Rebel Spring A Falling Kingdoms(27)
“Today we officially break ground here at the starting point of the Imperial Road.” King Gaius addressed the crowd of a few hundred who’d gathered at the Temple of Cleiona, a three-hour carriage ride from the palace. “It’s my pleasure to share this moment with you all.”
The king nodded toward Magnus, who took his cue and bit into the ground with the sharp edge of the shovel handed to him. The crowd cheered, and he swept his gaze over those closest to the front.
Not all were cheering. Some watched with narrowed eyes and suspicious expressions. Many were well aware that the road was already under construction at several points across Mytica. Today was just for show.
“Well done, your grace,” Aron said.
Magnus grimaced at the sound of his reedy voice. It really would have been much easier if the boy had been relieved of his tongue after all. Then he wouldn’t always be trying to make friendly conversation with Magnus as if they were equals.
“You think?”
“You broke ground with confidence and certainty, befitting your position.”
“I’m so glad you think so.” He glanced directly at the chattering weasel. “Why are you here again?”
Aron looked momentarily offended but recovered quickly. “At the king’s wishes. He has been very kind and generous to me, and, of course, I will avail myself to him in any way he wants.”
“Right. Well, you should go right ahead and avail yourself,” Magnus said, nodding toward the king, surrounded by important nobles and other dignitaries who’d come out for the event. “Over there.”
“Yes, of course. I will. But first I wanted to—”
A drunken voice from the crowd shouted out, loud enough to be heard over everyone else.
“Fools! Every last one of you! You would believe the King of Blood’s empty promises and accept his gifts without question? You think he means to unite us as one happy kingdom? Lies! He’s driven only by greed and a lust for power! He must be stopped, or we’re all doomed!”
Silence fell.
Magnus’s gaze shot toward the king to see if he’d heard.
He had. With a flick of the king’s hand, four guards marched toward the crowd, located the man, and wrenched him forward so forcefully that he fell to his knees just left of where Magnus had dug into the soft, grassy earth. When he tried to rise, a guard pushed him back down. The empty bottle he clutched in his right hand fell to the ground.
King Gaius approached, beckoning for both Magnus and Aron to come to his side.
The man wore what looked like finely tailored clothes that had slowly tattered to near rags. A jeweled ring, crusted in grime, encircled his left index finger. His face held a few weeks’ worth of dark beard and he smelled as if he hadn’t had bathed in the same amount of time. His eyes were glazed with however much wine he’d consumed but otherwise fiercely fixed on those who now faced him.
The king swept his gaze over the man. “What is your name?”
He answered defiantly. “Darius Larides, lord of this land, formerly betrothed to Emilia, late crown princess of Auranos. I chose to fight in the battle against you. And now my family is dead for having opposed you, my home destroyed. My future holds nothing but pain—but I assure you, yours holds the very same! The people here will not always believe your lies. They will not allow you to rule unchallenged. More rebel forces gather even as we speak. Auranians are not as stupid and self-involved as you think we are.”
The king’s expression was unreadable. He raised his voice loud enough to be heard by those gathered nearby. “Lord Darius thinks I believe you all to be stupid and self-involved. I do not. You are the wisest of all your fellow countrymen for coming here to celebrate with me today. This lord is full of drink and foolish bravery. Perhaps another day he would not be so bold to insult a king who only wishes the best for his kingdom.”
There was a tense pause.
“I’m sure we can find a good place for him in the dungeon,” Magnus said, looking away as if bored. “He may yet have worth. It sounds as if he comes from an important family if he was betrothed to the eldest Bellos girl.”
“Do you agree, Lord Aron,” the king asked, “with what my son suggests?”
Aron’s brow creased, as if he was grappling for the correct response. “I don’t know, your grace.”
Magnus glared at the useless boy. Why did his father care to even ask his opinion?
“It’s difficult,” the king said, nodding. “But such moments as these require a decisive statement. Stand up, Lord Darius.”
With rough prompting from the guards, the lord got to his feet. He moved his hateful glare over the three that stood facing him, his arms held tight behind him.