Just yesterday, Neville hoped to ascend to the throne himself, only to be suddenly ousted from of the running by Varre’s unexpected survival. After a loud outburst, the young count was arrested and locked up in one of the guest rooms.

  The new king did not expect Neville to be invited to the ceremony, let alone actually show up. Yet there he was, standing at the bottom of the platform. The guest list was arranged by Marna after all, and Varre did not feel the need to even skim through it. He blinked twice when he saw his relative looking up at the throne and barely listened to the herald as the noble was introduced.

  Still, Neville kneeled down, as protocol demanded. He swore the oath, and Varre recited the correct response for the umpteenth time this day. After this was done, he walked down the steps to speak with the count, his curiosity winning him over. The crowds whispered among themselves, gossiping about this strange meeting between king and former candidate to the throne, but Varre ignored them.

  “So…” the former student wasn’t sure how to even begin.

  “I’d like to apologize for yesterday,” Neville decided to go first, “my emotions got the better of me. I should not have insulted you.”

  “No, no. I get it,” Varre scratched his neck, “I was shocked too. I don’t blame you for that.”

  “Shock is not an excuse to offend the monarch, you know?” the noble looked down, “I may be young, but I am not a child. I’m a count. I should have known better.”

  “Hey, we’re pretty similar in ages. If our situations were reversed, I probably would have done the same thing,” the king smiled.

  “In that case, thank you,” Neville bowed, “when those guards took me away, I was worried they’d throw me in the dungeon and I’d never see the life of day again. And yet here I am, free and swearing an oath of fealty.”

  “No problem. Everyone makes mistakes. I don’t think a little outburst should be enough to end your life.”

  The count glanced to the side. “I bet you already know this, but people are talking about you. Spreading nasty rumors of how quickly you’ve ascended to the throne. But as for me,” he looked Varre in the eyes, “I trust you. A guy like you would never have poisoned his own family.”

  The new king extended his arm. “Then let us work together, friend.”

  Neville stared at the gesture for a second, but ultimately shook Varre’s hand. “Yes. I’d like that.”

  With that, the two men separated. Varre was about to head back to the throne and continue the ceremony, when he noticed Zarkon standing among the crowd. The old healer was talking to some other noble, with a bored expression. His assistants were there as well, chatting among each other. Taking this opportunity for a short break, the king decided to approach them.

  Zarkon broke off his conversation immediately. “Varre! I mean, your majesty!”

  I was rare to see the healer flustered like this. He always tried to exude an air of confidence.

  The king did not come here to mock the old man, so he quickly welcomed him. “It’s good to see you Zarkon! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it has. And you’re the king now… If I would have known, I never would have… I mean…” the healer stammered, “thank you for the invitation.”

  “Oh, I had nothing to do with the list. I had no idea who’s on it. But I’m happy you made it.” Varre extended his arm again.

  Zarkon stood there like a rock. Jury actually had to push him forward to get him to accept the handshake. Then, both of the twins curtsied.

  “You never came for a visit.” Perry said, though judging from her expression she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to act like this.

  Varre tried to put her at ease and urged both twins to stand up. “Sorry about that. I’ve been quite busy,” he lied, “maybe I’ll try to see you again soon. Or invite you here for more feasts!”

  “That would be amazing!” Jury smiled, “the castle always has amazing food!”

  “Is that all you girls think about?” Zarkon shook his head. At least having a chance to chastise his assistants finally broke him out of his stupor.

  “Hey, you can let them have some fun! Actually, scratch that. That’s an order!” the king joked, “the next time I invite them, they better be here.”

  The healer sighed. “Very well. But is this the right time to throw feasts? People are tense, Varre!”

  “You sound like one of my own advisors,” the king laughed, “but I swear to host one as soon as things calm down. And I’ll make it a good one.”

  Zarkon frowned. “I’m serious. Just the other day, I received a message from a friend of mine out West. All the knights are arming themselves. Blacksmiths are busy with refurbishing armor and weapons. You can’t even hire them to build your own tools anymore!”

  “Don’t worry, now that I have officially been crowned, things will return to normal soon,” Varre urged.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  The conversation was cut short, when the main doors to the chamber opened. A confused Alastair walked in, led by a royal guard. He kept staring at everyone around him until his eyes finally settled on his friend. The young knight opened his eyes in shock and froze for a second.

  Varre had to wave towards him to wake him up. “Sorry Zarkon, I’m afraid he’s here for me. Thanks for coming though!”

  The healer and the twins bowed again and disappeared into the crowd.

  Meanwhile, Alastair sped up and almost jogged towards the new king. “Oh my god. Varre? Is that really you? I mean I’ve heard the news, but…”

  “Yep,” the monarch crossed his arms and tried to assume a regal stance, “in the flesh. Bow before me, mortals!”

  The young knight immediately complied, getting down to one knee.

  Varre frantically dropped his pose and waved his arms in the air. “Whoa, what are you doing? Get up, I was just kidding!”

  “Sir?” the warrior asked awkwardly.

  “Don’t sir me, Alastair,” the new king smiled, “come on. Don’t you recognize me? It’s me!”

  Nilo, who was watching the conversation from a distance finally intervened. “Give it a rest Varre. The poor man is awestruck. If you tease him anymore, his head is going to explode.”

  “N-Nilo?” the knight was still confused.

  The aristocrat walked up to his kneeling friend and lifted him up by the shoulders. “Yes, yes. I’m here too. And now we’re all together, like pretty much every evening for the last six months. Have you snapped out of it yet?”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “I mean… what do you expect. It’s not every day that your buddy becomes a king,” Alastair still seemed to avoid Varre’s gaze. As if he was afraid of accidentally offending the monarch somehow.

  “I don’t know how many kingdoms are out there, but it’s probably more common than you think!” the former student joked and lightly slapped Alastair on the shoulder.

  That finally broke the knight out of the stupor. He smiled. “Damn, now I wish I placed a bet on you getting crowned someday. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Better luck next time!” Varre laughed.

  The crowd of nobles watched the scene with surprised looks. Every new monarch was a popular topic for gossip, but Varre was a little above average. As the thirteenth in line for the crown, no one expected the young duke to ever ascend to the throne. He never attended many political events and few people paid him much attention. Even fewer tried to ingratiate themselves with him. Now that they saw his actual friends, the power hungry aristocrats gossiped, trying to find any sliver of information about them or discover some missing connections they could use.

  In the meantime, the three friends chatted away by themselves, like the old pals they were. They were still waiting for their fourth member, but they left that fact as a surprise for Alastair. They stalled for time, until finally, the chamber doors opened again.

  To Varre’s shock, a pair of Royal Guards walked in dragging Lester by force.

  The gossip amongst the nobles immediately stopped. This was supposed to be a day of celebration, yet right in front of their eyes, the ceremony was interrupted by the arrest of some unfortunate merchant. Everyone stared with eyes wide open as the guards walked all the way to the king and threw the poor man to the ground.

  Varre immediately got down to the floor besides his friend. “What the hell are you doing?!” he yelled at the guards.

  The soldiers exchanged surprised looks, as the king tried to help Lester up. Alastair and Nilo too immediately threw themselves to assist the poor merchant.

  “Lester, are you alright? Lester?!” Varre asked as he moved his friend into a sitting position.

  Fortunately, they hadn’t hurt him too badly. He had a black eye and some bruises, but besides that, he seemed alright. “Varre? What’s going on here?”

  “Oh no,” the king was panicking, “this is all my fault, I just wanted to bring you to the castle and show you around,” he turned to the guards in anger, “what the hell was that? I asked you to bring him here, not beat the hell out of him!”

  “I… sorry your majesty,” the soldier answered awkwardly, “he didn’t want to come. I just assumed…”

  “Oh well, that’s just fine then isn’t it?” the former student roared, “everything’s fine now, because you assumed I wanted to have my friend beaten up.”

  “Varre, it’s gonna be alright,” Alastair tried to calm him down, “it’s just a few scratches.”

  Lester, for his part, was more confused than hurt by this point. He decided to follow the knight’s lead. “Yeah… I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad.”

  Varre was still furious at the pain he caused through a single misunderstanding, but decided to bring the merchant in for close hug instead. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault, I-“

  He got interrupted by Perry’s sudden arrival. She immediately got down on her knees besides the monarch and started to examine Lester.

  The king pulled back in surprise at the unexpected assistance. Jury appeared seconds afterwards to explain. “We saw what happened! Zarkon went to get some more equipment.”

  Varre nodded with gratitude and anxiously waited for Perry’s opinion. “He’s fine. Just a few bruises. Nothing to worry about,” she finally said.

  The king leaned back and sighed, releasing the built up stress and worry in his body.

  Shortly afterwards, Zarkon returned together with the Steward and an additional healer in tow. Marna was already aware of what had happened and she turned to the merchant. “I apologize to you sir. This is all a terrible misunderstanding. Please, why don’t you follow the healer to a guest room. You can stay and rest in there for tonight. We will arrange a bath as well and a clean change of clothes for you.”

  “That’s fine…” Lester answered her, then turned to the king, “well, this was an eventful day!”

  “I am so, so sorry,” Varre began.

  The merchant immediately raised his hand to stop him. “It’s fine. We’ve made enough of a scene as it is. I’m just glad I got to keep my head at the end here.”

  The healer was urging Lester to move, so the king quickly added, “I’ll make it up to you! I promise!”

  “A free stay in the castle’s guest room is a good start,” the merchant smiled and followed the wizard.

  Varre finally decided to look around the room. Most of the aristocrats were gone by now, the last remaining stragglers walking out into the corridor, guided by the Royal Guards.

  Marna cleared her throat. “I will handle this, your majesty. Why don’t you step aside for a short break? Clear your mind for a bit. I’m afraid the ceremony must continue.”

  The king was in no mood to argue. He nodded and walked towards the small royal waiting chamber, off to the side of the throne room. Alastair and Nilo exchanged confused looks, shrugged, and decided to follow their friend.

  Marna was right. Sitting down on a sofa for a minute helped a lot. Varre poured himself a drink from the prepared pitcher of wine. He knew that the threat of poison was still there, but frankly didn’t care right now. It was the job of his staff to ensure that this wine was safe. I hope they can at least do that much, those idiots.

  Nilo decided to try and calm him down once more. “Hey, I know you feel bad, but it’s not your fault. It was a simple misunderstanding by an overzealous guard.”

  Alastair agreed. “Besides, Lester’s fine. Don’t you remember when we got in that fight at the Lumberjack Tavern? He looked ten times worse than now and we still went right back to drinking afterwards.”

  Varre still looked unconvinced, so Nilo tried a new strategy. He sat beside the king and poured himself a glass of wine too. “If you still feel bad, than how about this. Once Lester gets better, have a nice fireside chat and offer him some business deal. He’s a merchant! If he comes out of this with a profit, then he’ll even look back on this whole debacle fondly. You know how he is,” the aristocrat smiled.

  That finally worked. The king sighed. “I suppose you’re right. That does sound like Lester. I guess I’ll talk to him myself later and see if I can cheer him up.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Nilo slapped Varre’s shoulder.

  Alastair straightened up. “I’ll come too. If push comes to shove, we can come up with something together.”

  The trio continued sitting in the break room for a few more minutes until Marna returned. She looked at the king with worried eyes, but relaxed a bit, when she realized that his friends managed to calm him down.

  “Alright, the nobles are coming back,” the steward said, shutting the door behind her.

  “What did you tell them?” Varre asked.

  “I told them that some ruffians beat up one of your close friends in the city and the guards brought him here to save him,” she fixed her glasses, proud of her scheme.

  “I don’t know,” Varre protested, “I was yelling at the guards. If anyone was listening in…”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Nilo waved his hand dismissively, “no one was paying enough attention. There was far too much confusion,” he turned to the steward, “that was some quick thinking.”

  She nodded at him. “I’ve also spoken with the captain. He will discipline the guards. We cannot have such misunderstandings happening ever again.”

  “Good,” Varre simply said. He still hadn’t decided how to deal with those soldiers. He was glad that someone else was taking care of that at least.

  Marna continued, “Your friend is now safely recovering in a guest room. I asked Benjamin to prepare an exuberant meal for him. I will take you to him after we finish here. Now, if your majesty feels ready, shall we return to the ceremony? It shouldn’t take too much longer,” she smiled warmly, though it was clear she was feeling out of her element, unused to dealing with these matters.

  The king sighed again, stood up and walked back out into the throne room.

  The ceremony lasted for another hour. The nobles were gossiping about what happened, of course, but it seemed like the steward’s plan worked. Her explanation seemed reasonable enough. No one would dig any further into it today, and if someone tried to ask Lester himself later, he’d probably just stick to her story.

  Fortunately, the merchant was indeed doing perfectly fine. The castle’s healer used the best tinctures and treatments he had access too. Aided by magic, Lester was recovering so quickly that by the time Varre came to see him his bruises were gone. He still had a black eye, but it was almost gone by now.

  Nilo was correct. The merchant held no hard feelings for his friend, especially after getting invited to a weeklong stay at the regal guest room. Including full access to Benjamin’s cooking of course. Varre still felt bad, but this time it was Lester assuring him that everything was alright.

  When the king finally returned to his quarters, he was exhausted. He hoped for a nothing more than a peaceful day of rest tomorrow. Unfortunately his chamberlain dashed those hopes immediately. Tomorrow, was going to be his first day of ruling. First, he had to meet with the royal council to learn about the status of the kingdom and begin his work to restore order after the last few days of chaos. Next, he would have to begin an extensive combat training regimen.

  Though Varre could avoid serious exercise until now, even as a duke, a monarch had no such luxury. He would need to be ready to fight off threats and assassinations attempts. Fortunately, he had access to the best coaches and resources in the entire kingdom. Unfortunately, he would need to catch up on years of progress quickly.

  When Varre finally went to bed, the exhaustion of the long day caught up with him instantly. This day was far too long. He felt like he already deserved a vacation. If only he knew of the turbulent times ahead, he’d probably abdicate on the spot.

  Do you think he meant it? Or is he still the most likely culprit of the assassination?

  Of course, the topic freshest to everyone's minds is the aftermath of Mikkel III's assassination.