Master of the Loop - Chapter 142: King Wyvenul

Chapter 142

King Wyvenul

“Where to begin?” Valen mumbled, taking a sip of wine and having a hard think for a moment before continuing. “Truth be told, most of what I know of my father before my time are stories–legends and myths, even, that the servants and guards would whisper when they thought I wasn’t listening. How he fought off a herd of bandits all by himself, how he defeated an evil beast the size of a castle tower with his bare hands, how he can fly like birds or shoot fire out of his arms… things like that.

“And most of the rest was the formality. As I was taught in the Royal Academy, it wasn’t as though the teachers would be critical of him, so it was just more of the same.”

“Anything stood out?” Sylas asked. The two, alongside Ryne, Derrek, and Asha had relocated to quaint chambers, away from the busy castle.

“Not really,” Valen replied, taking a deep breath. “Compared to some other Kingly chapters of the Kingdom’s history, Father’s ascension was… fairly uneventful, honestly. There were no assassinations, no purges of familial rivals, nothing. The Court had decided since he was ten or so that he’d one day be a King and… nobody protested. From what I heard, he always outpaced everyone else at virtually everything–magic, especially. But even beyond that, he became an Honorary Knight by the time he was twelve, became a Star-suffused Scholar before he was fifteen, and even took the role of the Commander of Army from the Grandfather before he died.

“It was as though everyone collectively agreed that he’d be the one to lead the Kingdom onward. If there was any opposition, it was very quiet.”

“Alright,” Sylas nodded. “What about him as the King? Any controversies?”

“Don’t think so,” Valen said. “He’s… always been oddly quiet. Unless absolutely necessary, he simply defers most of the decisions to the Council. I think, in part, it’s why he’s so loved. Even during the major banquets, everyone would have minutes-long speeches trying to outdo one another, and Father would always only say a word or two–‘To Ethernia’ or ‘In good health’. He’s always been a man of few words, in and out of the public. However, if he decided something, nobody ever dared try to convince him otherwise.”

“…” Sylas thought back to the man he met. A few minutes he had were far from enough to form any form of picture about him, but he did remind Sylas of someone confident and self-assured, someone who knew what they wanted and what needed to be done. And men like that… were dangerous. Sylas much preferred angry, bitter lunatics in the positions of power as it was easy to dethrone them from that position–but cautious, well-enough liked men were a different beast.

There was always a sense of disquiet around men like that, but it was purposeful. It was there to keep others on their toes, to keep them dancing and squirming, to have a clear avenue of understanding. People like that were the ones that outlived their showoff counterparts and reigned well into their ending days. Most importantly, however, staging a revolution or rebellion of any kind… would be extremely difficult. Luckily, there was a path there–the Queen.

“What about the Queen and his relationship?” Valen’s mood soured slightly at the mention of the Queen, but he collected himself afterward and replied.

“I… I’m not too sure. Amicable? They always maintained proper decorum in public. They never fought or disagreed. Until recently, neither truly did much in public.”

“Until the Queen went mad with power?”

“Something like that, I suppose,” Valen shrugged with a chuckle. “Why are you interested in her?”

“Because she’s our avenue of approach,” Sylas said.

“What do you mean?”

“He means,” Derrek replied instead. “That nobody will want to fight against your Father. The Queen, on the other hand, raises eyebrows.”

“Oh,” Valen exclaimed. “So, we campaign around her as a figurehead?”

“Hm,” Sylas nodded. “We’ll have to, however, thaw the image of your Father from everyone’s conscience. Rather than replacing him, you will simply be… continuing his legacy, something the Queen is trying to upturn. In a way, we have to make you the next him, while also maintaining the understanding that, in fact, you will be in power and not him. It’s strange, though, how mysterious your Father is. Even in the tomes of history, he’s only described in a few lines and the attention always seems elsewhere.”

“You noticed that too?” Asha joined in. “It’s strange. In a chapter about the Kingdom’s most important people, its own King gets a single paragraph against some random Baron that gets two pages. It’s too deliberate.”

“It is,” Sylas nodded. “Either because he never rewards scholars for puff pieces, or simply orders them to keep his mentions to a minimum–it’s not wholly natural. It feels as though he wants to lessen his impact on history as much as possible.”

“He is notably like that, even in public appearances,” Derrek said. “Usually, he mostly oversees and never interacts.”

“My Master also mentioned that if one wanted something from the Royal Sigil, connections to the King would not get you there,” Ryne chipped in.

“The more I hear about him,” Sylas mumbled. “The more he seems antithetical to everything a King should be. Withdrawn, silent, unsuspecting…”

“Yeah, that’s Father,” Valen said. “I’m his child and he’s barely spoken to me all my life.”

“Alright, so we ignore him,” Sylas said. “If he’s an enigma to us, you can only imagine he’s mostly a myth to the rest of the Kingdom. Now, myths, especially ones rooted this deep, are hard to be demystified, so we’re not going to try and do that–we’ll just… amend the myth, so to say, to include our lovely Prince over here. We’re going to pin the Queen as someone trying to usurp the myths, trying to undo the things that should not be undone. We’ll unite behind that banner rather than a banner of rebellion. Should be easier to grab the support of people–especially some fringe Noble houses that the Queen has isolated. We don’t need the support of the entire Kingdom, just enough people to start something. Once the spark is kindled, the fire should follow soon after.”

“Still, it will be hard,” Derrek chimed in. “Even if we do unite under the banner of ‘dethroning the Queen’, I’d wager that most houses would rather take the King over Valen. Something wholly new would have to happen for that mindset to change.”

“It will,” Sylas said with a smile. “Me,” he pointed at himself. “I will happen.”

“Strong though you may be,” Derrek chuckled. “You are no match for the King, Sylas.”

“Oh, trust me, I am very, very aware,” he said. “But I will be, in due time. Besides, I don’t think that will be necessary,” Sylas mulled back to his brief interaction with the King. Somehow, someway, Sylas had realized that the man was likely at least in part responsible for most if not all of the occurrences on the peninsula, directly or indirectly. And the man definitely wanted and expected Valen to eventually replace him.

As for how, Sylas was still in the dark. Furthermore, it all begged a question of how far back the planning for everything went? The consistency of everything surrounding the man was the truly scary thing–something that thickly veiled in enigma was not something that could be deconstructed and planned for. And yet… Sylas wasn’t afraid. In fact, he was expectant.

He suspected that his greatest obstacle to putting Valen on the throne wouldn’t be the King–his intuition told him it wouldn’t even be the Queen. Though there was absolutely no evidence for it and it sounded insane, Sylas was marginally convinced that the Queen’s ‘behavior’ was pre-planned. After all, everything seemed… Convenient. The whole story, every backdrop of it, felt contrived. If Sylas had stuck to the ‘script’ and didn’t veer off so frequently, he might have glimpsed into the truth already. But he was too busy dealing with the off-shoots of the off-shoots, minor stories that he managed to tangle up with the main one. And yet, even with the unexpected plot of him winding up in the capital through the portal, the King, though surprised, didn’t seem particularly bothered.

“Alright, let’s put my Father and others out of our heads for now,” Valen slapped his palms together, drawing attention to himself. “We have a whole tournament to organize.”

“No, you do,” Sylas said, finishing off the gourd of ale and standing up. “I have some napping and training and drinking to do. Until tomorrow, at least. When you hear cocks sing, Ryne, start expecting me. Unless I sleep through ‘em.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Asha commented. “And I’ll deliver him to you right at dawn.”

“Thank you,” Ryne chuckled. “It’s nice to have someone to keep the loose wolf on a proper leash.”

“Yeah, keep your yapping young lady,” Asha and Sylas left the laughing room and departed toward their own.

“You held yourself well,” she said, grabbing his hand tightly. “I was almost ready to cause a scene at some points.”

“Aah, booze helped a lot,” he said. “And, even if wee bit, I’d like to believe I’ve… grown.”

“You have.”

“Well, we’ll see,” he chuckled. “For now, though, I’ll just… rest. Everything else can wait. What about you? Will you loiter around with me or help about?”

“A bit of both, I suppose,” she replied. “The castle could use me, but you’d be lost without me. I am absolutely torn.”

“Ah, if only we could divide you in two, eh?”

“… let’s get you to bed,” she smiled, gently caressing his cheek. “You look abysmally tired and drunk.”

“Aye, aye,” he nodded. “Nothing like a good night’s rest to wash away the booze… directly into your head. God, I miss aspirin. And phones. And free porn. I miss so many things, Asha.”

“Ah, you’re a drunk that makes up words,” she chuckled. “Always fun. Here we go, careful.”

“…” he wasn’t drunk, though; not a lot, anyway. He could drink inordinate amounts before even feeling woozy. But it felt good… to let go of some things hanging on his soul. For now, it was enough. Perhaps, even, forever.