24
TRIP
General Hardcourt shook his head, looking dour as always. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. They escaped.”
“Fucking bastards,” I grumbled.
It was nearly two in the morning, hours after the dinner with Bryce and her parents. There had been some vicious attacks in the south, and I’d ordered my men to move in and arrest the killers.
Apparently, though, they’d gotten away somehow. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed as though they still had some local support. Someone was protecting these people, someone who knew the land intimately.
Worse, they seemed to know exactly what we were planning as we planned it. Based on his expression, I could tell that the general was as frustrated as I was. Unfortunately, though, I was the only one who would get blamed for any failures.
In the end, any losses, any mistakes, they were all firmly on my shoulders. I gave the orders, I made the decisions. I listened to advisors and I delegated tasks, but in the end, I was responsible.
It was all on me. That was the king’s burden.
As I leaned back in my chair, exhausted and beaten down, one of Hardcourt’s aides came in and whispered something in his ear. The general somehow managed to look even more dour, if that were even possible.
“Your Highness,” he said solemnly, “we have more reports of another attack in Stehen.”
“Another?” I asked. “What now?”
“A concert, Your Highness. Two shooters came in, yelled some pro-democracy slogans, and opened fire. The police have the situation under control now. One suspect is in custody.”
“The other?”
“Dead, sir.”
“Fuck,” I said, staring down at my hands. “We need to do something.”
“I agree, Your Highness.” Hardcourt sat down across from me. “Your Highness, might I suggest you place Stehen under the Secret Police’s protection?”
I looked at him sharply. “Isn’t that a bit drastic?”
He shook his head slowly. “Your Highness, if I may be so bold, the situation is already drastic.”
“This is a big step, Hardcourt.”
“Yes, it is. We need big steps right now.”
I shook my head and leaned back in my chair. I needed to take a moment to think about this.
The Secret Police were legendary in Starkland. They were brutal and tough, and they were always the king’s last resort. For a long time I thought they were a myth, but when I became king I found out the truth.
The Secret Police were very, very real, and they were very deadly.
The idea of sending them into my own city made me angry. I didn’t want to impose my will on the city, even if it meant saving my people. I didn’t want to destroy their freedom to simply save their lives.
And yet the rebels were getting more aggressive. I knew that if I didn’t do something, the rebels would take advantage of my uncertainty. I didn’t have time for weakness, and I wasn’t the weak type.
This was a huge step. I could feel weariness tugging at my eyes and my body, making me feel heavy and sluggish. I was angry and I was exhausted.
Hardcourt had a point. Things had already gotten pretty bad. Maybe the Secret Police would begin to enforce very strict rules and curfews in Stehen, and the city may very well grind to a halt, but at least people wouldn’t get murdered while out at a nightclub.
What would my people think of me if I made this decision?
Maybe it was better for them to think anything rather than to get killed.
“Your Highness?” Hardcourt asked.
“Send in a small contingent of the Secret Police,” I ordered. “Do not put the city under martial law. Impose a curfew, and that is it. Wait for further commands.”
He nodded. “At once, Your Highness.” He stood and left the room.
I watched him go, a sinking feeling dropping through my body.
I FOUND myself wandering the halls again late into the night, and I knew exactly where I was headed.
No need to pretend. No need to try to deceive myself. I was heading to Bryce’s room.
I stopped outside her door. It was late, and I knew she’d be asleep, but for some reason I was compelled to knock, not even to see her body, but mainly to hear her voice. I’d just made a momentous decision in my reign, and I had no clue how history would view me.
I needed a familiar comfort, and I couldn’t think of anything better than Bryce.
I knocked on her door softly. After waiting a few minutes, I knocked louder.
“Who is that?” I heard her say, sounding sleepy.
“It’s Trip. Sorry I woke you.”
There was a pause, and then the door opened a crack. Bryce stood there, looking worried. She wore a plain white T-shirt and cotton shorts. I could see her breasts outlined clearly under the thin shirt, and I felt my cock stir.