He's in Love with the Devil.

Chapter 27: Woolgathering

As the center of power in Rogaland, being able to step into the Rosebud Palace had always been considered a sign of status. If a nobleman entered the Rosebud Palace less often, then people would be less attentive to him.

However, the many nobles who were "invited" into the Rose Palace today could hardly smile in front of this honor.

These fellows were thrown by the king into the Chateau Rosebud, and the Duke of Buckingham thoughtfully provided a guard for each of them at the door of the room.

The new king's party felt that the Duke of Buckingham had done this solely at the king's pleasure.

It was well known in Rogaland that when the King tried to do something out of the ordinary, the Duke of Buckingham, if he could not prevent it, chose to take matters into his own hands, so as to save his nephew's reputation - if the King's reputation existed at all - from further ruin.

From time to time, the nominal "guests", who were in fact prisoners of war, opened the door of their room and asked the guards when they would be able to leave the palace; they had been here long enough.

The guards regretfully told them that His Majesty was very hospitable, and that the gentlemen would be sure to enjoy the delicacies of the Palace of the Roses before they left.

What delicacies? The Last Supper?

The poor nobles of the new royal party turned pale at their own conjecture, and felt the king's archery knife pressed against their necks more and more.

Finally, the night after the coronation, the nobles were informed that the king's sword was at their necks.

The king was going to see them.

Some fainted on the spot, O Lord! The sword had fallen.

..................

Royal Palace of the Roses, the colorful room.

Bright candles were lit in the magnificent meeting place, and everything looked no different from the emergency meeting held some time ago. The angels, symbolizing judgment and justice, still looked down from the dome, and the colorful monolithic building still carried the characteristic aura of the royal family.

But there was a difference.

For example, the high-backed chair at the top of the table at the meeting had its owner.

The new royal party entered the colorful room with a heavy heart and saw His Majesty at the top.

The King was back in his usual form, wearing a coat with fine gold thread embroidery, and a white cravat folded over several layers, sparkling with tiny diamonds. But what stood out was what the king had in his hand.

On the left, the curved knife that had slit the throat of the Archduke of Glace.

On the right, was the thick stack of paper, not knowing what to record.

The hearts of the new king's party instantly sank as they stiffly took their seats and looked up to see the royalist party just about to get up and leave the table. They should have been here for some time, and not knowing what the king had rewarded them with, one of them smiled very brightly.

A thought swept through the minds of the vast majority of the new King's party:

If only they had taken the Iron Rose.

"Should I caution my cooks? Gentlemen."

The king spoke, the mischief in his brow undiminished by the candlelight, so that even if he spoke in a tone that could be called gentle, it screamed something less than kind.

"I commanded them to prepare a sumptuous meal for you, but now your faces look truly awful, did they even dare to disobey my orders?"

The meals for the past two days were indeed considered sumptuous, with thick soups and fresh meat.

But who was in the mood to enjoy it at this juncture?

The new king's party didn't know what the king was planning to do, so they had to answer his question by praising the two days of great food.

"Ah, naturally." The king laughed, but his next words caused the nobles' faces to change precipitously, "They are all my good and loyal servants, even if I were to ask them to mix a little belladonna[1] into their bread they would do it."

After all, after close to two days, the new king's party had more or less eaten something. And the nobles who had once eaten those breads subconsciously pressed their stomachs, almost wanting to vomit on the spot.

"Be decent, sir." The king watched their faces change, "It's cold, and a harmless joke is good for digestion after a meal."

For the sake of the Holy Lord, such jokes should be kept to a minimum.

Embarrassed, the new king's party took their seats and

"Compared to the chef, you guys are disappointing me."

The king's voice suddenly went cold, he was always cloudy, and underneath his smile there was always an inflamed fire of rage. A cold wind swept through the room and everyone was silenced.

"Let's talk about what good things you've done in the meantime."

"Chevy du Bray." The king picked up the top copy of the stack of paper to his right, "Sir, your stone thrower was great, it blasted open the gates of Selwy Castle."

Without a word, Mr. Chevy, who had been named, slid limply against the back of his chair.

Well now, the nobles of the New King's Party knew what the stack of paper in the king's hand was for.

The Duke of Buckingham had written down all the "good things" they had done during the civil strife, and it looked as if he had written them down very clearly.

"Mr. St. Simon, I must say, your cavalry set a beautiful fire on the lower Doma River."

"Monsieur Lurie, don't lose heart, although your soldiers were not as good at attacking castles, they did a good job at looting villages."

"Oh, and our Mr. Roche, what you did in the east was also very excellent ......"

"......"

The paper turned over one by one.

The king's tone was gracious, so gracious that he turned pale and almost fainted.

The nobles with a keen sense of smell noticed that the king invariably addressed them by their first names only, without any titles, and from this detail revealed a bit of a terrible signal.

"Shall I applaud you?"

The king very patiently named all of them, and he looked up, smiling at all of them. The smile was exactly the same as when he had dueled with Archduke Grice, and let's not forget that the curved sword was resting in the king's hand.

Mr. Schevi, who was the first to be named, reacted the fastest, and immediately stood up from his chair, prostrated himself on the cold ground, and begged, "I beg your majesty to forgive me for my ignorant mistake."

He is considered to be one of the more slight status in here, he originally held the idea of performing well in Grand Duke Grice's seizure of the throne so as to improve his status, and he worked extra hard in the civil war. Where to the front of the sell hard in turn became a rope strung around the neck. He didn't dare to think about what the king's first point meant to him.

Shervi cried bitterly to the king to apologize.

With the first came the second.

Their king was a man who, in a fit of rage, had dared to throw his own uncle, the Duke of Buckingham, into the guillotine, and no one considered himself more honorable than the Duke of Buckingham.

"What is the matter with you all? Am I not rejoicing in the fact that you have great courage?" The king sounded alarmed, "I was planning to create a medal for each of you, to be placed in front of your graves, how about that?"

Spoken ......

The new king's party blanched, the king really did just want to behead them all.

"You deserve them a chance." A voice worthy of heaven rang out as the Duke of Buckingham stepped into the color room to the grateful eyes of the crowd, looking tolerantly at his nephew, "Metzl's executioners won't want to take on too many jobs in one winter, Your Majesty."

"I thought you would be happy to help me out with that, my dear uncle, aren't your soldiers excellent?"

"You can't send them to act as executioners, that's not the way to treat your loyal knights." The Duke of Buckingham said hopelessly.

"All right then."

The king mused for a moment and took a step back.

"I take it that you all would be happy to make some rightful reparation for the damage you have caused?"

What could the new king's party say?

They could say nothing but gratitude.

--The King's curved sword was still in his left hand.

The paper on the right had been read and all thrown to the floor, and now only the knife remained on the table.

The king clapped his hands, and the king's secretary walked briskly into the colored room with a sheaf of paper, ink, and a quill.

The paper was handed out.

"Come, my good gentlemen." The king said briskly, "Write on this paper how many pounds you think the thing around your neck is worth. And of course, allow me to remind you of one thing."

The king's smile was like a nightmare in the eyes of the nobles.

They never wanted to hear applause as a signal again in their lives.

"I hope ......" the king's tone was soft, "that you will not have some sort of delusion ...... mistakenly think that I am negotiating with you. "

The candlelight reflected brightly on the king's face, and there was no smile in those icy blue eyes, which were as cold as a glacier in the dead of winter.

The nobles shivered.

..................

The king looked over a sheet of paper with signed names, satisfied that the numbers on it exceeded even his original expectations.

"It really is more reassuring to settle this once and for all." The king sighed regretfully.

The king truly had murderous intentions towards those great nobles because they had too much power.

The great nobles who owned land were able to collect donations and taxes in their own territories, they were able to hold their own trials, and they could even directly hang thieves who were caught in flagrante delicto. Rogaland's territory consists of thirty-six states with mixed laws and regulations, and there are even some lords who have the right to disregard the judgment of the royal court in their own territories ......[2]

Obviously, this was something the king could not tolerate.

Take your time.

The king said to himself.

"All right." He patted the paper in his hand and said to the Duke of Buckingham, "It's time to get Cousin John back, knowing that extensions are still quite expensive."

The mention of General John reminded the King of something else.

"The negotiating mission has been seized?"

Hearing this news, the king raised his eyebrows.

"Winter is here, and it's time to give our officials a run for their money."

With nothing much to do in the winter, wouldn't it be a good time for a major reckoning? Hopefully no one would actually think that the king would just collect a small ransom and pass it off as a thing of the past.

The settling of scores has just begun.

"One thing." The king pondered for a moment and looked to the Duke of Buckingham, "I wish to learn about the family Templars."

The Duke of Buckingham looked at him suspiciously and spoke politely, "Your Majesty, the power of the Holy See is still strong right now, and the new Pope is a man of great means."

"Don't worry, uncle." The king replied, gazing at the dancing candle flame, the firelight seemed to have turned cold even under his eyes, "I have no intention of going to war with the Holy See for the time being."

If there was anything in the world that could make a king completely furious, it was obviously someone trying to get him killed.

Unfortunately ......

It seems the equally erratic Mr. Devil had done so some time ago.

Author's Notes:

King: What's wrong with being a tyrant and unloading?

Devil: As a devil, what's wrong with trying to patch things up?

[1] Belladonna: can be used to make poison.

[2] Reference to Edward I [England] Mark Morris