The next day, after eating a hearty breakfast together with Lester, Varre was finally ready to attend the royal council. Benjamin selected an elegant outfit and helped his lord arrange the crown into the most regal position.

  At first, the chamberlain said that he would stay out of the meeting. It was only intended for the king’s closest advisors after all, each a specialist in an important category.

  However Varre insisted. “I’m still missing my memories, remember? I need someone by my side I can trust.”

  Benjamin could not argue with that.

  Once the king was ready, Hakon came by to collect him. The captain always had a serious expression, but today even more so. The trio walked in complete silence through the stone corridors.

  Varre had been in the council chamber just yesterday. He walked around the long table and took up seat at the head of it, in the grandest chair in the entire room. The other advisors stood up when he entered and waited for the king to find his place before sitting down after him.

  Apart from Hakon who brought Varre here, all of the other advisors were already waiting. The king knew Marna, but he didn’t recognize any of the others.

  The steward began the meeting. “Your majesty. I would like to first, introduce the other advisors to you. They are all experts in their fields and served king Mikkel faithfully for years. I trust that they will be able to help you manage your kingdom and guide us through these difficult times ahead,” she cleared her throat, “you’ve met me, of course. I am your steward. I handle all of the tasks that are too simple to require your attention and I prepare all of the reports that reach your desk.”

  Captain Hakon stood up. “And as you know, I’m in charge of the Royal Guard.”

  An middle aged man with a bald spot rose next. He wore a white vest, sewn with golden symbols on the chest, as well as glasses like Marna. “Its an honor to meet you, your majesty. I am Johan Gruber. Your treasurer. I handle the kingdom’s finances. I track both your current wealth, and all of your assets. As well as the spending, of course,” Varre acknowledged him with a nod.

  A thin, tall woman stood up next. She wore an elegant floor-length dress. “Anastasia Clearwater, your majesty,” she curtsied, “I am your Chancellor. I handle your relations to the other kings and nations. I am knowledgeable in their cultures and can help you understand their actions. I also coordinate delegations to foreign lands,” the king nodded again.

  Lastly, it was the man with long, dark hair. He wore a long black robe that also fell all the way to the floor. “Tobias. I am your court mage. I am an expert in all things magical,” he said curtly and sat back down.

  Marna glanced at another empty seat. “There is also Alderman Robert Fedlow. He is very familiar with all of the noble families that serve under your majesty. Unfortunately, he was called away on urgent business recently. I am not sure if he even is aware of Mikkel III’s tragic passing. I’ve sent a herald with a message after him. He should return to the capital as soon as he receives it.”

  “I do not expect to see Fedlow soon,” Hakon interjected, “I have some important news regarding the assassination.”

  “What do you mean? Why not?” Varre asked.

  “First things first, your majesty. We have uncovered the culprit,” everyone straightened up to listen to the captain, “it was one of the butlers. He added poison to the soup that was served at the royal dinner.”

  Marna’s eyes widened. “What?! Why? And how was this missed? How did he manage to do this unnoticed?”

  Hakon silenced her with his glare, then continued his story, “we captured the butler while he was trying to leave the city. After a thorough interrogation, he confessed to everything. The chefs confirmed that he was present in the kitchen while they prepared the soup.”

  “Alright,” Varre said, “and where did he get this poison? I imagine this wasn’t something one can buy in a regular store right?”

  The captain hesitated for a second. “No, your majesty. It was a rare and powerful toxin. We have reason to believe that it was given to him by the Alderman directly.”

  Gasps rang out through the council room. “But that’s not possible!” treasurer Johan argued, “Fedlow has been a loyal servant for over twenty years!”

  Hakon stared straight at him. “The butler admitted that the alderman threatened him in person. His family lives away from the capital. Fedlow kidnapped them and said he’d have them killed if the butler refused to poison the soup at the dinner.”

  Chancellor Clearwater remained a little calmer. “Is the testimony of this assassin the only evidence we have? He could be lying.”

  The captain shut her down. “Both chefs confirmed that the alderman visited the kitchens a day before the dinner, while they were preparing the soup. The butler was there too at that time. Fedlow engaged both cooks in conversation. Naturally, when a royal advisor is speaking, servants give him their full attention. That’s when the butler poured in the poison.”

  “That’s strange,” Johan said, “the alderman almost never goes into the kitchens.”

  “That’s exactly why the chefs remembered it. They explained that the soup is prepared a day early, to allow the spices to permeate the broth or something,” Hakon waved his hand dismissively, “and that’s when Fedlow visited them.”

  “He left the capital on urgent business in the afternoon that day. Probably immediately after he poisoned the king,” Marna spoke softly.

  The captain nodded. “Exactly. The butler stayed and worked normally, to avoid suspicion. He tried to flee in the chaos following the assassination, but fortunately the guards at the gate recognized him and brought him to me.”

  “Hold on,” Varre protested, “are you telling me that the poisoned soup sat there in the kitchen the whole night? It could have been tampered with then! By anyone!”

  Hakon read through the parchment he carried. “The chefs had to watch over it the entire night, keeping a low fire going. It was always in someone’s sight.”

  “Alright, fine,” the king said, “but has no one tasted the soup before serving it at the dinner?” he turned to Benjamin, “I mean you always taste test the things you serve me right? And I don’t mean for poison, you taste it just to see if it’s spiced enough.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  The captain had no answer to that. “That… is a good point,” he said after a moment, “I’ll ask the chefs again, but I do agree that they should have tried it.”

  “Do we know what kind of poison it was exactly? Perhaps it is only deadly in large doses,” Marna suggested.

  “No,” Hakon admitted, “we only learned the truth tonight. Tobias was charged with investigating the food served at the dinner. Have you found anything yet?”

  “Magic takes time,” the court mage Tobias said slowly, “and there were many dishes to test. My examination is still ongoing, but at least now I know to focus on the soup,” he paused, “as for your question Steward, you’re correct. Some toxins only become lethal in higher quantities. But they still carry side effects in low doses. And I believe that the chefs are perfectly healthy, no?”

  “That’s right,” the captain nodded, “we’ve had the healers look over them too.”

  “What about Zarkon?” Varre asked.

  “Who?” Hakon replied, confused.

  “Zarkon. The wizard who cured me, back when I was suffering from the Soulkiller plague. Wasn’t that an impressive feat? He sounds knowledgeable about medicine. Maybe he can figure out what the poison was.”

  Tobias looked like he was about to spit on the floor. Luckily he caught himself in time. “With all due respect, majesty, I don’t think it makes sense to involve anyone else. I can investigate it myself.”

  “I don’t see how it could hurt either,” the king insisted, “if you still haven’t found it by now, maybe he can help. Why don’t you ask him Benjamin?”

  “Of course,” the chamberlain answered, “do you still have a sample I can give him, Court Mage?”

  The wizard squinted his eyes. Marna grimaced at this reaction, worried that he was about to say something that couldn’t be taken back. Fortunately, Tobias just barked out, “I do. I’ll give it to you later.”

  Varre accepted that with a nod. He sat there in silence for a second, digesting the information. After a few moments, he looked up. “What’s gonna happen to that butler?”

  “What do you mean?” the question confused the captain.

  The king shrugged. “Well, he’s gotta be punished somehow right? Will there be a trial?”

  Hakon blinked. “Your majesty. He was interrogated. Thoroughly.”

  “And?”

  “He was found to be a traitor and an assassin. He’s already dead.”

  Now it was Varre’s turn to blink back. “Right. Of course.”

  “I suppose the immediate threat to his majesty’s life is resolved then,” Benjamin said, “does this mean that the kitchens are safe to use again?”

  Marna looked through her notes, “I asked the healers to check all of the storage and replace anything that seemed suspicious. I believe it should be ready to return to normal operations.”

  “Wait,” Varre raised his hand, “this Fedlow guy convinced the butler to kill the king, by threatening his family. Do the others not have families?”

  Hakon rubbed his eyes. “Of course your majesty. Forgive me, it’s been a long night. I will perform a thorough vetting of all of the servants. The ones at highest risk will be replaced immediately.”

  The king pointed to his chamberlain. “Benjamin, help him, won’t you? I think you’ve been using our previous servants for some of the tasks right?”

  “At once, your majesty.”

  “And another thing,” Varre continued, “first, I don’t want to waste good, loyal servants over this. Second, many of my own people probably have families away. Could we arrange some kind of system for this? Offer servants to relocate their families to the capital, give them some jobs here and whatnot. If they’re under our protection, they will be harder to kidnap or threaten.”

  “I’ll look into it,” Marna started scribbling on her parchment, “excellent idea, your majesty.”

  Chancellor Clearwater clasped her hands. “I’m happy to hear that the king’s immediate health is no longer in danger, but what shall we do about our dear Alderman?”

  “He said he was going North,” the steward said without looking up from her notes.

  “I’ve already dispatched a squad of guards to go after him and bring him here. But of course, he could have been lying about his plans,” Hakon clenched his fists.

  “Well, do we know why he did it? Did he have any issues with the previous king?” Varre glanced from one advisor to the next.

  “They were very close, your majesty,” treasurer Johan replied.

  “Indeed. They fought together in the war twenty years ago,” the captain agreed, “Mikkel III’s brave actions saved Fedlow’s home. He’s been one of the king’s staunchest supporters ever since.”

  “Then what reason could he have had for this?” Varre threw his hands up in exasperation, “was he working together with one of the other pretenders? I remember you mentioned some Duke Charles.”

  “Yes, Duke Charles was technically the next one in line to the throne,” Marna started quickly shuffling through her notes, “besides your majesty, of course. But he is far away from the capital.”

  “True,” Hakon nodded to himself, “he’s been very passive so far. Though he didn’t like king Mikkel very much, either. He definitely had reasons to do it.”

  The steward finally found the parchment she was looking for and skimmed through it. “Other than him, the only real pretender is technically Count Neville, but I personally do not believe he has enough pull to influence Fedlow.”

  “I doubt it was him. He seemed pretty trustworthy,” Varre said.

  “There is always the possibility of foreign intervention,” chancellor Clearwater offered, “as you know, we fought a war twenty years ago with the kingdom of Langogne.”

  Varre looked up to Benjamin for confirmation. He did not know, but luckily the chamberlain confirmed with a nod.

  Anastasia Clearwater continued, without stopping. “We managed to defend our lands, but there’s always been animosity between us.”

  “A Westerner like Fedlow would never cooperate with Langonge,” court mage Tobias refuted.

  “I agree,” treasurer Johan chimed in, “he almost lost his family during the war. Not to mention his lands. He always hated those bastards.”

  “You know, I heard a rumor about that yesterday,” the king recalled, “apparently people in the West are arming themselves to the teeth!”

  “You have?” Hakon asked.

  “Zarkon mentioned that,” Varre explained, “one of his wizard friends is having trouble working with blacksmiths. They’re all too busy crafting swords and armors.”

  “I… haven’t heard any worrying reports from Langonge yet,” the Chancellor admitted, “and trust me, your majesty, I have a lot of people there. The blacksmiths are a little busier close to our borders, sure, but the rest of the country is peaceful. They’ve always hated us, but if they’re planning an invasion, I don’t see why our Western subjects would have realized it before us. Could it be some heavy bandit activity?”

  “Unlikely. But I’ll send someone to check,” the captain noted.

  The king looked at the large map in the center of the table. “Do we have any other foreign enemies then?”

  “Not really,” the chancellor stood up and pointed out the different nations on the map, “the Miroti Republic to the south is friendly. We’ve been happily trading with them for decades now. Senise, to the east, is dealing with their own problems right now. I doubt they had the resources to stage something like this.”

  “And the North?” Varre asked.

  Anastasia Clearwater shook her head. “Impossible. The Grey Mountains separate us from the lands beyond. Same as the Greatwood to the Northwest It’s a little more populated, sure, but there are no powers there that could pose a threat to us.”

  “So we still have no idea,” the king rubbed his face, “let’s try the process of elimination then. Fedlow said he’s going North. We’ve already sent people after him. He could be going East, if he was working with duke Charles. Or he could be going West, if he is working with those Langogne guys.”

  “I doubt that!” court mage Tobias interrupted loudly.

  “Right. But let’s keep it on the table for now,” Varre answered, “from what I gather his own home is to the west right? Maybe he is escaping there. Would he have any reason to go South?”

  Marna leaned over the map, “I can’t think of any allies he could be heading for there.”

  “Me neither. Unless he wants to escape from the kingdom,” chancellor Clearwater added, “he could be heading for one of the Southern ports.”

  “I can’t imagine him just abandoning his lands like that!” treasurer Gruber argued, “if he is working for someone, they’d need to pay him a hefty sum to make it worthwhile.”

  The king pointed to the map. “Fair enough. But these are his main options. I doubt we can catch up with him by this point. Can we send a message ahead? And have guards be on the lookout?”

  “We could post a bounty,” Hakon suggested, “but we run into the same problem. Will our heralds catch up with him?”

  Varre tapped his fingers on the table. “Can’t we send some kind of a magical message?”

  “It would be difficult. The only mage guild is here. In Westbridge.” Tobias pointed it out on the map.

  “Really?” the king cocked an eyebrow, “and there’s no other mages anywhere else in the country? Zarkon said he had a friend there.”

  “Tsk,” the Court Mage crossed his arms, his distaste for the old healer obvious, “I don’t know any. But I can check with the guild.”

  “Do so. If we manage to get the bastard, alive,” Varre stressed while looking at Hakon, “we can find out who actually wanted Mikkel dead. And why.”

  Unfortunately Hakon's interrogation methods tend not to leave many survivors afterwards, so they can't ask the butler exactly.