The Next Erased Title for Security Reasons

Chapter 6: The Shadow in the Moonlight

[Rewind]

Azarian Border [Jungle]

The little Meltinzer party was returning to the country in their little cart. Prince Saphniel had been furious. His Royal Uncle had not sent him a carriage, even though he had made him come all the way from Espacea to Merdane for reporting. Azari, his home, was close to the forest, and he had been exiled from Merdane from infancy. Royal Uncle held no secrets as to whom he favoured. If it had been Naffiel, he would have..... No, no, Naffiel wouldn't have bothered to leave the comforts of the Palace. Saphniel sighed. His plans of being king were going nowhere. As of now, he was sitting in a hired village cart as they rode to the capital.

Saphniel and his aides were sitting inside. Unknown to the others, one of them had pledged his heart and soul to the enemy, just days ago. Shadow sat with a sweet, wicked smile hinting itself at the edge of his lips. Those pale, slender fingers, that incredible smile and mesmerising voice. Memories flashed in his brain. By God! His lover was.....ethereal. He thought his face would betray his memories. The Behemoth was his alone. He wouldn't share a single expression of when he thought about him, with others. He quickly changed his thoughts to the instructions he had received: Relay the entire Meltinzer affairs to him. Report only to the Behemoth. Manipulate the weakling prince. But it was going to be tough. How could a nobody like him have a hand in politics? And that moronic Crown Prince was absorbed in his own blissful little world, to be of any use to him. Shadow sank deeper and deeper into thought.

Tears were salty. The Behemoth was not an exception. But to him, for whom the 'Prince' had wept, they were the sweetest. He knew, their minds had connected. His soul entwined with the 'Prince's; as their limbs had. He had gone there to kill him. He had returned, enlightened, and a tiny vial of those pearly drops hanging around his neck. He had to prove that he was worthy of them. A brilliant, cunning plan came to mind. As he was musing, he found himself startled, as a maid announced their journey's end. The group got out of the cart.

Saphniel walked into court with a heavy face. "Royal Uncle, I have failed you in procuring Espacea's support. I persuaded the lord, but a rebel delegate managed to win over the eight clan leaders, and the people. The lord was thrown out of the village, and a cooperative system was established. I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit." King Naffsetar thought for a while. Then he waved his hand. "Go back home. Tch! You were useless anyway. We only sent you because we didn't have any other use for you."

A hot surge of anger shot through Saphniel. He froze for a moment, then bowed and left. He couldn't believe that a rebel delegate could actually defeat him in verbal reasoning. Weren't the rebels supposed to be a bunch of uneducated commoners? He knew how brilliant he actually was. All those around him, those who were clever enough to notice, knew, and they respected him a lot more than they did the two oxen who were ruling at present. Only Naffsetar, Naffiel, and their horde of flattering, foolish courtiers thought him useless. And since it was this particular horde that ran the kingdom, he had been kicked out of politics. Saphniel seethed in anger. Then he sighed. His was a completely hopeless case. A destiny that had indeed been too cruel.

Shadow stood behind a pillar and looked over the court in session. He had once been wild, living with the forest tribes, abandoned by his family. Although it had been a wild life, no doubt it had been very fulfilling. He had his fun, learning poisons and antidotes, forest herbs, metal work, craft...... Everything the forest tribes could teach him. Even the courtesans he took to bed helped him perfect a lot more than just positions. They taught him to serve to others' needs, to figure out others' psychology, to coax, to seduce: enough skills to get whatever he wanted out of them. The unruly days could actually help him in his present situation. He had to get in perfect position to report to the Behemoth. He analysed the Royal court. "Hmm........." He smiled to himself. He had found the perfect scapegoat.

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Shadow slipped secretly into the kitchen of the Prime Minister's mansion. He hadn't returned from Espacea empty-handed. He had brought the most lethal poisons Espacea hosted. He gently ground the herbal mixture with a pestle, and applied the paste on the Prime Minister's milk goblet. He had watched the events for a month now; and knew the entire schedule by heart. The Prime Minister usually woke up at exactly at dawn. Then he always had his maid bring him milk and some mint leaves. Shadow marked a goblet, and watched. He found that the man only used this particular goblet. When the poison, yes, that was exactly what the herbal paste was, had dried, he washed it off. The poison had seeped into the metal. The mint leaves that the Prime minister loved to chew on were picked fresh. Shadow had to poison each leaf carefully. After all the traces of the paste, as well as his arrival, was wiped off, Shadow stood back to admire his work. "Now, for the final touch..." Saphniel had to come and visit the Prime Minister for breakfast. By that time, the poison would have driven him crazy. Shadow tiptoed to the Prime Minister's chambers. He kept whispering softly in to the sleeping man's ears. Another trick he had learnt from the concubines of the tribal chiefs. The same words, again and again, patiently, till the break of dawn. Satisfied, he left through the window.

Prince Saphniel received a message from his maid. The Prime Minister had insisted on breakfast with him. Urgent, it said. Strange. Why would a man who thought him trash practically beg to eat with him? Amused, Saphniel hurried to the mansion. The Prime Minister was an oaf who supported the Crown Prince. To have him take such an interest in the second prince was rare.

But when he reached there, the 'oaf' was too dumbstruck to speak anything intelligible than "Please stay for breakfast." Saphniel tried hard to conceal his annoyance, but it slipped out. Wasting time with idle chitchat never appealed to him. The flabbergasted Prime Minister raised his goblet of milk. "A toast to Prince Saphniel. The new Prime Minister of Meltinzer." He smiled idiotically.

"Who says?" Saphniel couldn't stop himself.

"Me." The Prime minister grinned broadly, and gulped down the milk. He swiveled and fell. In front of servants from various strata of society that rushed to him in panic. Who all witnessed Saphniel's initial shock to extreme annoyance. Then the blood drain from his face, as he checked the Prime Minister's pulse.

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Saphniel took over the title of Prime Minister, the day after the cremation. The King did not object, having considered the late Prime Minister the epitome of wisdom, after the latter had praised him on countless occasions, bringing the use of the word 'genius' on a daily basis. All the stupid conquests and decrees had been accepted without a single thought by this flowery old courtier. The man only cared about power and position, and did everything the King asked him to do. So, as a return gift, Naffsetar let Saphniel be the next Prime minister, even though he wondered why his 'brilliant advisor' had chosen a complete idiot (incidentally prophesied to be the harbinger of destruction).

Saphniel took the first seat at the right of the King. His four most trusted aides stood behind him, in the shadows, like all the other courtiers' did, to cater to his needs and requests. Even though Saphniel had none.

Shadow enjoyed this position at the court very much. He could keep his eyes and ears on every little detail. The best way a nobody like him could infiltrate a royal court. He knew the Behemoth would be very pleased with this.

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Hello.

I'm very sorry that my updates may be a little slower than it used to be. Sorry for the smaller chapter. It's just that I have a lot of extra work, and I'm working on another project too. Thanks for reading. I will try to update once a week, either on Fridays or Mondays.

Dragonaire Absolvare