The Next Emperor - a tale inspired by The King in Yellow

The Next Emperor

He could hear the muffled echoes of thunder crashing outside the walls of the palace, although the throne room had no windows for him to see either lightning or rain. Edmond preferred to stay on his throne in his cozy room all day, surrounded by his imperial guard. He did not see the guards in the shadowy corners of the room. He did not even bother to try; it was their duty to protect him and stay invisible, as it was his role as the Imperial Heir to be the very center of all attentions.

The only light in the room stood right above the throne. Edmond could barely make the silhouettes of the peasants who came every day to pledge their loyalty and ask for aid. Not that it mattered; right after his Imperial Recognition, he had decreed that everyone in his presence should wear a mask. He generously distributed richly engraved porcelain ball masks to all of the court and servants, to serve as an emblem of their allegiance to his house. Their faces were as unimportant as their names. They were his loyal subjects, ready to take up arms against the usurpers who had exiled him.

As the afternoon ended, Edmond was almost ready to send for his servants to prepare his bath, when someone knocked on the doors. A moment later, a small, hunched, limping man in a blue lizard-scale mask, who fancied himself a herald - but should double as a fool - crossed the throne room in a hurry:

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"

Edmond raised a hand and the herald stopped on his tracks. He took a moment catching his breath before continuing in a half-whisper:

"Pardon me, Your Majesty, but you have a visitor!"

"A visitor, you say? And where does he hail from?"

The man adjusted the mask on his face and looked around before whispering:

"He says he is from America, Your Majesty! And he brings news regarding your enemies, the usurpers!"

Edmond raised an eyebrow. Could it be true? An envoy from America, so soon? As much as he wanted to believe that help was already on its way, his enemies had just recently sent him to this wretched exile. He had not had the time to properly reorganize his forces and distribute titles among those still loyal to him. What if this was an attempt against his life? He pondered for a minute, and then said solemnly, to everyone in the room:

"Very well. We shall grant him an audience. Beware, though; he might be an assassin. Do not lower your guard at any moment!"

In response, the clank of metal echoed in all corners. Edmond straightened up on the throne and checked if his golden, jeweled diadem was in the right position. The herald shambled away and returned a few moments later, doing a poor job of walking with affectation, while pronouncing the imperial eulogy:

"All hail His Royal Majesty, Edmond-Rex! Heir to the Imperial Dynasty of America! Son of Hastur! Our Guide to Carcosa, and the Black Stars above!"

This was the cue for Edmond to raise his hand, as he had rehearsed so many times before. The soldiers saluted in the dark corners. The herald hobbled to a place behind the throne, while the visitor stopped at the edge of the light and bowed his head.

The stranger was young and tall. He had a long, hooked nose and wore round tortoise glasses that reflected the light and made his eyes invisible. He was wearing a formal black suit with a beautiful blue silk bowtie. His short hair was wet, but his clothes were dry. He waited for the Heir to signal that he could address him, as it was customary for noblemen. This one is accustomed to dealing with royalty, Edmond thought before speaking:

"We bid you welcome to our little court-in-exile, Mr. ..."

"I am Mr. Wilde, Your Majesty. It is a great honor to finally meet you."