- - -

Deep inside the royal castle of Orilon, King Henry waited in a secret office reserved for the most special of guests. He was reading reports when a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in.”

The king didn’t look up as a man entered. He didn’t particularly like his visitor, though they saw each other far more than he would have preferred.

“Good evening, Your Majesty.”

“Have a seat, Baron.”

A chair scraped, and the baron sat. When the king felt his atmosphere of authority was finally appropriate, he glanced up.

Baron Bryant was a slightly plump man, mildly pleasing but otherwise unnoticeable in appearance. His hair was brown and his eyes were green, and his features were often arranged in a humble smile. He would’ve fit in a crowd of small-time aristocrats, unimportant and easily forgettable.

Unfortunately, despite King Henry’s prayers, this man was anything but that.

“It’s been a while, Your Majesty. I almost thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“You jest, dear Baron. How could I ever?”

Not with what he had over him, he couldn’t, as much as he wished.

“Then why did it take so long for this meeting to happen? Surely you received my messages.”

Now that greetings were over, the baron was getting to business. Good, the king thought, and God let it be over soon so he could get back to avoiding him. Under the masks they wore, they were too filthy for the world.

“Of course, but I’ve been busy. We’re here now, aren’t we? Let’s not waste any more time.”

“Certainly, Your Majesty, but I must remind you again that I have alternatives, while you do not.”

“Then I need to remind you that I am still your king, though you’re free to take your chances with your ‘alternatives’.”

Neither the king’s pleasant smile nor the baron’s modest expression faltered. The baron spoke first, and the king was already irritated at his voice.

“Regarding the temple. Why did you allow the girl to become the saint?”

“You know as well as I do it wasn’t up to me. We can’t interfere with the temple yet, since the time isn’t right, as you like to say.”

“You could have done something discreetly.”

“And risk getting the whole plan discovered? It was too dangerous. Besides, the greater the heights, the more painful the fall.”

“The harder it is to push someone over.”

“Leave that part to me, my friend. You’ll have what I promised, and their little show will come crumbling down.”

“You still won’t explain?”

“It’s a royal secret, after all.”

Baron Bryant nodded. That was the one good thing about the man, he didn’t question the methods as long as it got the job down. Despite their mutual distaste, they shared trust. At least, the king was forced to.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“What of the betrothal?”

“What of it? It would’ve been suspicious to refuse, and it might have offended them. Don’t worry, when it all falls down, it will obviously be annulled.”

“What if the prince disagrees? He won’t stay a child forever, and that girl is cunning. Look at who her mother is.”

“He’ll listen to me, and we have your backup plan.”

“I don’t want it to be a backup plan. I need assurance.”

King Henry stroked his chin. As much as he hated the idea, after being pressured for months, he could see that the baron was willing to go all out on this point. It would be the baron’s guarantee that he couldn’t just get rid of him when it was over, or so he thought.

The king sighed. It would be an inconvenience, but he would work around it.

“Fine. But you’re sure it won’t have any side effects?”

“I value my life, Your Majesty. It won’t harm him.”

The poor king didn’t exactly have a choice here, and though he would never admit it, the innermost part of him valued himself over his son. He drummed a finger on the desk, annoyed at practically everything.

“Can’t we hurry it all up? The faster we eliminate them, the safer we are.”

“I’ve told you, it’s not time yet. I won’t risk my daughter’s life.”

“What if we got rid of that merchant so you can raise your daughter like a proper lady?”

“It’d be too suspicious, he's so close with them. Not worth taking the risk. Plus, you know I want the children married as soon as it’s done.”

That was purely for Baron Bryant’s purposes. To the king, everything was ready, except the last piece the baron held over his head: the temple with the hearts of the people, to be contributed by his saintly daughter. The mere fact never ceased to madden him, but perhaps it was karma.

“Are we done?”

“If Your Majesty promises not to make important decisions affecting our plan without telling me again, like betrothing my future son in law, then yes.”

“Now, listen here. I’m the king, not you, and I don’t have to do a damn thing.”

His patience was truly running thin. One of these days, he might actually accidentally execute this impudent baron, who was calmly checking his watch.

“I’m sorry, but I must be on my way soon. As you know, if I don’t get home by a set time, a certain secret about exactly how the last king died will be sent to every single publisher in the kingdom, and we don’t want that, do we?”

King Henry gritted his teeth and slammed his fist against the table. He didn’t care about putting up pretenses anymore, the baron always had this effect on him.

“I promise, and I also promise if you speak to me like that again, I’ll take my chances and have you executed on the spot.”

The baron smiled, perfectly amiable, and nodded.

“Good night, Your Majesty.”

“See yourself out.”

As the door shut, King Henry slumped back against his seat and let out a sigh. It was ridiculous that he had to be so obedient to a mere baron, but all precautions must be taken when conspiring against a certain grand duke.

Yes, he decided, it would be worth it one day, to endure a small annoyance in order to remove a painful thorn in his reign. In the end, it was the only reason he tolerated it.

House Avington would fall.

- - -

In a tiny remote village, where no one would ever think to look and all the neighbors minded their own business, there was a little house with two occupants, a man and a little girl.

She was lovely, though she couldn’t have been more than eight. At the moment, her hair was dark brown and her eyes were blue. She couldn’t remember what she really looked like.

“Can I go outside, Uncle?”

“Have you finished your homework?”

The girl shook her head. She could never tell if Uncle was in a good or bad mood, but she’d figured she would try anyway. Now it seemed to be a bad idea.

“No, but I’ve worked really hard.”

“Then no. I’ve told you, Cat. You have to make your father proud when he comes for you.”

“But when? You said it would be soon.”

“Hell if I know! By the time you’re of age, the latest. If you work harder, it might be earlier. Go finish your homework, and I don’t want to repeat myself.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

The girl went back to her room. Uncle always wanted the best for her, and she knew he loved her. He was kind when she was good, and harsh when he needed to be for her own good. It was her fault when he had to be mean, because he needed to raise her into a proper young lady. She needed to be perfect when Father came, whenever that would be. She didn’t even remember him.

But sometimes, she wished she could be like a princess from a fairytale, and ‘Father’ would swoop in and take her away to live in a castle, and there’d be a kind prince. She gazed out the window, briefly daydreaming, before she had to get back to work.

When would that day come?