Zalthor leaned against the perfectly polished sofa in the large room, his eyes bored, legs crossed haughtily. At the other sofa sat Regent James.
He had dark brown hair; it was trimmed down, almost over-trimmed. He had soft brown eyes and a gentle appearance, just as he was known for.
The silence was loud. In front of the room stood a long window. The window was opened slightly, allowing the perfect draft to seep through.
Regent James sat up, his face slightly nervous.
"King Zalthor, I apologise for my sudden arrival. I discovered that sending a letter would take more days; I might as well just come to you instead."
He decided to say it, adding a little joke which did not come out as well as he intended, and he was correct about it.
If letters were sent, it would take longer days. Not to mention, every day His Majesty had lots and lots of letters sent, and the probability of him seeing his letter was an inch to zero percent.
He straightened as he cleared his throat, smiling softly. There was a slight wrinkle that developed on the side of his lips due to the stretch.
Zalthor remained regally calm, his fingers slightly tapping the side of the sofa, the sound in sync with the ticking of the square-shaped clock sitting on the wall, almost like a cold reminder of his time.
Regent James gulped as he added,
"I came here for your support, Your Majesty." He spoke, his voice getting steadier as he added, "On behalf of the people of Kinfer, I come to speak on their behalf… the hunger rate in our kingdom, as of last week, had increased drastically from 20% to 59.9%."
He spoke, his gaze lowered to his hands, which shook slightly as his words died in the air.
"We need your help, Your Highness, for some distribution of food," he spoke.
Silence fell again. Zalthor remained seated, his face unbothered.
"You may leave."
Regent James' head lifted, taken aback. He had not expected this. He knew that the king was blunt and spoke his mind, but he did not expect to be dismissed so early at all. He opened his mouth to plead, but Zalthor spoke.
"We will send food for this month only. With those provisions will come seeds — increase the agriculture and planting. Employ people and pay them for their work. That is all We can do. If you cannot be a good sergeant, strip yourself of that title; it does not fit your name anyway."
Zalthor's emotionless, low words carried through the room, filled with quiet insult. The man bowed as he stood. Despite the insult thrown at him, he was very grateful.
He knew that what His Majesty had just said was a great idea—they needed more farmers and land. That way, they would have more food. It was not like they lacked money, only goods.
"It is a great pleasure talking to you, Your Majesty," he spoke with a smile as he bowed once more.
Zalthor gave a curt nod. The tapping of his fingers stopped as the man walked towards the door and began leaving. The door opened and closed.
Another knock came. The door opened and Raymond entered, a small smile on his lips as he scratched the back of his head. He walked carefully towards where Zalthor stood.
"Any other meeting?" Zalthor asked.
Raymond shook his head. He tried his best to form the most polite and least terrible way it would sound for His Majesty.
"Well… yes. You have your usual night meeting, given today is Tuesday…" His words trailed off as a calm chuckle escaped Zalthor's lips, remembering the earlier incident about Yeara telling him about the goat Mr. Tuesday.
Raymond's lips parted, not expecting that at all. His eyes searched His Majesty's face as he could not believe that His Majesty had just chuckled at his words. What had he said that was funny? From what it seemed, His Highness was in deep thought.
As if trying to recall what he had said that made His Majesty laugh, he decided to test the waters and make him laugh again. Slowly, yet carefully, Raymond spoke just to make sure he was not mistaken.
"Tuesday…"
"Shut up," Zalthor deadpanned.
Raymond straightened, clamping his mouth shut as he saluted quickly. He did not want to get punished by His Majesty.
The last thing he wanted now was to be told to have a spar match, the broken bones on his feet had not even fully healed yet. It was better to be safe than sorry.
"Get out," Zalthor ordered.
Raymond bowed. He did not understand why that word had suddenly angered His Majesty. Was it because he did not want him saying it?
Zalthor, for some reason, did not want another person apart from Yeara saying it. It was as if the words she said should only belong to her and be said by her alone to his hearing.
"Your Majesty, I wanted to speak to you," Raymond finally said, his tone turning serious yet respectful. There was a slight hint of worry in it.
"Go on."
"About the Cank," he spoke.
Zalthor's gaze immediately grew dead at his words. Raymond gulped as he continued. He needed to say this.
The atmosphere grew thickly tense.
"You have to visit it. Holding yourself back might harm… Lady Yea—" His words died as Zalthor's eyes pierced him.
"This is for your safety as well. Please. This might lead to not seeing her for months if you keep holding yourself in. I beg you," he spoke.
Zalthor's eyes turned blank.
"Is that all?" he coldly asked.
Raymond nodded with a bow.
"Yes… I mean, not all. I wanted to ask a favour." He scratched his neck this time nervously, then added, "I came across a shoe in your wardrobe that I fancy. Perhaps you could find a place in your heart to give it to me."
Zalthor stood, walking past him. Raymond lowered his head. Zalthor moved to the table at the other side and took a book from it before walking back.
"May I—" Raymond's words trailed as Zalthor interrupted.
"Yes, you may leave."
Zalthor walked back to his sofa and sat, opening the leather-like covered book.
Raymond bowed. He had tried his best. He turned to leave.
"You can take the shoe," Zalthor finally spoke.
Raymond turned to him, excitement swimming across his face as he began bowing again and again.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I am very grateful. Words cannot—"
"Leave before I change my mind," Zalthor spoke as his eyes read the lines of the book.
Raymond saluted, even though His Majesty could not see him.
"Aye aye," he said as he turned with joy, leaving.
The door shut as silence enveloped the room, the turning of pages the only sound that filled it.
He stiffened.
Just then, scales began to shimmer on his skin.