There was some fanfare announcing the Prince's arrival at the palace, but for the most part it was kept quiet. Other than soldiers and servants, there were no crowds to meet him. No ribbons and flower petals were thrown from balconies, not even someone attempting to hand him freshly cut wildflowers.

The soldiers stood in two columns leading up to the palace steps. 

Alkanos dismounted, handing the reins to an awaiting servant.

Shoulders back, back straight, but not too arrogant. He thought, walking through the twin rows of soldiers. The soldiers, in turn, saluted him as he passed through. At the end of the columns of soldiers were eight courtyard-wide steps. The steps led up to a landing that was on the same level as the palace's gold- and silver-gilded doors.

On the landing was a crowd of people; Alkanos could tell by their clothing that they were palace staff. Judging by the size of the palace, there were servants who hadn't come to the event. The servants stood towards the back of the crowd, standing on the platform. He guessed the man standing in front of the crowd was his uncle, the king's older brother.

Alkanos bore a resemblance to the uncle: the same jaw shape, the same sense of strength emanated from both of them. But that was where the resemblances stopped.

Standing a few feet away from his uncle was, who he guessed, was the Captain of the Guard. Considering he was one of the few, not in the columns,  wearing armor. Alkanos could tell, even with the Captain of the Guard's helmet on, he had dark skin and brown eyes. The Captain of the Guard had an air of authority about him.

Alkanos was just about to climb the steps up to the palace doors when his uncle spoke. "Ah! My nephew Prince Alkanos, so good it is to see you." His uncle said, spreading his arms in a gesture of welcome. His voice was welcoming and inviting, like hot homemade soup on a cold winter's day.

Alkanos ascended the steps; he could feel everyone's eyes on him. It was like the whole congregation could see him, down to his bones. He hadn't even said a word to anybody, and he could practically feel them judging him.

Alkanos found out his uncle's name was Martin. Uncle Martin allowed the servants return to performing their duties, then he gave Alkanos the grand tour of the palace and grounds.

***

Alkanos got the feeling from his uncle that the tour was only a mere formality. At every turn, there was a servant or guard within earshot.

How does one get some privacy around here? Alkanos thought. Even though it felt vaguely oppressive being watched all the time, something about it felt reassuring.

Martin stopped in front of each stained-glass window that displayed an event in the kingdom's history. When he explained the event, his voice took on an edge of imperiousness. Even though Alkanos was out of the loop of sorts when it came to history as told by the humans, his uncle didn't have to use that sort of tone with him.

They turned a corner just as a blond-haired woman was coming out of a side room. She was wearing a dress that stopped just above her ankles. Her skirts rustled softly as she locked the iron-banded door behind her. 

"This is Miss Cordelia, the Court Bard." Uncle Martin said, but that was as much of an introduction as he gave her.

Cordelia finished locking the door and turned and bobbed a curtsy to the two royals. "Your Highness." She said; her voice was melodic, and she looked good in Alkanos's opinion. Alkanos had to admit something was off about her looks, but it wasn't in a bad way. All the same, Alkanos thought being a Bard was a good job for her.

Cordelia didn't have the same effect on Uncle Martin. He stood taller, his chest puffed up like a rooster, his hands on his hips. "Why were you not at the ceremony with the rest of the servants?" he questioned. His voice still had an edge of imperiousness; but it was becoming more prevalent.

"Sir- I-" Cordelia stammered. She didn't have a good enough reason, so she used the one thing that Prince Martin toed the line with.

"Well?" Prince Martin demanded.

Cordelia's face grew visibly flushed with frustration with Prince Martin. 

Alkanos could tell by how he treated her; Uncle Martin was always like this. She probably couldn't do anything right to suit him.

Alkanos got the feeling from Cordelia. Something about her seemed to think of Uncle Martin as a little boy.

 Now why would she do that? Alkanos thought.

"I was running an errand for the King. Now if you don't mind, Your Highness, I have duties to attend to," Cordelia said, curtsying to Prince Alkanos, making it obvious he was the only one she intended the respect to be conveyed to. "Have a good day sir." She said to Martin, and strode past him, as if he was part of the wall, and up the corridor until she was out of sight.

"That woman!" Martin seethed in a restrained snarl. "Thinking she can treat me like that, I am royalty!" Then he realized that Alkanos was the only one within earshot. He cleared his throat and said in his normal tone, "Just ignore her; she will only cause you trouble."

Alkanos nodded. 

Something big is not right about him, and not just how he treated her. Also, what is that smell when he is near me? I can't put my finger on it, but something about him rubs me the wrong way. He thought, not paying any more attention to his uncle's history lessons. He could always explore the palace and grounds later. How would Cordelia cause trouble? Come think of it, what's their history? 

***

That night  King Marco called a meeting of his most trusted advisers and servants. It was a small gathering; those present besides Marco were the head healer of the palace, Prince Alkanos, Cordelia, and the Court Magician. Voslair was unable to attend the meeting because he was delivering messages across the kingdom. Everyone gathered around the bed, some standing, others sitting on chairs and stools.

The first thing Alkanos noticed of his father was he was clean-shaven.  In a painting he had seen displayed, the king had once been the picture of health. Eyes alert, a well-built face, and a healthy glow of someone who regularly was in the sunshine. Alkanos could see the resemblance between them.

Hard to believe he was the same king lying in the bed. The king in the bed was not the picture of health by any stretch of the imagination. His breath came out in ragged gasps that were prone to coughing fits. His complexion was of an unhealthy blend of sickly green and near-death grey. He looked gaunt, with old parchment skin, and faintly blue tinged fingernails and lips.

"I just got here, and nobody has told me anything. What exactly is causing this?" Alkanos whispered to a healer.

"We don't know sir. He has been like this for the past three months and is getting progressively worse. Whenever we try to heal him, it comes back three times worse. Even Champion Volsair is at a loss. Your Highness." The healer said just as his father began another coughing fit.

Alkanos shook his foot anxiously, waiting for the coughing fit to end.

When the coughing fit ended, Marco needed a cup of water. It helped his voice, but not by much.

"Alkanos, my son." Marco wheezed.

"Yes, father?" Alkanos asked, scooting his chair closer to the edge of the bed taking his father's hand in his.

The King smiled.

The smile wasn't his iconic roguishly showing his teeth in a grin. It was as if Marco had gotten a wish fulfilled before leaving this world for the next. 

Alkanos leaned in closer, so he could hear exactly what the king was saying.

Marco slid his hand out from under Alkanos's and rested his hand on Alkanos's head. "Alkanos, my son. I name you as my successor. Uphold the peace and the rule of law. The ones in the room and our champion will help you," His glassy-eyed gaze stayed focused on Alkanos. "You must maintain the peace treaty with the Dragons-" 

Another hacking coughing fit came charging in from deep in his chest.

 His hand fell from Alkanos's onto the bedspread, gripping a handful of the fabric.

When Marco recovered from that coughing fit, it was obvious that with every extra cough he had, it was bringing him closer to the gates of death.

"Beware yo-" Marco's voice trailed off; he was quickly fading. His breathing was so shallow Alkanos thought for a moment his father had quit breathing.

"Father!" Alkanos exclaimed.

A smile touched his father's face once more. "You have your mother's eyes. And we both love you, very, very much." And with that, the King who had achieved peace between the humans and the Dragons died.

The kingdom went into a month-long period of mourning. All palace staff were required to wear all black. The flag of the kingdom, and the flag that bore the seal of the royal family, would fly at half-staff for the full mourning period. A black veil now hung over the portrait of the previous king in the throne room. 

King Marco was buried in the cemetery of the royal family. A stone effigy of the king was to be erected in the mausoleum in the middle of the cemetery.