I initially assumed the physician to be a kindly man. His eyes were bright, his face was wrinkled, he limped like a wounded animal but refused to use a cane. I almost got up to help him. Then the old bastard soaked my skinless hand in a stinging fluid that reeked of whiskey and pulled the bones of my other one apart like they were a puzzle, destroying all sympathy I felt for his condition. To his credit though, after much snapping and crunching that hand was more or less functional and he wrapped bandages round the other well enough.

Jermas insisted I take his coach to Castle Black and now we sit together trundling through the empty streets. Occasionally there's a bump or the crunch of something with bones being crushed underneath us but otherwise the silence dominates that small coach.

"Do you like poetry?" Jermas asks suddenly, startling me somewhat. I doubt Jermas is accompanying me to discuss literature but the man doesn't seem like the type to introduce the desired topic naturally.

"No," I respond slowly. "I never found anything of value in them."

"Never much liked them myself either," Jermas sighs. "They always… bored me. They were just dull verses, like prayers without the religion. Allison though, she's different. She loves the shit! Spends her time listening to pretentious guttersnipes moan. Keeps volumes so thick you could crack a-"

"It's ironic isn't it," I cut across him.

"Your pardon?"

"All of this, isn't it ironic," I repeat. "The infamous Jermas Fires fixing my hands. The king after executing fifty petty criminals engages in light conversation with the king of murderers. The king having to be escorted to his own celebration!"

"Begging your pardon my king but I don't know what that word-"

"I know you're an intelligent man so don't play the fool. It doesn't appeal to me, just makes you look spineless."

Jermas shifts uncomfortably. Truthfully playing himself down brings me some satisfaction, it's pleasing to know that even those who wade neck deep in blood every year see themselves as what they are. Good to know that those who know me know they are less than me.

Give it time and the whole world will know its place.

"Spineless men plague my existence," I spit. "They were funny within the first hour of my crowning. The way I could just prod and poke them until they practically begged me to tell them what to do, what I wanted them to do. But then it became like herding lambs. Having to prod and push them down each corner, constantly assuring them this and that is safe to say or do. Tell me Jermas, what good is an advisor too scared to tell you anything other than what they think you want to hear?"

"I wouldn't know," Jermas shrugs. "I don't keep spineless men in my company."

The coach lurches before suddenly coming to a halt. We're a good distance away from the castle gates at least. I can tell this because the royal guards have yet to bang on the the coach and accuse us of loitering. The driver is probably too scared to get so close to the royal guards with Jermas Fires.

I open the door and begin to rise but Jermas interrupts me.

"She's not like us," he says suddenly. "Not like us at all."

"Who? Allison? What does-"

"She's good," Jermas continues desperately. "She's good and sweet. She fucking hates the kind of things we do!"

"Jermas, I'm failing to see a point in-"

"Don't touch her," he pleads, tears beginning to form in his eyes. "Whatever you want me to do I'll do it. You want the hammers? I'll bury them myself! You want my associates? I'll tie their fucking nooses for you! Just don't harm her, take me if you want just-"

Something within me snaps. I surge forward and grab Jermas by his neck. He struggles and thrashes but I overpower him and with both hands begin to throttle him.

"You say like us and things we do," I growl over his gagging. "But we are not alike. You are a fucking taint in this kingdom! A parasite that starves the poor till their only skin and bone! A stain on that poor girl you call a daughter! I am the king! And you think I'd so much as fucking bruise her!"

Jermas' slappings grow weaker and weaker. His is turning cherry red, his eyes are beginning to bulge.

Press just a bit harder and we can break his neck. Rid ourselves of one more cancer.

Hold his head underneath the coach and order the driver to move it forward. Watch as his brains decorate the dirt.

With great effort I unclamp my hands and take a step back allowing Jermas to gasp for air.

"You're lucky you're her father," I spit before stumbling out of the coach.

It appears my absence was noticed about just as much as reappearance. The nobles sat around enjoying the painfully dull company of each other to the same extent and the servants ensured they were fed a steady supply of cheap wine. I allowed the agony to proceed for another hour before ending this little gathering and retiring to a private dinner with my supreme advisors.

Now we all sit around a long table. I sit at the head of the table and the two seats beside me remain unoccupied. The royal occultist sits closest to me. His name is long and complex and he himself is too unimportant to make it worth learning. He's little more than a gut reader and soothsayer. Opposite him the master of coin, a profligate moron. Duke Tommen the fat, a creature closer to a cow than a man. He sat by grandfather sucking grease from his fingers while the old man judged how best to torment me. Duke Gregor the master of the Hallows, he's in charge of branding and shipping criminals to the black Hallows. He's taken bribes to get people reduced sentences or out of their sentence completely. I've bribed him to have minor lords who irked me branded guilty. Duke John, a sycophant who stole tens of miles of good farmland from grandfather with his charm. Sir Richard the Black, once a military surgeon. He advised grandfather on what wounds would kill or cripple me and which ones would just hurt. It was his responsibility to keep free from infections as well. I despise him for it.

Directly opposite me sits High Guard Thaddeus. When grandfather went weak Thaddeus picked up the slack. Thaddeus knew all the applications of the fist, the belt, the knife. He knew power. He knew agony. He knew hell. He was hell. Seconds in his chamber dragged on for decades. He knew exactly how to break this bone, what part to cut, which angle to start at, burn, flay and penetrate. He knew pains that could be inflicted without leaving a mark. He knew how to scar nothing but the mind. He discovered how to haunt nightmares. One day I shoved him off his balcony. His leg bones smashed through flesh. They had to be removed. He has to be wheeled around now. He doesn't leave his chambers much. His only contribution to the world is scheduling and directing the royal guard, putting up a facade to appear useful to avoid being thrown out. He's only here because I demanded it. Now with his cold hollow eyes staring at me I regret it. My skin crawls as I somehow smell his rancid breath from across the table, feel his tough leathery hands inspect my torso, probing for the best place to hit. The others speak to each other but Thaddeus just stares at me, reduces me to an insect.

The servants enter carrying pitchers of wine and platters of food. Birds roasted in their own fats, small pigs clothed in vegetables and herbs, various meats arranged into structures one could almost regret dismantling then to eat. The musicians follow shortly after them and take their places behind me. I smile gratefully at the servant who places a plate and my cutlery before me. I thank them discreetly when they slip the earplugs into my pocket as requested. They retreat to the room's shadows quickly once they're done. Thaddeus picks up a knife and fork and begins to carve fat chunks out of a goose but his eyes never leave me. I stand up and clear my throat. The musicians start to play, a slow, dull piece of music. Nissifer hums along pleasantly.

"Before we eat I'd like to say a few words," the whole room goes quiet. "Firstly I'd appreciate it dearly if Ruth would dine with us."

"Your pardon my king?" She splutters in the shadows.

"You may just be a maid Ruth but you were like a mother when I had none," I lie easily. Ruth comes out, she's an old bitch. Ancient, almost a fossil. She lacks most of her teeth, she'd be skeletal if it wasn't for all her loose, flappy skin. She stands hunched over at around four feet tall. I tap the seat to my left and try to force a kindly look onto my face. "Beside me."

"You are too kind my king," she lisps as she hobbles pathetically to the chair. "Far too kind."

Indeed we are.

"The rest of the servants may leave," I command. "We're very capable of filling their own cups here."

Some look confused by this but the servants leave before I can rescind my kindness.

"Now Ruth, you filled many roles," I begin, setting my hand on her decrepit shoulder. "You fed me, clothed me, even tucked me in at night." All lies, though she'll gladly believe otherwise. In truth she ordered Karis to carry out the majority of those tasks while she berated her every movement. "You were good to me-"

I'm interrupted by a knife scraping against ceramic. Thaddeus is cutting his dinner into neat little pieces. He stares at me still, like it's my flesh he wishes was beneath that knife. He continues to stare, not even bothering to wipe away the grease dribbling down his wiry grey beard.

"Was I misunderstood, High Guard?" I inquire.

"I don't believe so," he says, his dry raspy voice just as I remember it. Then as if to insult me he stuffs another morsel of meat into his mouth.

"I wished to say my part before you filled your belly. You-"

"The desires of my gut outrank the desires of the child king," Thaddeus spits while violently dismembering a roast pig.

"Are you insulting me?"

"Oh don't fucking try it with me boy," Thaddeus snaps, taking me by surprise. "You're a bitch, ready to be taken by the first hound that happens along! Don't you dare think I forgot our little chats! I remember each thing you-"

"Shut up!" I yell. "Shut the fuck up!"

"I still dream of how you cried afterwards," Thaddeus says with a grin.

I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

"Look at what your king really is, good lords," he spits. "A boy not even worthy of being condemned to a pimps collection of deviants. A vile, profane creature that we had the misfortune of being burdened with. This bitch will continue to execute us one by one till its coveted by fifty-'

"Fucking play!" I snap before cramming the earplugs in.

The sound is dampened but it isn't muted. I feel the twisted piano notes echo faintly within my ear canal and hear pain. There's some bleeding from my nose but nothing to be overly concerned about. The sight is strange with the sound so muffled. At first nothing happens, then Ruth starts bleeding from her eyes. Futilely she tries to put pressure on them and stop the bleeding but then her ears and nose start too. She spent her days tormenting mother, making her feel worthless, insulting her every move and giving her every slur she could. I grab her head gently. I intended to inform her of all this beforehand. I intended to inform them all of the reasoning behind their murder.

That's hardly important now is it.

Something smashes her head into the table brutally. It's my hand but not my choice. One blow would be enough to end the old hag but I just keep going again and again till her face is pulp. They're all bleeding now. Each and every noble, haemorrhaging from their eyes, their ears, noses, I think Tommen is somehow even sweating fucking blood. Nissifer is mangling the occultist in ways I didn't believe possible. His face is like vertical blinds when she's finished with it. Small symbols that sting the eyes have been carved onto the skin flaps. He's still breathing somehow.

I take my knife and walk. The blade seems to pull this way and that way until it leads me to Duke Tommen. I don't know what makes him worthy of personal treatment from me, he's exceptionally disgusting but that's about it. He just sits there, gripping the arms of his chair with white knuckles as blood streams down his face. His jaw is clenched so tight I'm surprised his teeth don't shatter. The blade guides itself to his bloated belly and rips him open like a fat purse. He screams silently. He thrashes, slaps at my hands with pudgy fists but it's pointless. It's not me mutilating him, if it were I'd have retreated from the stench as soon as he shit himself. Something anchors me there. Like what anchors his guts to the ground now. He weakly slaps my head, loosening my left ear plug. I didn't notice it at first, then the thing fucking fell out completely. Every note played out on Katherine's piano has so many more colours than black and white. They are not limited by the paltry palette dictated by our sight. They collide and mix within the mind itself forming shades so wondrous and at the same time so terrifying. Hatred constructs itself with each stroke of Sally's violin. Its essence forms in the air and it congregates at the table's center, piled eleven feet high, made from shadowy razor wire and iridescent blades. Every part is jagged and every part is cruel. Even the sound of Nissifer's daggers scraping against bone and the final gasps of dying men is beautiful beyond comprehension. I find myself facing Richard. His face breaks and reshapes, becoming fractal in shape. I can't tell what I'm doing to him but blood soaks my hands when I'm done. Some is mine I think.

Nissifer dances elegantly across the dining room, her knife cutting through a different man with every step. Thaddeus is trying to crawl away but he's leaving a rather large blood trail behind him. I grab the monster by his stumps and drag him back. He roles onto his back and stares at me, eyes wide with terror. Something inside of me laughs at him being like this. Something else screams. I walk on him like a carpet. He grunts in pain with each step I take. Every noise elicited adds to the unholy music until I'm standing on his chest. I could jump from here onto his throat. End the pathetic wheezing with one final expression of glee. Instead I step onto his face, pressing into the carpet. His groans can barely be heard over the bones grinding and cracking.

Then there is silence.

"Why have you stopped?" I snap, angered by this. "Keep playing-"

Then I look up and see a room full of blood. Only Thaddeus, the musicians and I remain.

"Oh," is all that escapes my lips. I then stomp on Thaddeus' neck, lowering that number further. Breathing is hard, almost every inhalation fills my lungs at least partly with blood. Seeing is harder, it's like looking at the world through stained glass. Still, I make my way back to my seat safely.

"Go fetch them," I manage to cough out. One of the musicians leaves while Kathy plays a more calming song on her piano.

Sir Orson seems the least perturbed by all this. He just stares at a section of the wall behind me, flinching whenever he has to look at anything else. Serah prods and pokes the dead curiously with her knife, cooing eagerly when she's discovered some oddity or malformation. Yen tries to stare at everything at once, Irene tries to see none of it. I just stare at them all trying my hardest to hide the pain, it feels as if a tumour is growing right in the centre of my brain.

"It appears there was an attempted poisoning," I groan, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. "This poison drove the nobility into a murderous frenzy and… Oh fuck this. Infer your own story, it hardly matters. As you can see, my closest men are all dead."

Irene turns and vomits, adding to the various smells within the room.

"Well said. Orson, will you be the new high guard?"

"Yes my king," he says it so quickly it takes me a moment to disentangle the words.

They're scared of us.

Good.

"Irene, will you take the position of master of coin?"

"Yes," she breathes.

"Yen, will you act as her assistance?"

No response.

"Yen!" I say more firmly.

"Yes," she says startled. "Yes I'll do that."

"Serah you'll be my new advisor."

"Do I not get a choice?" She asks, mocking offense.

"Would you say no?"

She pouts but doesn't say anything else.

"They're the new occultists," I gesture at the musicians behind me. "We'll meet dawn tomorrow, make sure someone cleans this up."

I stumble away, leaving the new assistants alone with the dead ones.