Crown of Blood

7.2.|| Word on the Street

"It's the King!"

"It can't be the King. Where are his guards?"

"It's the Admiral!"

"The Admiral is dead. This can't be him."

"Why is he out alone?"

"What's happening?"

"Where is his crown?"

"I heard it still has blood on it."

Cage ignored the murmurs and stopped in front of the City Hall. Just like in the case of all public institutions, there was a large banner on the side of the entrance depicting the royal family tree. It was Fherras' version in which he was nothing but a bastard cousin removed many times. Yes, this was one thing which he had to change.

Whispers floated behind them as people seemed to be watching him like a show. He hopes he was at least mildly entertaining. His lack of reaction to their whispers seemed to make them braver if anything.

"What is he doing?"

"Looking at the lineage and noticing he has no right to rule."

"Would you rather have Prince Edmund rule?"

"That sickly foal?

"What about the army? Who does the army answer to?"

"What about the navy?"

It was hard not to answer. As he considered the disadvantages of his potential answers, he could find none. Why stay silent and pretend his people weren't there? 

When Cage turned to face the street, the people gathered behind him startled and pretended to be doing something else. Very unconvincingly at that. He glanced around and noticed a stack of crates next to a peddler's cart. With purpose, he strode there and climbed on top of the highest crate.

"Just to make it clear," he said, his voice clear and pleasant. "Yes, I am what you would call the king, though I haven't been crowned yet. The coronation will take place soon and you're all invited to attend."

People kept staring at him like surprised fish. It made him uneasy, but as long as he started this, he might as well go on.

"I know this isn't ideal. Trust me, I would have loved it for Ferdinand to be here right now, getting crowned in my place, but..."

His voice actually cracked. He took in a deep breath, trying to force himself to say what needed to be said. His brother would have said it if it was the other way around. He wouldn't be choking in front of a crowd of strangers. He didn't use to, either, but the moment he'd returned to Valona, something had changed.

He narrowed his eyes. Something he didn't like. Why was he doing his damn best to lose himself and become someone else? His stupid self-doubt only made everything harder. Not just on himself, but on everyone. It's not like these people had a choice or their judgment would make him less of a king or a person. He was who he was and they were stuck with him.

"Prince Ferdinand is dead," he said, not even bothering to keep the growl out of his voice. "I'm not sure what the rumors have been saying about that, but he was murdered by Wolfbane."

There was a general gasp from the crowd which got him thinking that they hadn't heard much. He should have done something about that, issue an official notice. But now, he had said it, and he was going to offer them the only solace he could.

"Wolfbane is dead as well. I killed him." His affirmation was met with deathly silence, but he was expecting it. After all, he'd just admitted to murder. "It was the least I could do if I couldn't save the prince. As it is, no matter how much you or I wish it would be different, we no longer have Ferdinand." Of course, that didn't explain why he'd decided to murder Fherras, but he decided not to get into that. Instead, he glanced back at the family tree displayed next to the door.