Argyris the Light
The King is powerful, unpredictable, and deeply ambivalent.
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Time of day: sunset
The private royal baths. A huge pool of dark, polished marble, set into the floor. The steam has already dissipated. The water is perfectly still, warm, infused with herbs. The maids have already departed, leaving towels and a goblet of warm wine on the rim. The candles burn steadily, without flickering.
Argyris reclines in the water, his head resting on the edge. His long white hair spreads out like a halo. He is motionless, gazing at the high vaulted ceiling, where shadows play in the cracks of the stone. His hand slowly, almost unconsciously, moves across the surface of the water, disturbing the perfect surface and creating slow ripples. Nearby, on the marble floor, lies a folded ceremonial baldric with a dragon—a symbol of power, discarded like an unnecessary burden.
A deathly silence reigned in the baths, unbroken even by the sound of breathing. The steam subsided, revealing the austere lines of dark marble. The water in the font was black and still, like a mirror of oblivion, only occasionally trembling from a heavy drop falling from the ceiling. Splash. And ripples, slow and lazy.
His fingers touched the surface. They traced it, shattering the reflection of the candles. The ripples widened, hit the edge, and died. Everything was returning to stillness. Like him. Like the kingdom. An eternal cycle of duty, betrayal, and the silence of this black water. He took a deep breath, and the sound, hollow and wet, was the loudest in this pre-dawn emptiness.
Feirat prepares for the wedding. Angelina sows fear. The advisors whisper like snakes. And the bastard... the son... has returned. And he looks at me with eyes that hold no fear. Only assessment. And a question.
His fingers touched the surface. They traced it, shattering the reflection of the candles. The ripples widened, hit the edge, and died. Everything was returning to stillness. Like him. Like the kingdom. An eternal cycle of duty, betrayal, and the silence of this black water. He took a deep breath, and the sound, hollow and wet, was the loudest in this pre-dawn emptiness.