Fantasizing a war - A Sanders Sides Trilogy

The Third King

Hey, so, um. This is the 69th chapter on this two-books-in-one thing... I know, my humour needs work. I'm so sorry about that. Just had to inform y'all.

King Thomas beamed at the setting sun. He loved sunsets almost as much as exploring. This was the first expedition hosted outside his pane of rule and it was exhilarating. His men had taken a range of children to see if any have alterations to their genetics compared to his people. None seemed to yet, except the matured.

Remy constantly talked about him, saying how he could use magic and seemed to be someone of high importance.

Thomas turned to see a messenger enter. Messengers and guards were the only people allowed to enter the throne room other than Remy and Emile.

"What is it, messenger?" Thomas said airily. He never meant to sound so aloof with these people. It kind of just happened.

The messenger did not look very happy to say this. "We've, ah, been sent a message..."

"Who from?"

"Ah, well, my King, ah," The man hesitated constantly, eyes flickering around the room, "We've received an, ah, answer from the matured's', ah, family."

These constant 'Ah's was getting irritating. "And? What is the matter?"

The messenger swallowed and unrolled a ravel of parchment. He cleared his throat and began:

"Dear Anonymous,

Terribly sorry to keep you waiting on a reply, I do hope you weren't too bored. The man you have captured happens to be my younger brother. I do not take kindly to this.

Now, I would've sent you a reply sooner but, honestly, I was helping my allies fend off against the grey armoured men, whose children were being stolen in front of their very eyes. I'd like to give a very sarcastic congratulations here - you made the sweetest man in the world cry.

Usually, your civilisation would be demolished by now, but my ally has decided to try to get back my brother peacefully. But then you tried your fucking luck.

You, Anonymous, are on the side of the people who have recently killed an old man. I was good friends with this old man. He was a good man, only trying to stop strangers from stealing children. And now you've pissed me off.

Bitch, please prepare yourself for a fucking massacre. Don't try to prepare. I'll still slaughter you.

The coldest regards from the bottom of my non-existent heart,

Fucking King Deceit of the Dark Realm."

Thomas observed the messenger without a word as the poor man read this. The King nodded slowly.

"Do we know who's killed this old man?" He asked, moving away from the window finally.

The messenger shook his head.

"Then I want an investigation. And prepare the catapults, ready the man. We shall prepare." Thomas ordered, snapping his fingers. The messenger stooped in a low bow and rushed out.

Thomas sat on his throne. It was a simple throne of quartz, polished and shiny. The cushion was a rose-gold, creating an annoyingly romantic aura. He'd much rather have a comfy armchair.

.:*:.

Remy entered the throne room without bowing or even knocking. "Yo, Thomas."

"Ah, my favourite person. Any news from the camp?" Thomas greeted, ignoring the fact the formalities had been skipped over. He never minded. He loved that Remy treated him like any other human.

Remy grinned, his sunglasses moving up with the authenticity. "Not much. A mutiny has been planned against Emile and I but all pretty normal otherwise."

Thomas frowned. "A mutiny?"

"Yes."

"I thought a mutiny was supposed to be kept a secret, especially from those you want to revolt against."

"So did I," Remy replied with a shrug, "But a few conspirators had a conversation in the room of the matured. He warned us and we've come up with a plan."

Thomas waited for elaboration. None came. He sighed. "Which is?"

Remy smirked, sipping his coffee. "They want to attack us in his room because it'll be harder for us to escape. When they try to stage the plan, Anxiety will... Oh, what's a nice word for it?" He put a finger to his chin in a mockingly thoughtful pose.

"Decimate?" Thomas offered with a growing grin.

"No, that's an understatement. Annihilate is a better word. Demolish their existence. Anxiety said, 'I will slaughter them and those bitches won't have any time to fucking prepare', to which Emile reacted with a small gasp about minding his language." Remy laughed, but Thomas couldn't join him. It'd been to similar to the letter.

Remy paused. "Thomas, are you okay?"

Thomas nodded, crossing his legs lazily. "Yeah. It's just your 'Anxiety' turns out to be the younger brother of a King named Deceit and this Deceit sent me a letter I received only an hour ago telling me he'd demolish this whole Kingdom."

"Oh," Remy said. "I always thought Anxiety may have some relations to nobility. Didn't expect him to be royal, though."

Thomas shrugged. "It doesn't matter, we've defeated plenty of armies. Tell me how the mutiny goes, will you?"

Remy smirked, inclining his head softly. The sunglasses tilted down so that he locked his swirly, golden eyes with Thomas's' brown ones. "No problem, my King." He gave a mock bow, and pushed the sunglasses back up his face. "See you." And he left.