Displaced

Chapter 129

King Iorweth Morgan was having a good morning—or a better one than usual, at least. His sleep had been surprisingly restful, his breakfast tastier than it had been in a while, and the weather seemed especially pleasant for the season. What's more, his Queen looked especially radiant as she sat in the main garden, enjoying the warm sunshine. He wrote as such to her, and she laughed at the statement.

"You're just in a good mood for once," she told him. "Not that I am not happy to find you so. I have not seen you in such high spirits in many days."

Iorweth had not expected such a response. Was it truly all in his head? He wondered to her just what could bring about such a change, if so.

"Isn't it obvious, my dearest?" she asked with a wan smile. "You're starting to feel hope."

The observation shocked him—nay, distressed him. He'd told himself he couldn't allow himself to feel such things. He was embarked on a perilous mission to reshape the fabric of his society in ways that would threaten its very existence. The difficulty of the endeavor was high and the price for failure even higher. Should things go wrong, violent civil war was the best foreseeable outcome. He and his co-conspirators had to exercise every precaution to remain discreet, for if word of what he had planned were to reach the wrong nobles—as in, almost any of them—then it would all be over.

Such caution slowed progress to a crawl... and yet, all that said, progress was being made. The plan was moving forward. If things continued as they were, he could envision a future where he succeeded and changed his nation's very foundation. The possibility for such an outcome existed, and he could acknowledge its existence.

But, to hope? That was a step too far—not when he knew, deep down, that the witch would never honor her words. She was a duplicitous creature, not to be trusted... but even so, the promise of his voice was too great for him to pass up. Until he had it back, he would never feel whole again. That was why he had decided to disallow hope, for it would hurt too much when that hope betrayed him.

He looked around the garden, taking in the pleasant greenery and his loving wife. His latest caravan of thoughts had indeed put a damper on his outlook, showing Tangwen to have been correct, but when he looked at her and saw the happiness in her eyes, he found himself reconsidering his position. If it let him find small dollops of joy in his life again, perhaps he could allow himself a smidgen of hope after all.

"I love you," he scribbled out.

"I love you, too," she replied, planting a kiss on his cheek, "but don't you have some governing to do? The morning grows old, my dear."

He smiled, sitting down next to her. "They can wait a bit until I'm ready. I am the king, after all."

* * *

Governance was never the high point of Iorweth's day, but he didn't hate it either. Still, with his new extra mission, the combined workload often threatened to overwhelm him. Luckily for him, today's docket was relatively light, and even with their late start, there was still over an hour before dinner when they finished the last item.

The king's mood proved infectious, and everybody in the room seemed in good cheer by this point. Everybody, that is, except Prime Minister Connor Seare. The man was never one to stray too far from his calm and controlled emotional center, but with years of familiarity with his top official under his belt, Iorweth could tell that something was bothering the man beneath that cold exterior.

He was not, it seemed, the only one in the room to notice.

"What's got you so sour, Prime Minister?" one of the other ministers finally inquired. "I've been waiting for you to deliver some bad news ever since you walked in."