(6,105 words)
The king is dead.
On the fourth day of the third month of the 1035th year since the Son of the First Man was born, he collapsed on his walk to the throne. It happened suddenly. King Martin de Alfida was sixty four years old, but he was still the picture of health. The old man kept himself in good shape, his mind was sharp, and he could still ride a horse with the best of them. Everyone believed the hero who liberated Alfida during the Fitna had another ten years in him at least.
Yet, mother Death calls us all to her embrace when it is our time to go. No man can escape his fate, no matter how strong, or brave, or smart, or holy he may be.
And so, the King of Alfida, the demon of the central plateau, died.
The crown-prince must be informed... and crowned.
___________________________________________
Alonso de Alfida POV
The omens are ominous today. You knew it as soon as you woke up and the birds near your window weren't chirping in the same tune they always do. The castle was eerily silent as you went about your morning routine. As you washed and got dressed, the hairs on your arm stood up as you felt a cold draft. The weather in Alfida is mild, but the castle is drafty. Still, you had a servant look into the issue as you took your breakfast, a light meal of freshly baked bread, a small wheel of cheese, some olives, and a glass of wine.
The servant found nothing amiss and so, you proceeded to your duties. In this case, that was collecting spell reagents. The imbeciles who hawk their wares in the city are too careless and feckless to properly handle them. Perhaps a decade and a half spent in the Free and Sovereign City spoiled you, but quality spell components are not something you can cheap out on, and if you want something done right, well, you must do it yourself, right?
That is where you find yourself. In a stinking cave located inside the unusually quiet and still royal forest, scraping bat guano off the ground with a jeweled metal comb. The reagent you're after is a particularly noxious sort, and it is quite dangerous. A stray spark could light up this whole cave. Better than those brutes your father insists on saddling you with as your 'guards' stay outside and away. You have full confidence in yourself to do this properly, but if they start getting in the way trying to help, you're all in for a world of hurt.
It isn't as if you're worried about some stray monsters ambushing you anyway. At worst, you can retreat with your magic. What does father think you spent fifteen years in the Free and Sovereign City doing? You are no mere dilettante mage, you passed your Master examinations and are a certified True Magus. One who can access the teleportation nexus of the Free and Sovereign City.
If something that could slay you could just randomly appear within the royal forest, well... then fate has conspired to kill you and no amount of preparation can prevent it. Such is life. You've seen men as talented or more snuffed out before their time, and you'll see it again. The world is a bitter, cruel, and random place.
The wind blows and kicks up the dust and small bits of grime along the floor of the cave, blowing it all over your cape and clothes. You mutter a curse. Mother will complain again...
"PRINCE ALONSO! PRINCE ALONSO!"
Your ears perk up as you hear your name being called along with the clopping of galloping horse hooves. Now what could all this commotion be? Does father demand some insipid ceremonial appearance? Does he not realize you have magical components to gather?
"Prince Alonso!" one of the guards by the entrance of the cave shouts, "Your uncle, Lord Castañon approaches! It must be serious!"
Grumbling another curse, you stand up and dust yourself off before exiting the cave having not gathered all the guano you need. Drat.
"Lord Castañon approaches!" The guard pants, out of breath. "It must be urgent."
You clasp your hands behind your back and stand up straight just as you were taught. Have to appear princely. You can hear the clattering of hooves growing louder as Uncle Enrique approaches. The guards shout back at him helping draw him to your location while you stand there like a statue.
You'll have to clean your nails when your get home. You can feel the gunk under them, but it's not like you can just pull out a handkerchief and start scrubbing now, right? Maybe just a little bit. You pull out a dagger and start picking at it as Uncle Enrique comes into view with his entourage. His face is a mask of stoic professionalism, but you can sense the tension. Although that tension is somewhat dampened by his jiggling fat belly warbling after dismounting from his horse. Poor thing can hardly handle him.
"Uncle. A pleasure to see you as always," you force yourself to smile at him. It isn't that you dislike Uncle Enrique. Far from it, in fact. You prefer him much to your dour and irritating Uncle Ansur, your father's brother. Mother's side of the family is just so much more pleasant. "I trust you have good reason to interrupt my studies?"
He gets down from his horse, walks over, and gives a stiff, formal, but still sincere bow, "My Prince, I bear grave news. Your father has collapsed. The Archon has pronounced him dead on the scene. You must return with all haste."
Your eyes widen momentarily. Father? Dead? The man was, much to the chagrin of everyone at court, the picture of good health despite being in his mid sixties. You swore the man would live to a hundred just to spite everyone.
Good riddance. If the Goddess Death has any sense, she'll enact every torture he ever inflicted upon others to him. You wouldn't count on the Gods to actually deliver justice like that, however, so it will have to remain a fantasy.
"I see. Well, good riddance then. I suppose I'll have to be crowned?" you ask with an inquisitive tilt.
"Alonso..." Uncle Enrique cringes at your blase attitude towards the death of your own father, "You will be crowned of course. Better that you don't display such flippantness at court, however. Your mother believes it to be poison."
"Then our list of suspects is a kingdom wide, uncle. I fear we'll never catch him. A shame. I wouldn't mind shaking his hand. Stand back, I will be back in my quarters shortly. Thank you for coming to see me, uncle."
You step back from the other gathered men and then begin chanting a spell to return to your teleportation circle drawn in your personal quarters.
The world shifts and you find yourself back in the royal palace. A familiar sight. A familiar smell. Familiar voices. Nothing has changed. And yet everything has.
You can't help but smile, and this time it's not forced.
___________________________________________
Best go see mother first. Get the histrionics out of the way early. She isn't hard to find. Queen Dowager Isabel has locked herself in her room and posted half a dozen guards outside her door and two more outside her window. She is weeping, as is her wont. You suppose father had his charms. For all his faults, he never laid his hands on a (human) woman. His temper was reserved for you and your younger brother. A shame Ramon isn't here. You'd love to raise a toast with him right about now.
The guards allow your passage, stepping out of the way to allow you to knock on the door. "Dearest mama, I am here," you croon through the thick, heavy oak.
"Alonso! Come in!" a high pitched, warbling wail answers. You open the door and are almost immediately taken off your feet as your mother launches herself into your chest. "They killed him, Alonso! They killed him!"
You resist the urge to sigh and try to summon up some pity for the recently widowed woman.
"He was an old man, mama. He had lived a long and good life. I am sure he is with Mother Death and the Saints now, looking down upon us," you try to console her.
"No! He was killed! You have to find who did it, Alonso! Martin's spirit will never rest until his killer is apprehended. And what if you're next? It's that snake! That bastard snake Luis! Martin never should have allowed him into our home!" Queen Dowager Isabel cries hysterically into your tunic, soaking it with her tears.
Luis is your younger half-brother. A bastard born of a drunken mistake while on campaign, the old king used to say. If Luis was going to kill anyone, it'd be you, not your father. But the young man has been nothing but gentlemanly toward you since you came home from the Free and Sovereign City.
"Now, now, mama, we'll get to the bottom of this, but right now I need you to be strong for me," you lie, gently prying your mother's vice-like grip from your arm.
"Where are you going?" she cries, grabbing at you, her tear-stained face contorted in a mask of despair.
"There is much to be done. Ramon and Uncle Ansur need to be summoned along with the other nobiles to swear their fealty to me as their king. Then we can discuss a funeral," you explain, slipping out of her grasp and out the door before she can grab at you again. Nothing you can say will placate the woman. She's always seen shadows where there is none so an actually suspicious event like this will have her paranoid beyond belief.
You need to take control of the narrative now and keep the situation as contained as possible. There is no need for the court to descend into a frenzy, and your enemies will be eyeing the situation closely, looking for weakness. You need to speak with the Archon. He's a man of medicine as well as a man of the Gods. He should currently be investigating the body.
You find the man in the king's room. Your father's corpse lies on the bed. He looks serene. His face is calm. As if he has just gone to sleep. His eyes are closed and his mouth is relaxed. No one stops you on your way inside. You are the king in all but name now. No one will stop you ever again.
"My Prince," the Archon bows respectfully as you enter the room, placing down his instruments and turning to face you.
"What is your diagnosis?" You ask curtly as you approach the bedside.
"A stroke, I'm afraid. My prayers tell me of a clot in the head. Nothing we could have done," Archon Sancho replies. He's a queer man for a priest. You've never met a man of the cloth so willing to grant absolution. Perhaps it has something to do with his own tendencies. Widowchaser... you'll have to keep an eye on your mother. Or not, why should you care if the Archon seduces her? It'll give her something to do at least.
"A stroke? Stress induced?" You inquire.
"That is a strong possibility, my prince. The Queen Dowager, however, is certain that he'd been poisoned. I'm inclined to agree," Archon Sancho replies.
It pains you to agree with him and mother. Not out of any contempt for them, but because whoever slew your father with poison did you and the world a great service. That said... the fact remains that if someone assassinated the king, they can assassinate YOU, and while the world is not so wonderful a place, that doesn't mean you wish to meet your makers yet.
Yes, you have to find the culprit... assuming there is one.
"I am of the same mind. My father made many enemies," especially among the hundreds of elfbloods he violently expelled from kingdom, the burghers he publicly flogged, and the peasants he taxed into destitution, "None could match him on the battlefield. It is perhaps to be expected they would resort to dishonorable and underhanded methods," you state diplomatically.
Archon Sancho nods solemnly, "Indeed. If I may, my prince, but Lord Fernando, your father's spymaster... well, I should not impugn his honor, but he is an avid herbalist and gardener. If he is not the culprit, he is certainly your best choice in ascertaining who the culprit it is. For my part, I do not sense any poisons, but I am an Archon, not a medicus."
"Allow me?" You offer. Medicine is not your primary field of study, but the Grand University of Emporia requires its student to learn the basics in a number of subjects, medicine included. Your education in the matter is at least equal to that of Archon Sancho's.
Archon Sancho obliges, stepping aside and giving you free rein. You place your hands over your father's body and begin chanting a spell. One designed to sense and detect poisons. Predictably, you find nothing. The spell returns an empty result. That doesn't mean the king wasn't poisoned. It merely means whoever did it wasn't such an imbecile he would use easily detectable poisons.
With a shake of your head, you confirm your lack of results to Archon Sancho. "Nothing. Keep the body preserved please, my friend. We may find something if we keep digging," you request.
"As you will, my prince," Archon Sancho responds, "It is your will that guides the kingdom now."
"For now, I wish to meet with my council and learn the state of the realm."
A more disciplined and steadfast prince would not have waited until his father's death to delve into the state of the realm's finances and diplomacy, but given your father's temperament, you suspect it's going to be bad news. And isn't it always best to procrastinate bad news as long as possible? The world has enough to weigh you down on a daily basis. Why add to your worries?
Let's see. Of your father's old council there, of course, your Uncle Enrique. He is your mother's younger brother and the head of the Castañon family. They are a significant landowner in Alfida. Uncle Enrique is... a good man. He loves to enjoy life. He forgives easily, he loves to indulge in food and drink, and he can talk and talk and talk for hours on end. If not for his commendable skill with numbers and ledgers, he wouldn't be much use on the council.
Then there is Lord Cristobal of the Gonzales family. Another large landowning family in your kingdom. He is your brother-in-law, married to your one and only sister, Maria. A bit of a coward, that one. Always looking for a way out. Never a fighter. Still, he is perhaps the only man you've ever met who could cool your father's temper with mere words and his eye for numbers and letters is exceptional. A clever man, if not a brave one.
Lord Fernando is the third. He is the head of the de Grigorio family, another major landowner within the kingdom. He is... a difficult man to read. Few things seem to tempt him or rouse his interest except for his garden and his efforts to catalogue all of the plants native to the peninsula and their properties. A curious hobby for a curious man.
Fourth brings us another major landowner, Lord Alfonso of the de Maza family. Like you, he is an accomplished mage, however considerably less accomplished than you, and a graduate of the Grand University of Emporia. You know him well. He's an arrogant and vindictive man, but none could ever call him unfair.
And finally there is Archon Sancho de Guzman himself. As the chief Archon of Alfida, it is expected that he have a seat at the table. He is the closest thing to the voice of the Gods your kingdom has, and thus must be heeded. You don't think very much of his position, but the man himself is a tolerable sort. His internal contradictions amuse you and he has always treated you fairly growing up.
___________________________________________
You convene the council immediately. There can be no time for mourning. Besides, you doubt any of them are sad to see the old tyrant dead. You send each of them a message with your magic, summoning them to the council chamber.
While the rest of the court scrambles about to prepare a funeral and the servants go about their daily routines, you make your way to the council chamber, sitting in your father's seat and surveying the map of the kingdom before you. You've been in this room a thousand different times, but this is your first time seeing it from the king's chair. It's... the same, really.
A few minutes later, the council begins to file in. Refusing the first summons of their new king be a poor sign, they come in one by one, bowing respectfully and taking their seats.
Uncle Enrique is first, followed by his son, your cousin, Francisco. The young teen scrambles inside with an arm full of cups and sets them down one by one for each member of the council. Lord Fernando is next. He slithers into the room quietly and gives you a small bow before taking his seat.
Lord Alfonso arrives next, followed shortly by Lord Cristobal and his wife, your sister Maria whose eyes are swollen with recently shed tears. Women. Ever the more emotional sex. Ah well, you can forgive your little sister for it. Lastly, Archon Sancho arrives. He closes the door behind him, and you begin the meeting.
"Good morning, gentlemen and my lovely sister," you greet, "I will dispense with pleasantries and cut straight to business. My father has died and I am now the presumptive king. Yet I am completely in the dark about the state of our kingdom. Enlighten me."
Archon Sancho clears his throat, "If I may, my prince. The Council opens its deliberations with a prayer and-"
"Fine then. Get on with it," you reply.
With an uneasy nod, the Archon clasps his hands together, "Tritheos watch over us. May their wisdom guide the minds of the gathered and their hearts guide our will. Blessed be-" Archon Sancho's voice comes to a sudden stop and his eyes sink down to your finger tapping on the table. He can take a hint. "Blessed be the peacemakers, the defenders of the innocent, and the righteous. May the Son watch over us."
The table echoes with a chorus of the last line. You half heartedly go along with it.
"Right. Now that-"
"There is still the matter of ritual. Let us friends break bread first," Archon Sancho cautions me.
"Of course... of course. How could I forget? Thank you for reminding me, Archon. You're so diligent," you reply, turning your gaze toward your cousin Francisco.
The young lad jumps to attention, grabbing the cups and filling them with wine. He then lets in some servants who place down a tray of fresh bread on the table.
"To the health and long reign of his majesty, King Alonso," Archon Sancho proclaims raising his glass. The table echoes his toast. You nod and everyone drinks.
"Now then. Where were we?" you inquire, turning your attention to Uncle Enrique, "How are the kingdom's finances, uncle?"
Uncle Enrique grabs his goblet and sips deeply to wash down the thick helping of bread he's stuffed into his mouth. Swallowing it all in a single gulp, he speaks, "Ahem... ah," he pounds his chest to help it go down, "Pardon me, your majesty. Ahem. There is good news and bad news. The bad news is that the former king did little to develop the realm. The good news is that he did not spend that money on anything else either. The royal treasury is overflowing with over thirty five thousand silver."
That gets a reaction out of you. Thirty five thousand?
"And what is our annual income?"
"Ahem," Uncle Enrique pounds his chest again and straightens his back, "With what little your father has allowed me to do, I collect nearly twenty thousand silver a year. However, with expenses factored in such as our forts, our court positions, and your uncle and brother's incomes... we can reliably collect a surplus of sixty three hundred silver per year."
"Are you telling me... my father hoarded SIX YEARS of annual surplus and did NOTHING with it?"
"He intended to invade Saraqusta with it, my king," Lord Fernando helpfully supplies.
"I see," you reply. Well, he may have neglected developing the realm, but on the other hand he's left you a considerably warchest with which to paint this blank canvas. It could be worse. Things could always be worse... "And how is our internal situation?"
The council shares nervous glances among themselves, and it is Lord Fernando, the sole calm member, who speaks, "With respect, my king, it is a poor outlook. The burghers of Alfida are enraged. Mayor Bernardo resigned from this council in disgust three years ago and communicates with us now only through letters. The king's heavy handed approach to internal matters has alienated nearly all the major stakeholders in our country. Our freemen resent the king's high taxes and still carry a grudge that more land was not allotted to them after the elfbloods' expulsion. I wager only our knight-villeins are happy and that is largely because of your father's permissive stance on raiding Saraqusta."
So your father has near universally pissed off the people of Alfida and only his cruel reputation stayed their hand leaving behind a big mess for his much less feared successor to clean up- you. A deep sigh escapes your lips.
"I suppose we'll have to deal with them, won't we? How are relations with the neighbors?"
Lord Cristobal coughs, "Not good, your majesty. Castellon and Asturias eye us with greed seeing us as a morsel to be devoured. Saraqusta skirmishes with our knight-villeins constantly. We have no diplomatic channel open with King Salvador of Montemayor. And our inability to catch the Eluctable Domingo and his guild of thieves has soured relations across the peninsula. There is of course the matter of the elfbloods your father expelled who have spread out among the courts of the taifa queendoms. Although your father did not favor any sort of diplomatic reproachment with the elfbloods in any case."
"So we are underdeveloped, teetering on the edge of rebellion, and we have no friends abroad. Is that what you're saying?"
Lord Fernando nods, "Yes, my king."
"Very well," you groan with a resigned tone, "What about our military?"
"It is an open question with your father gone," Archon Sancho painfully admits, "His name carried a great deal of weight among fighting men and he could expect to call upon three hundred horsemen, seven hundred men at arms, four hundred crossbowmen from the cities, and could mobilize perhaps twenty five hundred irregular levies if he believed it a necessity."
"Many of the knight-villeins and men at arms are under the command of my brother and uncle, correct?"
The council nod in tandem.
"My blood will not betray me. At the very least, I can expect their men to answer my call," you declare. "Finally, I would like to be appraised of our neighbors. Saraqusta, Castellon, and Montemayor. What do we know about them? Their politics? Their available forces?"
Lord Fernando clears his throat and prepares to speak, "Castellon is ruled by Duke Diego de Rojas. By all accounts he is a lazy idler. There are rumors he intends to throw in a bid for the crown of Asturias when the old king dies. He bereft of any sons as you should know. My spies tell me that he can call upon twenty five hundred semi-professional troops at maximum, but perhaps half of that will heed his call. He is not well liked among his vassals. In particular, the Count Manuel de Aracena in the border to our north is extremely critical of his liege."
"Interesting. Critical enough to consider defection?"
Fernando shakes his head, "Not unless defeated first."
"Hm. What of Montemayor."
"A mountainous backwater," Lord Alfonso states.
"Not inaccurate," Lord Fernando agrees, "Useless to invade on top of being extremely difficult. King Salvador is a living legend. The man slew the last dragon of Tartessia and wears its scales, warding him against magic and the elements. He commands only three hundred men, and yet the old king did not favor his chances in a battle."
"A useful ally, I believe, my king," Lord Cristobal says.
You nod, "At the very least, someone we don't want as an enemy. Lastly, Saraqusta. What do we know of my father's favorite whipping girl?"
Fernando bows his head apologetically, "Little of their queen, my king. She ascended only recently after her mother's unexpected death in a fire. She is aided by your father's archnemesis, the Amir Walid Bajjah. Their last battle a decade ago saw him deploy two thousand professional troops supported by a thousand irregulars. Their forces may have grown or shrunk since then. My information network has failed to penetrate deeply there."
"Beatable. Very beatable if we actually use this Gods damned treasury to bolster our forces. What of THEIR diplomatic situation?"
Fernando throws his hands up helplessly, "Impossible to say, my king. Queen Aiza is young. Her mother enjoyed close relations with Queen Yasmina of Tulah, but there is no way to know if that relationship has endured the passing of her mother."
King Martin was Wrathful! Your relations with all of your estates is harmed!
King Martin was Greedy! He has built quite the impressive treasury and kindly left it for you!
King Martin was Honest! Few secrets have not escaped the royal household. However, he has not debased the currency or built a reputation for deception with your subjects or neighbors!
You take in this information carefully, letting it swirl around in your mind. There is so very much to consider. Your father died at a pivotal juncture in your kingdom's future like the asshole he is. That means you're free to take the kingdom in any direction you like, but it also means you need to make a lot of difficult decisions quickly and if you make the wrong ones, you'll doom yourself. And your kingdom.
'Heavy is the head that wears the crown... though I've got no crown yet. So, where to begin?'
These men have sat on your father's council for years now. They should have some ideas. It is a good starting point if nothing else.
You clear your throat and address the room in your most regal, kingly voice, "We sit at a crossroads. Things must move quickly now. The people need to see swift and decisive action from the crown to secure their faith in their new king. You wise and learned gentlemen have spent years in service to this kingdom and have the benefit of experience and wisdom. What is your counsel?"
Uncle Enrique clears his throat and speaks first, "Our kingdom has long stagnated economically, my liege. Your father was wise to not be a spendthrift, but too little can be as damaging as too much. Our roads are in a rather poor state and the Estrella builds up with silt and debris that must be dredged before it becomes unnavigable."
You nod. It is good advice. Good infrastructure is the backbone of a thriving economy. "Your counsel is received, Uncle. I can't promise it will get started immediately but by the years end, it must have begun."
"Dear Alonso," your sister Maria speaks up for the first time, "The Eluctable pilfers from our great houses with impunity. All of father's attempts to apprehend him have failed no matter how many patsies he executed. May I recommend putting out a call for adventurers and placing a bounty?"
"It will have to be a hefty bounty to attract someone capable of catching the Eluctable," Lord Alfonso snorts, "He escapes even my best divinations."
"And there are better Diviners," Maria points out.
"Enough," you put your hand up to forestall further argument, "I will consider it, sister. Thank you. Lord Alfonso, have you any counsel?"
He straightens his back and nods proudly, "I do. The previous king, may he rest peacefully, instituted regulations on magic far beyond the recommended statutes of the Free and Sovereign City. Many of our hedge mages have picked up and left for greener pastures. I believe the statutes of the Free and Sovereign City are more than adequate to prevent a magical mishap. Perhaps we should adopt them as a whole here."
"Hmm," you hum. This is a topic you are very familiar with as a mage yourself. You've spent a decade working inside the Free and Sovereign City and know their regulations and routine inspections well. And you know how poor their results can be at containing sufficiently motivated wicked mages. That said, your father had no benevolent motives behind his onerous laws. He simply didn't trust the Free and Sovereign City. Nor should he have. The Free and Sovereign City uses their graduates to spy on the whole continent. They tried to recruit you to do it. The fools.
"A good idea, Alfonso, but a controversial one. I will have to think on it," you decide, "Lord Cristobal?" You prompt your brother-in-law to speak. He's always been a bit skittish about giving his opinion even though he's a perfectly capable thinker.
He swallows nervously, his eyes darting from side to side, "Well... uhm... we are diplomatically isolated, my king. Our neighbors are either hostile or wary of us. The king of Montemayor, King Salvador, is wide renowned by our brothers in the peninsula. I believe a diplomatic overture toward him, if successful, would improve our standing among all the good human kings of the peninsula."
You nod, "Another good idea, brother. I shall consider it. Lord Fernando, have you anything to say?"
The man gives a curt nod and swirls his wine in his cip, "There are a few things I've considered. Archon Sancho and I have discussed the matter at length with your father of late. The taifa kingdoms fight amongst themselves but a victor will emerge and consolidate. Asturias is on the brink of civil war but this too will not last forever. We will be destroyed if we do not expand. Either up the Fortuna into Castellon or down Estrella into Saraqusta. I am of the mind that we should splinter Castellon and annex the Fortuna valley, Archon Sancho believes an annexation of Saraqusta while the taifa are distracted is necessary."
"We must seize the moment while we still can. It will be a tumultuous integration, but it will prove the righteousness of your rule," Archon Sancho adds.
"I see the wisdom in your advice, but I cannot countenance war quite yet. My father made quite a mess of things with our subjects in the city, and without his fearsome reputation, I fear they may refuse my call to war," you state. Archon Sancho and Lord Fernando begrudgingly accede to the strength of your reasoning. The two men were failing to account for the reality that not every king can command the same level of discipline and obedience... and fear.
"My first order of business will be meeting with Mayor Bernardo. Uncle Enrique, I want you to get to work repairing our roads and dredging the Estrella before our trade barges start running aground in the middle of the damn thing."
Uncle Enrique smiles widely, his fat jowls wobbling with glee. He breathes in sharply making a wet sucking sound from his nostrils as his eyes twinkle with the potential to finally put his plans into action. "At once, my king! I'll have my men begin work today. I have some marvelous plans for our land."
Poor Uncle Enrique performed that general survey of the land literal years ago and he's sitting on his plan to expand our infrastructure ever since. At least it means he's had plenty of time to iron out the kinks. You expect a most efficient and rapid expansion of our roads and shipping routes.
"Excellent. Uncle Ansur and my younger brother, Ramon, should arrive soon. We will have to greet them properly. And I would like to have something to show for them pertaining to my father's death. Lord Fernando, your mastery of herbs and plans is peerless in the realm. I want you to search for any sign of poison in my father. Investigate the corpse, the food he's eaten recently, the places he's been too, everything."
"It will be done, my king," Lord Fernando bows his head respectfully.
"Lord Cristobal, dearest sister," you address the couple across from you at the table. Cristobal swallows thickly while Maria looks giddy. She already knows you're giving her what she wants. "The black markets in Alfida drain our coffers with each passing day. The Eluctable will no doubt see the death of my father as an opportunity to grow even more bold. That cannot happen."
Lord Alfonso scoffs, "We've been trying for years. What will change now?"
"This— Sister, my good brother-in-law, I want you to take one thousand silver from the royal treasury. Bribe anyone and everyone you can to unravel his web of accomplices," you demand.
The whole table goes silent like all the air has been sucked out of the room. You are entrusting a tremendous sum of money to your sister and brother-in-law to execute this task. A less than perfectly honest man might steal half or more of that money and pay out only some bribes. But you trust your sister and Cristobal has always been a steadfast man of justice. They will not steal from you.
"Your trust is not misplaced, my king. We will not fail you," Lord Cristobal swears.
"I know it isn't, brother," you assure him, "Lastly, Archon Sancho, I would like for you to travel to Montemayor after my father's funeral. Entreat with his Archon and bring our kingdoms closer together. King Salvador and I are in similar positions and we are good men of the faith," you nearly choke from spitting out such a bold faced lie, "We should come to each other's defense."
Archon Sancho smiles warmly and bows his head, "Your will is my pleasure, your majesty."
You clap your hands together, "Good. Then we are adjourned. We will meet again tomorrow to plan my father's funeral. Please, take your time to grieve his passing, and I apologize for calling you in to discuss business so soon."
You swear your joke almost gets a chuckle out of the room. No one here is grieving the loss of King Martin. The dents in the table from his mailed fist, the shaky back leg on Fernando's chair after father threw it at the wall, the chipped silver goblet in front of you from when father threw it out the window. Everyone here has been terrorized by the man for far too long. Honestly, you wonder if the man's persistent fury finally did him in naturally and he wasn't poisoned at all.
Still, the mood is lighter now. Even as you all rise from the table and exit the council chamber, it feels as if the shadow your father's tyranny cast upon the kingdom has lifted.
That doesn't mean you can be careless.
"Brother, if I may?" Maria asks as the two of you exit the room and start heading to your quarters.
"Sister, what troubles you?"
"Ahem. Your stench is most revolting. I believe your subjects did not want to insult their new king in their first meeting, but do wash up before our next meeting, yes?"
You look down at the layer of filth coating your cloak and tunic. Dirt, grime, and bat guano are crusted onto the fabric and your skin. You hadn't noticed before, but now that Maria's mentioned it, the stench is becoming impossible to ignore.
"I will, thank you for reminding me," you smile and pat your sister's cheek. She winces at the contact and wipes the gunk off her face.
"Good," she grumbles, "Now please, bathe, and I mean that most sincerely."
With that, your sister hurries down the hall back to her husband's side.