The Reformation Wars: The Unmarked Swordsman

Chapter 8

Two broad mahogany doors carved from top to bottom with intricate designs creaked open to reveal the Mintfeldian nighttime throne room, compact in size but not lacking in majesty. Strategically placed candlesticks cast a flickering warmth all about, lighting all but the very edges of the chamber. A velvet carpet of vibrant green hue stretched from the doorway to the back of the room, where the bearded monarch lounged atop his throne. 

Craning his neck, Tom peered around his fellow travelers from where he walked in the back. The Mintfeldian king grinned upon sighting Alice, and after descending the two steps from his throne, he began closing the distance between them. Guistan stepped aside to allow the king to greet her. 

After bowing his head slightly, the man graciously took her two hands, placed the palms together, and then kissed the backs of each of Alice's hands in succession. Then he touched his forehead to hers and stepped back. Tom raised an eyebrow at the series of gestures, but neither Alice or Alden appeared confused in the slightest. 

"Greetings, Senator Delquez," the king said in a deep, lilting voice, "it is a pleasure to behold you." 

From where Tom stood, only the senator's nod remained visible, with the blonde strands of her hair bouncing up and down. 

"Likewise," she replied, "I have anticipated our meeting for some time now." 

"I would certainly hope so." the monarch said with a chuckle, "The evening meal draws near, where the mind finds little to fix itself on but the belly's fullness, so I suppose we should waste no time in attending to our business here." 

"Of course. Where should you wish to begin?" 

A moment of silence preceded the king's words. "Why, I suppose my first inquiry would be, what exactly does Mintfeld stand to gain from this potential membership in the Alcontean Republic? For completeness' sake do I ask this, I assure you, not skepticism in the slightest." 

Alice's head bobbed up and down again. "I understand perfectly! And to answer you, I suppose the first benefit of note would be trade advantages. Not only would the resources of Alconte and its current member states be the more readily available to you, but the leverage and influence our name carries would render even your foreign trade of greater profit." 

"Elaborate on that latter point, if you will." 

"Of course. For example, our relations with Monterayne and Antapeño are excellent, with decreased tariffs between us, and accommodative bankers closing the currency gap admirably." 

The king ran a finger through his beard. "It sounds as if you are implying we would be required to switch our current currency over to the Alcontean table." 

"Preferably so, yes. For all parties involved, that is the best option. Of course, accommodations can be made, and no push will be made to force adoption to be immediate." 

The two continued discussing the details of Mintfeld's potential admission into the Republic, often touching on topics Tom possessed no familiarity in. He found his mind drifting as their dialogue continued, and his eyes scanned the paintings fastened to the floor on either side of the central carpet, carved frames as artful as the pictures inside their borders. 

Then Tom found himself unable to view the paintings. The welcoming candlelight disappeared. A blanket of darkness instantly descended over the throne room, drawing a gasp to his lips and a quintet of lines to his brow. His fingers crept to the pommel of his sword. 

Tom's eyes darted about fruitlessly in the darkness. Standing taut as a bowstring to perceive the slightest movement, he strained his ears. He heard the click of the Mintfeldian king's boot stepping back. The monarch called out for a renewal of the lights. Only a flurry of harsh words in the Innutukian language flew back at him. Tom gasped.