The warm sun beat down on the royal palace, illuminating its lush gardens and sparkling fountains, but all this beauty was lost to the eye of the king as he sat, cramped, in an important meeting. Diabolis tried to stiff another yawn as he listened to an official drag on and on about their new tax proposal. All day he had been imprisoned in the large meeting hall as the officials and Domun Lords argued back and forth about the new tax. It seemed as if all the officials were trying to back up this half baked plan for a transportation tax, while the Domun Lords were trying their best to shoot it down, yet, in the end, the decision rested on the shoulders of the king.
Diabolis groaned as he rubbed his aching temple, this was exactly the type of thing he fretted over. How was he supposed to make this decision when the officials and Domun Lords were so evenly divided? His pounding mind began to wonder as the debate raged on.
Just like the heated conversation, the room itself felt uncomfortably warm for Diabolis. The velvet cape of his late father weighed on him like a blanket of fire. His shirt clung tightly to his neck and even the golden clasps around his arms felt like they were keeping him trapped. Sweat rolled down his brow like drops on an umbrella. The mix of heat and stress was getting to the young king and he immediately began to question if he should post pone the meeting...again.
Comis, the eldest of the Domun Lords, eyed Diabolis. He took a deep sigh before lifting his hand to shush the loud sounds of bickering. The meeting hall fell silent, and even Diabolis had looked up to see what was going on. Comis stood, adjusting his tunic before glancing about at everyone in the room.
“Gentlemen,” his voice boomed, “Your highness,” he gave a small bow, “We have been festering over this subject for nearly a week, and no one can seem to come to an agreement. I vote that we cease our pointless debate. Both the officials, and us Domun Lords have argued our sides sufficiently and there shall be nothing more to say on the matter.” A low murmur of agreement traveled across the room and he continued.
“It is time that we leave the matter in the hands of the king. I'm positive that he has taken both our sides into account and will diligently weigh them. We shall await his decision, and honor it.” Comis finished as he sat back in his chair. Diabolis, realizing the meeting was finally coming to an end, pushed himself up and adjusted the slouching crown on his head.
“Dismissed.” He sighed, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. However, it was short lived.
“We trust you will make the right choice, your grace.” The head official added as he left the grand hall. As soon as they had gone, Diabolis began to sink in his chair, his legs stretched out under the table.
Now the time had come for him to decide on the tax, and his mind was anything but made up. It was the overwhelming heat from his cloak that finally dragged him from the room. However, he knew he couldn't just go and relax, there was work to be done.
His shoulders slouched forward as if an immense burden was weighing him down while he trudged through the decorative halls. He could hardly bring himself to raise his head as he passed palace guards and handmaids. In that moment, Diabolis did not feel like a king at all, he was convinced that he was secretly the babysitter for all of Domun country. He quickened his pace as the stress began to get to his head.
Diabolis didn't see his startled guards as he raced past them, into his fathers old office, and slammed the doors tight, sending a loud reverberating echo through the whole floor. Immediately he ripped off the cape, tossing it over his chair. His crown was next to go, placed gently on the massive cedar desk. He loosened his shirt collar and slumped into the velvety chair, a groan escaping him.
“I can't do this.” He muttered to himself, eyeing a small gold coin that rested on the desk along with a few other nick knacks. He debated flipping it to decide the outcome of the tax proposal, but he knew that was anything but responsible.
“I'm not going to be that kind of ruler.” He barked, as if someone had been there to debate with him. Frustrated, but determined, he walked himself to the castle library, pulling out every form of literature on taxes that he could find. Each word was a pain to read, each sentence a boring droll of agonizing information that had him yearning for some form of entertainment. Still, he read on, book after book. Scrolls, parchments, lists and notes were all carefully studied and organized.
Diabolis wasn't sure how long he was in the library, but the growl of his stomach and the yawn that forced itself, led him to believe that it had been hours. Luckily, he was on his last book, “Early Domun Taxes.”
As he read through to the last page, and slid the cover closed, he came to the harsh realization that he still had a decision to make, and he was none the wiser as to which side was right.
“HOURS!” He shouted as he angrily swept the archaic book off the table. “I spent hours down here educating myself, doing the right thing so I could make the right choice, but none of this helped.” He wanted to burn all the pointless pages he had turned and covers he had closed. Sure, he had learned the ins and outs of taxes and could now tell anyone the very first tax of the country, but none of it was advising.
“I see you've taken to yelling at books now.” Diabolis turned as the voice of his beloved friend drifted through the library. Bialus sat atop a shelf, his tail draping down like a bell rope. When the king faced him, he could easily see the frustration, anger and utter loss hidden in his eyes.
“You were wrong, Bialus...they were all wrong.” Diabolis slumped back into the chair near his table, moving the bend of his arm over his eyes. “I can't possibly do this.” The idea of flipping the gold coin that rested on his desk was now much more inviting.
Bialus leapt down from his perch and strolled toward his agitated friend.
“I'm going to pretend you didn't say that.” He stated, his eyes wondering over the many books and scrolls scattered around the one table. “Taxes?” He thought, scratching at his dreads. He gazed back at Diabolis, who looked more defeated than a beaten dog and he knew something had to be done.
“What you need is a break. A day off to gather your thoughts. No meetings, no pointless hours in the library, and no heavy royal cloaks.” Bialus gave a long exhale and sat on the table across from Diabolis.
“I was only crowned King a week ago...I can't afford to take a day off.” He whimpered, letting his arm slide back to his side.
“It's not like you are going to get in trouble. You're king now, your tutors are gone, Cynthia can't scold you, and not even a Domun Lord would dare bat an eye in your direction.” Bialus reminded him.
“Exactly, there's no one to look after me. I HAVE to be the adult, I have to keep myself in line, and I have to make sure I don't ruin this wonderful country.” He sat up and let his head fall into his hands.
“Still I..” Bialus started but was cut off as the king suddenly stood, his chair falling to the floor.
“I don't have time to argue about vacation days.” He grumbled, leaving the Library in a huff. Bialus blinked in bewilderment, baffled by Diabolis' behavior. Never, in all the years he had know him, had he ever seen his friend so stressed. The young shifter furrowed his brows, watching as the doors to the library closed shut, something was terribly wrong.
Diabolis reached a hand to his chest as he stormed down the vacant halls once again. Was this what he had been reduced to, an angry ruler who paced his castle while he panicked?
“What would father do?” He grumbled under his breath. He tried to recall his late father, but all he could seem to bring forth was his fathers merry laugh and upturned smile that lit up any room he entered. He held himself high and proud and his clothes flowed off him like silk in the wind. His eyes were fierce piercing orbs that zapped through ones soul and trembled your very spine. He remembered how he strode through the castle like a strong lion, purpose in every step.
Diabolis paused, looking up to see his own reflection in the wide mirror that spanned the length of the hall. He was slightly hunched from all the pacing, his hair was strewn in every direction from his constant sweating. A scowl was drooping his cheeks and his eyes quivered with worry, he was nothing like his father.
The young king could feel his hopes shatter at the realization, he could never be as wise, strong or brave as his father, never. With a heavy heart he forced himself away from the mirror and decided it was time he called it a night.
As he retreated to his quarters, he passed the late kings chambers, the doors shut tight, they had been for months now. A small flicker of hope rekindled as a thought raced into Diabolis' mind. Perhaps his father had left his heir some sort of advice, some journal, note, letter, anything. Diabolis licked his lips and glanced up and down the hall, not a soul in sight. After grabbing a lantern hanging in the hall, he tip-toed to the two massive, golden, doors and carefully turned the knob. Like a calm breeze on a summer night Diabolis slipped into the vacant chambers, letting the door click closed behind him.
The dim light from the lantern illuminated objects around him in an eery warm glow, and if Diabolis hadn't known the room well, he surely would have stumbled. Quietly he glided through the rooms of the chamber, skimming every bookshelf, drawer and dresser, until he came at last to the bedroom. There wasn't much to search through, the only real piece of furniture in the massive bedroom was the bed itself. Diabolis's heart sunk, he hadn't found a thing, had his father not thought about his future at all?
As he took a seat by the end of the bed, his gaze slipped upwards to a dusty old portrait hanging on the wall across from him. The picture was a depiction of his father who had his arm draped lovingly around his mother as she smiled brightly up at him. There was a calming peacefulness about the painting that caused Diabolis to pause for a moment, a deep breath filling his lungs. His mother was always there for the king. The instant she stepped into the same room as him, a strange wave of energy would take over the king, as if he had a second wind to conquer the day.
Diabolis let his head flop against the undisturbed pillows. He wanted to find comfort in knowing that someone was there for him, that someone had his back, that someone out there was willing to help with his burden, however, he knew he was all alone. Surprisingly he managed to slip into slumber, despite the gaping hole in his heart.
To say he slept well would have been false. His dreams betrayed him with terrors and visions of impending failure. He could never hope of amounting to the ruler his father had been and it ate him up inside.
“Why didn't you study?” A call echoed through the darkness that swallowed him. Diabolis felt a tremble go down his spine, it had been a few years sense he last heard that voice, but he immediately recognized it.
“Father,” he gasped, glancing around, but there was no one.
“I did everything I could to prepare you. I gave you the best tutors in Domun Country, yet here you are quivering like a sick infant.” His father's voice stung as the words cut deep.
“I...I remember everything you taught me, but this is so much more than I anticipated.” Diabolis called back, horror stricken as he realized he was sobbing. Shame overtook him, but try as he might, he couldn't stop the tears.
“Why are you crying? Suck it up, there's nothing wrong with you. If you can't even make a decision on a simple tax proposal, how do you expect to run the country?” His father hissed.
“I'm sorry, I don't want to let you down.” Diabolis practically whispered.
“Let me down!? You've let the whole country down.” A cold wind whipped around Diabolis, chilling him to the bone. “You've failed the Domuns and the only thing you'll be remembered as is the king who destroyed my glorious country. You were never strong enough for this responsibility, I should have known.”
Diabolis thought his heart would shatter as it pounded against his chest. It was true, all of it, he was a complete disgrace, incapable of making a small decision. The crown was too big for his head, the country too heavy for him to carry, and now he had let them all down. Yet, there was no other solutions, no way out, he was stuck with no end to his suffering.
“W-what should I do?” He begged, but the lonely emptiness of silence was the only response he got. He succumbed to defeat and curled into himself, clasping his hands over his tear stained eyes. He felt an unease of heaviness on him, like he had been tied to many stones and thrown into the sea. He trembled from cold and sorrow, refusing to open his eyes until he felt a sudden warm grip on his arm, and he woke with a start.
“Woah, woah, chill out it's just me.” Diabolis' eyes blinked open and he was immediately blinded by the bright morning sun that peaked through the open curtains. Sweat beaded down his brow as he panted, trying to catch his breath. He turned his head to see Bialus glancing down at him, concern in his eyes.
“What made you sleep in here? And in your formal clothes too, aren't they uncomfortable?” The dreaded teen questioned. Diabolis scooted up, realizing he was still in his parents bed. He had been dreaming, it was all a dream, all of it. He ran a hand through his messy hair, letting a burdened sigh escape him. He knew his mind had invented the disappointed voice of his father, but he couldn't help the sting that still remained. He may have been a figment of his imagination, but that didn't mean what he had said wasn't true.
“Are you okay?” Bialus asked again, patting his friends shoulder. Diabolis rubbed at his face, why did he feel so exhausted?
“I...I'll be fine.” he lied, trying to avoid looking into those concerned golden eyes. He was suddenly yanked off the bed like a rag doll, and dragged roughly across the room.
“H-hey! Bialus what is the meaning of this?” He tried not to sound annoyed with his friend.
“I can't sit by and watch you stress yourself out. I told you to take a break so you're taking a break.” Bialus practically hissed as he forced Diabolis from his parents room and back to his own chambers. “I was looking for you all over the place this morning, and then I find you looking like a wounded animal in your parents room. I don't care what you say anymore, today you are officially off king duty.” Bialus fussed and yanked a cheap, faded, tunic from one of his many pockets. He fumbled through his cloaks and hoods until he retrieved a stitched up pair of pants, an eye patch, and an odd flask of powder.
“W-what is all this?” Diabolis pondered aloud as he held the shirt up quizzically.
“Put it on, I'm taking you into town today.” Bialus snorted as he set the rest of the stuff on the bed.
“Bialus, that's ridiculous, I can't...” Bialus practically leapt on him before he could even finish his thought. He un-lidded the flask and dumped the brown powdery contents onto Diabolis' pale locks.
“H-hey!” Diabolis protested but to no avail. Bialus roughly scrubbed at the kings head, rubbing the color of the powder into every silky strand until Diabolis' once snow white hair was a dusty brunette.
“W-what on Mundus!” Diabolis exclaimed as he caught a glimpse of his new dew in his bedroom mirror.
“If we are going to have an actual day off, then that means nobody can recognize you. Today you are not Diabolus, today you are...uh...Dustin, the carpenters son.” Bialus tapped his chin as he concocted a fake identity for the king.
“A carpenters son? Who would ever ask me what my fathers profession was?” Diabolis couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped him.
“You can never be too careful.” Bialus shrugged, stepping back to admire his work. Diabolis was no longer the young royal king, weighed down with heavy jewelry and velvety clothes. He was now a dirty old carpenter son with saw dust in his hair and an eye patch over his red eye. Bialus took a long breath,
“Let's do this.”
Authors Note: I've had this chapter half done for a while now, it needs some help but I'm tired of stalling here. So this will have to do for now.
ns 15.158.61.42da2
