Chapter 2 : The Intruder

Lowlands, the governor’s palace in Peare.

Keagan opened the large window, letting the evening breeze in and the scent of night-blooming flowers. The sky was shifting into a symphony of colours, mainly red and yellow as the sun was slowly disappearing behind the mountains. The land appeared so calm and peaceful. But Keagan knew better, these lands could be dangerous and that serene mountain might hide a volcano waiting to erupt spitting dust, fire and death. 

Keagan gazed at his father’s seal, now adorning his index finger. He couldn’t believe Black Jack was dead. For a long time, he thought the old bastard immortal. Keagan sighed, considering the major task he had ahead of him. First, he had to find his uncle, the traitor who believed he could usurp his crown. He was the heir and no one would take his throne. The coward probably went to their enemies, hoping to get gold and men, in exchange for lands when he would be king. 

‘Over my dead body,’ Keagan declared out loud. He trusted his brother to find the rat. His little brother, Brogan was a great soldier, and his uncle had few men left. A lot of them had deserted him and joined Keagan’s forces. He wished he had gone with Brog, but a king had duties, audiences, and endless problems to think about and solve. 
 
The most complicated one turned out to be the Lowlands situation. The king had put to death noblemen, merchants, and soldiers, all involved in his uncle’s conspiracy. Unfortunately, he hadn’t captured all the traitors yet. Keagan promised himself that his uncle’s betrayal would be the last during his reign. And what after that? He needed a viable and long-lasting solution for the Lowlands’ governance, a strong and loyal man. The crucial point was obvious, the people had to respect their new governor. He required a man who could rally them to the crown once again. Keagan knew it was pointless to place one of his trusted and competent friends in this position. None of them could do it, so close to him, to the centre of power.
 
Since Alagar, Lowlanders possessed a deep hatred for the royal family and its allies. They refused to fight for a family which impoverished them with heavy taxation and massacred them when they complained about it. Keagan knew how the men of the Lowlands were essential to guard the south’s borders. He had to regain the trust his father had foolishly lost. However, he couldn’t find a good solution. Even his councillors were useless on the matter. The more he thought about it, the more he realised he faced an impasse.
 
Keagan rubbed his forehead, he was getting a headache, like every time he thought about the Lowlands issue. If only his father had shown some mercy. His thoughts were interrupted by a few knocks on the library door. He had retreated to the quiet room to read the latest reports on his uncle’s rule of the Lowlands. The report was unsurprisingly calamitous. 
 
Keagan massaged the back of his neck, “Come in, Talbot,” the king said.
 
The man entered the room, adjusting his glasses, “How did you know it was me?” He asked, struggling to hold several files in his hands. He dropped a couple, bent down to retrieve them and more fell from his hands.
 
Keagan shook his head watching his chancellor, keeper of the seals on all fours gathering his documents. “Simple, even the way you knock is boring Talbot,” the king told his clerk.
 
Talbot placed the papers on the nearby table, “You won’t find me so tedious when I tell you the good news,” the man said.
 
“Are you finally getting laid?” Keagan commented.

Talbot took an immaculate handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his glasses, ignoring the king’s remark. “We’ve just received a message from Prince Brogan. He hasn’t caught your uncle yet. He breathed onto his glasses’ lens then wiped them again. “But, in his haste to escape our men, your uncle has left a large portion of his gold. The prince is having it transferred under escort to the capital.” 
 
Great news indeed, without any funding it would be much more difficult for Niall to travel, and pay his men who would keep turning on him. His uncle was probably going to Goria, their oldest enemy. Since Keagan was a child, both kingdoms had been fighting for lands. Therefore, the problem with the Lowlands had to be resolved quickly. In the past Goria had often exploited the Lowlands’ hatred for his family, inciting rebellion to expand their territory north. This had to stop, but how? The traitors’ punishment would not help the crown’s popularity. His headache intensifying, Keagan groaned.
 
“I knew you wouldn’t be jubilant, but could you at least display some form of satisfaction?” 
 
“I am satisfied Talbot. I will be jubilant when we catch the piece of s –.” 
 
There was another knock. Keagan told whomever it was to come in. Apparently, his time of peace and quiet was over. Alvize one of his trusted advisors entered the room. 
 
“Your mother wrote again, your majesty, she is wondering how long you will be staying in the Lowlands. She is worried and my sister is as well,” the councillor said.
 
“Keagan,” the king corrected his councillor. He wasn’t like his father who wanted everyone, even his wife and children to use his title. The new king preferred his closest friends and his brothers in arms to call him Keagan, at least when they were alone. He didn’t want an additional barrier between him and his immediate entourage. Power isolated the sovereign enough from the people around them. Keagan had told him countless times to use his name in private, but Alvize kept using his title.
 
Alvize had been a father to him, when his own was too busy chasing women and drinking, to give him and Brog any attention. Alvize had taught him how to fight, how to ride a stallion and the art of seduction. In that area the apprentice had surpassed the master. Alvize had been one of his father’s trusted soldiers, but he had left his father’s service after Alagar. He had been appalled by his father’s cruelty and what he witnessed there. When Keagan had reached his majority and had to select his companions and councillors, he had asked Alvize to join him. 

Alvize’s family had been a surrogate one for Brog and him. His sister, Bianca had been one of his governesses. Alvize’s niece, Nichola had grown up with them. It was among them the two brothers had escaped the weight of being Black Jack’s sons.
 
“What does she think will happen?” Keagan asked. His mother always worried too much and was overprotective. As if leader and victor of many battles, Keagan was unable to take care of himself.
 
“I understand her worries, this territory has a lot of resentment towards the crown,” Alvize explained.
 
“It’s time to let go of the past, it has been twenty years,” Keagan told him.
 
“Twenty-one,” Talbot rectified. 
 
“For many, hate is somehow an inheritance passed from one generation to the next,” Alvize explained. “Keagan, the Lowlands didn’t forget Alagar and they never will,” he added sadly.
 
The King hadn’t forgotten either. He was only eight and his father had insisted on his presence despite his mother’s categorical refusal. The late king considered his heir old enough to see how his disobedient subjects were punished. Keagan, thanks to Alvize’s interference didn’t have to take part in the massacre. He entered the village afterwards. He could still see the bodies lying on the ground, remember the smell, and hear the cries of agony. He had had nightmares for years after Alagar. Today still, but they were rare.
 
Alvize, probably sensing Keagan was thinking about that unfortunate day decided to change the subject. “Did you have the time to consider Lord Ambrose’s request?” the advisor asked.
 
“Yes,” Keagan answered, glad for the change of subject. “He can die in dignity; I don’t care, as long as he dies.”
 
“Keagan about that I –” Alvize started, he was cut by the herald who came to announce dinner was served. 
 
“Let’s leave it for now. I’m starving,” Keagan said.

 
***

Keagan dined with his inner circle, his long-time friends. The conversation was always pleasant, full of teasing, real and imagined warrior exploits and, of course, tales of conquests and nights of pleasure. He trusted all the men and women around him and would have fought for each of them. The dishes prepared were delicious and the wine excellent, and for the first time during that day Keagan relaxed a bit. 

The king looked at his luxurious surroundings, his uncle possessed expensive taste. The governor’s palace was superb, built with marble, gold and precious stones. He recalled how impressed he had been by the baths in the governor’s quarters, encrusted with lapis lazuli. All this created with the money Niall extorted from the Lowlands population. This palace was obviously a reflection of his desire for greatness. 
 
Keagan’s eyes lingered on one of the servants, a blonde with big brown eyes, and a generous bosom. The king gave her a smile full of promises. She almost dropped the plate she was carrying. The maid blushed, her eyes eager, ignoring the disapproving look from the master of the service. Keagan then glanced at Oliver, and he nodded discreetly in understanding. Oliver was in charge of the King’s house, Keagan’s comfort and pleasure as well, especially when they were travelling. He would arrange for the servant to be sent to Lila, the second in charge. After an inspection and a thorough bath under her examination, she would be sent to the King’s bedchamber. 

Keagan would have her tonight. A pleasurable night was all he needed to work out the tension the Lowlands situation had prompted.
 
After dinner the king and his court gathered in a small parlour, musicians were playing and his friends were all lying in comfortable seats, enjoying more wine and massages from the servants. Two women were massaging Keagan’s skull, he sighed contently. 

“This is what life should be about,” Dorian the captain of the guards said, looking down at the woman massaging his feet.  

Don’t get used to it,” Talbot retorted. “There is a lot of work we need to do in the coming months.” 

Dorian threw his head back and another woman placed a couple of grapes in his mouth. “You can always count on Tal to ruin the mood.” 

“I am not, I just don’t want you to go soft,” Talbot explained. 

Dorian straightened, “Who are you calling soft?” 

“How long are we staying here?” Nichola asked the king. 

“Are you missing your mummy, Nicky?” Dorian wondered. 

“No, I’m missing yours actually,” Nichola retorted, gesturing something obscene. 

“Fuck you, Nick,” Dorian replied. 

“Come on,” Benedict intervened, “We should leave mothers out of our conversations.” The man was in charge of diplomacy among other things. He was always the voice of reason, trying to talk some sense into his comrades, a lost cause for Keagan. 

“Quit being such a priest, Ben,” Dorian said. 

“Yeah, you missed your calling,” Nichola added.  

Benedict shook his head at the two and turned to the king, “We can’t afford to remain here for too long, your absence from the capital would give your enemies time to plan and plot against you.” 

“He’s right,” Alvize said. 

Keagan sighed, “I know, but I want to appoint a governor for the Lowlands before leaving.” 

“I can help with that,” Dorian remarked, “if you need a high calibre man –” 

“He isn’t unfortunately in this room,” Oliver declared causing the others to laugh. 

“You will get bored as a governor,” Keagan told his friend. 

“You’re right, I enjoy risking my life,” Dorian said.

“And ours,” Benedict coughed. 

“Damn it, Ben, it happened only once,” Dorian proclaimed. 

“And the time you left me in the middle of nowhere surrounded by bloodthirsty Gorians?” Tyrell wondered. The man was in charge of the king’s journey and scouts and had found himself in a couple of problematic situations thanks to Dorian. 

“Perhaps twice, but how many times have I saved your asses?” Dorian said. 

Keagan stood, “We won’t find a solution tonight.” 

He was eager to get to more pleasurable matters. 

***
Keagan’s heart was racing, lying on his back after his third orgasm of the night. His bed companion was waiting for her breathing to return to normal as well… Her sweaty hair sticking to her face. She had enjoyed the time spent in his bed, the loud and annoying cries she emitted were good evidence. Keagan had no doubt about his sexual prowess, he excelled in fighting and sex. He felt better now, relaxed and his head clear once again. 

His thoughts took him back to his kingdom’s matters once again, the burden of power Alvize called it. He was a king now, and that burden would never escape him. What should he do? Damn it, damn the Lowlands and above all damn Black Jack who was hopefully being tortured in Hell. 

The woman in his bed chose that moment to put her hand on his sex, smiling seductively at him. Keagan had forgotten for a second, he wasn’t alone. The king found himself annoyed by the woman’s audacity. He took her hand off of him. “You may leave,” he told her. She straightened, she seemed surprised and disappointed. They always were even if they knew who he was and what he wanted before entering his chambers. He always made sure they did. They always hoped to be the one to keep his attention longer, hoping for gifts, lands, jewels, position and status. Keagan rarely gave anything.   

Keagan preferred those whom we hoped to gain something by sharing his bed. The worst kind was those who deluded themselves into believing they were in love with him and couldn’t live without him. Those were fools, first to believe in love in the first place, and second to think he did. Love was for imbeciles who had lost touch with reality. 

“I thought –” 

Keagan wasn’t a patient man. 

“You thought wrong,” he said. “I have enjoyed your company as I’m sure you have enjoyed mine, you may leave … now,” Keagan demanded.
The servant quickly got out of bed, dressed and rushed for the door. Alone at last, Keagan thought. He stood up and went to the basin of water and cleaned himself with a cloth. He put on his green silk dressing gown, lighted more candles and poured himself a cup of wine that he drank quickly. 

He went to open the doors leading to the balcony, he stood there watching the landscape. He placed his hands on the cold stone and looked down at the gardens submerged in darkness. I 

He headed inside for more wine, and as his bare feet entered the room, he knew he wasn’t alone anymore. There was someone behind him in the balcony. His sword was too far away, his dagger underneath the cushion. Calling for the guards would make the assassin run away and Keagan wanted to find out who had the temerity to try to kill him. Was it one of Niall’s men? The old houses? Vengeance for the noble men he had put to death? Goria? He could manage with his bare hands, he had done it before. Now he was waiting for the intruder to make a move. And the moment Keagan heard the light step forward, he turned around ready to fight. But he was faced with something unexpected.  

The intruder had fallen onto one knee. 

Keagan frowned confused not leaving him out of his sight he walked backwards until he had his sword in his hand. He twirled it in his hand before placing it on the man’s neck. 

“Who sent you?” Keagan asked. 

A laboured breath escaped the stranger. 

“N – No one.” 

A woman’s voice, Keagan noticed. He didn’t put his sword down, he wasn’t a fool, women should never be underestimated, they made great assassins.

“Uncover yourself,” the king ordered.  

The woman put her hood down, and since the room was plunged in half-light, he couldn’t distinguish her features. 

“Who are you?” 

“I-I’m Thalen of the Ambroses.” 

“Your Majesty is everything alright?” he heard a soldier behind the doors.” 

“Yes,” he answered. His eyes never leaving her. “Is it in your habit to force men’s doors, Lady Ambrose?”
“I doubted you would have agreed to receive me, and… I had to see you … please.” 

No, he didn’t have time to hear her plead for her father’s miserable life.

Both knees on the ground and hands clasped, she looked up intensely at him, “I only need a few minutes of your time, I’m begging you, Your Majesty.” 

Perhaps it was her imploring tone or her eyes shining with unshed tears he could perceive, but he found himself willing to listen, she was already there after all. He doubted she could change his mind. The king sighed and put his sword down. Damn it, damn the Lowlands.