Death can easily be administered to anyone regardless of how successful they were in life.
A god agrees with the nihilist in this story.
There are many tragedies in this story. Many fortunes arising, too.
But the god and the antichrist don't car...
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Fresh Suspicions
Varbridge Palace, Ember's Rock, Saprea
Desyrae and her company made the three day journey south only to find out that when they arrived, the High King wasn't with the assembly of people who anticipated her arrival. As insulting as it was, Desyrae took that as a small mercy. His wife Queen Irene was the one who spoke on his behalf and welcomed her warmly.
One could imagine her surprise when the High King disrupted her game of cards and demanded to be let inside her chambers. Desyrae's heart thrashed in her chest and her face blanched. The persistent demands of the King yelling rendered Desyrae motionless.
"The princess is sleeping, Your Majesty," piped Cerise, stiffening in her seat. She always chose the armchair that showed off her best angles depending on the lighting, and Saprea had plenty of light.
"I kindly ask you to rouse her then," said the King.
The following silence was almost impregnable.
Desyrae knew better than to defy him when the wrath was on her. She got up and opened the door for the High King. Her ladies set down their playing cards and followed her warily.
He motioned to the maid and Desyrae's ladies for them to leave.
Reluctantly, the girls bowed and gave Desyrae one last reassuring smile before Augustus shut the door behind them. He waited for the last echoes of footfall to fade before speaking.
"I hope you find your rooms to your satisfaction."
"Oui, Votre Majesté," she mumbled.
Augustus chuckled. "Common tongue when it pleases you. Nierish when you choose to hide. You have nothing to fear from me, Desyrae. I hope you find your rooms to your satisfaction but they are temporary. You will be moved to the Queen's suite shortly after the wedding."
She nodded.
The High King was charming. Desyrae usually liked when people smiled back genuinely, but his smile was riddled with total arrogance. He was intimidating but wore a friendly façade. He could tell her that up was down and she'd listen just because he seemed so sure of himself. But there was something in the way he looked at her, like he was doing more than just taking in her presence. Just like that, his face began to look like a mask controlled to have a particular effect on her.
Yet, she still bowed to him and showed him her respect. Tauntingly, he stalked towards the bowing girl before halting as he towered above her. "You look just like your sister when she was your age."
Desyrae was caught off guard. It was decided that his words were a deliberate slap in the face.
"What a cruel thing to say, Your Majesty," Desyrae said.
The King's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "No, gods be cursed. It was a compliment."
"Don't ever speak of my sister," Desyrae said firmly, glaring into his eyes only to be mocked.
