Book Two: The Larkspur's Longing ~ A tale of deep obsession and devotion

Chapter Five: Dead men

(TW: Violence/threats/mild gore)

Callidus sat at the head of a long table in the imposing Great Hall, surrounded by nobles from various houses. Their expectant gazes bore into him, but his mind was elsewhere.

The meeting was meant to discuss preparations for his upcoming coronation banquet, but his thoughts were consumed by the vivid recollection of Cressida's laughter and her leaning against him, along with her silent request for a kiss.

But then the echo of her biting words about 'playing family' struck him like a physical blow.

How had everything veered so drastically off course?

As the discussions progressed, ideas for the banquet were thrown around - decorations, menu choices, entertainment options. The air in the hall brimmed with enthusiasm and eager anticipation, but Callidus found it increasingly difficult to feign interest.

"Your Highness," Marchioness Arwine, a distinguished woman with silver hair, spoke up, her voice carrying a somber tone, "I propose that during the coronation banquet, we leave two seats empty at the high table in remembrance of King Gallus III and Prince Ferox."

Callidus's gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing as his attention abruptly snapped back to the room. His previously indifferent expression transformed into one of cold detachment. The weight of Cressida's words reverberated through his mind like a relentless hammer, repeating the haunting phrase, "If Ferox were alive..."

"Empty seats?" he replied, his voice devoid of any warmth. "I fail to see the purpose of such a gesture."

Marchioness  Arwine hesitated, sensing the change in Callidus's demeanor. "It would be a way to honor their memory, Your Highness, to acknowledge their contributions to the kingdom."

Callidus's eyes flickered with anger, but he restrained himself, "I believe that was the purpose of their memorial banquets. I don't see the need to dwell on the past any longer."

Marchioness Arwine plastered on a placating smile. "Your Highness, I understand your desire to move forward," she said carefully, "but we must also remember and honor those who came before us. Their sacrifices and legacies shaped this kingdom."

Callidus's expression hardened further, his jaw clenching. "I am well aware of the sacrifices that have been made," he retorted, forcefully calm. "And I assure you, they will not be forgotten. But it is time for us to look ahead, not dwell on the past."

"Your Highness, if I may," Interjected the Duke of Renton, "It's an important symbol of tradition-"

"I have already made it clear that we must focus on the future, on building a stronger and more powerful kingdom," Callidus interrupted, his tone laced with a hint of disdain. "We will not waste time and resources on empty gestures that serve no purpose."

"Your Highness, with all due respect, these gestures are revered signs of..."

Callidus struggled to maintain his composure as the duke blabbered on. His temples pounded with the weight of his magic, and he wanted nothing more than to let go.

He pressed his magic towards the ceiling, filling out each crack and crevice, feeling the satisfying pop of several small creatures.

Up.

Release.

"We mustn't let the nostalgia for the dead interfere with the promise of a new future." Callidus replied, sternly, "My father's reign was riddled with corruption, and my brother was nothing more than a reckless fool."

Whispers rippled through the room as the nobles exchanged glances, taken aback by Callidus's harsh words. Countess Fenella recovered first, "Your Highness, I understand that there may have been...disagreements, but they were still members of the royal family. Their lives were cut short, and it would be fitting to remember them."