Romulus

  Romulus sat outside the palace on a lowly chair where no one bothered him. He had done it. The thousands of lives lost, the running around the countryside, his parent's death, and the snakes that surrounded him. He expected to be overfilled with joy, but now he felt a sense of responsibility that this was only the beginning of it, and it was no time for celebration. After all the nation was in ruin and was about to execute a member of the royal family, even if they were a bastard.

  He still had many enemies. Benito Diaz and the diarchy that enabled him to support the People’s Lord, the last remnants of the People’s Lord, The Expert’s Commonwealth, and the Griffin Republic, but those two were a given. They represented the counter-idea to monarchy. However, the one person that Romulus knew he could count on now rode up to the seated Romulus in a chair. “Enjoying your reign?” asked Kosta.

  Romulus nodded. “So far so good.” The king gazed up and down the horse. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “That’s why I’m here. I hope you didn’t forget about the earls still loyal to Gala in the southwest.”

  “God, no. I sent about 10,000 to convince the earls to stand down. You should know this; you were there.”

  “I would like to ask you to go with them.”

  Romulus pondered the thought and took a deep breath. “Hometown, eh? You want to make sure that it doesn’t fall apart.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “I don’t want anyone to die without needing to,” responded Kosta as he looked around him. The walls of the palace dominated over them and provided a cool shade that one could waste away a summer’s evening in. “We saved your hometown. It’s only fair I get the same opportunity.”

  “You’re going to miss the coronation,” said Romulus.

  “I’m not really one for large ceremonies or parties. I guess the mountain life stuck with me. Quiet evenings in the grasslands surrounded by bison or gazing upon the stars in silence seems to do it for me more than being stuck in a temple surrounded by hundreds of sweaty people.”

  Romulus laughed. “Well, if you are going to meet up with them, you should take that horse of yours and head up as soon as we are done talking.”

  “Thank you. Speaking of the horse, I was thinking about keeping this one. He survived the entire counter with Smith where I ran around him, so I think I should name him. What do you think?”

  “If I were you, I would give this one to someone else. I think a fresh start would be best. Not be reminded of the civil war,” advised Romulus.

  Kosta shook his head. “I think I’ve had enough fresh starts for a lifetime. Thank you for the advice, though.” The two remained silent for a moment before Kosta spoke up again. “Gaius, after my brother.”

  “I am sorry about your family’s untimely death,” Romulus said, trying to be as nice as he could as the new king.

  “You don’t have to be sorry about anything. You already did more than enough killing Smith. Bastard never saw it coming, did he?”

  “Snakes don’t have eyes on the back of their head,” reminded Romulus. “I only did what was right. Though, there was a significant part that did it because he deserved it, besides all the other stuff.”

  Before long, they found themselves saying goodbye, but before Kosta turned Gaius around to head out of the city, he said one last thing. “The name’s Florian. If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to ask that you call me that.”

  “That wouldn’t be a problem, Florian.”