Court of the Crimson King
Copyright© 2025 by Fick Suck
Chapter 34
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 34 - When a cranky young veteran of the repulsed brutal invasion is found and returned to the Court of the Crimson King, he is shocked by the poor state of the kingdom. North is dragooned into the reigning queen’s retinue, a position fraught with politics, intrigue, magic, and hints of destiny. The Court is an intricate dance that one must master or else disappear into oblivion. Based loosely on the song of the same title by King Crimson.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa
“Eighteen years shepherding the prince and his mother, and then she has to up and die on us without notice,” North carped. “Paquin was with her when she took ill. One minute she was prattling on and the next she collapsed in agony. The physicians said the onset was akin to her original wounds at Mt. Albion, like they had been dormant for two decades and then, SHOOO – the wounds reopened with a vengeance.”
“Perhaps that was the contract she made with the gods,” Bordo said. “Have a kid and raise him to adulthood. Beyond those terms, nothing.” He shrugged, “I’m speculating.”
“Adrianna Victorious wrote nothing down and left no mention of the content of the deal she made,” North said. “We looked. I even asked Lord Aesir and he was useless, less than interested in whatever she may have done. What happens now?”
“Chaos,” Bordo said. “The prince has few supporters among the lords, a little more support among a small group of his peers, and little respect from the army. Everyone has tiptoed around the issue for years. Now, we’re confronted with what we feared when first we started this venture.”
“Fianos?” North queried.
“She’ll probably retire; she has enough years in service and no more patience,” Bordo said.
“The rest of the mage warriors are dismayed, unimpressed with his ability and his leadership thus far,” North said. “I’ve kept my mouth shut on the issue, preferring to let the prince’s actions speak for themselves.”
Bordo scratched his chin. “He’s Powered, but deeply dependent upon a Power stone.”
“He’s failed to learn the primary lesson thus far: Power is only a tool, not a complete weapon unto itself.”
Bordo stood up. “Let’s not go there. There are many lessons that this young man hasn’t learned. The Queen will be sealed in her crypt at noon, and we must take our places in the honor guard within the hour. After internment, then the games and turmoil will begin in earnest. None can predict what happens next and no one is happy with the circumstances.”
North and Paquin stood in their assigned spots as the Chamberlain placed all the retinue in the proper sequence. The two of them stood behind the prince as an honor guard as he walked behind his mother’s caisson. The military bier was bedecked with flowers from her greenhouse as her body rested in the unstained but polished wooden casket, another nod to her military success.
The prince appeared neutral when approached, and bored when he grew impatient and dropped the public façade. More than once, the Jack of Spades and the Fire Witch exchanged looks that confirmed to the other that what they witnessed was concerning. One rumor said the prince had a bit of hangover this morning.
They marched through the crowded streets of the city to the Great Basilica. Five priests of the five represented gods greeted the pallbearers as they moved the casket to their shoulders. Then the entire procession followed the casket inside. Every seat in every pew was filled with the Court and their families. The senior staff were given seats in the balcony overlooking the congregation. North and Paquin were standing in the aisle flanking an elaborate chair in which the prince sat, facing the coffin. He still looked bored.
Two hours later, the coffin was carried to the crypt below and placed within the stone lined crevice on the eastern wall. Four stone masons lifted the capping stone into the mouth of the hole. With a final benediction for eternal peace, the mourners departed the crypt and prepared to leave the emptied basilica.
North stood with his wife, Bordo, Fianos, and most of the mage warriors off to the side. They were waiting for the departure of the prince with his meager royal guard contingent before leaving the building themselves. Little was spoken among themselves as they surveyed the remaining mourners.
Before the prince could be corralled into the procession to his carriage, he stomped over to the gathered warrior mages. His face was set in a grim visage of pinched lips and narrowed eyes.
He pointed at the Queen’s royal captains and then at North, “You will meet me in the Queen’s Tower at five bells. I will be crowned king before night falls.”
“Yes, my Prince,” Fianos said with a bow. “However, you must first pass the Guardian of the Anchor test before you can ascend the throne.”
“A mere formality,” he sneered. “Make it happen.” He turned on his heel and marched out the door.
North turned to his fellows. “Well, that didn’t take long.”
“Who’s going to escort the, uh, candidate to the Anchor?” Bordo asked. “I refuse.”
“Not I,” Fianos said. “I’ll not be a party to this sham. A formality, my ass.”
“He will not recognize my authority,” Paquin said. “He hasn’t before, and he isn’t about to start now. The power of the throne has already gone to his head.”
“Thus, the duty devolves to me,” North opined. “Why would I think the duty would fall to anyone else? Technically speaking, he is not eighteen years old yet.”
“He’s old enough,” Bordo said. “I’ll not quibble over weeks or a few months. Either he will be accepted as a guardian, or he will perish. The gods have the final say, not us.”
In silence, the soldiers walked through the town and onward to the grounds of the Court of the Crimson King. Greeting them at the gate was the Yellow Jester in his full regalia with a black ribbon tied on each of his limbs. He welcomed them with a grand bow and invited the soldiers to follow him. He led them to the Back and Under, where a spread of food was laid out on one table and filled tankards of ale were standing on another.
North almost refused to partake until his wife gave him the evil eye. Knowing better than to argue, he chose some of the stronger cheeses and matched them with black bread. The Yellow Jester brought him over to the bar, handing him a different tankard. North took a long draw, appreciating the bitterness of Torc’s dark lager. “How?” he asked with his eyebrows.
“I have my ways and my networks,” the Yellow Jester replied. “They may not be as robust as yours, but I am able to enjoy some benefits. Speaking of which, I understand that the prince had some words with the mage warriors of the kingdom.”
“He is anxious to begin his reign,” North said mildly.
“Ascension to the throne is not straightforward here; it has never been.”
“How long have you been here?” North asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Long enough to be cautious and smart enough to do my research ahead of time,” Claudio said. “When does our nascent regent wish to assume the throne?”
“Tonight.”
“Well, then, you had better get busy with that little errand,” the Yellow Jester said. “The prince doesn’t like to be kept waiting and there is no reason to start antagonizing him early on. I’m sure there will be time enough for that later.”