What did she just say? Varre was too shocked to react, but Hakon did not hesitate. The captain got down on one knee and stared at the floor in silence. Count Neville had a different opinion.

  “You can’t do this!” the aristocrat protested, “come on! Don’t you think this is suspicious as all hells?”

  “Quiet, you fool!” Hakon barked at him through clenched teeth.

  “I refuse!” Neville proudly straightened up, “this is an outrage! The king was poisoned, his entire family died along with him, and yet somehow, this man,” he pointed to Varre, “is the only one who survived!? He just happened not to show up!?”

  The captain had enough. He stood up and slapped the young aristocrat across the face. “Silence, you cur! I will not let you disrespect the king like this!”

  A slap from an armored glove definitely hurt. Count Neville fell down to the ground with a surprised gasp. Still, it worked. Instead of further complaints, he simply stared at the captain in anger. Hakon turned and looked at the former student with a concerned expression.

  Damn, Varre thought to himself, everyone’s looking at me. Does he expect me to decide what to do with him?

  Still confused, the duke decided to say the first thing that came to his mind. “Take him… away?”

  “You heard his majesty!” Captain Hakon yelled towards the Royal Guards, “put him in one of the guest rooms. I will come for him once he has cooled down.”

  The men who had just escorted Varre here, did not hesitate either. They grabbed the aristocrat by his shoulders and began leading him out of the room. The count glared at Varre, but did not say anything else.

  Once the doors slammed behind Neville, the duke decided to finally voice his concerns. “What the hell is going on in here? What just happened?”

  “Right. I guess you still have no idea,” Marna grimaced, “I’m afraid that a terrible, catastrophic tragedy had occurred here last night. Someone poisoned the guests at king Mikkel’s birthday party just yesterday. We don’t know who, or how yet. Let alone why. But both the king, and most of his family perished. I’m sorry.”

  Varre gulped. This is serious, he thought to himself, I better watch my words carefully. I missed the party because of that bard, Esteban. But I don’t know if anyone will believe me. I am the primary suspect after all right now.

  After a moment of silence, he finally spoke. “I see… And did I understand you correctly? Does that make me the king now?”

  The girl nodded. “Correct, your majesty. As the late king Mikkel’s steward, I am very familiar with the line of succession. You were the thirteenth in line. However, since everyone ahead of you has died, that makes you the closest heir,” she looked at the captain for support, “that makes you the obvious successor and only choice for the next king, right?”

  “Correct,” Hakon said, “I knew you weren’t present at the dinner yesterday, which is why I dispatched the guards to seek you out. With all the chaos at the castle today, we had absolutely no idea who is still alive and who isn’t. For all we knew, you were already dead too.”

  Marna fixed her glasses. “It’s a good thing you survived, your majesty. We would have been in a serious succession crisis if you hadn’t.”

  “Is that why that guy here?” Varre asked, “Count Neville or whoever?”

  “Yes,” she confirmed, “though if he was the only survivor it would have made the situation much more complicated,” she started flipping through the pages in a large tome she carried, “the amount of people we lost yesterday is absolutely unprecedented. Count Neville is technically only the twenty-third person in line to the throne. He only shares the same grandfather with king Mikkel.”

  Maybe I’m not the only suspect after all, then, the new king thought. “I hate to ask but, do you think he could have poisoned the guests?”

  Marna grimaced and looked at the captain. “Perhaps the throne room isn’t the best place to be discussing that. I suggest we move to the council chamber.”

  “Agreed,” Hakon pointed towards one of the doors to the side of the throne room, “shall we, your majesty?”

  Varre threw a concerned glance around the chamber. Fortunately, the only other people here were several of the Royal Guards. Hopefully, they would not spill state secrets to others, but it was still better to be safe than sorry. “Very well,” he said, “lead the way.”

  The side door led to a corridor, filled with ornate artwork depicting former rulers from the dynasty. The council room was a short walk away. A single guard stood outside and the captain told him to not let anyone else inside.

  The room itself was dominated by a long table in the center. Each chair that stood around it was decorated by some sort of symbol. Most likely symbolizing the position of each councilor.

  Varre cautiously walked towards the head of the table, where the largest chair stood. This one was decorated by the Logres coat of arms, with a clear crown visible above it. The king was definitely meant to sit in this one. I still can’t believe it, he thought, is this really happening? He turned to Hakon for confirmation, but a barely perceptible nod, confirmed that this spot was meant for him.

  He gingerly sat down as the captain and Marna took their own seats.

  “So as I was saying…” Varre began, “do you think that Count Neville might have poisoned Mikkel?”

  “It’s certainly possible,” the captain said, “the count arrived in the city just yesterday. It’s a very suspicious timing, to be fair.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Why did he not attend the birthday dinner?” the new king asked.

  “He wasn’t invited,” Hakon stretched his arms, “he isn’t a very influential noble and his lands are in a backwater anyway.”

  Marna spoke up. “That’s why I doubt it was him. Even if he had poisoned king Mikkel, and if he had intended for your majesty to die alongside him, technically Neville wouldn’t even be the next in line to the throne.”

  Varre cocked an eyebrow. “Then who would be?”

  The steward looked through the tome she carried. “As I explained, your majesty, until last night, you were the thirteenth in line to the throne. Everyone above you perished, but many below did too. Count Neville is the twenty third in line, however duke Charles is the eighteenth.”

  Varre scratched his head. “Who is he? And why wasn’t he invited either?”

  “He rules the Eastern provinces,” Hakon explained, “his genius military mind won of the battles during the war twenty years ago. He is influential and powerful, but I’m afraid he’s never had the best relation with king Mikkel.”

  Marna fixed her glasses. “In fact, the former king insisted that Charles not be sent any invitations.”

  “Then he seems like the obvious suspect right?” Varre started counting on his fingers, “he would be the next in line to the throne, he hated the king, he is powerful. He had every reason to try.”

  “You’re right your majesty,” Hakon said, “but even then, he is not here. His lands are over a week away. We do not even know if he is still alive right now. We could not waste two weeks, having to wait for messengers to travel back and forth, before crowning him. Not with so much chaos here.”

  The new king turned to his steward. “Are there any other candidates?”

  She began flipping through the pages of her book. “Well, there is Neville’s younger sister. But she remained home as far as I know. Afterwards, we’ve got Baron Croft. But he is four generations removed from the dynasty… and six years old. His claim is very weak. There technically are others, but we start getting into five or six generations away at this point. They’re basically completely unrelated.”

  “So if I had died… would you have gone with Charles? Or Neville?”

  The advisors exchanged glances. Marna decided to speak first. “Your majesty, I’m afraid we’d have a full-blown succession crisis on our hands. Neville would insist on getting crowned immediately, but many would say we need to wait for Charles’s arrival. If the count managed to convince the archpriest to crown him…”

  “We’d have a civil war on our hands,” Hakon finished for her.

  Varre opened his arms in exasperation. “Then which one do you think did it? Or was it some third party? Or,” he gulped, “do you suspect me?”

  That might have been a mistake, he thought, then again, it’s probably better to discuss the elephant in the room. We have to do it at some point.

  The captain looked down. “Your majesty, I won’t lie to you. Some people will definitely believe that.”

  Marna blinked nervously. “I… I’m afraid I agree sir. This is completely unprecedented. And you were never a very public figure to begin with. You do not have many supporters.”

  Varre looked at the big map of the kingdom on one of the walls. “Does this mean it will spark a civil war either way?”

  Hakon showed a resolute expression. “We will do everything in our power to prevent that, your majesty.”

  “But it is a distinct risk. Setting aside the possibility of you being the culprit,” the steward grimaced at her own words, “whoever did it, definitely intended to cause a lot of chaos.”

  “I agree,” the captain smiled and looked straight at his king, “but there is something they did not expect.”

  “What?” Varre asked in surprise.

  “You,” Hakon said.

  The new king smiled a bit at that. “Then… what should we do now?”

  Marna closed her book shut. “If whoever murdered the king wanted chaos, then our number one goal must be to prevent that. We need to act fast. As soon as possible. You need to be officially crowned tomorrow.”

  Varre brought his hands to his head, as if trying to touch an invisible crown. “What? So soon?”

  “Absolutely,” the captain agreed, “so far, we kept the news of king Mikkel’s death a secret. But we cannot keep it down for long. Whoever murdered Mikkel is already making their moves and spreading rumors. We must control the story.”

  The steward stood up. “I will arrange a grand funeral for all the fallen royals. I believe the coronation should begin immediately afterwards,” she suddenly froze mid-way to the doors, “umm… do I have your permission, your majesty?”

  Varre had absolutely no idea of the best course of action. Thoughts kept rushing through his head, but he could not decide on what to do. Ultimately, he simply nodded.

  Marna picked up her tome and resumed walking out of the council room. “I will prepare an official announcement. Hakon, please keep him safe.”

  The captain nodded, and the woman left through the door.

  The two men sat there in silence for a moment. Then, Hakon spoke up. “I will perform an investigation. We need to find out how Mikkel was poisoned and fix that flaw in our security, to ensure it doesn’t happen to you.”

  Varre stared at him. Then, he blurted out, “do you think I did it?”

  Hakon did not respond immediately. He stared at his new liege’s face, mulling over his thoughts. Then he stood up, walked to the king and kneeled. “Your majesty, I swore an oath to the crown. The crown, that currently belongs to you. Yesterday, I would have given my life for Mikkel III. Today, I’d give it for you. I will perform the investigation either way. I will uncover who did it, and how. If you are innocent, then I will protect you and make sure you will be safe,” he smiled mysteriously, “and if you did do it, then my investigation will uncover the best scapegoats for you.”

  That… was unexpected, Varre thought, I don’t know if I can trust him yet, but if he is truly this loyal, then I am glad to have a servant like him. Either way, this could still be a trap. I may be innocent, but I better keep my wits about me until the coronation. And even more so afterwards.

  The captain saw that this gave his king a lot to think about. Finally, he decided ask directly. “Did you do it, your majesty?”

  Varre blinked twice. He didn’t expect such a blunt question. “No.”

  Hakon stood up. “Shame. It would have made my job a lot easier if you already had some scapegoats planned,” he winked, “very well then. I will begin my investigation immediately. Shall I take you to your quarters?”

  The men walked through the corridors and up a staircase towards the royal bedroom. Varre had only been here a couple of times before, but now that he’s calmed down he could notice some differences. It felt like life had drained from these stone walls. In a way, considering how many had died here just yesterday, perhaps it had.

  They passed a couple of servants on their way, but they kept their distance. They quietly gossiped about the approaching pair, but an angry glare from Hakon chased them away.

  After a couple minutes, they made it to the royal quarters. A guard stationed in front of the massive doors awaited them. He nodded respectfully towards his captain. He probably had not been informed about Varre’s new position.

  Instead of wasting time on explanations, Hakon ushered his liege into the room. “Right, make yourself at home. Though I suppose you should be telling that to me,” he joked, “I’m going to leave for now and station a couple more guards here. Ask them to call for me if anything happens, alright? Oh, and don’t eat anything. Don’t even drink! We need to make sure it’s safe first.”

  The captain was about to leave, when Varre grabbed the door to stop him. “Wait. Can you do something for me?”

  “What is it your majesty?”

  The new king awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “Can someone let my chamberlain know what happened? He must be tearing his hair out from worrying.”

  Hakon stood in silence for a second. “Can he be trusted?”

  “Well, I hope so. He’s been taking care of me and my household for the last couple of months.”

  The captain accepted this without further argument.

  More importantly, can they be trusted BY him?