The Dark Covenant: Mage Wars

GATHERING THE SCATTERED PIECES II

Perhaps he had made a huge mistake, either that, or he lacked confidence in the State guard. Both, if true, were sour news to tell someone. How would one handle such oppressive words, from a king no less? He had broken the spirit of an already weeping mother, seeking a life to repay the loss of her flesh and blood. He had robbed the villagers of quenching their thirst for death, death by light. Was he to break another spirit?

He bounced his attention from Harmel, storming towards the young lady, and Alicia, declaring her tenacity before him. Their voices clashed in the empty, or nearly empty, throne room.

"Get out!" Harmel snapped. "Now! Before the guards escort you out!"

Drom coiled his toes, repulsed by the brutality in his hand's words. Empty threats were Harmel's trusted weapon. They often worked against commoners, but it slipped his mind that he was threatening a State guard with a reprimand from those who were beneath her in rank–in both position and power. Drom was aware, despite her misleading feminine frame, that no soldier could become a state guard without being a cut above their peers.

"Steady yourself, Harmel," Drom said, stepping onto the second stair that led to his raised throne.

"She has no place here," Harmel said.

"Everyone has a place here! You forget the reason for this citadel standing?" Drom answered. His voice carried forth with his father's liking– the others seemed to notice it as well. Harmel most of all, shuddered as if Arekin's Lightbearer himself had risen from the dead. But the fear was replaced by a bright look, almost involuntarily - this was the king he had hoped Drom would become.

He regarded Drom as a peer for so long that perhaps he had forgotten he was the king, perhaps he had forgotten his place.

"My apologies, sire," Harmel replied.

Drom swallowed hard, he hated the aftertaste of imposing his authority on others– an attempt to cleanse the venom from his tongue that laced his words.

"I accept!" Alicia interrupted. She clutched the hilt of her sword, hard. Drom read her face, deciphering nothing in particular. He tried to pin a reading, perhaps an emotion to her features but her expressions shifted with each glance. Was she afraid? Was she resolute? He didn't know, he had to go by her words.

"What made you change your mind?" he asked, he had to. She looked like someone who never budged. He had to know what power was so strong to sway such a firm soul.

"Nothing," Alicia said, "I just thought it over, sire."

"Please," Drom said, stroking the armrest of his throne, "as I told you, just call me Drom." He did not mind repeating himself, he liked to make others at ease in his presence.

"But I'm glad you reconsidered," he said.

"I am not," Harmel's voice cut in. He approached the throne. He repeatedly flung his robe backward as he walked. There was no purpose to his act, only a compulsive perk in his behavior that compelled him, by some unseen force. That, and to always interrupt conversations.

"Do you understand the importance of this mission, miss..." he trailed off, mouth open and fingers fidgeting, waiting for an answer as he leaned toward the state guard.

"Alicia," she answered, halfheartedly.

"Miss Alicia," Harmel continued, "This operation has stakes tied to it that weigh the future of this very kingdom!" his voice gradually grew with each word, regarding the message not heavy enough and needing to be anchored by his loudness.

"Do you question her judgment? Or do you question her ability?" Drom asked, "Or do you still question both of mine?".

Harmel didn't look away from Alicia, his eyes fixed on her face, probing for something.