He takes a stroll.

After dressing himself in something modest from the royal chambers, Fate stepped out and found himself face to face with the flesh-void face of an armored skeleton. Fate’s instincts almost made him take on a defensive combat stance in the presence of the creature, as they had traditionally been his enemies. Luckily, he did not react, his senses coming to him before his reflexes could kick in.

The glowing pale blue dots that constituted its eyes stared at him intelligently, seeming to await his reaction.

“Um, are you one of the guards?” Fate asked.

It nodded.

It suddenly dawned on him that he had slain a fair number of these creatures on his way here, “Uh, I’ve defeated many of your kin in battle. I apologize.”

Its voice was like a cold, rattling wind, “They... rest...”

Fate hadn’t quite thought of it that way. In many ways slaying these sorts of creatures might be seen as a positive thing, given that they were animate dead.

“Do not mourn... fought... one last time...” it continued, “glorious... final... ****...”

So, it seemed these skeletons didn’t mind being brought back either. They were likely the corpses of the rugged tundra-folk, which were one of the groups fighting under the Dark King’s banner, so the idea of being able to fight for glory again was probably an honor.

Fate stood a little straighter, understanding well now, “They fought well.”

The creature nodded, “Good...”

There was a silence that fell over them before Fate decided on his first destination. He actually didn’t feel ready to confront Silquintis in the throne room yet, but he definitely needed to set things right with princess Aria.

“Can you direct me toward Silquintis’ chambers?”

The skeletal guard nodded and then pointed to his left, “That... way...”

Fate thanked the undead sentry and began making his way. As he walked, he thought about what he had just learned. He had always thought of undead as tormented souls **** to do their master’s bidding. The idea that they might actually be willing participants had never occurred to him. Perhaps it was only because they were the corpses of the tundra-folk, though. Had they been people from his own kingdom his assumption might have been closer to the mark. He also began to wonder who was raising them. Ordinarily when the source of the necromancy was slain, all of the undead under their control returned to being corpses. So, clearly the Dark King wasn’t directly responsible, else there wouldn’t be any undead left.

He was so lost in thought that it took him far too long to realize he’d gotten lost already. The skeleton hadn’t given him any details to look out for, just a general direction. Luckily he saw a pair of guards in a corridor and made his way to them.

They were dark elves, a man and a woman. The dark elves were feared and revered for their swiftness, keen senses, and lightness of step. They were excellent assassins, duelists, and fighters if you could get around their often-underhanded tactics.

They both turned their deep red eyes to look at Fate as he approached, “You,” the man called in a threatening voice, “you’re the knight who killed the Dark King.”

I nodded, “I did, and I battled with many of your kin on my way to him.”

“You killed many,” the woman said, icily.

“I did, and I’m sorry, but I tried to spare them when I could.”

“You think that’s enough?!” the man exclaimed loudly in an angry growl. “I should cut you down where you stand, you bastard!” Fate began to ready himself, because he saw their hands make their way to the curved blades at their belts.

“Enough!” another voice called from behind Fate, “You would attack an honored guest who might end up being your new King?”

Fate wheeled around to see the newcomer, immediately somewhat startled by her appearance. She was a dark elf like the others, evident by her long and pointed ears, blonde hair, and chocolate-colored skin. Like most dark elves, she stood about a head shorter than him; however, unlike other members of her race, she was quite curvaceous, certainly far bustier than Fate would have expected from one of her kind.

“Lady Vexelda,” the woman began, “he has murdered so many of us on the way here. He doesn’t deserve the throne, and he hasn’t even taken it anyway.”

“Did I say I cared?” she replied coolly. “Just be glad he didn’t slaughter all of you idiots and hope he doesn’t decide to finish the job if he takes the throne. Begone!” She waved a hand at them dismissively.

The two dark elves looked between each other, then lowered their heads and began walking away without another word, the man among them seething with an anger he was barely holding back.

“Uh, thank you,” Fate said once they had turned a corner and disappeared from sight, “I really did my best. I have no taste for senseless ****.”

The newcomer shrugged, “They knew what they were getting into. One should always expect their next moment to be their last, there’s no use dwelling on the ones who didn’t make it. If they didn’t go into their fights expecting ****, they should have picked their battle more wisely.”

Fate didn’t respond. He didn’t necessarily agree, but he understood well enough.

“Oh, and where are my manners? I am Lady Vexelda Helvaria. Before I was made one of the Dark King’s consorts, I was heir to the Mirewood Duchy.”

The Mirewood Duchy was a territory to the west, the land of the dark elves. It was a dangerous place to live, a testament to the resourcefulness and tenacity of its inhabitants. If Vexelda was the heir to that territory, Fate guessed she was likely made a consort as part of the Duchy’s absorption into the Dark Kingdoms.

“I’m Fate Darkbane,” the knight replied before he forgot his own manners. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you feel about the former Dark King?”

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, “I was so excited to be married to him at first. He was so handsome, dark, brooding, tall, powerful, rich... and so on. But it became almost immediately clear that he wasn’t worth all the excitement. He was boring, stingy, and he never so much as looked at me with a lustful gaze. Something you’re clearly not too afraid of.” She grinned and Fate immediately brought his gaze upward, barely even realizing it had been directly on her large orbs barely covered by her revealing silken dress.

“Ah, sorry, Lady Vexelda” he said, blushing.

She moved in close so swiftly that if she had intended to kill Fate, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to avoid the attack. Instead, she hugged Fate’s arm, her delightfully soft breasts becoming squeezed against it. She also poked at his chest with one of her long painted black nails as she continued, looking at him with striking violet eyes, “You’re free to call me Vexy, Sir Fate. You’re even more handsome than the last guy, you and I could have a lot of fun if you decided to become our king. I wouldn’t mind remarrying at all.”

“You don’t seem too bothered by the Dark King’s passing,” Fate observed, trying not to get distracted by the pillowy softness of her breasts.

She broke off from him and shrugged, “It’s not like I loved him, our marriage was purely political, and he was no fun at all to be around. I’m kinda glad he’s gone, frankly. Especially if you’re the one who’s gonna take his place.”

“I see,” Fate replied, still unsure of how he should feel about that prospect.

She seemed to sense this awkwardness, “No matter, is there anything I can help you with?”

Fate finally asked for directions, and she gave them easily with only minimal flirting on her part. When the two finally parted ways, he felt a little more confident.

Fate was getting a deeper understanding of what these people he considered enemies not too long ago were really like. It wasn’t something he often thought about before today. But if there was a possibility that he might have to lead them, he’d definitely need a better understanding.

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