Disciple of Fire

Chapter 4: The King

The day of the Ceremony began the same as any other. The king's eyes lazily flutter open, the sound of the bell above his bedroom door pulling him from slumber.

"Uhm... Your Majesty?" The king's servant shyly pokes her head through the door, her brunette ponytail slipping off her back and over her shoulder. The King groans himself into a sitting position.

"What is it, Viralia?" His voice was gravelly and low from a restless night of sleep, sending small reverberations through the room. The servant's shoulders tighten.

"Well, it's time to begin preparations, Your Majesty, Sir." Viralia watches the King carefully, noticing the bags under his eyes and his exhausted demeanor. He nods and the servant snaps, doors flying open as a small crowd of servants piles in. He shifts his legs over the side of the bed, flipping the covers off, and rises. He walks to the center of the room, and some of the staff immediately get to work. Two of them strip the bed completely, hurrying out the door to clean the used bedspread, while another two bring in an identical set and begin reapplying the sheets, covers, and pillowcases. The King grunts as he raises his arms, another group of servants moving to remove the King's sleepwear and don his intricately crafted, royal purple silk mantle. Viralia, waiting patiently on the side for His Majesty to be dressed, speaks up, "Sir, did you perhaps spend too much time in the Archives last night?" His eyes drift to Viralia, who, realizing she implied His Majesty had done something wrong, quickly attempts to stand even more upright than she previously was, stumbling through her words, "What I mean is that—"

"You are correct, Viralia. I did." He cuts off her trail of words, before his eyes flick straight ahead, staring at seemingly nothing. He palms the amethyst pendant bound around his neck, the one he hasn't been able to take off since his coronation. She gingerly steps toward him.

"Were you... Ah... Successful in finding what you've been searching for?" Her voice hangs in the air for a moment, the King's stare growing further.

"No," His Majesty hangs his head low. "Not yet." Viralia shifts uncomfortably in place. The final decorations of his mantle are secured.

"I apologize for speaking out of turn, Your Majesty, but I hope you find whatever it may be soon." The king's eyes narrow as he lowers his arms and turns to face Viralia, who desperately wants to look away from him but knows she absolutely can not, as per her orders.

"Yes. I hope so as well." His voice begins adjusting from his groggy morning croaking. He proceeds to exit his room, Viralia and servants in tow, following long corridors filled with ornate vases on railings surrounding a flourishing flower garden, and beautifully painted portraits of the previous Kings lining the walls between delicately etched marble pillars.

"We need twenty staff on disturbance containment and another fiftee—" Viralia's voice drifts into nothing as the King's mind begins to fill and he winces, raising his palm against his temple. "Your Highness, are you o—"

"Yes!" Booming louder than normal, Viralia freezes in place. He quickly recovers, "Yes, Viralia. Nothing more than a minor headache." She nods, before stepping in front and swiveling in place before the King.

"Very well, I will call the healer to meet you in the throne room."

She bows and hastily makes an exit through a side door.

The King makes his way to the throne room, where he is greeted by the Royal Healer, Kendrick. His Majesty quickly excuses all of the guards from the room to speak with Kendrick one on one. The King has always considered Kendrick to be one of his closest allies, or even friends. They knew each other well before they themselves were subjected to the Ceremony. Growing up no more than a few houses down from each other in the tradesmen district, just a step up from the peasants. "What seems to be the problem, M'lord?"