The tales of treachery

ADRIEL

Written by: IY
I didn't really want to go. I was still in tears when my advisors made the guards drag me to the cathedral.

The activities and businesses for the day had been suspended as thousands gathered upon the Grand Cathedral outside the Imperial Palace. Those who could not get past the sea of people inside the already full cathedral had resorted to standing outside under the rays of the fierce sun.

I sat in the Royal Box, draped in my dark robes, accompanied by two guards as I gazed down upon the packed cathedral hall, an ocean of black robes upon the white cathedral walls. Only those wealthy enough could afford these seats, and those who particularly had pockets deep in cash had box seats. The poor stood, either inside or outside, where they were blasted by the bright rays of the sun. To the poor it was unfair and lacking in civility however it was the way I had come to it and the way I kept it.

Then, a sonorous trumpet sounded which then caused the ocean to part like the Red Sea, as a troop of pallbearers proceeded through the large, grand doors into the cathedral, followed by a band playing sombre tunes and an escort of guards. The coffin, draped in the Imperial colours, laden with flowers and the royal jewels, contained my wondrous and wise wife Queen Anne,now nothing but a body in a wooden box.

The pallbearers brought the coffin to the church altar, and gently placed it down onto the altar's pristine marble floor. As soon as the coffin came in contact with the marble, the Cathedral bell rang, and those still in their seats stood up.

"Presiding over this service is The Exclaimer of Truth, Holy Magistrate Mendax," proclaimed a voice as a figure dressed in luxurious black robes bearing intricate white designs, his white bearded face shrouding his expression, He wore a mitre covering his lustrous bald head, and came upon the altar.  This was Anwir, a pious and holy man who led the church in a content state.

The church orchestra, sitting in their own box, began to play a hymn, and the entire hall fell into silence, then into great song.

***

An hour later, the service had ended and the great crowds slowly began to disperse. I was escorted back to his palace quarters and sat on his four-poster golden bed. My gold jewelled crown resting on the covers. I sat but in a reticent silence, my blank expression reflected in the expanding pool of tears that sat on the red-felt carpet. The large, purple velvet curtains let in only the slightest of the sun's harsh, baking rays into my grand bedroom. On the flower-patterned walls were various portraits, one of myself alone, one of me and my now deceased wife, and others of landscapes and scenery.

There was a rather loud knock on the door and my High Advisor and Archbishop, The Most Reverend Henry Vyim entered the room. He bowed, then spoke in a sombre, quiet voice. "Your Majesty, I don't know if it's a good time but- I wanted to give you my most personal condolences,"

I remained silent, thoughts swimming furiously around my head, my expression still as blank as an empty canvas, despite the fountains of tears flowing down my own face. Why? Why?

Vyim produced a handkerchief, and gave it to me, before hurriedly leaving the room.

Almost immediately another, this time gentler, knocked on the great doors and the High Magistrate entered the room. He had forsaken his mitre and thick, luxurious black robes and now wore a simple, yet still black, priest's robe. He bowed.

"Your Majesty, I have come to give you my personal condolences," said the Magistrate, his expression grim. "I trust that the death of Her Majesty-"

"No," I suddenly spoke. my voice was heavy, raspy and gravelly from the tears and exclamations. Should I- Yes, I should. I had always been open with the Magistrate and hoped to remain that way even in these frivolous times. Besides, I thought Mendax needed to know.

"No," I said again, as if gaining my metaphoric footing and summoning his willpower. "As sweet as Anne was, I am 75 years old. My hair is turning as white as snow, my face a minefield of wrinkles. And yet I have still yet to produce a single heir. I weep for Anne, but I also weep for my heir. If I die, the throne will be but a game of snatch between my brothers and cousins and nephews and god-knows who else. And there will NOT be a War of Eternal Succession. Only those sea-dogs in Eversea can fight over their stupid throne."

Mendax contemplated this for a moment, still surprised at my cold mind. "But- the-"

"It is only my ancestor's and my swift, brutal ways have I managed to keep our lands at peace for that long," I replied, his voice as cold as the icebergs. "And now I must have a new wife or there will be war."

Mendax's quick mind thought furiously. "Speaking of Eversea-" he said, forming his sentence. "I have made- plans-"

"What plans?"

"Well, you see, Queen Nemona's sister, Miranda-"

"Yes, what about her?" My tone made it clear he was impatient to such a conversation.

"Well, she is not married, and devoid of suitors-"

"That girl? No wonder she is suitorless. She looks like a sea-horse!" I said, breaking out a laugh for the first time since Anne's death.

"A sea-horse, I wouldn't call it that-"

"Do you fancy her, Anwir?" I asked, my tone sly.

"Oh-no, Your Majesty," Mendax said, letting a chuckle escape his lips. "I, as the most loyal servant to But perhaps she would be the perfect bride. Young, fertile, her hips are built for childbearing."

"I shall have a think,"I concluded. "But leave me, I must grieve."

"For Anne or for your unborn heir-"

"Say that again and I shall have your head," I snarled, but then let loose a laugh as well. Mendax left, closing the door behind him.

The room fell silent once again, before then came a distant, yet clear as day, shrieks and cries of struggle, and it seemed to happen right outside his quarters, which overlooked the Palace's illustrious gardens.

Adriel, out of curiosity, threw open the curtains to reveal a group of hooligans outside in the Palace gardens, being chased by a group of Enforcers, the Empire's military police.

The hooligans, clearly of the lower class, seemed intending on robbing the garden. They passed by a statue of our god, and one of them knocked its head off and stuffed it into a sack.

However, they were soon stopped when a new platoon of Enforcers emerged out of the Palace and seized the robbers. I watched as they struggled effortlessly against the guard's hold.

"You filthy enforcers!" cried one of the robbers. "Let us go!"

There was a whole lot of kicking and thrashing, before the robbers were forced onto the ground with spears to their necks. Then, one of the robbers suddenly roared with rage.

"You enforcers lounge in luxury, enjoying the stuff that US, the poor working class, provide for you, and you STUPID rich losers pay us nothing! We have nothing! So our only DAMN way is to ROB YOUR DAMN PALACE! Let us go so we can live! Let us have your unnecessary GOLD! You have no idea what us poor people go through. You upper class LOSERS-"

However, the robber didn't have time to finish before the enforcer flipped his spear around and smashed it against his head, knocking him out. I thought to myself of how such scoundrels could even enter my refined domain.

"Filthy robbers. Why would I care?" I said, chuckling to myself.