Atop the Capital, the largest city of Luition, stood the King’s palace. Glorious in stature, a symbol of nobility and elegance and built on the backs of millions of Dreys. Each brick of limestone laid painted the royal residence. It towered over the Capital, no other structure could match its splendor. The castle was erected so high, the common folk believed the King dined with the Gods.

  Laughter drifted from the top floor windows. The King’s table stretched across the conference hall. The table was full of the ripest fruits exploding with flavor, and summer wines rich and savory. The wealthiest lords and ladies graced a seat at the table. Mainly elves, and humans, but there sat one Drey, the master of slavers.

  “My King, you haven’t aged a day, you wear ruling well,” an elf said. His protruding stomach bounced as he spoke. The King ruled over Luition for two decades, but he looked as young as the day of his coronation. His olive skin remained wrinkle-free, he appeared to be still in his prime years.

  “Thank you, but we’re not here to talk about myself. We have far more important matters to discuss.” The King stood, his chair scuffed against the polished floors. He sauntered around the table. The room swelled with silence.

  “We have to bolster our Crimson Guard force, we need to-” the King hesitated, ensuring he used the right choice of words. “Calm the people. In order to maintain peace.” the King nodded, he shifted his eye contact between his guests. “I will need more of a contribution to do so,” the King smiled. He had a natural charisma with his words. His defined jawline and frosty blue eyes commanded the room. He knew anybody could be persuaded to do anything, they just needed the right amount of encouragement, with either honey or vinegar.

  One of the high lords scoffed, “we give you enough damn gold as it is”, the old gentleman took a swig from his goblet, his bushy grey mustache concealed his upper lip.

  “Yes, Lord Fairmount? Do you have an opinion you would like to share?” the King questioned, he maintained his friendly aristocratic composure. The other guests sank in their chairs.

  “Every time I turn around you have your hand out, claiming my gold is for the good of the realm.” he finished off his wine, his drinking hand was full of gold rings. Lord Fairmount was the longest reigning Lord over his city. He had seen rulers come and go before King Cerilium. The previous kings never commanded so much as a penny from him, but the Just King was not like the others.

  “And I give you plenty of benefits in return” the King pointed out. He slowly walked closer to the High Lord. King Cerilium knew his methods provided longevity for the realm, and his vision wasn’t just a hunch. For him this was a second chance, and if this was going to work everyone needed to work together to achieve this goal, both wealthy and impoverished alike.

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  A silence persisted between their words. They locked eyes, he could see fury fuming behind Lord Fairmount’s eyes. He gradually became more disgruntled, he tapped his fingers on his goblet.

  “Ask the common folk, I’ve paid my fair share,” Lord Fairmount snapped, veins popped out of his neck, his forehead wrinkled as his skin flooded red. The King smiled, completely unphased by his temperment. A small chuckled escaped his lips. This wasn’t the king’s time dealing with difficulty, he found it comical when humans defied him.

  “Oh but I do, I ask more of them than any of you in this room, but this is an ambitious expenditure. I came to you all because you are my closest friends, so naturally,” the king looked around making eye contact with his other guests, “I turned to you first.” the king assured, his voice gentle and warm.

  “Pay for it yourself if it’s so damn important.” he shouted, he slammed his fist on the table, then bolted from his seat marching towards the doorway. His jewelry clinked with every harsh step towards the exit.

  The king sighed, “I was hoping we could resolve this peacefully” he shouted, he then nodded at his Crimson Guards.

  “Sir Fairmount, Lord of Westercrest, it’s been a long journey for you, hasn’t it? You’ve traveled all this way,” the king asserted, he crossed his arms behind his back. The king strolled towards the exit. Two of the Crimson Guards blocked Lord Fairmount’s path. He turned around to leave through the separate exit, but another two surrounded him from behind.

  “Let me pass” he commanded. Fear lodged in his throat. He found himself trapped. He looked for an escape, but none stood out to him, other than the windows.

  “I imagine it’s difficult for you, ruling in your old age,” the king suggested, he stood in front of Lord Fairmount, his Guardsmen between them.

  “Let me take that burden off of you and your family.” the king pleaded, his voice sincere despite the horrors coming next. One of the Crimson Guards punched Lord Fairmount in his abdomen, the blow brought him to his knees. He covered his stomach, an intense cough left his throat. For the first time in his life, Lord Fairmount was powerless.

  The guards cleared space for the King, he leaned down while he kept his eyes fixed on him.

  “We want the same things, I think you need some time away, a vacation maybe?” the king inquired, Lord Fairmount lifted his head and nodded in agreement. The king stood, an smile came across his face.

  “Take him some place where he came have some alone time, the gods know rulers don’t get enough of it” he said, he smiled at Lord Fairmount as they carried him off to the dungeons. The High Lord struggled, but he lost.

  The king turned his attention to his other guests. He was met with pure fear in their expressions. He smiled, it gave him a small pleasure seeing the panic on their faces. It meant their thoughts were untainted by any seed of rebellion. The feeling gave him comfort.

  “Well, if there are no other opinions we are all in agreement, yes?” the room nodded in unison. No one dared spoke a word against the king.

  “Great, now let’s continue our discussion” he said, he sat in his chair. The quietness was stifling, like the king forced a pillow over their heads until they stopped resisting. He would do anything to maintain his version of serenity. His violence meant peace.