Chapter 3

THE EASTERN QUARTERS

"It's been two weeks!!" Sherdane Wartaban, Mobert's father fumed. "What is taking the king makers so long to get here?!"

Mobert was as worried as his father but he could have sworn that he was over reacting right now. "Calm down father! We are to wait until the king makers are ready."

"Whatever their decision uncle, I am sure it will be in your favour." Bohan said. He was sitting close to his father who hadn't said anything since they got there.

Lord Sherdane sat down in his chair, a worried look on his face. "Do you think Andor reached out to them before he died?"

Mobert sighed. "Even if he did, the decision is still in the hands of the king makers."

"And the commander Regent." Bohan added, throwing a grape into his mouth. Proceeding to lay his back on his chair, he looked straight at Mobert who sneered at him. "Don't forget the King's adviser, Weyback: pretty sure he has a little bit of power there too."

"Will you shut up Bohan!"

"Tsk tsk tsk. You are losing your conduct big cousin...that is unlike you."

"Respect your elders Bohan!" Lord Roquern spoke for the first time, his eyes glaring at him. "I will not tolerate any form of disrespect from you on this table!"

Bohan laughed, ignoring his father and throwing another grape into his mouth— Chewing and chewing... slowly... intentionally to piss of Mobert.

Lord Roquern turned to Sherdane. "I am sure the King makers are still making a decision. If it bothers you so much as to why they are yet to arrive, you can write them a letter." He stood up. He looked at everyone except Bohan then walked out of the chamber.

Mobert looked at Bohan who was still seated, juggling oranges, both legs crossed on the table. "Are you not leaving?"

Bohan didn't stop. "Why should I?"

"This is the Eastern Quarters."

"I am pretty sure I am allowed to visit my uncle in his chamber."

"Your father just left!"

The oranges fell to the ground. Bohan looked at them pitifully and growled. He stood up : he was clothed in full body armor, without the helmet. He picked up his sword and tucked it in its pouch– picked up his helmet that was close to the basket of fruits and held it between his elbow and rib.

"Well," He grinned. "that being said, I shall take my leave."

He moved towards Mobert and patted him on his shoulder. Mobert grimaced. This made Bohan smirk and pat him again.

He turned to his uncle and bowed. "I will visit again soon, uncle."

Lord Sherdane nodded, clearly not bothered by Bohan's attitude .

Mobert watched Bohan leave. "Imbecile!"

His father chuckled. "You are a little triggered by that flopdoodle?"

"He is an itch!"

"Considering the fact that your ages are not far apart, I can understand why."

" I wish for his death!"

"Becareful how you speak, Mobert. He may be an imbecile but he is a fine warrior. I could swear that I hated Andor sitting on the throne, and thought many times of him disappearing, but I never killed him."

Mobert restrained laughter. Was that hypocrisy he heard?

"No? You may not have done it with your own hands, but you did kill him."

Lord Sherdane's face transitioned from calm to loathsome in the split of a second. He sat up in his chair and smirked. "You are right." He said and bursted out laughing. "You are learning from your father then, Mobert."

He sat down back, relaxing his muscles and picking up a goblet of wine. He drank from it—looked at his son from the corner of his eyes. "You know...I may be vile but I have a knack for discerning useful people. Bohan may be an itch but he is not ambitious. Need I remind you that he is One of Aridal's finest warriors? You need him alive more than you will want him dead."

"That is if he does not kill me first."

Lord Sherdane dropped his goblet and sighed. He was a feared man, but when it came to the decision of the throne, he would have to wait for the King makers.

He stood up, eyes surveying the chambers, thinking of what to do. "I think," He said after some time, "we should write the letter."

...

Knight Verlock walked the archway passage that led to the royal quarters, his full armoured body carrying itself with regality of a battle commander.

He was a young man in his late thirties who was trusted by late King Andor to carry out state matters with the help of the adviser. Aside from being the regent, he was a Aridal's most powerful warrior and was assigned by Late King Andor to serve his daughter till death.

He thought about the night the King had called him: it was really chilly. The late King was clothed in thick fur from head to toe, sitting at his dining table, his eyes as dull as the night.

"Sit." King Andor had ordered.

After he had asked about state matters, he offered him wine.

"My daughter will rule." He had dropped the words like a bomb.

It surprised Verlock but he was quick witted to control his reactions. "Princess Sharma?" It was after he asked the question he had realized how stupid it was. Of course it was Princess Sharma! The King had no other daughter!

"She is young." He said.

"I was eighteen when I ascended the throne."

Verlock shook his head. "My Lord, I think it is unheard of."

"Why? Because she is a woman?"

"Well...it has never happened in ancient times."

"It doesn't mean it won't happen now.' The King had said, and from that sentence alone, Verlock knew his mind was made up.

"Will you serve under the reign of my daughter?" The king asked directly.

Verlock looked at his wine: he knew that Sharma was a skillful warrior and had attributes mirroring that of her father's, but he wasn't sure about her sense of judgement.

"You of all people should understand Verlock why I do this. "

Verlock looked at the king.

"Will you serve and protect my daughter till death? "

And with that, he accepted; vowing to protect her with his life.

He walked towards the guards standing by the chamber door.

He nodded at them.

"The regent commander my Lady!" One of the guards announced.

After some minutes, a maid came out. "The princess is waiting for you my lord." She bowed and walked away to the direction he was coming from.

He pushed the door open and walked into the chamber. There was Sharma, seated in her chair in a golden silk robe.

"My Lady."