Warson had an ordinary evening. He had his dinner alone as he did for the past decade or so after the last messenger from the western front informed him of the siege, and retreated to his bed chamber with the two maidens aged eleven and twelve, latest additions to his large harem. Everyone in the palace knew that in those nights the king didn’t like to be disturbed, for which the chamberlain did not stand at the door on guard. Yes, this was as ordinary an evening could ever get.
But the morning was not.
It was already noon when the chamberlain, risking losing his head, dared breaking the door for it was locked from the inside, to find all three laying on the large bed. “Your Imperial Majesty” he bowed down thinking he made a mistake. The girls woke up and shook in terror, more from the last night than the weeks past in the hands of the enemy being prepared for their meeting with the king, but the king did not. “He might not have heard me” the chamberlain thought as if it could be the case and went closer but, alas, the king didn’t move, neither he made a sound.
He was dead.
The chamberlain hastily rushed to the throne hall where tens already had gathered at the gate of in wait. “We have a problem, sire” he whispered at the seated general.
“What is it?”
“You better see for yourself.”
They found the scene unchanged except that the girls had fled from the open door. The general walked towards the king, checked his breath and pulse, and officially announced the passing of the creator of the largest empire history did, and likely ever will, see.
“Who last saw him alive” asked the general reaching his pouch.
“The girls. They were here a moment ago” replied the chamberlain. “Can’t be far. Walls shall hold them”.
“Who else?”
Both knew the answer. “You can’t blame me, general” the chamberlain whispered. “I served him for two decades. He never left his crown, his horse, his pillow, and his chamberlain. You can’t blame me” his voice raised gradually to a cry. The general held the chamberlain from the collar of his tunic, dragged him out of the room and called for the guards after closing the door. “Take him to the prison and find me the cook and taster. Ah, also the girls from the night” he ordered, and returned to the now empty room for inspection.
The general had never seen the room before and hadn’t the slightest idea what was out of place if anything at all. His search for clues didn’t bear any fruit, all seemed ordinary, and the general looked at the body. There was no blood, no broken bones, no sign of poisoning… The slaughterer of tens of thousands had a peaceful death in his bed, it seemed. A loyal one more to the crown than the man, the general snapped to attention, saluted the king one last time, then cursed at him.
Warson didn’t expect to die soon and left no will, neither he did appoint crown prince. He had four children, or four of them were lucky enough to be born within the imperial premises and be recognised as members of the royal family, three sons and a daughter, guys leading three armies on three cardinal directions in this expedition and the girl remaining at the capital as the steward. Each had their loyal followers at the palace and messengers would rush the moment the news would be heard. When – that was the question.
“The war needn’t slow, needn’t stop” the general thought. Three fronts, one on the march for the assault on north, one continuing the siege on the west, and the other about to reach the capital on the east, not yet known if for siege or surrender, Wanda, against all odds, was just about to unite the world for once and all. “He wouldn’t keep me around had he trusted me not” the general thought, his back straightened and his shoulders widened. He slowly left the room making sure no one saw inside, put two soldiers on guard, and returned to the throne hall, not caring how long he could continue this game, and how it would cost his head.
“His imperial majesty desires to retreat for the day, and has imposed upon me the right to verdict in pressing matters. May those whose issues need urgent consideration step forward one at a time and the rest wait for his majesty.”
A short and effective talk it was, and one that didn’t raise much suspicion: Time after the other the king retreated truly, yet there was a tiny oddness for the moment – never did he leave decision making to someone else, neither of his own kin nor of the others. Besides, the peak of the invasion was round the corner, how would he decide at such delicate time?
The general desired to keep the news to himself for the time being, but word left the walls within minutes after he made his speech. The general enjoyed his throne for only a week when the youngest heir, leading the first army towards West, showed up. “Worry not, my liege” said the general, hoping for a reward, “I’ve ordered the beheading of those involved in this regicide”. Rudolph wasn’t happy, though, and the biggest civil war in history, within a southern empire, started up north between Rudolph and the general. Soon after other two siblings joined and northern armies, fighting anything and everything on their way, rushed south to seize the control of the capital.
