King Moguire Charnelle of Adraea was dying.

Far worse, he was dying without a clear heir. 

Vistile had been cozying up to the southern border for far too long, and tensions with Zahran were --as always-- one misstep away from war. 

His people called him Moguire the Great. He drove out the Zahranese, refused to be intimidated by Vistile (at least publicly), and established an almost unprecedented era of peace in Adraea. 

It would all end with his death.

Matters would be much simpler if Oka had borne any children. When he married the daughter of one of the most powerful families of Zahran, he had intended to father a line descended from both countries. That might have kept the peace. 

Alas, Oka of House Zutaragi was barren. She was also crazy.

Oka had a habit of wandering about the palace humming to herself. She never seemed to know the time of day or night and would wander for hours on end murmuring songs from her homeland. 

Moguire tried to keep her happy. He purchased Zahranese silks, trinkets, and art for obscene sums. He never forced her into bed. He even tried to learn a few Zahranese phrases so that she might feel more cared for. Moguire understood that a man so old as himself was no prize in the eyes of a woman as young as Oka, and sought to make up for it. 

None of it worked. And worse, she could not even bear children. 

And so, on the same day as Saya's visit with Lady Judana and a hundred miles away, King Moguire called a council meeting. 

The men slowly drifted into the room. Some were hungover, others merely exhausted. Moguire had been calling a lot of meetings lately. Once they were all settled, Moguire spoke.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Today I wish to discuss the matter of succession."

The word alone was sobering. The councilmen perked up. 

"As I see it," Moguire continued, "I have four options. The first would be my illegitimate son, Larc Sangduroi."

The councilmen shot glances at one another. It was a risky move, but putting such a young boy on the throne would allow for one of them to be a surrogate king. 

Moguire's top advisor, Aled Wick, spoke first.

"Larc is a Bolunt. And he's your own blood. Bastard or not, I am sure the people would prefer to be led by the natural son of Moguire the Gr--."

As much affection as Moguire held for Aled, he was more than aware of his friend's ulterior motives. The king held up his hand, and Aled stopped speaking. 

"The second choice would be my niece Maridyth Thornewood. She--"

"She's thirty-two!" Lewis Schrod, the loose cannon of the group, exclaimed. "Far too old for a woman."

"I would remind you, Lewis, that Queen Yerisa of Zahran was exactly that age upon her ascension to the throne," Moguire explained patiently.

"She doesn't have any natural heirs, either," one of the other men pointed out. 

Moguire continued. 

"The other option would be my nephew, Callen Myrdoch." 

"He'd be a more appealing candidate if he were in his thirties," Lewis grumbled. "Sixteen is far too young."

"That leaves the last option, Maridyth's half-sister Elara Thornewood. She's twenty-two, now, and quite the academic from what I've heard."

"Only two of these options are Bolunt," Aled observed. "The Aragynas should be eliminated from the equation entirely."

"There are issues with every candidate, Aled," Lewis grunted. "Larc is a little boy who is the closest living relation to the King, but naming him could aggravate the Zahranese because he is a symbol of the failed union with Queen Oka. Callen would be my next pick, but he's the son of the younger sister of Moguire instead of the elder, which means that technically Maridyth is ahead of him in line. Neither Callen nor Maridyth shares the same denomination as King Moguire, which is hugely problematic. Elara actually is Bolunt, but she is also the daughter of the man whose claim is arguably stronger than the King's, who cast aside the King's sister. It's a political fucking night terror!"

All the councilmen burst into arguments, shouting at one another and trying to have their opinions known. When the messenger knocked on the door, he wasn't even heard the first time. The second time, Moguire called him in after ordering the others into silence. 

The messenger boy averted his eyes and quickly passed the letter he held to Moguire, walking out of the room backward after being dismissed by the king. 

Moguire broke the seal and scanned over the contents of the letter, his eyes widening. He sighed for a moment, rubbing his brow.

"What is it, sire?" one of the men asked.

"It appears," began Moguire, "that Queen Yerisa has appointed Ilixei Sato as her new top advisor."

The room grew quiet. Of course, it was Lewis who broke the silence.

"That sonuvabitch hates Adraea!"

"Yes, Lewis," Aled huffed. "That is, in fact, the issue."

There were a few more moments of deep silence, no one else daring to speak. Moguire finally broke it.

"Send for the Thornewood girls and Callen Myrdoch. I must decide upon an heir as soon as possible."

***

"You know, they say that any noble can prove Charnelle blood just by the shade of their hair," Callen said as he sat with his cousins at the small round table. "We're all quite vibrant-headed, aren't we? Though I suppose Maridyth's is more a coppery brown, isn't it?"

Maridyth visibly fumed but spoke calmly. "Perhaps you're right, Duke Callen. Though --being the daughter of the eldest sister of King Moguire the Second and the daughter of the eldest son of the eldest son of King Moguire the First-- I suppose I've never had to prove the validity of my rank." 

Maridyth looked over at her half-sister. "I do wonder at your being here, Elara, seeing as you are the product of an invalid marriage."

"I am the product of a completely Yeshtite union according to King Moguire, dearest sister," Elara replied. "And we share the same father. If you consider my claim invalid, do you doubt the faith of our King?"

Maridyth grew pale. "I only meant--"

The door swung open, and Moguire walked in. Callen stood up, waiting for Moguire to sit.

One of the few perks of womanhood.

Moguire sat at the only remaining chair, and Callen finally was able to resume to his sitting position. 

As always, the king spoke with a measured rhythm. 

"I am sure you all know the reason for my calling you here. I have gotten old, and I wish to know that I am leaving my country in good hands. You three and my bastard son are the candidates. Larc is, however, only six, and it had been brought to my attention that Zahran may take his appointment personally. He has not been discarded entirely, but it should be known that I am leaning in the direction of naming one of you. You will all live here in the palace until further notice. I may have a decision today, I may have a decision in ten years. I expect no bickering, no gossip, no behavior that is beneath your stations. If I observe such behavior, I will know you are unfit to rule. You shall treat one another decently, and I expect two of you to give your full support to the one I eventually choose. Do you have any questions?"

None of them did. Moguire stood up achingly.

"Meeting adjourned. I'm afraid I have a letter to write. I will see you all at dinner."

The king looked at them all a moment before leaving. Three red manes glistened back at him, each donning the full weight of the Charnelle name. Did they wear it well? Moguire could not yet be certain. 

Only one thing was abundantly clear to the old king: all three were seeing red. 

***

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