#chofnaples

“ YOUR MAJESTY. ”

Hand on his abdomen, Edward lowered his body like the tides at noon before the king in utter reverence, his face passive and gait strong. 

“My lord,” The King of Naples rejoined, tapping his fingers idly against his bloodstained throne. A smirk played at his lips, and his eyebrow quirked ever so slightly to be challenging. This is how it is to be, Edward relayed inwardly, having spoken to a few select acquaintances of the King, you are nothing until you are everything. He is testing you. Play well… but never beat him. 

“A gift, your Majesty, if you so shall have it.”

Standing upright, Edward pivoted and gestured with his left hand towards a groom of the bedchamber, who held an inspected offering. Out of the corner of his eye, the Earl descried the king straightening his posture, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the prize his subject had delivered him. “Bring it forth,” Charles commanded, his baritone words booming about the corridor.

No doubt, Charles was one—if not the—most powerful men in the kingdom. Edward questioned this, though never aloud. Charles was feared by many, and was thus powerful. Charles was loved by many more, and was considered saintly in his gait. His legacy would perpetuate until the final days of existence. Edward did not need to be a prophet to see that abundantly clear. Was it possible that Kingship was an amalgam of fear and adoration?

In a land livid of his existence, it was the King of Naples who commanded the winds and set forth the waves. If night was day, he would have it written so. Ambitiously, Edward thought the King of Naples his perfect target. He was a King, and like all Kings, his weakness hung betwixt and between his sovereign thighs. Apart from his capability, the King was known for his treachery... and lechery. Still yet, Edward fussed with his doublet nervously. His gift was not the only thing he had to offer.

Charles was a man who ruled, utterly and alone. No chalice dripped in gold could sway his attention, though Edward was foolish enough to hope that it would.

“A book garnished with gold, therein the works of Henry de Beaume, your highness.” Edward had duly done his research, knowing full well how dearly the King held theologians of their time. It was a promise to the future — that all which is good and well is not done. The King was a peculiar man with his notion of legacy. Did he not realise his was set more than any other mans? No other early prince matched his glory. He brought the world to heel, and his reign was far from over.

Yet Edward did lament for his lack of heir. And though lament he did, left to his own devices, he began to see the benefits of the King’s deprivation. A chance had arisen, and Edward was foolishly brilliant enough to grasp it. Having been in tremendous debt for some time now, he had nothing left but a most cherished sister to offer; who’s virtuous bosom would lure any man with a God-like complex to come hither.

“Bring it here, Clyeff!” The King ordered the bearer, eagerly awaiting to flip his fingers through the varnished pages. He gazed at it for some time, touched it gingerly, but never opened it. The pristine text set on his lap, the King lifted his head to the Earl of Essex, cocking it. “You have given me a prized possession, my lord. I command it that you and your wife feast with the Princess of Naples and I this eventide, so we may discuss reimbursements you desire for so extemporaneous a benefaction then, and only then.”