Darian raised an eyebrow. “Reckless? What do you have in mind?”
Narim shrugged. “I’m only a counselor, my prince. But if you want my opinion, finding a worthy woman to be your wife might help.”
Darian sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Can you help me find one?”
Narim smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid that’s not within my duties as a counselor, my prince.”
Darian nodded in understanding. “Very well. Thank you for your visit then.”
The counselor went to the door as he was about to leave, but on the very threshold, the old man stopped and turned around heavily, straining old bones.
“I almost forgot. As you asked I brought you the book and, as you asked” He friendly smiled. “No one knows about it. I have put it in your chest.”
“Thank you, Narim,” Darian replied with a nod of gratitude.
“Have a nice read, my friend,” Narim said before turning to leave.
Darian wasted no time in finding a book amidst the jumble of items in his chest. The green half-print cover caught his eye, and he read the inscription: “About the Serpent-Slayers and the Kingdom of Incuria,” by Lokir.
He couldn’t help but remember how Lokir used to pester him with endless inquiries from that very book. “If you don’t know your own history, what are you good for, huh?” he’d say. But despite Lokir’s annoying persistence, Darian knew that this book was approved by the Masters of Historiography, so at Narim’s insistence, he had decided to read it after all. And he was determined that Lokir must never know anything about it.
Finally settling in at his desk, Darian opened the book and began to read. The words on the page quickly captured his attention, and he found himself drawn into the history of his kingdom. As the hours passed and the sun began to set, Darian’s eyes grew heavy with tiredness and the beer in his blood, but he kept reading.
Then, a particular chapter caught his attention. Lokir had a habit of using the phrase “By untrue rumors…” to describe information that made Incuria look bad, supposedly spread by enemies, but which Darian knew was actually true. This time, Darian stumbled upon another such “untrue rumor.”
“According to untrue rumors, Prince Angus allegedly turned his eyes to his own mother, Queen Libra, after his coronation, instead of looking for a wife. Allegedly, the prince took the queen by force and henceforth used her at his will. I hasten to point out that this is all a vile lie. Prince Angus is one of the greatest of the Serpent Slayer’s family line and one of the greatest commanders of Incuria.”
Darian’s mind was a blur as he slumped back in his chair, his thoughts drifting into dark and dangerous territory. He tried to shake the images from his head, but they clung to him stubbornly like a bad hangover. The beer in his blood wasn’t helping matters either, making everything before him swirl and distort like a hallucination.
A sudden memory of the queen’s chambers invaded his thoughts, sending a jolt of guilt and desire through his body. He could feel his hand reaching for her, as if pulled by some invisible force, almost seeing her naked body before him. He shook his head, trying to clear the unwanted thoughts from his mind, but they lingered like a stubborn stain.
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