Author's note: Things are really starting to kick off in this chapter! Thanks to everyone who read and rated the last chapter, and thanks to all those who have been following the story from the beginning. I feel like I'm improving with each chapter and it really shows in the ratings. As much as I love the fact that the ratings have gotten better and better, nothing makes me feel better than getting comments or feedback on my stories, so if you have suggestions please let me know in the comments or send me an email. Even a "good job!" lights up my day. Thank you all again!
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, places and characters are products of my imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people and events are purely coincidental. All characters are over the age of consent.
The author does not condone the abuse or any untoward treatment of women. Please treat everyone with respect in the real world. Thank you!
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Minister Orvon
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Orvon walked with the royal family at a brisk pace towards the royal bedchamber.
What timing...
The minister thought to himself. The royal hall had burst into a muted frenzy when the servant announced that the king had awoken. Orvon noticed that the queen and the first prince did not look particular happy at this latest development. Orvon himself did not know what was going to happen. He'd had many conversations with the king before he became too ill, but never did the king make his intentions clear in regards to the succession. In fact, the king almost purposely avoided the topic altogether.
Just as they reached the ornate doors of the bedchamber, the king's royal housekeeper, a triple onyx slave, stepped out and closed the door behind her. The slave had the highest gem-rank possible, and had been with the royal household for a decade. She was extremely well trained and beautiful. Her muscles rippled as she moved, attesting to her martial training as a bodyguard, and her movements were fluid and filled with grace. Truly a slave fit for a king.
"The king wishes to see each of you separately." The slave spoke in a quiet but compelling tone, her words flowing like golden caramel.
Orvon's eyebrows jumped, and he saw similar reactions from the various members of the royal family.
Separately?
His mind raced.
So he still doesn't mean to name a successor?
He wondered, for if the king meant to announce his successor, he'd need for there to be witnesses to the declaration.
"My queen," Orvon spoke. "If you please."
The queen nodded, frowning, and shot a hesitant glance back at the eldest prince, Ravon, before she walked into the chamber, the large double doors thudding shut after her.
A few minutes later, the queen came out of the chamber with a stormy countenance, and made a beeline towards the eldest prince. The pair went down the corridor, and whispered furiously amongst themselves.
"She doesn't look happy." General Kalman's booming voice echoed in the corridor.
"No, it certainly doesn't seem that way." Jacob said mildly.
The pair came back, and the eldest prince went into the room. He came out a few minutes later, with an even angrier face than the queen's. He took Carosa by her arm and the pair left without saying a word.
"Guess it's my turn." Jacob went in, and came out with a carefully neutral face. He also left with his twin slaves in tow, with no words exchanged with the rest.
The youngest prince Avery had been sitting quietly by himself, twiddling his fingers nervously. He stood up and entered the chamber, and came out a few minutes later. It was clear by the stains on his face that he'd been crying.
"He's dying." He said simply, and burst into tears. His uncle quickly gave him a hug, comforting him for a little while before entering the chamber himself.
Avery sat next to Orvon, still sniffling. "What did he say to you?" Orvon asked gently.
"Nothing, really." Avery shook his head. "He just told me to take care of myself. He said that there will be trouble to come..." Avery looked up at Orvon sadly. "His voice... He... He could barely get his words out." Fresh tears began to flow from the young prince's eyes. "I know I never got to know him as well as a father and son should... But he's still my father." The tears rolled down Avery's cheeks and fell from his face. "I only have the fondest memories of him from my childhood. How he played with me in the palace courtyard... Bounced me upon his knee..." His voice trailed off as he fell into a silent reverie.
They waited silently, with only the occasional sniffle from the young prince, until general Kalman came out of the chamber. "Your turn, old friend." The big man said.
"How is he?" Orvon asked as he stood.
"Not well..." Kalman sighed. "I could hardly believe he's only five years older than me."
"Did he say anything about-"
"No," Kalman cut him off. "He only stressed upon me how important it is to keep our borders secure once he's gone..." He let out a huge breath. "You know there will be a lot of vultures circling around our little kingdom."
Orvon nodded, bid the big man farewell, and went inside.
The chamber was dark, and was thick with the smell of medicinal incense. Orvon approached the large bed, and the royal slave held open a thin curtain to reveal the frail King Wymer Volk, the fourteenth of his line. The king had once been a strong, vital man. Orvon thought about the days when he rode side by side with him on the battlefield, watching the great man wreaking havoc amongst the barbarian lines with his greatsword. What a sight he was then. Jet black, long flowing locks and eyes that twinkled like stars in the night sky... Yet here he laid on his bed, the disease making him look twenty years older. His once black hair was now pure grey, and Orvon could barely make out his eyes in the deep hollows of their sockets.
"Orvon... Old friend..." The king gasped and lifted a shaking hand.
Orvon took the man's hand and grasped it. "I'm here." He said.
"I feel... so tired..." The old man rasped.
