The Madwoman's Invitation (1)
The sound was so loud and carried so far that everyone in the hall rushed to the windows to look outside. Outside, Kali was barking ferociously. When I stepped out into the courtyard, I saw three or four mounted guards blowing their horns as they galloped toward the city center.
"Fuck. What the hell is that?"
I spotted the black flag held by the lead guard. It was pitch black with nothing on it—a mourning flag hanging down from the pole by about the width of the banner itself. Horns and a black mourning flag... I knew what that meant. So the current situation made no goddamn sense to me.
Hardo, who'd followed me out, stared at the receding guards with a grave expression. "Rumors had been circulating that something like this might happen, so I had a feeling."
"Yeah, well..."
Hardo could think that way since he'd only heard the rumors. But I knew all the details. Seeing that flag right now felt off—like the timeline didn't match up.
As the horn blasts faded into the distance toward the city center, we headed back inside. Francois was standing by the door and met my eyes.
"Bertrand. Looks like... we'll have to clear out all the guests once mealtime ends, right?"
"Yeah. Probably a shutdown order from City Hall within a few hours. Better prep now."
Inside the hall, people who'd already caught on were packing up. Mostly middle-aged and older regulars. The younger ones, including staff, were clueless and whispering among themselves in confusion.
"Della. Go tell Ukun to halt construction."
"Huh? Why all of a sudden, Master?"
"Just get him in here first. I'll explain."
Della tilted her head but dashed out the back door. Soon Ukun stomped in grumbling. I cleared my throat a few times and addressed the hall's patrons.
"Gentlemen, sorry, but once you're done eating, everyone needs to leave the inn. Guests included."
The room buzzed. Someone raised a hand in protest. "What? Kick us out with nowhere to go? Sleep in the streets?!"
"I'd rather not, but City Hall's issuing a business shutdown order soon. No choice."
"Shutdown? What the hell does that mean?"
The younger crowd clearly had no idea what the horns and black flag signified. Made sense—nearly fifty years since that flag last flew, and even I was seeing it for the first time. Unless you were deep into kingdom laws and protocols, no way you'd know.
Because those horns and black flag meant...
"The king is dead."
The hall fell into stunned silence, then erupted in shock.
"His Majesty... has passed...?"
"Yes. That's what the horns and black flag announce. Looks like a royal courier just arrived from the capital."
"But the shutdown..."
"When the king dies, it's three days of mourning. All business stops. That's the law."
Never having dealt with this before, the patrons struggled to accept it. The staff—minus Francois—were the same. But when guards showed up shortly after, reciting the proclamation of the king's death and ordering a three-day mourning shutdown effective immediately, reality sank in. People grumbled as they packed and filed out.
Della approached with a worried look. "Master... is something really bad happening...?"
"Nah. This is standard when the king dies. Nothing to worry about."
"Really...? But it's scary. Closing up like this out of nowhere..."
"It's fine, Della. Actually a nice break. Three days off, right?"
But Della didn't look reassured at all, her face crumpling as she watched the guests leave.
Once everyone was gone, we cleaned the inn top to bottom. No business for three days anyway—might as well deep clean and chill. As far as I knew, there'd be a memorial prayer led by temple priests on the third day; we'd just attend that.
Ukun, whose construction got abruptly halted, was pissed. Couldn't wrap his head around how a human king's death affected his work. But he was a dwarf from a mine on kingdom soil. Non-humans had to follow the land's laws.
Hardo, who'd stuck around, seemed eager to discuss the king's death with me. "Boss. His Majesty passing so suddenly... no word on a successor."
"Who knows... Something we don't."
"Prime candidates are direct-line Princess Elua and the noble council's Alvis pick... If no successor's set, it'll be a bloodbath."
"Maybe."
Nothing much to add to Hardo's take. The king had visited recently and hinted at things, but that wasn't for casual chatter. He'd wanted to pass the throne to his bastard son Gobert and seemed open to my advice... Wonder how that shook out. He looked healthy then—not like he'd drop dead so fast. Sudden illness midway? Or... Hmm. No clue on palace intrigue from here. If a successor's clear, fine. Otherwise, civil war between palace and nobles. Gobert that spineless idiot might get assassinated mid-blubber.
I didn't care what went down at the palace, long as that psycho bitch Elua didn't end up queen. Nobles swallowing the country or Gobert as puppet king? Whatever. Just not Elua.
By coincidence, it drizzled all the next day. Sentimental types might say the heavens wept for the king. But the Goddess couldn't care less about human societies or systems. King or beggar dying—same to her. Just late-summer or early-autumn rain as fall crept in.
The clouds blocked the sun, leaving the inn dim despite midday. No guests, so we lit candles only on the third floor. The staff weren't thrilled about the unexpected break—every shop in town shuttered, plus rain trapping us inside.
Pelle and Idi headed for holy-water baths. Marim sprawled out napping. Francois lounged diagonally on the bed reading cookbooks. Della studied diligently at the desk. Ukun was holed up in his room pounding beer... Celereja was at the temple prepping for the third-day memorial.
Hildeva was probably buried under palace paperwork right now, head about to explode. No slacking for bureaucrats when the king's dead.
Out the window, fully armored guards patrolled on horseback in the rain. Iron breastplates, spears, shields, swords, crossbows, even daggers at ankles. On the king's death, all units nationwide geared for emergencies. Border legions were likely loaded onto wagons, ready to roll.
Wonder if that punk Gobert actually went to command a frontier legion. Too meek; he'd get quietly offed lingering at court.
Damn. Travel's cut off—no info. Goddess probably wouldn't answer anyway... Wait.
I headed downstairs, knelt roughly before the Holy Sword, and prayed. She responded promptly.
"Goddess. Who's becoming king now?"
She replied.
"Ah, yeah. Telling would spoil the fun. Yep... Off you go, then."
Figured. I stood without lingering and returned upstairs.
Lounging on the bed, flipping through a book, I heard the wall clock's bird cuckoo on the first floor. Lunchtime.
Francois rose and descended the stairs. Pelle followed after her bath to release the preservation ritual on ingredients. Wonder what Francois would whip up today. Boredom made it exciting. Guaranteed tasty anyway.
Grinning as I reached for the book again, I spotted something hovering by the door—froze and chucked the book in shock.
"Gah!"