Chapter 9
It takes all of his willpower and strength for the Royal Provisioner not to whimper cowardly for each step he takes toward the captain's quarters. The soldiers that were with him when he tried to have the man wearing the Seal of the King arrested follow him grimly, knowing what's in store. With a deep breath, the Royal Provisioner opens the door to reveal Powuru sharpening his sword while looking through maps of the kingdoms he plans to start a war against. The captain stops sharpening and puts down his sword without looking at his men.
"You were not summoned to my quarters, provisioner," he says bluntly.
"N-n-no, sir," the Royal Provisioner says. "But I have something to report."
"Oh, I'm sure you do," Powuru says coldly as he stands up and walks toward the frightened, fat man. "Word has spread about the Royal Provisioner cowardly kneeling in front of a citizen and his electric rat who successfully fended off a dozen of my men and stole a cart full of my food."
"S-s-sir, please, allow me to explain," the Royal Provisioner begs.
"And why should I?" Powuru challenges angrily as he glares at the frightened man. "It seems all too clear that your occupation under my command has made you so fat that you barely have a spine worth spit."
"You don't understand," the Royal Provisioner weeps. "This wasn't just a man. He was acting like a nobleman. No, more than that, he was acting like a person of power. And he had the ring?"
"A ring?" Powuru sneers. "Do you honestly think a man wearing a ring gives him the right to take my plunder?"
"This wasn't just any ring, sir," the Royal Provisioner says. "It was the prince's ring. The Seal of the King."
At those words, Powuru's menacing glare fades. The Royal Provisioner feels a sense of relief as the captain loses his strong posture and takes several steps back until his back hits the desk. He turns around and with a look of shock and disbelief.
"Are you sure?" He manages to say. "This wasn't just some fake ring crafted by some clever smith?"
"There was no mistake, sir," The Royal Provisioner says. "There is no ring like it. Anyone who has glimpsed at it before would recognize it instantly. It's the great Seal of the King."
"I see," Powuru says with a frown. "So it was the prince the Sergeant and I threw out."
The Royal Provisioner takes the captain's realization as a beacon of hope and stands up.
"If it pleases you, sir, send me to retrieve the prince," he requests. "I will -"
But as he speaks, Powuru grabs his sword and stabs the royal provisioner straight in the throat. The fat man chokes on his own blood as he grabs the sword trying to get it out of his throat which does no more than cause him to cut his own hands before his soul leaves his body. The soldiers whimper in fear as Powuru removes the sword from the Royal Provisioner's neck and returns to his desk.
"You will do nothing," he says firmly to the corpse before he turns to the guards. "Feed the blob to the Houndoom. I'm sure they will appreciate the taste of man flesh before the war to come."
"Y-y-yes, sir," they all say as they take the body and drag it away, leaving a trail of blood as they leave.
Powuru sighs frustratedly as he sits down and rubs his face. He struggles to keep his anger in check as his mistake fills his mind. Suddenly, he starts banging on the table angrily and lets out a loud, exasperated cry. He turns the desk over in rage when he hears a knock on the door.
"What?!" he yells.
The door opens to reveal Calem with a collected look on his face.
"Oh, it's you," Powuru sneers at his son. "Perhaps you are aware of our little mistake?"
"I am," Calem says.
"We need to find the prince fast," the captain growls. "The last thing we want is for Markenal to find out."
"Actually, that might not be necessary," Calem says. "I happen to have some good news and some interesting news."
Powuru's wrathful tantrum fades into intrigue at Calem's words.
"Go on," he orders.
Calem turns his head around and makes a head gesture before entering. Following him is none other than Markenal looking at Powuru with a business look in his eye.
"Ah, Sir Markenal," Powuru says respectfully. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"You may dispense with the pleasantries, captain," Markenal says with a wave of his hand. "I'm here to offer you a deal."
Powuru raises his eyebrow and turns to Calem who clears his throat.
"It appears the head of the household figured out on his own that the prince was missing," he explains.
"And it was all too easy," Markenal states. "I may be old, but I'm not blind. I had to tutor that brat for so many years that I know when someone else is posing as him. The prince is a fool to think I wouldn't notice his doppelganger has brown eyes instead of blue. It's embarrassing that the sergeant here didn't figure it out."
Powuru frowns and glares at Calem who clears his throat again and says, "Let's focus on your deal, please sir."
Markenal scoffs at the young man trying to change the subject before turns he turns to the captain and says, "Captain Powuru, I have come to offer you my services as an ally to your cause."
Powuru stares at Markenal suspiciously and asks, "And what do you think my cause is, old man?"
"To take over the kingdom, obviously," Markenal answers. "The physician never fooled me into thinking the King isn't dying. It also doesn't take a genius to figure out how you have wanted the power for yourself for so many years and I would assume you plan to kill the prince shortly after he's crowned and married to the Kantoian princess, am I right?"
Powuru becomes intrigued with what the head of the household just announced.
"And what can you offer that I don't have?" He challenges.
"Well, when you overthrow the monarchy, someone has to still manage things at the castle," Markenal says in a matter-of-factually tone. "Plus, I can aid you in arranging how you dispose of the fake prince and the princess. Maybe there is even a way that we can use the fake to retrieve and get rid of the real prince."
Powuru chuckles coldly in amusement and asks, "You don't care what happens to the prince, his doppelganger, the princess or the king?"
"What love do any of them deserve?" Markenal challenges. "Everyone dies, so why should I make an issue over the king going like anyone else? As for the rest, the princess is nothing more than a pretty face, the prince was always childish and disrespectful and his accomplice is no better. No attachment would do me any good any more than it can save them from what you're planning. I wish only to come out on top and be rewarded for the stupidity I had to put up with, tutoring that incorrigible child. At least you have a clear, strong vision as a ruler. I would eat my cloak before I let that brat wear a crown for longer than a day. Just don't cause too much of a mess when you slice him and that cheerful bimbo up. Blood is hard to wash off a bedroom fit for a real king."
Calem winces lightly at the mention of Serena sliced up. Powuru, however, smirks in amusement at how quickly the head of the household renounces his affiliation with the royal family.
"You know what, Sir Markenal?" Powuru says. "I'm beginning to like you."
Markenal scoffs.
"About time someone does," he says making both men chuckle. "Oh, and I do believe your son said there is good news to tell you also."
Powuru raises his eyebrow and says, "Go on."
Markenal turns to Calem and asks, "Would you like for me to do the honors, Sergeant, or should you?"
Hoping to gain better favor from his father, Calem steps forward and turns to Powuru.
"The king is very close to dying, sir," he says. "The physician gives him about two hours tops from now."
Powuru grins eagerly at this news.
"At last," he says before turning to Markenal. "I assume that means you will need to set up a coordination, am I right?"
"Indeed," Markenal answers. "And since the King wished it so, the King of Kanto is to come because the prince is to marry his daughter soon after."
"And that's when we strike," Powuru says with his grin ever growing. "How long will it take the King of Kanto to arrive?"
"With our fastest Fletchling carrying the message, I'd say he would arrive within a week," Markneal answers. "That gives us more than enough time to set up the coordination and the wedding and find the prince to carry out his role if that is your wish."
The captain of the guard thinks for a moment before he says, "No, he does not need to be there for the coordination. I'm thinking we use his little game with his doppelganger to our advantage. With the right leverage, that commoner will tell us where the prince is so that we can throw him in the dungeon. Then our new puppet will carry out the coordination and the wedding as I see fit and then we kill him and his bride on their wedding bed to start our beloved war. Once all of this is done, I will lacerate the prince as I see fit."
Markenal hums in amusement.
"You are a quick schemer, Captain Powuru," he compliments. "Now with your permission, I must await the king's command to summon the so-called prince for his last words."
Powuru makes a cold, evil chuckle at the thought of the King saying his last, dying words to someone he only thinks is his son.
"Permission granted," he says with a cruel grin.
Markenal nods and bows his head before leaving. Calem stands in place, which quickly catches his father's attention.
"You have something else to say, boy?" He asks.
Calem winces at being called "boy" before he clears his throat.
"I uh...have a request concerning the moment we dispose of the pauper and the princess."
Powuru rolls his eyes in disappointment.
"You really couldn't control your lust for that girl, could you?" He rebukes, taking Calem aback. "I overheard from the guards how you clearly were trying to woo her with that pitiful battle against the pauper with that mutt of yours."
Calem hangs his head in shame and takes a deep breath.
"Fine, I am licentious for the princess," he barks. "There is nothing she can't do to abolish any attempt to rid me of my thoughts. She is an unfathomable creature and her every gaze on that penniless git insults me."
Powuru shakes his head in further disappointment.
"And what do you expect me to do about it?" He asks.
"Let me have her," Calem growls. "As soon as you have killed the pauper, allow me to let out my desires before plunging that Hoenn knife into her. Just allow me to my way upon her and then I will carry out my mission as you see fit unconditionally. I swear by the glorious war to come."
Powuru glares at Calem, unamused with his childish plea. Then he sighs and shrugs uncaringly.
"So be it," he says. "I admit even I allowed myself to fulfill a brief desire for a woman's flesh once upon a time despite my resistance. Perhaps it is time you do the same just to let out what your own flesh's desires. But be forewarned, boy, I need your word that you will slit her as I see fit just as you claim and you will never ask for such primitive, addlebrained nonsense ever again."
Calem feels a sense of relief, hearing his father's permission. He grins in anticipation as he knows what to say next.
"Yes, my lord. You have my word."