saw the glimmering blade of a sword being unsheathed.
“Stop! Don’t! You’ve made a mistake!” Luther yelled.
The two guards forced his father onto his knees and pushed his head down. His father didn’t have the strength to fight them.
Luther couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Didn’t his father flee? When had he been captured that had led him to become like this?
Luther screamed for his father once more.
Laurence and the others might not have heard him, but the Third Consort did. The man lifted his head, his wavy blond hair matted with dirt was loose around his head. He looked up towards the tower.
Towards Luther.
The gag around his mouth was untied. Luther leaned forward, tears in his eyes and his vision blurring as he cried out, begging them not to. His father opened his mouth.
Luther didn’t hear a word.
Blood spurted into the air.
Luther could almost feel it hit his cold cheeks as the sword came down and cut through his father’s neck. The handsome face of his father, caked with dirt and now blood, hit the ground beneath him.
A hundred memories of that face looking at him flooded Luther’s mind.
His father was loving and kind. He always supported him, gave him advice, and did everything for him.
Luther knew his brothers didn’t like his father, but to kill him? His father didn’t do anything wrong; they were all mistaken!
The hollowness took over. Luther’s body swayed as a ringing in his ear drowned out all other sound. For a moment, he couldn’t feel the ground under his feet.
All he could do was reach out, towards his father’s falling body, wanting to catch it before it hit the ground, as if doing so would save his father.
Luther didn’t feel the stone wall against his body as he moved over it, or the cold morning air against him. His eyes were fixed on his father as he raised his arms out and fell over the side of the west tower.