The night's main event sits at the front of my mind, teasing me as it grows closer each second. At first I was able to endure it, distract myself by playing games with the nobles.The entertainment I derived from that faded too quickly. Their reactions grew predictable, boring. Mention this subject and this group will go white with dread while that one will clap with glee. Part of me longs for one to snap. For one to break and yell a torrent of insults or renounce their allegiance or even try to gut me. Something just vaguely interesting even would be a gift.

A servant walks up behind me, clinging to the shadows like a ghost. They lean close to my ear from behind the throne and speak in a low whisper.

"Captain Holder has awakened, my king."

"To what capacity?" I inquire

"Your pardon-"

"How simple is he?"

"I… they didn't think to tell me, my king. He's capable of speech as far as I know-"

"Well that's a tragedy for all capable of hearing. Holder won't be leaving his infirmary bed for a while to come, I'll visit him when it suits me."

The servant fades into the background as quickly as they appeared. Holder allows me a few advantages. Nothing incredibly impressive but I'll know things before everyone else, if the knowledge reaches anyone else at all. I’ll even have some minor influence that my crown doesn’t allow me. Of course that's assuming I can control him. Our last interaction should be remembered.for a long time but should the idiot find some way to protect his family then he'll almost certainly waste no time informing the church of my actions. Many have done worse than I to the church but they all paid to keep those red knights away from their gates. I have no intention of casting a single copper into the void of the church’s vaults.

"My king."

I look up and see Lady Irene standing near the throne. She picked out her finest dress for this occasion. Made from fine silk, dyed blue, complimenting her eyes. I beckon her closer so whatever she has to say doesn't have to be heard by her richest clients. The guards allow her past and she stands only two feet away from me.

"You could at least smile," she says plainly. "The new king looks prepared to hang himself."

"If I believed swinging in the wind to be even vaguely fun I'd ask you to get me a rope," I sigh, rubbing at my head.

"Did you sleep?"

"See, I considered it but then I found some entertainment instead."

"A night or two without sleep isn't recommendable, you've avoided it for nine."

"And yet I live, feeling as strong as can be. Perhaps sleep is a weakness."

"At the very least tell me why you choose to neglect it. Is your feather bed not comfortable enough? Do your cousin's whores make too much noise? What keeps your mind occupied?"

"You didn't come to talk about my sleep!" I snap, letting a brief spark of anger take control. I smother it quickly and regain composure. "Please, just openly tell me what you want. Don't dance about the subject."

"I came to offer advice," she claims.

"I've advisors for that, they were bending knees and swearing-"

"Keep killing every noble you want to and soon they'll all turn on you," she cuts across me.

"Doubtful," I state plainly. "See most of the men in armour you see around us are members of minor families, the sons of the owner's of a few dozen farms, merchants, smiths, other knights. They don't have much allegiance to anyone save for their own and maybe me, the man who keeps them respected knights. I believe it’s safe to assume they won’t be shedding many tears over molesters and necrophiles, am I correct?”

“Any man who doesn’t envy their killer isn’t fit to wield a sword your grace,” says a guard behind me.

“Noted. There's about four hundred and fifty like him all round this city. Some act as guards to the less detestable nobles. If those nobles don't want to be cut to bits they'll stay loyal."

"Fear doesn't work for years. Eventually one will assume being murdered is an inevitability. Then they'll spread that assumption around like a plague, then plots start to form. Conspiracies and arrangements and soon you'll find some blackheart berries in your wine. It's what happened to Harold the first. It happened a dozen times before him; it wasn't long ago tyrant kings ruled a few weeks before being usurped."

"Harold the First's death was arranged by dear grandfather. He wasn't the instrument of his own demise-"

"Men like your grandfather are infinitely more prevalent. Each noble you incite paranoia in puts a noble in their pockets."

I struggle to find an appropriate response to that.

"I'm not saying you've fucked everything. Showing Sim mercy was good, at the very least it shows not everyone's at risk but you can't just-"

"After today the executions stop," I state, chances are they won't but that hardly matters. "After today the worst cancers will be purged and the lesser ones can be treated with less extreme methods."

"Good. I need you Harold."

"Is the angel open?" I inquire just as she's about to turn away.

"Yes, I have Mary running it currently. Why? Do you-"

"I still have yet to apologize to Yen. This room bores me beyond reason and my presence isn't really needed here."

"You aren't needed for a celebration dedicated to you?"

"Surprisingly no. My only role in this event seems to be sitting in this stone chair like a statue."

"You could converse with them. They-"

"They have nothing interesting to say. At the very least the walk to the angel will be something to do."

"This won't look-"

"I think I've done a good enough job at presenting what I am to them, how this may look also isn’t terribly important.”

“They’ll see this as disrespect-"

“I don’t believe that I was asking permission,” I yawn as I rise from the throne. “I intend to escape this monotony one way or another. You can escort me to the angel or you can allow your precious king to find alternate entertainment on his way there.”

I begin to walk. Irene hesitates for a few moments but eventually she crumbles and hurries to my side.

Some of Gryaz is filled with merriment. Some of Gryaz seem to believe the new king is miracle made flesh. Some of Gryaz drink, sing, dance and laugh. A significant portion of Gryaz doesn’t seem to care. They acknowledge me, they smile at me, give half hearted cheers but few seem to actually be enjoying the occasion. Most go about their business as usual.

They hate us

I wouldn’t care for this much either in their position. A new king makes little immediate difference to a working man’s life. They have families to feed, taxes to pay, a dozen other people to keep happy. There’s little time to celebrate a stranger's ascension.

We’ll make them regret it. They’ll love us. They’ll praise us.

Irene lightly prods me in the side, I have to stop myself from snatching the offending finger.

“Hm?” I respond, forcing indifference into my voice.

“You’re pale,” she states. “Are you feeling well?”

“Perfect,” I respond plainly.

“You look like you’re ready for the grave.”

“You look like a noble lady,”

She goes quiet for a moment.

“Tell me," I begin, dreading the silence. "After the angel is granted it's exemptions and receives the investment what will be done with it?"

"You'll own a significant part of it, you'll have a say about how she is run."

"Selling pleasure is your speciality, I just buy it. Run the business however you see fit just avoid running it into the ground."

"I plan to grow her," Irene claims. "I intend to purchase several neighbouring businesses with your generous investment."

"And who will be running these other establishments?"

"My employees. I have yet to select specific girls but I know that much."

"I'd rather an accountant."

"I prefer people I can trust."

No one can be trusted past a certain point. She'll soon learn that. She'll soon learn how bricks of gold outweigh everything when you stack them high enough.

"Understandable," the word feels like lead in my throat but I manage to force it out.

"Harold," she says inquisitively.

She thinks we're weak. Thinks we're sick. She wants to play mother. No worse than that. Wants to ensure the safety of her investment.

"Yes?"

She hesitates. "Nothing."

The angel has amassed quite the gathering. Dozens of men and women stumble out of the building giggling with glee. Indulging in the pleasures of the flesh. Cheering when they notice my presence. Two rather large men drag those no longer capable of movement away from the doors and out of sight. More push their way in. Two marble statues stand either side of the door. They're of two slender women, unclothed of course, unashamed, their poses almost inviting you into the building. The ancient artists were masters. If the skin was not cold white marble they'd be difficult to distinguish from an actual woman. Such a shame the first king, Kista, spent his first hours of rule executing as many of them as he could.

What the statues were supposed to be before my progenitor came is anyone's guest. Gods, queens, heroes or perhaps just very important whores. Now they represent twin angels departed from heaven above to engage in decadence and sin below.

Someone has placed a cheap cinnabar coloured crown atop the left angel's head and poured a small amount of bright red paint onto it, staining most of the face and a few spots of the upper torso. The right one has a rose delicately placed in her left hand. A pretty veil conceals most of her face, leaving only a thin marble smile visible.

"Is there an event of some sort?" I inquire.

"There is," Irene confirms. "A celebration of the new king."

A fattening of your purse.

"How sweet," I respond plainly.

Those we brush past on our way in reek of wine and are barely able to walk straight. I do appreciate that most still possessed enough sense to turn away from me and vomit into the nearest drain and not onto my boots. Those behind us are clearly eager to shove past and enjoy their day. If it wasn't for my cloak they'd probably have no qualms with trampling over me.

Inside the angel makes the collection of lecherous drunkards outside look virtuous. Each and every girl who can stand seems to be working today. New ones are here too. Some I recognize from Terrence bringing them in as ‘guests,’ others are completely new to me. They dance on tables under the intent inspection of patrons. Some sit on men's laps draining them coin by coin. Oddly overdressed women in greatcoats with deep pockets wander from table to table, occasionally someone gives them a coin and in return they get a small black pill which is usually swiftly consumed. Cheap wine flows unregulated from large barrels and is consumed at a staggering rate. Everyone has a full cup, everyone's smiling.

Immediately the theme of this event becomes obvious. It's in the dresses, the tablecloths, the candles, the food, the wine, even the carpets on the floor and tapestries adorning the walls. It's all red. Certain parts go so light they could almost be pink, others could almost be brown but it’s all red.

"Like it?" Irene asks. "Red for the blood, and the fire, and bridges-"

"This clearly wasn’t done this morning. How did you know?"

"Your tailor-"

"Has a mistress. Has two in fact. Doesn't need to pay."

"His young, pretty assistant however prefers women's company and it doesn't take much to get her talking."

"What else has she been telling?"

Irene laughs at that. "Do you entrust her with your most damning secrets? Most exposing thing about you she's told is that you're decent to the servants.”

A woman brushes past me, she's tall only an inch or two shorter than me, thin too. She wears an odd red mask I don't get to properly look at. The pleasant reek of poppy wine and perfume dominates my senses while she whispers something unintelligible into my ear that stands my hairs on end before disappearing into the crowd.

"I assume it's safe to leave you alone," Irene sighs.

"Where's Yen?" I inquire, hoping to at least accomplish the one thing I came here to do before distractions claim me.

"Does it look like I'd know?"

"I'll ask Mary when I find her."

"The wine is free. You're aware of all the rules. Enjoy the day king," Irene says plainly. "It's yours after all."

With that she leaves and I'm alone in the crowd.

I did search for her. I searched hard, couldn't have searched harder without kicking down doors. I then tried to search for Mary but it didn't take long for someone to push a cheap earthenware cup into my hand. I emptied it out of politeness. Someone else took this as indication to get me another. After that process repeated once or twice, time began to stutter here and there, a few seconds disappeared every now and then, nothing important. By the tenth I had made a new friend somehow, his name is Jeremy... or perhaps it's John. He keeps putting fucking cups in my hand despite my protests. I gave up counting a while ago and have since made several more friends, only two of whom I paid for. John -I'm quite sure it's John- does Impressions, some are even funny. Monty is a small man but other than that there's nothing particularly notable about his appearance. He wears a coat two sizes too big for him and has at least three pocket watches. I've watched him cut several people's purses away from them so far, he's remarkably good at it. I think he's just doing it for sport at this point. Tried to show me how to pick a pocket but I was in no state to learn. One is a woman, sounds upper middle class, maybe she's a merchant's daughter. Diana's worked here a while, not that it shows. She was always harassing Terrence for what he owes when I was younger. When I surpassed his height and strength I ended up delivering Terrence's coin to her. The other didn't give me a name, doesn't speak a word and hides the top half of her face behind an ivory mask. She's new, of average height and hasn't stopped smiling since I stumbled into her. She seems rather fond of the merchant's daughter as well as me.

“Tell me king,” says John, “how would you like me to take that crown off your hands?”

“I wouldn’t,” I respond plainly.

“Oh come now,” Monty adds. “We’ve heard all about the difficulty of ruling. The hard choices must cripple you with pain There’s no need to martyr yourself, I’ll gladly bear the burden in your place.”

“Monty,” I begin in a sorrowful tone. “I long to shrug this weight onto you but I cannot in good conscience allow my fellow man to even fear the atrocities of silk beds, fine food, expensive wine and free women. The suffering is too great for me to allow another to endure it.”

They all giggle at that.

They all laugh at my jokes. They feed me a steady stream of praise.

Sycophants, all of them. Here for what sits atop our head not us.

Monty dipping his fingers into my pocket flashes through my mind. John stops laughing as soon as I turn my back and starts counting his coin. The prostitutes leave me as soon as my purse is empty. The merchant's daughter follows after them, leaving me cold and alone. For a moment my mind goes silent, leaving the image to rot and distort before it fills up with an altogether different noise.

What does the reason matter? They're here, they're ours. What point is there in fussing over the price when we can pay it a hundred times over?

Monty robs half my nobles blind just for my entertainment. John laughs with me, charms the coldest knights. Each of the women's faces shift across my mind before, ecstatic.

Let those weaker than us judge our fun, it is all they can do.

We're walking now, I think I was the one who suggested it though I don't know why. We seem to have lost John, Monty and Diana somewhere. The merchant's daughter holds my arm lightly as she talks about some picture of a city I've never heard of. The masked one has my other in a vice-like grip. Not tight enough to hurt, just strong enough to make escaping it rather difficult. She stares at me like a dog stares at meat dangling before it. She's still smiling. She nuzzles and kisses me, her breath smells like mint. I let them steer me, not sure if I could navigate through the place on my own. They're about to push me into an unoccupied chamber when something in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I turn my head to see better. A tall, slender woman wearing a queer mask stands in a doorway staring at me. She tilts her head before stepping back into a room, out of sight. I let curiosity control me and gently unhook the rich girl's arm from mine. When I try it with the masked whore I'm met with immediate resistance.

"I'll be back," I assure her, not quite sure if I would even make it across the hall in the first place.

Still no give.

I free my coin purse and push it into her free hand. "When I return I'll expect my money's worth."

She's reluctant but the coin loosens her arm enough to allow me to free myself and stumble away. Her and the rich girl waste no time entering the chambers themselves.

The strange woman entered a room that was once a place for sacrifice. Human sacrifice if the histories are true which they rarely are. There are three rows of benches built into the walls, once for spectators now for show. A marble slab sits in the center of the room, held up by four legs carved to resemble trees. Drains are discreetly hidden below, where they lead to I don't know. Why they didn't just use a basin to collect spilled fluids also eludes me.

The woman stands by this table staring at me, head tilted like a curious animal. A few lit candles grant me the luxury of her shape but it's still not bright enough to make out the finer details.

"Odd choice of room," I comment. "Bit boring isn't it? You could be in the main area or any of the other empty chambers or…"

She doesn't respond.

We could make it exciting.

I approach her, taking care with each step, the dimness of the room coupled with my state makes a lethal slip an unnervingly likely possibility.

"Not particularly pleasant either is it? No matter what story you choose to believe, things died here quite frequently, for many many years."

Gods were worshiped here. Power was given to these stones. Such beautiful power.

Her mask resembles a bright red rose. It conceals the majority of her face. I can't find a way for her to see through it or even breath comfortably in it.

"Bit lonely too. Silent as the tomb."

We have each other. We'll never be alone as long as we have each other.

"I'd like you to speak. I'd have gone with the other two if I didn't," a blatant lie but hopefully one that draws a few words out of her. "Can you speak? I do seem to have a skill for attracting the mute."

Why waste breath on such things. We could do so much more than converse.

The mask looked pretty a few meters away, but now that I'm close I see that it's made from cheap paper, some of the petals are crumpled and torn. It looks incredibly uncomfortable and should render the wearer blind. Her hair is short, raven black. Her skin is incredibly pale. She still tilts her head like a crow.

"You said something to me in the main room," I state. "I didn't quite hear it over all the noise. Would you care to at least repeat that for me?"

She speaks so softly the words only graze the edge of my hearing. My ears tingle, eyes water and a chill runs down my spine.

I lean closer to her so that we're only inches apart. "Again please, louder-"

Instead of speaking she closes what little distance remains and kisses me. The paper scratches against my face, the reek of cheap perfume is overwhelming but something about her holds me in place. Perhaps it's the taste of cheap, diluted poppy wine, the way her skin feels or perhaps it's just my fogged mind. Regardless of the cause I overcome the influence and pull away from her.

"Apologies," I manage to force out hesitantly, "but I appear to have lost my purse and I don't like acquiring debts."

I try to turn but she grabs my shoulder and smiles at me. Such a pretty smile, no hidden meanings or deceit come with it. It only conveys one obvious message.

We could turn away. We could leave and go back to the rich girl and her new friend. We could go a step further and try searching for Yen again. But what fun is that?

It doesn't take long for limbs to become entangled, for skin to glide against skin. Not once does that cheap mask leave her face or even shift slightly. Not once do either of us complain of the cold marble or unlocked door. Actions and events merge into each other seamlessly until I can't tell if we've been in this room fifteen minutes or hours. At some point reality blended into dream.

I feel fingers in my cloak's pocket. My eyes snap open and I snatch the offending wrist without bothering to look at its owner and twist it savagely. Surprisingly it's a man who yells out in agony. As my vision clears a bit I can recognize Monty through the blur, his face a grimace.

"I yield!" He cries. "I fucking yield."

I hold him for a few more seconds before letting go. "Keep out of my pockets," I crawl to my knees, the wooden flooring bends and blurs under my gaze.

"Forgive me," Monty groans. "It's in my nature."

"How did you find me?"

"It's hardly an imperceptible hiding spot," the nagging voice of Irene says. I look up and see her shape. The light hurts my eyes, I groan and return my eyes to the ground.

"Leave us," She orders.

"Not too sure I should," Monty states, cradling his wrist. "Looks like you'll have to carry him to a bed soon. He's-"

"Leave," a cold authoritative command. Monty still hesitates but I gesture for him to obey.

I crawl to a wall and prop myself up into a sitting position. "I must say, this event is quite-"

Irene crouches to my level before speaking. "Why do you do this?" She inquires, not in an insulting manner, not even vaguely judgmental, just curious.

"It's easier than getting a wife," I shrug. "Much more fun too. Why did you let Monty into my pockets?"

"You could have anyone you wanted, noblewomen, princesses, anyone! Why do you choose the girls here?"

"It's hard to tell when someone genuinely wants you and when they fear you too much to say no. At least it's clear. It's logical. I have something you want, you have something I want. When the transaction is over there's no hurt, no worries, no guilt."

"You paid not one, but two girls for nothing. Why?"

"I got distracted, now answer my-"

"Distracted by what?"

"Another girl. Tall, thin, had-"

"None of the girls claimed to have seen you at all after the little disappearance-”

“Then one is lying to you.”

“I trust them.”

“Even the extra help you hired on for tonight?”

“If they managed to lay you the whole building would know by now.”

“One must be shy.”

“Don’t mock me,” Irene snaps.

“Well what would you like me to do instead? Lie for your benefit?”

Irene sighs and rubs at her face. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Pay girls just to talk to them for hours. Pay them for nothing. Pay them to lie. Lie to me yourself despite knowing full well that I don't care. Do you have trouble finding friends as well as lovers?"

My good humor turns black and rots. "Who told you that?" I inquire.

"Almost every girl you've been with. Most lied to me at first if it makes you feel better-"

"Who else knows?"

"Just me, you and nearly everyone who works in this building."

"It stays that way."

"Who's paying to know the king talks about-"

"I don't care who pays if word escapes here everything you've ever achieved will become dust."

Irene sighs and rubs at her face. "This feverish want to keep this hidden worries me, it always fucking worries me. Do you know how many times I've feared that something darker has been concealed in a lie? Sometimes you've gone to such lengths to hide your actions that weeks were spent combing this place for corpses that didn't exist!"

"Is that what you think I've done? Left a carcass or two hanging about your establishment?"

"I don't know Harold. You refuse to admit to me what you did during your absence or-"

"I did this beautiful woman with the most elegant body and this odd mask. I injected four measurements of refined poppy sap. I engaged in heretical rituals in the basement but don't worry I cleaned up after myself and buried all the bodies deep. Why do you care so much? It's not as if-"

"Because if I don't know what you've fucking done I can't prepare for whatever consequences come with it!" Irene snaps. "I need to know if there's bodies before I bury them!

"No you don't. I've maintained my reputation well enough on my own-"

"Was that what you were doing with little Lord Stephen? Maintaining your reputation? And when leaving poor Philip the carpenter in the street for me to deal with? And breaking-"

"Stephen spoke of my mother," I respond coldly. "Philip spoke of my father. Stephen is lucky that there were several men to drag me away. Philip was lucky his skull was so fragile. Very few dare speak of either parent poorly now. I’d say my reputation was solidified somewhat by those acts."

"Just get out," Irene sighs.

"After all dullness is over and everyone has retired to their chambers, stay at Castle Black a while. There'll be something you’ll want to see. Much more precious than that investment."

With that I rise and leave.

I dip my hand into my breast pocket to see if Monty had left anything of value with me and prick a finger on something sharp. Instinct pulls out my hand out and I inspect the cut. It's pathetically small, not even a lone droplet of blood can squeeze it's way out. Carefully I return to the pocket and remove the offending object. A small red rose, battered and sad looking. Only a day or two away from turning black I'd say. Presumably a gift from my latest friend. It's worthless, I consider casting the thing aside but something compels me not to. Some vague words echoing off of the memories of the woman's shape urge me to keep the thing. I hold it delicately in my left hand and continue the search. I find only one other item, a single smooth black pill. People laugh and cheer as they walk past me but this pill dominates my attention. It doesn't appear to be any sort of poppy derived drug. They're softer than this, stick to your fingers and melt in your hands. It's too dark as well. Darker than ink, darker than tar. Like a shadow. Doesn’t smell like anything familiar. Doesn't smell like anything for that matter, doesn’t look like anything either and it doesn’t feel like anything.

I'm still inspecting the pill when I reach the front door, wondering if it's safe to consume in my condition or in any condition for that matter.

"My king?"

"Hmm," is the only immediate response I can form. I turn to see Yen, holding something rather large in her left hand.

"Your sword my king," she says handing the thing to me. I hadn't even noticed it's absence. I wonder if I lost it or if it was stolen.

"Might I have a word?"

"Please, I have much work. I-"

"I'll be quick then," I say continuing on before she can protest. "Our last interaction apparently left you feeling frightened and intimidated. I simply wish to inform you that was never my intention and I bear no ill will towards you at all. I just don't much care for conversations about my father."

"The fault was mine-"

"No it wasn't," I say calmly. "Tell Irene to bring you to Castle Black tonight."

Quickly I leave the angel before she can respond. In the streets I give the pill one last look. People part around me like I'm a rock in a river. It's an odd black capsule I don't recall acquiring. It could be any number of things. It could cause all manner of maladies. It could outright kill me.

"It could be wondrous," the words slip past my lips. It doesn't feel like me saying them but I choose to follow their logic and swallow the tasteless pill.