Luna of the Beastly Lycan King

Chapter 15. His decision

☉FENRIR

The music was drowned out in my chambers. I liked it here, away from the noise. I knew I would have to go out soon. The opportunity came too soon.

“My king,” Andras called. Since the day of the coronation, I had put everyone out and closed the door behind me. I needed time to think of what I was going to do and to properly study the way this Cynthros worked, especially now that I would be ruling it.

I gave the order for him to be let in, and Andras walked in, head held high, hand still on his sword.

“Andras, are you aware that it has only been some nights since I was coronated as king? And that some kings have people who disturb their peace killed?”

I allowed my gaze to float over to him, lazily.

I was hunched over papers that spilled over an obsidian dark table. There was a lot that these papers detailed. The wind blew in from the window, causing the curtains to fill with air. I heard Andras shuffle around in his armor.

“I do know that it would be a worthy death, dying in service of my king. I also do know that not many kings would spend the days after their coronation poring over council files, worrying about the affairs of the nation they rule.” Andras replied. I sighed. The ever-cautious fox. I turned to him.

“Why are you here?”

“I thought you would like to tour your palace now that you are king and get introduced to the council.”

“It is yet dark, Andras. Surely there must be another reason you call upon me.”

Andras offered me a grin that I did not return. “I also thought you might like to see for yourself, the tokens of homemade wine that have been delivered.”

I regarded Andras and the way his emotions were closed off to the world until he decided to show them.

“There is something that does not quite add up. Look here, will you?”

Andras inched closer until he was standing right by my side. I pointed at one of the papers I was studying. “These two—members of the council. Who are they?”

He looked closely at the images on paper. One was of a rubenesque blonde-haired woman with green eyes, and the other was that of a pudgy man with beady black eyes and a ridiculous mustache.

“Ah, the dowager Ryleigh and the Count Athos.”

I noticed the way his eyes narrowed when he called their names. His voice was even less toneless than I could have thought possible. I tested my theory again.

“I have not seen these reports before. When did they get reinstated?”

“They didn’t, my king. They are new members of the council.”

I could not divine what it was about these two, but something definitely was strange. I turned to Andras, but his gaze was fixed on the table and the images of the Count and dowager.

“I hardly think the posts they hold are of any value to merit their inclusion to the board. However, this is something I shall consider sometime else. Let us head out indeed, to these activities which you have had the presence of mind to intrude my time for.”

Andras’s gaze was concentrated, but as he straightened, he grinned again, and I wondered if I had really seen him concerned about the council duo. Three lives have I lived. I could understand the appeal that a man such as Andras brought. I knew emotions. I had them; I had used them and had them used against me—as instruments of peace, and violence.

A man like Andras that wrapped his emotions around himself, not allowing others to easily see what it was that he thought would be useful to me in my discernment. Here was a man I could trust to handle my secrets. And he knew the people—an invaluable skill. With him at my side, I would have the ability to tell who I wanted on my side and who I did not.

I regarded Andras and his grinning face, then I breezed away from the study of the papers on the desk and threw on a cloak which I was certain that no one would recognize me in.

“A fitting choice, of course.” Andras had praised before we stepped out of my chambers.

I walked long and round with him, but never too close to him lest anyone began to suspect anything, talking to the people, asking about things, and amassing a knowledge that I was certain would be useful to me.

It was almost morning when I eventually returned. I returned the cloak to where I had picked it up from, careful of my movements, and soon fell into content rest.

As the days of the celebration passed and the festivities began to slowly wind down, I made sure to step out every once in a while, fitted in regal attire as befitted a king. It wasn’t until the celebrations were truly over when the week was completed, that I finally called together my first council meeting.

Both Andras and Fergal were on hand that morning, waiting just outside the doors of my chambers. They entered, after my attendants were done, to put on my armour and then pin the golden cloak on. They both had on their regular armour which was lighter and more suited to combat—unlike what Andras had worn at the coronation. Their hands stayed constantly at their sides, steady on the hilts of their swords. At least they knew their jobs, I thought.

I donned the golden cloak once more and placed the crown atop my head. My gaze lingered on my blades which lay atop the table.

“Alpha King,” they bowed as I stepped out. Fergal’s countenance was still as dark and brooding—angry—as I knew it to be. But he was loyal, sworn to me. Andras was genial, his mask always in place. The attendant who waited on me walked a step behind Fergal and Andras.

As we approached the door to the Council Chambers, the royal guards stood stiff-straight, weapons at attention and their chests puffed with pride.

The announcer was reeling my titles before I stepped through. “… Alpha King Ardghal Finarfen Evigheden!” He yelled as the doors flung open before me, palace guards standing stiff-straight as the sound of armor buckled throughout; everyone else rose as I walked in, and did not sit until I did, on a chair that had been carved higher than the others, at the head of the table.

My attendant took off my cloak and disappeared from my sight. I squared myself in the chair and glanced around at the members of the council.

“Let us begin.”

They all sat down; papers were distributed across the large wooden table we sat at. Attendants flipped the pages open. Andras opened a large leather-bound book before me, as well as several other papers. I caught a glimpse of the two council members that Andras had been so focused on when we talked the other night. Glanced at Andras whom I had placed some distance from me, and observed nothing from his appearance.

Interesting. I thought.

“My king,” a portly, old bald man gesticulated. He wheezed with every word and looked like standing was hurtful. “It gives us great pleasure to be in your presence, finally. I am Angstrom Ulqueyes; I advised your father and the kings before you. Thanks to our counsel, a-and the wisdom of the king, the kingdom of Cynthros has prospered and thrived till you have met it thus. We are glad to be able to share our wisdom with you.”

My eyes shifted to scan Andras’s face. No reaction.

“Thank you,” I replied stiffly. “I shall remember to indulge your wisdom whenever I require it.”

I saw Angstrom’s eyes widen and heard the stuttering on his lips, but he sat himself down. I had set the atmosphere in the hall. I could see them beginning to reseat themselves, tension building. I could have laughed at the sheer stupidity of it all.

Another rose. A tall, equally fat man. This whole council was a gathering of old fat people. Immediately, I thought them all fools and motioned for my attendant to bring me a goblet of wine. The goblet sat untouched at the table while I listened to the old men drone as they introduced themselves.

At last, they were done, and I asked that they bring me up to speed on the developments in Cynthros and every other news they thought I should know about. While they talked and argued and yammered, the whole time, my eyes never left the duo I had looked at. I flipped the pages of the book in front of me.

“Dowager Ryleigh, Count Athos, I fear I have forgotten both your names.”

“Oh, yes,” the Dowager was quick to respond. “I am Ryleigh Stombron, my king.”

“And I am Athos Dane.” The Count responded.

I flicked a glance in Andras’s direction and saw that his face showed no signs of discomfiture, his hand was clenched tight on the hilt of his sword and the intensity of his eyes as he stared at the duo was indomitable.

So Andras did not approve of them, after all. A light smile played across my lips.

“When did you get reinstated to council?” I asked.

They both stuttered. “We didn’t. We’re new to the council. Alpha King.”

“And you came into this position… how?”

They stuttered, unable to meet my eyes or provide a reasonable answer. Ickabog, the tall thin man had risen to their defense, but I quickly silenced him, grilling the duo with questions until I was satisfied.

“I am sorry to have allowed you the pain of entering this meeting, but I do not see any need for the roles you both occupy and herewith dismiss you.”

I saw the tension ease out of Andras’s face in a flash.

“My King—?” The Count choked.

I sat unmoving, my glare hard. They both bowed and pulled out of their seats, making for the door. I had decided I was done for the day, too, when Ickabog rose to his feet.

“Alpha King, if I may—” he began. “I do not think it is wise to dismiss them from the council.”

I turned slowly to Ickabog so he would see the fire in my eyes, feel the cold wrath in the calm of my voice. The tension thickened in the hall…

I could feel Fergal and Andras’s hands on their swords. I did my best to keep the snarl out of my voice—

“You challenge my decision?”