Chapitre 4: Chapter 4: Fearmonger, Part 3
Ready, he picked up his marotte and twirled it idly, then lifted it to admire the head: a horned dragon wearing the mask of the jesters. The priests had been furious when they learned of it, the sacrilege involved. But the king had permitted it because didn't tradition dictate that jesters offend the church? Was it not the job of the jesters to disrespect everything?
The decree of the king was the end of the matter, though it had not ended the church's resentment. But if the church was not resenting something, they would lose all sense of purpose. Mahzan smirked, remembering the priest who had played with him earlier in the Great Courtyard. Handsome, pretty, possessed of a sense of humornot a very good priest at all.
He looked up as the bells began to ring, twirling his marotte as he left his room and strode through the halls of the royal castle. In the Hall of Kings, tables were arranged and hundreds of guests enjoyed the best that the king had to offerand King Yavuz the Fourth was very generous to his guests.
Personally, Mahzan thought Yavuz was overcompensating after having barely won the throne from his brother, Prince Seda, who'd been greedy, violent, and unworthy. But Yavuz tended to try too hard to show he was not Sedasomething Mahzan occasionally pointed out to him, when Yavuz was in the mood to be playfully criticized.
Tonight was not one of those nights, but if it was, even Mahzan would not find fault with his king publicly when he was going to so much trouble for his people. Mahzan lingered in the doorway of the servants' entrance, listening as the priests concluded their evening songsformal prayers were always sung, rather than simply recited, and the priests performing were skilled. Fires, he could even feel sincerity coming off some of them, and wasn't that a rarity. He had never met anyone as insincere as a pious priest, but he supposed there must be exceptions.
His eyes strayed over them, landing briefly on the handsome Isles-born priest from before. He daydreamed a moment of seduction, dirty deeds in a dark hall, the noises the priest would make, skin flushed with exertion and the fear of being caught. How he would taste? Would he be shy or eager? Fun either way. And a priest would be in a hurry to return to his temple, with no desire to linger or become attached.
As the prayers wound down, Mahzan put his full attention back on his task.
Drawing a breath, summoning up his performance calm, he movedsomersaulting in a long series of tumbles into the middle of the room, stopping directly in front of the choir of priests. "You've sung long enough," he said imperiously, and waved his marotte toward the door. "You are dismissed, dragonets. Run along back to your cave now."
The Isle priest laughed, ignoring the looks his brothers sent him. He tossed his head and smirked, "La la la, Fool. I was promised bread and milk before I was sent to bed."
Mahzan leered. "Be good, dragonet, and I'll give you milk later."
"Fool!" the High Priest snapped from where he sat at the king's table. He was puffed up like a fishwife with a cheating husband and looked about ready to scream twice as loud. "You go too far!"
"If you think that is going too far," Mahzan retorted, turning to face him, twirling his marotte in one hand, "you had best leave now before my next set of jokes makes you blush like a virgin on their wedding night."
The king laughed and motioned, his heavy, jeweled rings flashing in the light of hundreds of candles. The High Priest fell reluctantly silent, and Mahzan did the same. Still laughing, King Yavuz said, "Now, Mahzan. No picking fights before the fourth course."
Mahzan swept a deep bow, his head nearly touching the floor. "Sire, as you command." Rising, he whipped back around to face the priests and gestured imperiously. "You heard the man. You may not be offended by me until he's had his fish! Go along, then. Tell the cook to give you bread and milk, and if you behave, you may have half a tart each!"
Rolling their eyes, some of them muffling laughter, the priests bowed to the king and then moved to their table on the far left side of the room, beneath a banner of the Churchdark blue, with the Great Dragon in green and gold, bands of silver along the top and bottom.
"Lords and ladies, dearest king and queen, thank you for coming to see me today," Mahzan said to the room, sweeping another exaggerated bow as they all laughed and clapped. "Now that evening prayers have been said, let us undo the hard work of the priests by beginning the evening with tasteless jokes and stories. You, there, sir! In the blue doublet! You remind me of a tale of a man deceived by a lovely set of twins "
He told stories and jokes for two hourseasy entertainment while people ate and talked and relaxed. As he finished one of his most popular stories, involving the follies of a man who tried to pretend to be his brother, the king beckoned him forward and handed him a cup of wine. "Well done, Mahzan. You are never disappointing."
"Your Majesty," Mahzan said, and bowed respectfully, then drank the wine and returned the cup. Refreshed, he returned to the center of the room and raised his marotte high in the air. "Now that you are warmed, mine audience, shall we"
He stopped as the doors crashed open and several people spilled inside, collapsing to the floor in a pile of blood and bile. City folk mingled with castle guards, all of them shaken and pale. The terror pouring off them gave Mahzan a headache so sudden and strong he fell to his knees, marotte tumbling away as he cradled his head and tried not to vomit.
"Fearmonger!" one of them finally got outthen fell over dead as his wounds got the best of him. Around him, two others died, and the rest did not look as though they would survive the night.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone