Gasps and murmurs rippled through the tavern as the patrons took in the unexpected news.

  "Is it true?" a man near the hearth asked, his mug trembling slightly in his grip. "Is the king truly dead?"

  Another voice chimed in, laced with skepticism. "Where did you hear this? Surely that can’t be right."

  The man who brought the news, a wiry traveler with dust still clinging to his boots, raised his hands as if to ward off suspicion. "Straight from the capital," he said, voice steady despite the weight of his words. "City officials are announcing it in the streets."

  A stunned silence followed, as if the very walls of the tavern held their breath. Then, like rain after a drought, whispers flooded the room once more.

  At a far table, Viktor, Fenric, Arelos, and Soren exchanged wary glances.

  Soren leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think this might've been what Voralis was trying to warn us about?"

  Arelos nodded slowly, visibly hesitant. "It's possible. The fallout from this... it's far from simple. This happens years earlier than anyone anticipated, and the political turmoil it could unleash might threaten the very stability of the kingdom."

  Fenric shrugged, casual and unconcerned. "Surely it can't be that bad. When you think about it, what difference does it make who wears the crown?"

  Viktor tilted his head, eyeing Fenric as if trying to determine whether he was being deliberately obtuse. "You've got a strange idea of what being a ruler entails."

  Fenric leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm just saying, what’s the worst that happens? A new king sits the throne, and life moves on. What terrible policy is this Carolian fella going to enact that has you all shaking in your boots?"

  Arelos sighed, rubbing his temples as if this conversation were one he’d had too many times. "We've been over this before, Fenric. It’s not about what Carolian will do—at least not immediately. It’s about how the other dukes will react to him sitting on that throne."

  Fenric's brow furrowed. "But why would they make such a fuss?"

  "Consider this," Arelos continued, leaning forward slightly, "For generations, they've been equals, merely rivals. But what do you do when your rival climbs to the pinnacle and turns that power against you?"

  Fenric pondered this idea, tapping the table lightly. "Alright, I see where you're coming from. Still, they should just come to terms with reality and adapt."

  With a heavy sigh, Arelos pressed on, "What would you do, backed into a corner, with your lands, your vassals, even your family's fate dangling precariously?"

  Fenric frowned. "Alright, fair point. But still, wouldn’t the Carolians be aware of the delicate nature of all this? They wouldn’t do anything drastic, right?"

  Arelos spread his hands. "Probably? But that’s no guarantee. And therein lies the problem—the lack of certainty."

  Breaking the tension, Viktor chimed in thoughtfully, "The king's untimely death, so soon after the wedding, spurs considerable consternation among those watching from the wings."

  A troubled Soren interjected, "The bearer of news, he never mentioned how the king died. Do you think foul play could be involved?"

  "Let's not dive into blind conspiracies," Arelos replied sternly. "But if people suspect foul play, that will only add fuel to the fire."

  Viktor stared at his drink, swirling the liquid within. "My father always said the king was a good ruler."

  Arelos nodded, agreeing. "Indeed, he made his share of errors, but his rule was marked by measured actions and respect from the peerage."

  Fenric exhaled sharply. "So what happens next?"

  In an uncharacteristic admission, Arelos confessed, "Truthfully, no one can say what tomorrow’s dawn will bring. It's the unpredictability itself that's most distressing."

  "Well," Fenric declared with a laugh, "I'd rather dance with chaos than cling to order."

  Arelos chuckled, shaking his head. "Tell that to the merchant trying to decide what goods to stock, or the baker considering taking on an apprentice, or the tavern owner wondering if she should expand her business. These people rely on stability."

  Fenric waved a hand dismissively. "They’ll adapt."

  Viktor chuckled. "Easy to say when you don’t have mouths to feed."

  Soren grinned. "Imagine Fenric with kids."

  Fenric snorted, feigning insult. "Please, how hard could raising kids really be?"

  Viktor grimaced playfully. "I can see it now, you handing your three-year-old a dagger, 'Don't stab anyone unless they deserve it,' you'd say."

  The group shared a hearty laugh, picturing the scene, while Fenric just shrugged. "Seems like reasonable advice to me."

  By now, the tavern’s earlier energy had waned, the initial shock giving way to a heavy silence. Even the most boisterous patrons had subdued, lost in their own thoughts. The air was thick with unease.

  Viktor stretched, rolling his shoulders. "It’s getting late, and this place has gotten too grim. We should head out. I’m sure Mira and Jax will be waiting for us."

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  With agreement all around, Viktor approached the bar to settle their tab. "Could you wrap us up six ciders to carry?" he requested from Bryna, who nodded compliantly.

  Bryna smiled as she fetched the drinks, setting them down carefully before taking the payment. "Thank you. And do me a favor, will you? Don’t wait months before visiting again."

  Viktor chuckled. "We’ll be back sooner, promise."

  He returned to the group, his pack now bulging with cider, and they all waved to Bryna as they stepped out into the night, the weight of the evening still pressing down on their shoulders.

  Soren, Viktor, Arelos, and Fenric made their way back to the abandoned house, the weight of their thoughts evident in their silence.

  As they wove through the dimly lit streets, the city stirred with an unease that hadn’t been there before. Officials moved swiftly between buildings, their hushed conversations carrying snippets of grave concern. The name of the king surfaced more than once in passing, spoken in a mix of hushed reverence and barely contained panic. In the marketplace, vendors who would normally be shouting their wares instead whispered amongst themselves, their faces pale. A group of guards hurried past, their armor clanking as they pushed through the thin crowd, eyes scanning every shadow as if expecting an unseen threat.

  Even in the quiet alleys, the weight of the news hung heavy. Viktor caught sight of a town crier in the distance, his voice hoarse from the repeated declaration—The king is dead!—a phrase that sent fresh ripples of fear and uncertainty through those who stopped to listen.

  The four of them pressed on, slipping away from the worst of the commotion, but the echoes of a city in turmoil trailed behind them like a shadow.

  "Do you think Jax or Mira might've caught wind of what's happened?" Soren asked, breaking the thick silence as he cast a curious glance towards his companions.

  Viktor shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze fixed ahead. "I guess it depends on when the news broke and where they were at the time."

  "We'll find out soon enough," Arelos added, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

  Fenric chimed in cynically, "That’s if they even decided to show up."

  Soren mulled over Fenric's remark. "You have a point. They might have heard what’s coming and thought it wiser to stay home."

  Viktor let out a dry laugh. "Nah, they'll show. It's not like them to bail," he said confidently.

  Their conversation meandered to wild guessing about Jax and Mira’s whereabouts and intentions until finally, the shadowy silhouette of the abandoned house loomed ahead. Entering cautiously, they scanned for any sign of their friends, but the place was emptier than a tomb.

  Fenric wore a smug expression. "See what I mean? No one here. Probably chickened out," he said, his voice carrying a hint of vindication that echoed slightly in the desolate stillness.

  But just as the last of his words faded, a piercing scream ripped through the eerie quiet. A shadow lunged from the darkness, barreling towards Fenric with unexpected speed.

  Startled, Fenric let out a panicked yelp, instincts firing as he whipped out his knife, slicing frantic arcs through the air.

  "Whoa, hold your fire! Sweet mother of—what’s gotten into you, Fen?!" Mira's voice cut through the chaos, a blend of shock and laughter as she narrowly dodged Fenric’s wild swipes.

  Fenric tried to steady his racing heart, hand on his chest. "What's my problem? What's yours? You trying to get yourself skewered? I could have taken your eye out!" he exclaimed, his voice a notch higher than usual.

  Viktor shook his head, half in disbelief. "Risky move, Mira. Real risky," he said, an eyebrow raised.

  Unfazed, Mira grinned mischievously. "Oh, come on! I almost made him wet himself," she replied with a playful shrug.

  Viktor chuckled softly. "Almost being the operative word there," he teased.

  Mira's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Next time, I'll get him for sure."

  "I'd put money on it," Viktor said with a wry smile.

  "So where's Jax, anyway?" he asked, breaking the banter.

  "Out back, attending to nature," Mira responded, her tone casual.

  The creak of a door announced Jax’s arrival, his knife at the ready, eyes wide with alertness. "What’s all the noise about?" he demanded.

  Soren smirked, gesturing at Fenric. "Oh, just Fen having a scare," he said, clearly enjoying the moment.

  Jax relaxed, visibly unwinding as he sheathed his knife. "Ah, I see," he said, his face breaking into a grin. "Glad I didn’t miss the fun."

  Soren looked at his friends intently. "So," he began, drawing out the suspense, "did you guys hear the news?"

  Jax who had been leaning back, straightened up. "What news?"

  Viktor, who had just popped the cork on a bottle, held up a hand. "Hold on, let’s get the ciders out first." He started distributing them, ignoring the impatient glances.

  Mira crossed her arms. "Don't keep us in suspense, what news?"

  Viktor continued to pass out the drinks. "The Outriders have switched suppliers," he explained. "You gotta try this."

  Mira groaned. "Forget the ciders. Spill!"

  "Trust me," Viktor said easily, shoving a bottle into her hands. "You’re gonna want a drink for this one."

  Mira sighed but uncorked hers, giving it a cautious sip. Her expression shifted almost immediately. "Oh, that’s smooth."

  Jax took a gulp as well and frowned. "Just tastes like cider to me."

  Fenric scoffed, shaking his head. "You wouldn’t know good cider if it smacked you in the face."

  Viktor smirked. "Speaking of things smacking you in the face..." He let the words hang for a beat before delivering the real news. "Apparently, the king is dead."

  Jax choked, sputtering out his drink in an unceremonious spray. "What? Are you serious?"

  Fenric clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Why waste good cider like that?"

  Jax shot Fenric an irritated look while wiping his chin. "Are we sure it's real?"

  Viktor sat down in one of the wooden chairs, stretching out his legs. "It’s being announced all over the city. I’d be surprised if it weren’t."

  Mira’s frown deepened. "That’s odd. It was quiet when we left the city."

  Arelos, who had been listening without saying much, finally spoke. "Could be the news hadn’t spread yet."

  Jax ran a hand through his hair, looking between them all. "But what does this mean? Doesn’t this mean the Carolian heir will be crowned king?"

  Arelos nodded, swirling the cider in his bottle absentmindedly. "Technically, yes. But he’s too young to rule outright. They’ll set up a regency council."

  "With the duke at its head most likely," Viktor muttered.

  Mira exhaled sharply. "And that’s bad, right?"

  "It was going to happen sooner or later," Arelos stated calmly.

  "Yes, but like you said yourself, it's too soon," Viktor added. "The other dukes were already struggling to come to terms with the marriage, knowing that this would eventually come to pass."

  Mira frowned. "But since they knew that a transfer of power would eventually take place, why does it matter that it's happening now?"

  "With King Phanos still around to exert influence, things could remain relatively stable, giving the dukes time to prepare and adapt to the inevitable changes." Viktor answered.

  "The difference is indeed one of time, " Arelos added. "They expected to have twenty years, but instead they got only two."

  "But what would the extra time even have accomplished for them? You said it'd give them time to prepare, but prepare how?" Mira asked.

  "It'd give them more time to amass political capital, establish alliances, build coalitions, divest or shore up weak areas, expand their personal armies, just to name a few, " Arelos patiently explained.

  Mira nodded slowly. "Basically things to make sure that they wouldn't just be easy pickings for the Carolians once they ascend the throne?"

  Arelos smiled, seemingly pleased with Mira's summary. "Exactly."

  "Tell me truly," Mira continued, her tone cautious. "Do you think we might actually be on the verge of civil war then?"

  "C'mon, neither of the four dukes actually stand to gain anything from war. Who wants to rule over ashes? I reckon no, " Jax stated.

  "I say, let them 'duke' it out!" Fenric grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

  Viktor glanced at Fenric, bemused. "There's no way of knowing. But I'd like to think that cooler heads will ultimately prevail."

  Soren rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Fen."

  "Yes," Arelos said.