As I mentioned in my last chapter, this chapter and the next two will explore some of our darker characters (King Slynt, the Drow King, and Talia).
This is your warning
There is a scene of dubious consent in this chapter. It is not vital to the plot, but displays an important character trait of King Wyatt's. It involves the use of a position of power for sexual purposes and I do not condone the practice in any way shape or form.
In order to aid you in your enjoyment of this chapter, I will place a warning before the scene and a marker after for those who would like to skip.
It'll also serve as a nice bookmark for anyone looking for a decently steamy sex scene ; ) (There is also a real quick consensual scene at the end)
Thank you for continuing this story. I really appreciate the continued support.
Happy reading, Zinfer
~*~*~Chapter 4: King Wyatt Slynt~*~*~
The taste and smell of iron saturated the air of the small stone chamber while a steady
pat-pat-patter
of some thick liquid splashed against the floor. The walls were slightly damp and lined with oily, smoking torches that had started to sputter and threaten to go out. The light the torches cast revealed strange symbols that had been meticulously painted in white in a perfect circle on the floor of the chamber.
In the center of the circle of runes was a shadow cast by a man who had been suspended seven feet from the ground, upside down from a hook in the high ceiling. He was naked and dirty - and covered from foot to head in blood. Blood that dripped from his matted hair and formed a small puddle beneath his lifeless body. Blank eyes stared hauntingly as the rope he had been strung with twirled, rotating the corpse around the chamber.
Another man stood outside the circle, reciting a long, unceasing chant. This man was also naked and covered with blood. But this blood was not his own - it had flowed from the suspended corpse while the other man had stood under it, shortly after slitting the sacrifice's throat. It had been the last step in a ritual that took days to prepare and complete, but for Wyatt Slynt the benefits of the dark magic it evoked far outweighed the gruesome manner in which it was obtained.
Already the King could feel the rejuvenating powers of the younger man's life force penetrating his skin. A man who looked and felt close to forty-five had entered the chamber a few hours before and one ten years younger would exit once the spell he was reciting was complete.
In actuality, Wyatt was nearing a century in age. When he had seized the throne from the Mansons fifty years ago, he had successfully completed the Ritual of Youth two times already.
As an accolade of magic in the King's palace, Wyatt had always had a penchant for dark arts. When he was a boy, Wyatt had been enthralled and disturbed by stories of dark mages who kidnapped princesses only to be thwarted by some gallant knight or prince. What young Wyatt could not understand was how the mages, with all that power at their disposal, had not been able to defeat the princesses' would be suitors. Surely great magic beat sword and armor.
When he became old enough, Wyatt had signed on as a mage's apprentice in the small port city where he had grown up. It had not been long before the mage Wyatt trained under had taught Wyatt all he could, and wrote to the Capital on his behalf to implore that the palace mages take Wyatt on as an accolade. They had accepted, and after a short practical test of his abilities, Wyatt had been allowed to leave his family behind and start training to become a 'real' magician.
However it was not long before Wyatt was disappointed to discover that 'real' magic was nothing more than cheap tricks that smarter men used to fool and mesmerize those who did not understand the inner workings of these 'spells'. Mixing chemicals and drugs together to produce mystical effects was not the king of magic Wyatt had read about in the stories as a boy. Where were the demons, the curses, the weapons that could strike without the wielding being anywhere near the target?
Soon Wyatt began to turn from his teachers, spending most of his time in the palace's library where he discovered ancient tomes that described dark magic that had been lost to the ages. These books were written in a dead language that Wyatt had had to teach himself. This process was time consuming, but once he had the text mastered, the possibilities turned endless.
As the only true user of magic among the palace mages, Wyatt rose quickly through the ranks, eventually becoming the Master of Arcana by the time he was in his early thirties. This position satisfied him for a while, but it was not long until he began to lust for even higher aspirations. He saw nothing but lesser men around him and knew that he could lead them all more effectively than any rule before.
A whisper in the right ear, and a spell that had nearly cost Wyatt his sanity and King Manson was dead, with King Slynt as his immediate successor. Nobody's fool, Wyatt knew that his claim to the throne was contingent upon how much power he could wield over the people he now ruled. So he had single handedly slaughtered Manson's lineage. That is - single handedly, with the help of some very black magic.
In the chamber, Wyatt ended his chant at last and stepped around the circle of runes at the other end.
Blood dripped from his body as he stood at the door and knocked three times. An instant later, the door opened and three guards carried in a large basin of water, setting it on the floor and then retreating further into the room to start dealing with the corpse hanging from the ceiling.
Wyatt stepped into the basin and began to wash the blood from his skin, staining the water crimson. By the time he was finished, the dead man's body was gone and a guard was waiting with a fresh pair of black robes, which Wyatt slipped into.
Leaving the guards to finish with the cleanup, the King exited the chamber and walked down a short hall to a winding set of stairs that led up. The climb was long, but Wyatt was not at all short of breath when he finally reached the top. He felt stronger than he had in years, as was usual after the ritual, and it filled him with a heady exhilaration.
At the top of the stairs was another short hallway. This one ended in a heavy iron door that was guarded by an enormous man who said nothing as Wyatt passed him, pushed open the door, and emerged into a small stone courtyard choked with weeds. A full moon hung above the yard, and Wyatt estimated it was three hours past midnight.
The King kept his secret dungeon and chamber well hidden within the bowels of the palace. The courtyard from which the entrance opened from was only accessible through an old and broken part of the palace that Wyatt intentionally left in disrepair. Only a small, handpicked garrison of guards knew where the chamber was, and Wyatt had their tongues removed to keep them from speaking of it to anyone. They lived in the abandoned part of the palace and had no families and were allowed no lovers. Wyatt suspected they found comfort in each other, but that was none of his concern as long as they remained loyal.
Across the courtyard and through another door hidden partially behind a dead tree, Wyatt found himself inside the palace proper. Through a series of hallways filled with abandoned furniture and dust, and he emerged inside the bedchamber of one of his mistresses - another precaution to keep the curious members of court away from his dark secret.
The mistress to whom the bedchamber belonged was a mute, like the guards, but she still possessed her tongue. She had been born without her voice. Wyatt had found her in one of the Capital's seedier whorehouses where she had been prized for her inability to protest against any unsavory clients. In exchange for her service and silence, Wyatt had offered her a home in the palace. The girl, whose name was Claire, had eagerly accepted the offer.
Wyatt found her dozing in a chair when he emerged from a secret door to the right of the hearth. She was dressed in an elegant blue silk dress and her dark hair, which had been pinned neatly to her head, was falling about her face in disarray.
"My sweet girl," Wyatt said loudly, shaking her shoulder gently, "You should be in bed."
Claire's eyes fluttered open and she stood up with a start, bowing deeply at her King's arrival.
"Do not wait up for me," he told her, going to the enormous wooden wardrobe near the bed and pulling out a nightgown for Claire and a simple tunic and breeches for himself. He always kept a pair of clothes in the room in case anyone ever questioned what his and Claire's relationship entailed.
It wasn't sex - Wyatt had never laid a hand on Claire in anger or in lust. Theirs was a purely beneficial relationship. When Wyatt needed use of his chamber for his darker magic, he made sure that the right people knew he would be spending the night with Claire. After that he would instruct her to keep the door locked at all times, and retreat to do whatever ritual he had planned for that night. Usually she waited up for him, but he had forgotten to mention the unusual length of the rejuvenating spell and she had evidently waited until exhaustion had overcome her.
Wyatt pulled off his robe and stepped into the new breeches while Claire eyed him from across the bed. He was a handsome man - even more so now that he had shed ten years. Neatly trimmed short brown hair and an equally well-groomed beard framed a thin, intelligent face. His body was trim and toned in the right places. Not an overly powerful man, Wyatt was more cunning thief than brutish warrior and it was this attribute that the King attributed most to his rise to power.
Claire also disrobed and reached for her nightgown. There was no modesty spared between the King and the mistress. They had known each other nearly a decade now. Claire was reaching her early thirties, but her body showed hardly any evidence of this fact.
Pulling on his shirt, Wyatt gave Claire a grateful smile, "I hope you sleep well tonight. I will see you in a few days." And with that he departed, first through the door of the bedchamber and then the expansive solar beyond.
The palace was silent as Wyatt walked through the halls toward his private tower. Every second or third torch was lit along the walls, but most of the light came from the moon streaming through the equally spaced glass windows. Although the eastern kingdom of man was smaller in size than it had ever been, it was prosperous under King Slynt's rule and the opulence of the palace attested to that fact. Plush carpets imported from across the Gold Ocean lined almost every hall and covered every room. The servants were well paid and well dressed and only the best warriors from the kingdom were allowed to serve as palace guards. Great feasts were hosted at every small occasion for the people of the Capital and beyond and taxes were collected based on how much each citizen could provide.
