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Doomed to Eternity

The Lord is our judge, The Lord is our lawgiver, The Lord is our king; It is he who will save us. These were words that the King had heard many times in his life. At first, he didn't believe in it, but after facing the fragility of mortality, there was no believer with more faith than him. People were born, People grew older, People married, People had a family. People died. People died. But he didn't. It was supposed to be a natural occurrence; but every time his life ended he returned to his lowest point; to suffer, he suspected. Would he one day be able to be free? To be happy? Only the Lord knows.

Coyle · ファンタジー
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7 Chs

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. (6)

"As known by those who aren't blind, we are struggling financially; to be more specific, the kingdom as a whole. At the moment, it's not a surprise considering that our imminent enemy, the Nazgul Empire, forbade foreign trade on their lands."

"Remember my words, not a surprise but still an issue."

"Why? One might ask. The answer is that our coffers have been emptied for the grand funeral of our former sovereign a few moons ago. And according to my calculus, taxes won't be able to repair the hole in our finances for the foreseeable future."

"To worsen our situation, the richest bailed out of the continent as soon as matters got bleak."

"And as if that wasn't enough, the last harvest of the season went abysmally wrong, not just in the capital but also in its surrounding territories. Normally this wouldn't pose to be a world-ending problem, as everything could be solved with a small favor from the church..."

"...However, as a consequence of our lavish spending at the funeral, we were obliged to get multiple loans with the clergymen of the House of God..." The old man stated, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"...House who would still support us if you, with all respect my king, weren't foolish enough to spit on the devotion of their close believers simply because they prayed to a different god than yours. A God that you once believed."

The man finished with a disapproving face.

"Oh, please spare me from your sermon Steward. I don't believe in your God but my father did. And not only did he believe in your god, he believed more in him than most of you and these preachers ever will."

"He was weary and burdened, your God promised to give him rest! As his son, how could I not honor his wishes!? Are you by any means telling me I should have buried him in a ditch like a sinner?"

The king questioned angrily, his face burning with rage.

This behavior made the old man go quiet for what seemed to be an eternity, opening and closing his mouth, looking lost for words. But in the end, the elder chose to stay silent, his milky eyes seeping with visible disappointment.

"I see the love of a son for his father, and it is a beautiful thing, my liege. But that same love will make thousands starve in the near future, how? Just how will you live with that burden!?"

"...This is the only question I ask as you…"

'How will I live?' The king repeated out loud. Seeming baffled, the younger man raised his eyebrow.

"I will live comfortably." He answered cynically, a smile presenting itself on his face, "I will live sleeping soundly on my bed, eating heartily, and ruling happily. Do you know why Steward?"

"..."

"It is because I know that my father rests satisfied wherever he is." The king finished proudly, patting his own chest. It was clear that he truly believed in these words.

"... I see."

"If you believe so deeply in that idea, as your servant it's not my place to talk against it. I can only hope you won't regret it..." The elder muttered rather ominously, quickly wiping any expression off his wrinkled face.

The matter ended there, weirdly. Silence aroused in the room, and seeing that the king motioned for him to continue his work, the old man did.

"Now, ignoring the matter of an incoming famine and our lack of reliable money lenders, according to my research we have a total of 437 Golden Grivnas, 413 Silver Grivnas, and 698 Bronze Grivnas stored." Taking a breath the elder continued, "Which roughly equates to the total of 485 Golden Grivnas, my liege."

"Some may consider this sum reasonable for the starting part of a month… and normally they would be right. Unfortunately, there isn't anything normal in our case."

"For starters, our debt with the church is due soon, and as mentioned before, I doubt that the church, or the Archbishop for that matter will accept delays in the payment. That is without saying about the interests that may pile up if we delay it."

"I understand where you coming from. But what do you suppose will happen if we don't pay them at all?" The king questioned.

"Ah, I wouldn't recommend doing it, your majesty." The elder answered calmly.

"And what made you reach that conclusion?"

"As much as the church antagonizes your reign, my liege, their influence is too strong with the rabble. Making them our enemies more than they already are wouldn't bode any well for us."

"If this matter grows any worse, I fear that the Archbishop may denounce you publicly."

"And if they do so, the peasants may refuse to pay taxes, and in the worst scenario, they could rebel. And then, when the Nazgul's ultimately attack us, we may as well be dead."

"Well, I don't think the Archbishop would denounce you in any case. The man wouldn't want to be ruled by foreign infidels after all. He lacks the courage to do so." The steward affirmed with slight ridicule.

"In any case, rumors about your conversion are already spreading amongst the lower class. I advise you to talk with the Archbishop about this matter if you find the time."

"I see. You do make a good case. Grand Chamberlain! Schedule a meeting with the Archbishop." The king continued not waiting for the answer. "In any case, please do continue Steward."

"Yes. As stated before we have a total of 485 Golden Grivnas stored in the treasury, however, that amount will dwindle absurdly with the payment of the servants of our Keep. According to my calculus, we will be left with a total of 284 Golden Grivnas."

"..."

"And… How many servants did you say we have?"

"According to my research, we have a total of 63 butlers, 70 maids, 16 cooks, 49 household guards, 30 farmers, 6 wood makers, 2 jesters, 5 entertainers, and more that aren't directly involved in the castle… and that is without talking about the garrison and the men-at-arms, my liege."

"...how…did…why..."

"... Just fire any that aren't strictly necessary… Send them away with some gratitude money or write them letters of recommendation. I don't care. But make sure that till the end of this week, we aren't wasting any more money."

"Very well… But if I may ask, should I also dismiss your entertainers?" Questioned the Grand Chamberlain.

"No. I mean… put that on hold for now." The king replied rather awkwardly.

"Understood. I will do as you wish."

*Cough*

Seeing the awkward silence, the Steward intervened discretely. "But that is not the end of it, unfortunately."

"Truth is that the crown has a lot of old debts. It might come as shocking considering that King Semyon was the one who made these lands prosper once again, just like the empires of old."

"But the sad truth is that at the end of his reign, he had less than what he started with. I know because I was with him in both situations."

"And the reason for how it ended it's honestly infuriating. As all of the present known, when the Nazguls banned foreign trade, the richest started bailing out of the continent in droves."

"The first ones to go were the greediest merchants but not long after most of the merchant guilds followed their lead… and by the end of it even our own nobles started 'disappearing'."

"First were the Knights, second were the Baronets, third were the Barons, fourth were Counts, Fifth were the Marquises, and lastly… were the Royal Dukes." The elder sighed, looking sad at the state of the kingdom.

"At that point, King Semyon was seeing everything he built breaking apart. The merchants were leaving with the money that could revitalize the economy and the nobles were leaving with the knowledge that could maintain the lands…"

"Seeing no other option to make them stay, he started offering money to those who were willing to pledge their loyalty... But where did it get us?"

"Semyon is dead. And we are holding a meeting in a room full of nobles and merchants that were either too loyal to the kingdom or weren't prepared for their positions at all."

"Many of the attendees present are 3rd cousins, distant relatives, bastards, or old men who had already retired from their position, myself included."

"What I mean to say is that we aren't prepared for this… we aren't prepared for war. Even if it pains me to give up our beloved princess, we lack the power to help Wradora."

"And so, forgive me for my traitorous words, Naum, but that is the conclusion I reached as this kingdom's Steward and Advisor. I do hope you take my words into account." The elder finished, a spark of determination glimmering in his ancient eyes.

"..."

"Don't... Don't worry... I... am taking your words into account..."

"... But my vassals, what are your opinions on this matter?"

His voice echoed through the grand hall as he posed his question to the assembled nobles. His tone weary and dissapointed. The room fell silent, and for a moment, the king thought he had not been heard.

But then he noticed the subtle exchanges between his vassals, the way their eyes darted around the room, and the small nods of agreement that passed between them. It was clear that they had already reached a decision, even his supposed loyalists were of no help.

"... Are all of you of the same mind as the Steward?"

He muttered weakly. His fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his skin, drawing blood. But the king seemed to barely register the pain. His mind clearly consumed with a seething rage.

"I had hoped that I could rely on your support, that together we could overcome any obstacle," he said, his disappointment palpable. "But it seems that I was wrong. You have betrayed my trust, and for that, there can be no forgiveness."

"To say the truth, I could have decided everything alone," he said, his words carrying a sense of weight. "But I had hoped that this would be an opportunity to befriend you, to build a stronger relationship between us. I hoped to be like my father."

His wish was hung heavy in the air, and his vassals felt a sense of shame wash over them.

"I wanted us to be more than just lord and vassal," the king continued, his voice softening. "I wanted us to be friends, allies in the truest sense of the word. But it seems that I was naive, that I placed too much faith in those who were not worthy of it. Principally you Steward."

The king stood before the man who had taught him since he was a child, his voice filled with disappointment and anger. "I trusted you above all others," he said, his words cutting through the silence of the room. "You were my mentor, my guide, and my friend. But now I see that my trust was misplaced."

The elder shifted uncomfortably under the king's gaze, his eyes darting to the ground.

"I had hoped that you would stand by me, that you would be a beacon of strength and support in these troubled times," the king continued, his voice rising in frustration. "But instead, you have betrayed me, just like the others."

The man tried to speak, to explain himself, but the king would hear none of it.

"Is it money that you all seek?" he asked, his words cutting through the tense silence of the room. "Then you don't need to worry, I will solve it for you."

Before any of the vassals could question the king further, the door was flung open with a loud bang. In strode a middle-aged man, dressed in an outfit adorned with military badges protruding from his chest. A smile played across his face as he strode towards the king, and his sapphire colored hair fluttered behind him as if it was pointing to the men who followed him.

The vassals looked on in surprise as the man approached the king, his expression one of triumph. "Your Majesty," he said, his voice filled with pride. "I bring a token of my friendship."

"Under my lead as the General, I, Fedya Maxim Morozov, Duke of Morozov, Matvey Antonov, Count of Antym, Yarik Viktorov, Count of Butik and Mechislav Maksimov, Viscount of Mechiy came to pledge our support for the call of arms of Wradora!" His voice boomed with a sense of loyalty.

"And for that, we brought gold for your cause." The man pointed towards the servants who followed him, each of them carrying chests filled with gold coins.

"Your generosity knows no bounds," the king said, his voice filled with appreciation. "You have not only pledged your support but also brought us the means to start our fight!'

The king said, his eyes shining with pride and admiration towards the men who had pledged their support. He began to clap, his bloodied hands ringing out with a resounding echo throughout the room.

"As expected of men of loyalty such as you four," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "My vassals, no, my friends!"

The king approached them with open arms, hugging each one of them tightly in turn.

"Haha!"

The king's laughed with a sense of amusement as he turned to address his other vassals, who were still standing at the back of the room. He held out his arms towards the chests of gold that had been brought in by the four men, gesturing towards them with a broad smile.

"Look at how generous my friends are!" he exclaimed, his voice booming across the room. "Seeing this, my other vassals can't help but follow their lead... right?"

His words were sweetly spoken, but the enmity behind them was clear. The other vassals shifted uneasily, exchanging nervous glances as they contemplated the king's words.

For a moment, there was silence in the room, broken only by the sound of the gold coins clinking against each other in the chests on the ground. The king waited patiently, his eyes fixed on the faces of his vassals.

Finally, one of them stepped forward, bowing deeply before the king. "We are honored to pledge our support to your cause, my liege," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Please, accept our vow of contribution."

The other vassals followed suit, each of them coming forward to bow before the king.

"Great. Problem solved," he said, glancing around the room to make sure that all his vassals were paying attention. "Now, only one problem stands..."

The steward looked up at the king, his expression was indescribable. "My lord?" he asked tentatively.

"You said that many of my vassals are useless because they weren't prepared for this," the king continued, his voice low and measured. "But you don't need to worry. Do you know why I say so?"

The steward was silent for a few moments, his eyes darting around the room. But finally, he recomposed himself. "Forgive me, my liege, but I do not know."

"Forgive you? Forgive you for what? There's no problem in not knowing something," the king said, his voice laced with kindness as he patted the steward's shoulder. The elder looked up at the king with a mix of suspicion and relief. "But what I'm going to say now is something that everyone must remember, so make sure to engrave this in your head."

"There are no incompetent vassals in this world," he declared. "There are only kings who couldn't lead them properly. What I mean is that all of you can rest easy, because I will be the best leader this kingdom ever had. You can have my word on it."

The king stood tall, his eyes flashing with determination as he spoke with conviction. "Many things will happen under my rule," he stated. "But I promise that I will bring this kingdom to glory once again! And the only thing I demand is that you follow my orders with your whole heart... understood?!"

His voice echoed throughout the room, and the silence that followed was thick with anticipation. But then, as if in response to his command, the room erupted with applause and cheers.

"Yes! Glory to Otresh!! Glory to King Naum!!!" they cried out, their voices filled with enthusiasm and loyalty. And just like that, the atmosphere was charged with energy and excitement...

... In the back of the room an old loyalist couldn't help but reflect on the scene before him. He had seen kings come and go, and this scene made him remember an old saying, 'Politics was just like chess.'

When you lose your king, it is game over.

That was an acknowledged truth.

But even so, Otresh had managed to regain theirs.

Maybe, just maybe... that was the reason he was crying.

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