A mounted messenger rode his horse down a beaten path towards the town of Tresannes. He was one of the royal heralds dispatched just several days ago to deliver news of Mikkel III’s tragic assassination to the Western provinces of Logres.

  Travelling this far was never easy and speed was of the essence. In order to ensure stability of the kingdom, heralds needed to travel quickly and efficiently, and reliably distribute information to all nobles.

  Fortunately, the royal messenger enjoyed a lot of privileges to help him in this task. Every inn he stopped at and every noble he visited, was obliged to offer free lodging and supplies upon request. His horse was specifically bred for lengthy journeys across the kingdom. He was technically allowed to requisition a replacement, though this law was only intended for absolute emergencies, such as a debilitating injury to his current mount.

  Still, despite the hefty salary and the extensive privileges, it was not an easy job. The few days spent out on the road were already taking its toll on the herald. His travelling clothes were dusty and scuffed and he was beginning to show an unkempt stubble. Fortunately, he only had a couple days of travel left before reaching the border. By then, his job would be done and he could return home, without rushing so much this time.

  The Tresannes guards stopped his horse before he could cross the gate. This was standard procedure. The herald reached into his pocket and revealed a scroll bearing the royal coat of arms. “I am the royal herald and I bear important news for the realm! Gather all of his majesty’s loyal subjects at the square!”

  In every other city he had visited so far, the guards would immediately salute and rush to deliver the news. On top of whatever authority ruled this particular town, the local nobility would need to be informed. The commoners should also be given some time to arrive. All in all, the herald would deliver his speech in about an hour and then move on to the next town.

  In Tresannes however, the guards seemed to glare at him in suspicion instead. Still, they followed through with the order, even if a little less enthusiastically than he was used to. That didn’t bother the herald too much. He was planning to visit at least two more towns today, so he couldn’t fret over every little inconvenience.

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  He knew he had a bit of time to relax, so he stopped at one of the taverns close to the city square. He could already see some of the populace gathering outside, but the nobility needed more time to appear.

  Inside the tavern, he received the same unfriendly glare as the one from the guards. Despite that, the owners didn’t dare to try and refuse his royal privilege of a free meal. He sat down, hoping that they haven’t spit into this plate, and enjoyed a decent meal while he waited.

  Once he was fed, the herald left the building and proceeded towards the square. A well dressed man stood on top of the town hall’s staircase. This must have been the mayor. The messenger approached him and introduced himself.

  “Give us fifteen more minutes,” the official grumbled, “then you can begin.”

  The herald nodded. In every town, he’d at least be offered a drink. He already knew that something must have happened here to sour everyone’s moods, but he didn’t want to speculate just yet. He’d finish his job, move on, and ask at the next town.

  Finally, the mayor gave the signal and the messenger could begin his speech.

  “Loyal subjects of Logres! I bring word of a terrible tragedy that occurred in Westbridge. Our beloved king, Mikkel III, was brutally murdered by dishonorable assassins! Much of his family, perished with him.”

  That brought a more familiar reaction, he thought to himself. The glaring crowd began to gasp and cry out in shock at the revelation.

  But the messenger wasn’t done. “The perpetrators will be found and brought to justice. They will be executed without mercy along anyone found to be colluding with them!”

  The crowd responded with isolated hopeful cheers, though they were few and far between. The herald continued. “But the kingdom will continue! By the grace of the gods, Varre I, was spared of this tragedy! He, as the rightful heir to the throne, has been crowned in the capital, witnessed by the Archpriest of Zyvan…”

  The messenger had to stop. As soon as the people heard the name of their new king, they began to clamor and yell out obscenities. By now the ruckus was so loud that the herald couldn’t hear his own voice.

  Instead, he listened to the chanting crowd. “Down with the tyrant!”, “He murdered Mikkel!”

  A single noble stepped forward and began walking up the stairs. As soon as he got to the top, he pushed the shocked herald back and raised his arm to silence the crowd. “People of Tresannes! Now we see the truth. Your righteous king, the Hero of the Langonge war was killed! Together with our beloved duke Pyke! And they didn’t fall in battle, nor in an honorable duel. They were murdered! By their own relative! Varre is no king! He is a filthy kin slayer!”

  The aristocrat turned to the white-faced herald. “Get out of our city, scum! Go back to your tyrant. And tell him this – We will never accept his rule!”

  They refuse to support him.

  The full chapter comes out in another hour.