Artemis and Caspian: The Spy

Chapter Fifteen

Allister felt like tearing his hair out. The young King sat at a table, buried underneath stacks of parchment paper detailing state affairs that awaited his attention. Even with all the time in the world, he had no idea how he'd get it all done, especially when new disputes were being added by the hour. Then there was also the accursed war to remember. Grumbling in self pity, Allister scanned a lengthy document about the realm's taxes, doing his best to focus. He could hear his fingernail tap impatiently on the table over the sound of wood crackling in the fireplace. Bright orange embers that jumped from the pit lit up his bored face, highlighting small puffy bags occupying the crevices under his eyes. A lone candle lighting his reading flickered with the breeze from the outside air, creeping in through a crack in the window. The sun was about to go down, casting shadows on the floor of Allister's chambers. The King resented the sun for setting too soon. He needed more time to finish these, and yet. He stared longingly at an abandoned plate of food. The fifteen minutes he'd spent savoring that meal was the longest break he'd gotten all day. He was secretly ready for this torture to end. To his great relief, a steady knock came at the door. Thank the gods.

"Come."

A page came in proudly with his head held high, delivering messages to the King was his greatest honor. Allister was still getting used to people sucking up to him. They had done it in the past but with his new position of power, it was becoming relentless and a tad annoying.

"A letter has come for you sir," the page announced grandly, bowing as he placed the letter into the King's outstretched hands. "From the front in Calatan."

Allister thanked him politely and made sure he was out of earshot before tearing it open. As he read, the young King's eyes grew exceptionally wide, bulging with concern by the end of it. Bursting into the hallway, he called after the retreating page who quickly returned to his King's side.

"Call my advisors together in the throne room. We need to have a council meeting. Now."

Within moments, Allister's advisors had gathered themselves in the throne room, anxiously awaiting his arrival. When he felt presentable and comfortable enough addressing them, the King came hurriedly through the doors, ignoring the bows of his court as he took his seat on the throne. He managed a shaky breath before beginning. He would never get over the sudden rush of blinding stage fright he experienced every time he tried to start one of these things.

"Distinguished members of the court," he addressed the eager crowd, producing the letter from his front pants pocket. "This came today. It's from Lady Kendra of Calatan. Cerberus has wiped out a third of her army and she needs our help. She has requested ten thousand more soldiers from Meridan. I come to you seeking advice. Should we aid Calatan in their fight or save our resources? This will not be a vote, the only person you have to convince is me."

In the corner, Arioch fought back an oncoming smile. His Lord was doing well and with Allister as the only thing standing in the way of Guilamount's victory- This was going to be too easy. At the King's comment, a nearby elderly duke stepped forward, confidence evident in his stride. Allister nodded to him as a signal to begin.

"My King, it is our duty as the biggest realm to protect Calatan, no matter the cost. That is the way the gods intended it to be. I say we send the Lady the troops she needs." Satisfied with his argument, he backed off, waiting egotistically for someone to challenge him. Arioch rolled his eyes. Amateur. With a flourish of his cape, the Duke stepped forward, bowing before the King.

"Speak your mind Deacon," Allister said with a little more warmth to his voice. It was no secret to anyone assembled how high the inexperienced King held the Duke's opinion. To most, it was an infuriating reality even more inflamed by moments like these when Allister was practically eating out of his hand. The court suppressed a groan. Arioch shot a spiteful look at his detractors. They were all wealthy degenerates.