Sweet Dreams Ch. 01: Responsibility

The funeral was dull and tedious. The wet and cold weather crept through my shoes to my toes and from there into my whole body. The high priest of Naletha, the goddess of the dead, sang the last notes of the funeral texts in his dreadful voice at the graveside. My face was wet. Perhaps it was a good thing to be seen crying. But I knew I wasn't crying; it was just the rain on my face.

The time for mourning had come to an end. Four months ago, my father died. For me, he began to die years ago, when age and illness deprived him of his spirit, his strength, his virility. He was no longer the man he used to be. I was sorry the day he died, but not for him. I was sorry for me. Now my old life would come to an end.

And why should I be sorry for him? He was 87 years old; he died peacefully, and now he rested in the arms of Naletha, the warm and lovely goddess, the one who takes away all suffering and cares for the old and afflicted souls.

Three days ago I came to Ashtagoah, the ancient city of kings, where my ancestors were buried, my father's father and his father's father and perhaps one day I too. Today I would have to rush back to Rallagoah. Fortunately, it was just a two hour ride. Others have done it before me. They did it. Sixty-seven, to be exact.

Three of my father's wives were here in Ashtagoah for the funeral. Darnela, his first and his queen had stayed home. They cried throughout the journey from the capital. So, I decided to ride on the horse and not go in the carriage. I had no special relationship with them. But they cared about my father, he loved them, and they should have a chance to say goodbye.

The high priest finished, and I went to the grave to give my father a yellow rose for his last journey. As I turned around, my foot slipped in the wet mud, and I stumbled for a second. It seemed the funeral had been exhausting after all. A servant rushed to me, took me by the elbow and escorted me on my way to the next station. "Through the left gate, Your Majesty," he said, "there is a carriage waiting to take you back to the residence."

Now I was the king. My time of education and growing up had ended the day my father died. But I was not king then. As the future ruler, I had to officially mourn until my father, the 67^th King of Rall'enagil, was buried. From then on, I would be called Majesty, King, Emperor - even if the last title was technically not yet correct. Right now, there was nothing majestic about me. My shoes were dirty from the mud of the royal cemetery, my clothes were wet, and I was cold. The carriage drove to the small residence palace in Ashtagoah where I could change and warm up a little before I rode back south to Rallagoah.

I loved the capital -- it was a bustling, sleepless, wonderful, vibrant city. Colourful and rich in scents. But the next few days would be absolute chaos. I had to move from the Children's Palace to the Inner Palace with its endless corridors and hundreds of rooms. As a child, I used to imagine my father finding his way from his office to his bedroom with a map in his hands. But he didn't need a map. The royal palace wasn't that complicated, and he was never alone, just as I wouldn't be alone for a second for the rest of my life once I was back in the capital.

The carriage came to a halt -- fortunately under a roof. After all the water that was already coming from the sky, it started to rain even more. I jumped out and went into the small residence palace where many fireplaces heated the rooms so I wouldn't freeze as I changed for the journey. Quietly I walked up the stairs in the foyer and into the king's warm and cosy private chambers. The king. Me. My private chambers. I took off my clothes and looked around. There was a bathtub filled with hot water. That was nice -- but I couldn't remember ordering it, so I looked around. I didn't see anyone and went to the tub. As I tested the water with my fingers, I felt very cold hands on my back.

"Larna, what are you doing here? I thought you stayed back in Rallagoah." I sounded more annoyed than intended -- actually, I was glad to see my wife on this occasion.

"I left this morning in my own carriage. Since the old man took his time at the temple and the graveyard, I was able to prepare the first bath for our new king so he wouldn't catch a cold on his first day!"

"How do you speak of our honourable High Priest?"

"Oh, you know as well as me, that he waited with his resignation until after the funeral, just to be able to say, that he buried a king, even if he preached like a sloth and sang like a rusty stove pipe."

"He is not that bad; he is just old! But you are right, he should have resigned years ago."

"As should have many others. And as your queen I'm ordering you to take off your clothes and get into the tub. I'll follow right after you."

Obediently I followed her orders and stepped into the tub. Just as I sank in, my eyes followed her naked form coming right after me. She leaned with her back onto my breast and grabbed my thighs. "How is this possible? You are still cold in the hot water!" she screamed.

"I'm already warming up!"

"I can feel that," she purred as she wiggled her butt against my groin.

"That's not what I meant."

I leaned back again, relaxed, and enjoyed the sensation of my beloved wife's, queen's skin against my skin. I caressed her arms, kneaded her shoulders, and kissed her head and neck.

"Did you prepare this on your own?"

"No, I had help. But I sent all the servants down to the ground floor and had them not disturb us for at least two hours."

"Mhh. Fine. We won't have much time together just the two of us for the next few days."

"Or years..."

"Or decades..."

She turned around and kissed me. Intently she touched all my limbs. "I think you are warmed up." was her conclusion. I kissed her back and as our lips parted I added: "I concur."

Reaching for her butt I tried to pull her nearer to me so that I could better reach some more interesting parts of her body. But she pushed away and stepped out of the tub.

"I know a better place for this." she said and pointed to the bed on the other side of the room. She handed me a towel and I dried myself as fast as I could, the air in the room felt chilly again. My lovely wife had already made her way under the bedsheet, and I followed her. I lay at her side, kissed her on her full lips, her slender neck, on the place right under her ear, where she was so easy to tickle. After a few seconds I found my way down to her breasts. I kissed the valley between them, which seemed even deeper, when she lay on her side. I suckled on her left nipple and kissed her right under it. She was very sensitive on this part of her body. Kissing further down I found my way to her navel and from there to her hips. I tried to give them as much attention from all sides as possible. This was no easy task under a bedsheet in a dark room on a late winter afternoon. I kissed her perfectly round butt an smelled the spicy scent of her excitement from between her legs, where I intended to spend some time.

"It seems you are quite warmed up yourself." I mentioned while she grabbed for my hair and tried to pull me further down. She aimed my head to her pubic area, where the scent became even more intense. I kissed her down from her navel and on the inner sides of her thighs.

"Don't let me wait any longer. Just dive in!"

"I'm afraid I would drown."

"I will rescue you right in time, you have nothing to be afraid," she said with more urgency in her voice.

"I'm not so sure about that."

These were the last words I got to say before my face was pressed into the pool of excitement, that opened between her legs. I still tried to avoid her clitoris, so I licked and suckled on her labia.

"You are such a tease! I hate you!"

"No, you don't," I mumbled from between my wife's wonderful legs, "You love me. And I love you." But I took her words as my cue to do, what she wanted, and began to kiss and lick this tender place, where the lightest touch would send waves of pleasure and excitement through her body.

"Shathor!" she screamed. After a short pause she added: "I will reward you for your bravery in these dangerous waters." She moved her hands a bit clumsily and tried to find the places on my body that were most excited and warmed up after the bath and the following action.

Right when her hands found what they were looking for we heard a hard knock on the door and my valet saying: "Your roy... - Your Majesty, there is somebody to talk to you."

"What is it?" I asked back not hiding the annoyance in my voice. This was one of the downsides of living as royalty, you couldn't even have such simple things like sex with your beloved wife without the fear of being disturbed over some petty matter.

"Excuse me, Mandrak. I didn't want to snap at you." I knew he would never disturb us if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

"The High Priest of Naletha and his council want to talk to you. They are already in the residence, downstairs. They were trying to get through the guards to find you by themselves. I was able to stop them -- but only barely."

"Thank you. I will be downstairs in ten minutes. The queen will accompany me."

I looked at my wife. On her face were amusement and disappointment in the same moment. "You have to wash your face, or they will smell me on you. And drink a glass of wine and water -- it will kill the scent in your breath. And get up. We have to hurry if you don't want them to see the queen in all her naked glory in ten minutes."

We got up. She kissed me on my cheek and gathered a towel to clean herself up a bit. I did the same.

"This is going to be interesting."

"How?" I asked. Clearly the only thing I felt was disappointment.

"The old fool knew that you were warming up for the journey home and would want to be left alone after your father's funeral. And yet he comes here unannounced and disturbs the king in his most private moments, even when the queen ordered all of the servants to keep especially the High Priest and his council away from us for some time."

"You are right, this is going to be interesting," I growled.

We hurried and were back in dry and clean clothes within minutes. I tried to get my hair under control. Larna just put a veil over her head as it was custom for women when meeting with high-ranking clergy.

"Do I still smell of you?" I asked her as I moved close to her side.

"I'm sorry to say that you are not." And with a long kiss we finally ended our session of marital business. "To be continued..." My wife added after the kiss.

I opened the door and outside stood Mandrak, my loyal valet and confidante for many years. His face was read with anger and shame. His heavy breathing seemed to send waves of rage through his whole body.

Immediately Mandrak tried to explain the situation: "The High Priest and his people just marched in and tried to get upstairs. We nearly couldn't stop them since we have just two guards with us."

I tried to stay calm but felt that he could see my fury. My wife seemed like the embodiment of regal behaviour. I couldn't see any emotion from her, just feel it, as she squeezed my hand. I tried to copy her, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and nodded to Mandrak: "Lead on! Let's get this over with."

We went to the hall at the entrance of the residence palace. It was more like the townhouse of a lesser nobleman, but since we didn't use it that often, there was no point in extending it. This house suited the needs of my family since my great-grandfather had it built hundred years ago.

They waited for us in the entrance hall. The air was moist and chilly. The High Priest and his men didn't seem so happy about this, since their clothes were as wet as mine had been an hour ago.

"High Priest Naliir, welcome to our humble home!" Unlike the relatively small royal palace in Asthagoah his palace was quite the place. "What brings you here that could not wait until we were all dry, warmed up and fed?"

He spoke up with his frail voice, "Your majesty, we have to talk to you personally before you leave the holy city again. We heard that you planned to leave soon after the funeral, so we had to hurry."

I wonder where they knew that from, I thought by myself. "And you were not able to announce this before the funeral or come to Rallagoah? The capital is not that far away."

"We did not know that you were intending to spend just such little time with us."

And neither is it any business of yours. "Should we retreat to a place better heated, where we can sit and discuss whatever you want to bring up now?" I said as I pointed at the door to the library.

I knew he wouldn't like the setting. In the library there was only one head at the table, as it was custom in formal king's council. He liked to sit at the head of the table himself a bit too much for my taste. I had watched him and the other high-ranking members of our kingdom's and empire's councils for the last few years as they tried to get the best for themselves out of my old and decrepit father. They knew perfectly that this game came to an end after the funeral. He would just be the first of many to try to keep it going.

I walked into the library. It was warm and homely, still with some elegance. The chairs and the table were prepared for a council of eleven. With me and my wife, Naliir and his men we were twelve. One of his men would have to stand. I couldn't have planned this better.

"She can't be with us in here," he said as he looked to Larna with utter contempt.

"Why would that be?" I asked him back. "Why would my wife, your queen, not be part of this talk?"

"You made her queen?" He said to me surprised. Maybe he wasn't that sharp after all.

"Of course, I did. I made her my queen when I married her seven years ago."

"But back then your brother Ralig was still crown prince." Now I began to understand. Father, you old fox, you tricked them, I thought as I sent a quick prayer to my ancestors.

"Naliir, were you present at my wedding? I think I remember seeing you sleeping in the first row during the ceremony in the red temple. Did I not make the vow like all my brothers to make my first wife my queen?"

Back then I was eighteen and so much in love with Larna, I would have done anything to marry her. Some years later, shortly before age and sickness took the wit out of my father, he told me that he had me and my brothers take the vow to make your first wife queen, so we married someone, who could take responsibility.

And, as it seemed, he wanted to make sure that no ambitious noblewoman would worm her way into the second place in the kingdom and empire. The queen held a special place in the kingdom and empire, especially when it came to the concerns of the royal family and to some extent also in foreign policy.

I didn't think much of it at my wedding. I had three older brothers, who were in line for the throne before me. But one of them was murdered shortly after my nuptials, one was taken by a malicious disease and the third one was beaten with mental illness. He still is with us, but the privy council and all the other heads of state were unanimous that he was not fit for being king.

So, in the end the honour came to me, and I was announced crown prince four years ago. It seemed most people had forgotten about the vow I had taken.

"But, but, but she is..."

"She is what? Not born from such a noble family as you or your daughters you seemed to show off at every possible occasion for the last four years."

Larna stood by my side. Her face didn't even twitch during the verbal exchange. But I could see the clenched fist behind her back. Her knuckles were white from the tension. She smiled politely and said: "Your grace, now that we got this out of the way, we can proceed and sit down as a formal council of the king."

There was no objection to her invitation, and we took our seats. I was at the head of the table, Larna sat at my right, and the High Priest sat on the third seat on my left. Since this was now a formal council of the king, all the special rules and protocols of such a meeting applied.

I knew them by heart, as did the queen. As formal head of the household and as head of the session I had the right to ask any member to tell a story of wisdom. I could interrupt this story, if I didn't like it and have somebody else start another one, but I could do this only two times. Even as king I wasn't allowed to interrupt the third story. It had to be told to the end. If the storyteller has made a fool of himself or others in the Council, then so be it. This was usually the case with my brother. But everybody had to be asked for a story from time to time.

I looked around and watched all the faces intently. The High Priest looked as if he was ready to blurt something out, as were some of his very tense men. At the end of the table stood the youngest of his escorts. He looked nervous and didn't seem to understand what was happening.

I opened the session, "Excuse us, young man, for having you stand at the end of the table. If this wasn't on such short notice, we would be prepared better. But to make it up to you we would kindly ask you to tell us a story of wisdom to set our minds for this session."

Naliir gasped in surprise and looked at the young man with eyes like daggers.

"Your majesty, do you really want this youngling to..."

"Naliir, we think you said enough already about who can or cannot attend to or say something in this council," my wife said across the table. Her voice still seemed friendly. Her words weren't.

I asked again, "Young man, please proceed. We wish to hear a story of wisdom from you."

The young man's face became white as snow. He opened his mouth and tried to say something, but nothing seemed to come out. Then took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and said, "Your majesty, I think I'm not suited to tell a story to such fine ears as yours. I'm from far north and was never before asked for such a task."

So, he was a royal hostage, as the euphemism 'from far north' implied. But still he was part of the High Priests household and part of his entourage to my residence. I had every right to ask him.

"We insist that you tell. Your mind seems fresh and your thoughts undisturbed by falsehood. The god of wisdom is with you."

He inhaled deeply. I was sure that he knew the rules. He couldn't have lived in this part of the world for ten days and not have learned the rules how to tell a story. He cleared his throat once again and started:

Some hundred years ago my homeland decided to go to war against the south. The king of the north gathered all his soldiers and counted them. He saw that they weren't enough for a war. He needed more, so he ordered all young men between sixteen and forty into the capital, gave them armour and weapons and made them his soldiers. His council warned him. There were no men left to work on the fields, to go fishing and to build houses for the winter. He ignored them and said this would be easy. The south would never have an army as big and mighty as his and he was sure to win. His council once again told him, that maybe he could win the war against the south, but he would lose against the winter.

They couldn't stop him. He went south with his army, and he won the war. All the soldiers of the south were killed, one out of ten of the northerners survived. When the king of the north came back home, he wanted to celebrate his victory. But they didn't have anything left to eat. The women, children and elderly men had eaten all the reserves and everything the soldiers looted in south they had already eaten on their journey up north. Most of the people didn't want to celebrate with him. Nine out of ten families had lost their male members. When the winter came, everyone who didn't flee to the south died of hunger or frost. The king killed himself and with him ended his noble line after hundred generations.