Crowning of the King
by Nick Storming
Published by: Fractured Press
Cover Art by: Moira Nelligar
Copyright 2019 by Nick Storming
All characters are 18 and older
Discover other titles by Nick Storming:
The Power: Volume One - Coming Soon!
Mourning Father - Coming Soon!
Chapter One
“He came down from the North with an army of she-wolves and witches...”
As I sit down to write this the cold stone of these rooms sets a deep ache in my hands. Hands weary from countless wars and the decades of working magic. Looking out the window I can see the blackness of night marred and polluted by the fires of my enemies legions. In the lordly bed behind me a half dozen of my wives sleep, exhausted from our lovemaking. I do not fear the battle to come on the morrow, but I find myself reminiscing and the sound of quill on parchment brings me back to simpler times.
My earliest memories in that cold and forbidding place were of the courtyard before our tower, with wooden and iron blade in hand and the shouted orders of our old weaponmaster ringing in my ears. Hard memories of endless training and deprivation. Walking up endless mountain paths on odd months with the priestesses of Hecte, learning their ways and mental disciplines.
Memories of winters cold enough to crack stone spent huddled in tower rooms with Shalindra, that ancient crone. Her fetid breath hot upon my neck as she monitored my laborious spell scribe work, her wand ever present to zap or slap at any lack of attention on my behalf. She was the cruelest master ever forced upon me, with a mind faster and more devious than any man born, and a body wracked with pain in its end days. I won’t offer her the honor of saying she was greater in my shaping than my other tutors and masters but I hold a special place in my heart for that witch to this day.
I was born in the forlorn keep of Sorrowmere, our ancestral hold. My birth mother died during the birth and father remarried almost instantly, apparently a court scandal that was quickly overshadowed when my grandfather, the King, married her mother. Making his fourth and final wife. Of my parents and Sorrowmere I saw little in those early years, but soon that would change for in my ninth year I learned what true war looks like.
Orc hordes poured forth from the mountain depths to the north driven out by some nameless terror in the depths or perhaps the ice peaks of the great Cap. They came in my ninth year and waged a devastating war upon our people that lasted three hard years, as the entire civilizations of orc tribes poured forth from holes in our northern lands and terrorizing their way across the Three Kingdoms and into the trackless woods of the eastern marches. Our kingdom paid a heavy price, as did the others, as two generations of men and warriors were wiped out by the endless flood of vile creatures.
It was my mother, a sorceress and priestess of renown, who guided the working of a great ritual; the final spell gathering the orc hordes and pushing them out of the Three Kingdoms and into the depths of Old God Forest and growing the Vine Wall which lashes any Orc stupid enough to wander too far west and thus shielding the Three Kingdoms.
Fueling those mighty magic’s and giving them added purpose was her grief at the loss of her husband, the Heir and his father the King. It had consumed her power and left her in a coma so deep she could not be woken from it.
I was named crown prince in the wake of the war and grandmother the Dowager Queen lead us, healing and rebuilding the kingdom under her wise and gentle rule. The shock of loss hung over our lands in those early years, like dark thunderclouds that only time and quiet tears could ease. By ancient law none only an heir of our lines lineage could rule, but in those trying times the nobles were content to let grandmother, as none could forswear her brilliance.
Our neighboring kingdom of Endil Vale, already weakened by constant internal strife and politics was overrun and nearly destroyed. The Peaks, with their high mountain fastnesses fared the best, but the full extent of their losses were hard to judge. Mysteries surrounded everything about The Peak and her isolated people.
I spent most of my time with the works of the sages. Sharpening my wits on their wise words. Though I still trained for a couple hours a day with old Eckton, enfeebled with great age though he was, no other masters existed in our lands. I had always excelled with blade, shield and spear when I was a boy, to the delight of my father; but it was in the depths of arcane lore and history that I found the most joy. Something in the arcane powers flowing through our world spoke to me and I devoured knowledge of it like a sponge. Ever in my mind the teaching of old Shalindra and the disciplines of the Priestesses to guide my logics.
In those early years following the war, along with my studies, grandmother trained me to rule. I sat in session with her as she settled disputes and drew up policies and oversaw the execution of small public works, rebuilding after the destruction, and preparing for another.
I could have asked for no greater instructor. The Dowager Queen was adept at getting others to see things her way, but her true genius lay in enlivening the markets of our towns, bringing in trade with nations far to the south whose spices and steel we prized and who in turn paid high prices for our furs and the gemstones she traded for from The Peaks. Grandmother took groups of widows with her on these negotiations, training not only myself but a group of new merchants. Weeding out those not fit for the task, and finding them other tasks more suited to their skills.
They were challenging years but I found a love for the work, and a talent for the weight and ceremony of power. Often in those early years it was the sight of grandmother and I; her the world renowned beauty turned benevolent queen and me youth and promise wrapped in one. We were the only surviving royalty in the nation, straight backed and proud our gazes never wavering as we walked the streets of Sorrowmere. That reassured our people of what kept them safe; our family lines great magics. We owe all of our success over these last great decades to the wise decision of my grandmother in placing each woman in the proper role for our success. I say woman for in those early years there were few men of fighting or leadership age alive.
The day of my eighteenth birthday and coronation dawned bright and clear with church bells ringing throughout the town, announcing to all the coming celebration. I woke feeling refreshed but nervous as I dressed myself for the morning rituals.
The year before I had to order Gretchen to await outside my rooms in the morning. I had grown uncomfortable with her dressing me. She had been a nurse maid who helped raise me but soon grandmother saw her worth and placed her as the head of my household servants.
One day I had looked down as she belted on my trousers, and the deep shadow of her impressive bosom had caused me to swell to stiffness in response. I had tried to hide my erection but Gretchen had noticed the sizable bulge and her eyes widened, her tongue sliding along her bottom lip before she bit it. Our eyes had met then and I could see she recognized my lust. For one second we held that gaze. A boy prince, unsure what to do, and a woman well into her third decade, lonely since the loss of her husband.
I panicked, turning away and telling her that she didn't need to help me dress anymore. That I was too old. If there had been any male servants left in our keep, I would have replaced Gretchen and found her another role, but it wasn't an option while grandmother ruled.
So now I dressed myself.
The keep was decorated for the celebration in crimson and royal blue our family colors and grandmother waited just outside my rooms. She was well into her fifth decade,
her once jet black hair now turned silver, her eyes emanating the wisdom and strength that had guided our nation through such dark times, and her face and figure still ripe with a swelling hourglass figure.
Grandmother took a small step back as I emerged from my room, her eyes shining as she took me in from head to toe. The smile deepened as her eyes met mine and with a firm nod that I took as approval, she turned and offered her arm out for me to take. We walked through the vaulted halls, arm in arm, a small pack of servants trailing in our wake far enough back that they couldn't overhear.
"Your father would be proud of the man you've grown into Dainen." A secret little smile formed on her lips, "You are the spitting image of your grandfather, have I ever told you that?" I shook my head in reply.
"Yes, he was about your age when we met for the first time, though he was to be wed to his first wife. He had those same piercing green eyes and coal black hair. You inherited his broad shoulders and stunning looks too, lucky for you, and not your father's florid face and round frame." I turned to speak, annoyed at this slight to my father, but Grandmother just patted my arm, "Hush, Gods know I loved your father and he was a good man, but today of all days we must speak truth; he would have made a terrible king. Too fond of strong drink and young girls and not sharp enough by half.” grandmother walked for a steps in silence with a small smile on her face. Lost in memories of her son.
“Praise be to Hecate and Bless that man wherever he now rests,” she said quietly after her pause. “You though my handsome boy, will make a fine King, once we find you a wife that is." I noticed the corners of her mouth turn up at the old jibe. Grandmother had brought almost every eligible young noble girl from our kingdom to court over the years. They had one and all been perfectly bred little ladies, all frivolity and lace, and none with more brains or anything more exciting to say than a teacup.
"Please Gran, not today!" I pleaded, Grandmother just laughed softly, patting my arm and pulling me in closer to her. Shame and nervousness flushed through me when she did this, for I could feel her massive breasts, a pair of teets so great my grandfather had renamed mountains after then, pressing tightly to my side. I forced my thoughts to the ceremony ahead, and ignored the sinful desires that threatened to consume my thoughts.
"Representatives of the Empire shall be arriving later this morning." Grandmother said, all business now.
"So, they arrive last minute,” I grumbled, “as usual."
"That’s early by Empire standards. Those painted prigs expect the world to revolve around them." I raised an eyebrow at that, Grandmother was normally the most prim and proper woman I had ever known. "My spies have informed me the Emperor sent his youngest daughter, Yasmine, the Red Mask to attend your coronation. You will need to keep your wits sharp when dealing with her, we know next to nothing about that one."
I recalled what I knew of the Emperors family. That old spider had bedded hundreds of concubines and pitted the dozens of children against one another. Finally decades before, when his life was threatened by the flux, he had recognized a half dozen of the brightest and most vicious and placed them in the succession. All had been married off to vassals and psion’s of great imperial houses, tying them closer to his throne. All except Yasmine the Red Veil.
Stories and myths had already grown around the princess. Why she remained unwed was a mystery but it was rumored she was a secret sorceress and used her powers as both spy and assassin for the empire.
"The Empire does us a great honor." I said my voice solemn as my mind raced down tracks of possibilities, thinking what it could all mean for my kingdom.
"Hmmf!" Grandmother snorted, "A dubious honor. At least if she is traveling here openly you have nothing to fear from Empire assassins."
"True." I said. Though I had already dismissed the fear. The Empire wouldn't send a rumored assassin so openly if they wished to threaten my life. No, if they wished that the dagger would strike once Yasmine was far away. They played a different game here.
We arrived at a side chamber to the throne room, where I would wait to enter. I could see a tear forming just at the corner of grandmother’s eye, threatening to streak the painstakingly applied makeup around her eyes. She turned to the servants and attendants, throwing them one of her famous iron hard glares and they scattered like mice before a hawks glare, disappearing around a corner.
When we stood there alone and she turned back to look me over from head to toe once more. Idly she adjusted one of the brass buttons on my crisp military uniform, before pulling me into a quick embrace. We hugged each other closely and for one uncomfortable moment I was aware of her massive breasts pressed firmly against my chest, her still flat stomach pressed upon my crotch and the feel of her smooth back and silky dress beneath my arms. Once more I felt shame instantly, but my body betrayed me, swelling with arousal.
Grandmother sighed contentedly as I held her close, almost a purr. Then all too soon she broke the hug and reaching up to hold my face between her hands, her eyes shone with intensity, and an uncomfortable moment grew between us, before she broke eye contact and said in a breathless voice, "I wish your mother and father were here to witness this day." Then she pulled my head down and kissed me on the forehead before swaying gracefully down the corridor in the direction the servants had gone. I saw here wipe at her eyes with practiced graceful movements.
The whole incident had disturbed me but at the same time it had lit a warm glow within my chest. And it was with a confident smile and straight back that I stepped out of the antechamber and approached the throne. There was much fanfare, speeches and ceremonies leading up to that moment, though blessedly I didn't have to sit through it. It all reached its zenith just as the High Priestess called for me to enter the throne room.
The large hall was lined with nobility and a few of the wealthier merchant families. Upon one side of the room a small area had been sectioned off by a cohort of Imperial Guardsmen, at their center stood a tall woman her body swathed in robes of black silk and her face masked by a curtain of hanging red. Only her eyes, dark and mysterious, were visible.
So the Red Mask had arrived on time, I thought. Just in time, if the sweat beading the guardsmen’s brows was any indication.
I felt a pang of sorrow and loss as my gaze traveled over the court. So many had been lost. The few men from our kingdom I could see were corpulent merchants or ancient and enfeebled nobles. I would be leading a nation of women and infirm at least until the next generation grew into power.
I felt every set of eyes upon me as I approached the Granite Throne. The weight of their regard pressed upon me and I knew then truly, what a burden the crown could be. Each foot fall upon the marble steps rang out in the deathly silence as I strode up the hall. The weight upon my shoulders grew the closer I grew, until it felt as though my legs would give under me. My heart beat a thunderous cacophony in my chest and the blood surged in my ears. I was so absorbed in forcing each step, shouldering the weight of some massive force pressing against my will that I barely noticed the people to either side of me shook as I passed them, like leaves in a breeze. The air itself began to warp around me, distorting all that I could see.
Is this some trick of grandmothers? Some illusionist's working? It must be, I thought.
I decided to ignore it the best I could. Though I nearly stumbled as I took my first step onto the dais. When my foot touched the granite the clear note rang out loudly, sounding as though it rang from the vaults of heaven itself.
Grandmother could have told me she planned all of this! I thought furiously. Glancing towards her though, I could see the shock and surprise flit across her face before being quashed into queenly nobility. Not planned then… Interesting.
Each step I took another bell rang out, each quieter than the last, until I stood just before the throne and knelt. As my knees struck the floor silence suffocated the room holding all in thrall. The priestess, eyes wide in shock stood beside me frozen in place, I lifted my head and gazed deep into her
amber eyes and gave her a small nod breaking the spell on her and with a small shake she reached forward with trembling hands and placed the crown upon my brow. As she did a small chime rang out quietly in the throne room, echoing away into the ether.
That note broke the spell for everyone else and a collective sigh and cheer rose from all in attendance. All but the Imperial Princess. She leaned heavily against her guardsmen, a hand pressed to her temple as they steered her to a chair.
"All Hail the King!" Grandmother shouted and it was echoed back to her from the jubilant crowd.
I could barely register it all, my body trembled, I felt an unsettling weight curl itself around my soul and I heard arching out high and faint over the courts noise, a scream from high up in the towers that sent a thrill through the core of me. For some reason I felt my cock swelling as i sat the throne, perhaps the power or some after effect of whatever magics had been here. Something to research later.
I sat upon my uncomfortable seat and waited, as the nobles who would swear their allegiance organized themselves before me. Just as High Lady Sorren made to approach, a side door was thrown open and the healer who spent her days at my unconscious mothers’ side stumbled in, looking as though she had run all the way here from East Tower, where mother lay. Her wild eyes found mine upon the throne.
"Your Majesty!" She shouted, her voice cutting through the babbling crowd, "Your mother..." voice panting as she caught her breath, "Your mother has-“
“She has returned!" The voice rich and vibrant, preceded her as mother stepped into the throne room. I sat there stunned as did the court. I took in the sight of her, my mind working to process what I had convinced myself would never happen. She was in a red gown that billowed on ethereal winds accentuating a body that drew every man’s eyes. Her slim feet were barefoot and made no sound as she crossed the floor to me.
The crowd of gathered kneelers parted in awe causing a bubble of clear space to form around her as she moved through the room. Her rich black hair had a glossy sheen, her eyes a light blue held my gaze and in their depths I saw a mirror of my own forbidden desires. Something passed between us in that glance and mother relaxed noticeably.
Crowning of the King: A Taboo Step Magical Harem Fantasy (God Kings Harem Book 1) Page 1