Sins & Virtues

Chapter Eight: Experience from Experience

Bree

Wychwood Leap, Wych

The new King of Wych glared up at the throne, standing high above him on the raised dais, framed against the high wall engraved with thousands upon thousands of carved leaves, some made of stone, others metal, some wood, some gemstones. The throne itself stood seven feet tall, the unadorned seat three feet off the ground, suitable for his uncle, who had stood an astonishing six feet tall. The new king would later go on to order a temporary one built, until he didn't look so ridiculous in his uncle's seat, but until then Bree accepted the pillow propping up his back, and the footstool inches beneath his feet, and glowered at any snickering noble brave enough to comment.

For the first few days into Bree's reign, when the black banners still hung heavy on the walls and the palace was silent, Professor Magnus and Sir Roche had flanked either side of the throne, as his confidants, his support and his protectors.

Then a lord made a comment.

He questioned who was in power, King Bree or his two lackeys. He asked it flippantly and in private, but Bree had known every serving maid and every squire boy since before he could remember. They were his friends and they told him what he needed to know. The foolish lord promptly left court and Magnus and Roche were kindly asked to stand away from the throne. They remained close by and he didn't argue that.

Bree huffed, watching the sun track its way higher into the sky with each passing minute he stood in his empty throne room. He had dressed for the day, as his uncle would have, in a jacket and waistcoat, embroidered with mushrooms and frogs, his brown hair neatly brushed and the iron band he had avoided all his life atop it. The band was a proxy for the crown, to be worn on days when the official crown of the kingdom wasn't required. It didn't quite fit yet anyway.

Sparing one last glare at the throne, Bree stalked from the throne room and down the hall, past the tall archways through which the wind whistled on blustery days, and where he used to hop along the protruding stone. His uncle didn't liked that.

The halls were quiet. On most days, courtiers and merchants filled the halls of his uncle's palace, but today was the day of the council meeting and nobody was permitted within the palace grounds on those days. His uncle had feared spies more than any enemy.

' Hey,' the passing maid startled, almost dropping her basket of laundry. ' Where is the council? I thought they met in the throne room, but nobody is there.' Bree asked.

The maid curtsied. ' Lord Rosales decided to move the meeting to the eastern wing, to overlook the troops, Your Grace. Pardon me, Your Grace, but Lord Rosales said he would tell you of the change.'

' He didn't.'

' Your Grace, I am sor...'

' Don't be, just show me where they are.'

The maid hurried to obey, leaving Bree to jog behind in her haste. They passed many servants and maids as they headed for the eastern wing; the lack of courtiers and palace guests meant the staff could furiously clean while the halls were empty, scrubbing the floors caked with dirt from muddy boots and dusting the portraits that hung on every wall. The staff all looked up, surprised and anxious at the sight of their new King. The closer they got to the eastern wing, the more their anxiety grew, as Bree's annoyance did.

The maid ran away as soon as they reached the double doors, pointing and dropping serviettes in her wake.

' Queen Marisol's demand for an inquest was smart, but many of the other lords have seen it as a suspicion against the other kingdoms,'