"This is unacceptable!"

Charles knew his face was red, its heat was reaching the inside of his eyes, blurring Henrik's slouched posture from in front of him. The King was supported by soft pillows, it was one of those mornings that left him drained of the strength to get out of bed.

Mathias was by the window, leaning on the wall, his head turned towards him. He could have been a good-looking man, it was his seriousness that made him unattractive.

"Let's not pretend you are actually hurt." And his dismissive ways.

"It's the idea that both of my brothers decided it was perfectly acceptable to humiliate me!" Charles couldn't believe he had to explain.

Mathias turned to Henrik, almost annoyed. "Is this how it's been here? Her theatrics on one side, and his, on the other? It's no wonder you're drinking all day." Henrik shook his head as if the matter was out of his hands. The scented oil mix he usually took, to cure his frequent indispositions, was by his bed, untouched.

Relieved that his younger brother was not yet entirely on the whore's side, Charles tried to get him on his. Or at least, hurt her machinations.

"Did she put on that smile of hers that looks as if it can construct a bed out of thin air, in seconds?" And, emboldened by his brother's glare of reluctant recognition, he went on, "You are out of your element, and it is her arena."

Mathias was honest, as usual, "It's not what she does intentionally that scares me. It's what she does, unintentionally. And how to tell them apart."

"Rather ambitious, considering... how long has it been since you last saw a woman?" Charles had more venom in him, "The army is not a place for one to meet women, it would be even more overflowing with young imbeciles."

"Our army is a disgrace. The Border War consisted of us shooting some Lavinian soldiers, sentenced to death by a ruler who would not accept defeat. They were outnumbered, and their weapons were inferior. Their attack on our borders was the last attempt at greatness of an old, tyrant King. We spent our nights on the shores of Moaran, in the company of prostitutes and excellent wine, waiting for our enemies to starve to defeat."

Charles noticed his brother was getting dark, so he did not insist.

"This is why we are unprepared for any serious threat, like the Haggards," Mathias went on, but he was talking to Henrik.

"Well, I will bring that to my High Commander, which I've appointed specifically to not be bothered with this subject, anymore," Henrik replied, then adjusted his position, slightly raising himself against the pillows. "I might even abdicate, leaving you two to sort it out, for a change."

Charles could no longer hold back, "You are not leaving your crown to them!"

"No one is taking your crown, Henrik," Mathias assured him, and he meant it, Charles was certain. "Not her, not me, and not Charles."

But Henrik was tired, "Who knows? I might not even be long on this Earth. You two can fight each other for it."

"All you need to do is decide to rule competently and Charles and I will support you."

The three of them, united against the whore. Charles liked the sound of that. He had missed his brother, after all.