The Wrath of the King
body.
    “Belma--”
    “Sshh. For God's sake, man. I mean, your Highness. My apologies,” Belmar said. He gestured down the hallway, making a point to look both ways once he was free of the niche. Belmar set a quick pace for the doorway of a nearby, rarely used office.
    “I've known you my whole life and I've never seen you like this. Are those waitstaff clothes?” Gunnar followed Belmar's lead. He turned into the office and pushed the door almost closed at Belmar's insistence. Leaving it cracked so a thin sliver of light from the hallway spilled over the floor, Gunnar snapped on a lamp by feel and memory, only to turn it right back off when Belmar went into a mild fit.
    “Off, your Highness, turn the light off!” Belmar hissed.
    “Are you drunk?” Gunnar inquired, certain the man was either hopped up on drugs or had finished off a bottle of Scotch. Gunnar got another look at the councilman with the available illumination. Belmar, a short man with a heavy paunch and bald head, sweated profusely across his forehead and under his arm pits. The damp circles on the white shirt stood out like a sore thumb.
    “No, no. I'm sorry for the clandestine manner in which we needed to meet, but it's imperative our conversation remain private.” Belmar, shorter than Gunnar by a half foot, glanced warily at the cracked door and back to Gunnar again. “No one can overhear.”
    “Overhear what?” Gunnar propped his hands on his hips and waited Belmar out. The man's eyes, a light hazel in color, widened with the telling.
    “Prince Paavo, the new sitting King, has filed a decree to split Latvala into regions. As he wanted to do once before. Not only that, he somehow convinced the majority of the council to vote for it earlier today and the decree was signed into law before lunch.”
    Taken aback at the news, Gunnar wasn't sure what to say. More correctly, he didn't know what to ask first. “A decree has already been signed into law?”
    “Yes, your Highness. There was a great upset at the meeting. Council members argued long after the document had been signed, but those of us who voted against it got no answers from the ones who voted yea.”
    “So are you saying you believe Paavo tampered with some of the councilmen, coercing them into passing the decree?” Gunnar wanted to believe his brother wouldn't do such a thing. Memories of Paavo's enthusiasm months before at his own holding surfaced, the way Paavo's eyes lit at the idea of sectioning the country into separate territories. The desire was there, but would Paavo go this far?
    “ Something happened. I know for a fact that four members who voted yea were vehemently against dividing Latvala up. Yet today they sat there, stone faced, and did the exactly the opposite I expected them to. It wasn't right or normal, your Highness.” Belmar twisted his hands, stretching the skin taut across his knuckles.
    “Did anyone say when this is to take place?” Gunnar asked.
    “I don't know. We weren't given a lot of information. He only told us specifically not to say anything. I had to tell you, your Highness. I fear the Prince's actions after today.”
    “No, you did the right thing. I need to confer with Mattias. Let me see if I can raise him before anything else happens. Come to me the second you have more information. Do so in whatever way you deem safe,” Gunnar said.
    “I will. Please, your Highness, do not let on it was me who told you.” Belmar looked anxious and nervous while he pleaded for secrecy.
    “Have no fear, I will say nothi--”
    “Sshh. Did you hear that?” Belmar clasped his hands on Gunnar's arms and cocked his head toward the crack in the door. Sweat glistened on his brow, face a mask of concentration.
    “Hear what?” Gunnar pulled his arms free of the hold and boldly opened the door. He stepped out into the hallway, glancing left and right along the corridor. No one was in sight.
    “A scuffle. I heard a scuffle,” Belmar said. He did not follow Gunnar

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