The Stolen Crown

Chapter 15: The Cracks of a Foundation

The faint chatter of a few dozen echoed in the open hall, as groups of self-interested men formed and gossiped with each other. Some flowed like leaves in a stream, shifting from pool to pool, as if searching for something. All the while, others stood frozen where they were, content by those they stood beside. They whispered and plotted with each other, as the rendition of the world lay gripped in their fat fingers and the ambitions that drove them.

Benches and tables filled the space, though they all faced the same direction, to the empty thrones that stood before them. Yet, there were those that stood disregarded within the hall like pieces of furniture; the guards. They stood by the doors, still as statues, save for their eyes which subtly moved from one group to the next.

However, while the conversations of men dominated, and their individual agendas pushed forth, the Queen moved to join them with an agenda not limited to that of her own, but for those who would follow.

Down the hall she went, with only the company of her unborn child, as the green gown she wore fluttered with each step. Her pace was like her demeanor, calm and reserved, only the faintest hints of any ripples to shimmer in her eyes. Yet, before she could reach the whispers of the hall, a figure that cast a shifting shadow leaped in front of her with a dagger behind his smile.

"Ah, fair Queen, Elizabeth," Fodor said making his presence known. "And where are you off to with a pace like that?"

Elizabeth was unstartled, staring at him with little emotion. "Shouldn't you be with the others in the hall?"

"Perhaps," Fodor replied. "I was in fact already with them. I was with them for so long that I decided to go and look for you. And as luck would have it, here you are. I could almost call myself blessed."

"Almost but not quite," Elizabeth said, moving to step past him.

Yet, before she could, Fodor leaned his body and head into her path and as subtly as the sun rises, blocked her.

"My Queen, if I could just have a moment of your time, I would like to have a chat with you."

The light from the nearest flames fluttered and danced, as the two stared at one another. There they stayed, each forced to wait on the attention of the other, as the shadows tried in vain to pull their eyes.

"And what would you like to chat about?" Elizabeth finally asked.

Fodor seemed to grow ever more content, his eyes glistening with excitement and hunger. "A great many things, a great many things."

Elizabeth was far from impressed with his cryptic reply and took rest leaning against the wall. "You must think highly of me, if you think I can read minds."

"Where is your helper?" Fodor asked, subtly studying her with a narrow gaze. "Does she not follow you around like a lost dog? Like a bitch, or a pup from one?"

"Why the concern?" Elizabeth asked back calmly and coolly, indifferent to the words or tone while leading her company forward with slow steps.

"I did not see her at the funeral," Fodor replied. "I was thinking—"

Elizabeth interrupted him with a laugh, her smile growing. "I have already told Istvan that she is already married. Funny that you both would have an interest. I wonder if she would be pleased? I wonder if Istvan will be concerned of the competition?"

"Funny," Fodor said with a false sense of amusement thinly masked. "You know you never answered my question."

"Do you enjoy having enemies?" Elizabeth asked serenely, her words forcing her companion's steps to falter.

"Enemies..." Fodor said, seeming to reflect on those words, before quickening his pace to catch up. "Your former husband, the late King, he once told me that anyone who makes a deal will always soon find an enemy. Now I enjoy making deals—"

"Everyone in the Kingdom knows that," Elizabeth interrupted with a laugh.

"Indeed, some are so bold as to say, that many outside the Kingdom know that as well," Fodor replied.

"And is there truth to what such people say?" Elizabeth asked, her eye fixated on him from the corner of her vision.

"I'm sure you know what they say about rumors," Fodor replied with a slight upwards curve to his lips.

Elizabeth maintained the pace they walked at for a moment, turning her gaze forward. There she strayed with her thoughts, until finally, with a smile of her own she spoke. "You like to quote my husband, the King, and he did always say there was truth in the rumors people spoke."

"Humph, I suppose he did," Fodor replied, his smile vanishing, leaving the two to stare at each other in silence.

The whispers of the hall now reached them, as well as the light from the many flames and the first of the guards who stood at their posts.

"You do know you are late," Fodor stated with a grin that ran from ear to ear. "A word from the wise. I would tell you that that was a mistake. Many, myself included, have had the luxury of talking amongst each other about a great many things. Being late gives men that opportunity."

Elizabeth grew a smile turning back and looking at the man. "Maybe I had meant to be late. Did you not think of that?"

"What?" The grin that had reached from Fodor's ear to ear quickly vanish, as a look of concern gripped his face. "What?" He echoed with a tone that seemed more of a plea.

"You know, I am well aware of the meetings that go on outside of the council, and those that are planned," Elizabeth explained. "I am also well aware of what some of the worms that would eat this Kingdom have in mind, yourself included. Along with those who would call themselves wise. But, I do not know who stands with who. Well, I did not before tonight. Not before my men studied each and every one of you." Her feet carried her forward, advancing once more towards the hall, though again, she turned her sights back to her company. "Shall we? There is much to discuss in this ceremonial meeting."