The journey to my new home is a half-day march and ride, but it takes two full days to ready the people coming with me. Minor officials forming the official staff of my court, names I will have to remember… eventually. Yet there is still one major post and Inner Court member I have to fill out.

  Court Chaplin.

  Normally, this post is not a member of the Inner Court, but for me, it is. I head to a small chapel near my room and kneel down.

  “Oh great Rorues, I need to speak,” I say the simplified prayer, as a figure from the shadows walks out.

  “Took you long enough.” Rorues, God of Death, says, his jaw bone moving without muscles.

  “I have been quite busy, as you know.” I retort, and walk towards him, pulling him in for a hug. “How has Xidulla been?” I ask, about Xidulla, Goddess of the Afterlife, and his wife.

  “Well enough, but I know what you are here for. To ask who I would pick as your Chaplin with your special circumstances.” He retorts as if my circumstances are barely known by me and only the Gods know.

  “Can you tell me what those are yet?” I ask, letting go of the hug.

  “You know I cannot.” He responds, as he steps out of the hug and looks me up and down. “There are a few Deathsitters who could carry the role of your Chaplin well. Though few are near Whitwater.” He says, his skeletal finger tapping his bony chin.

  After a few seconds, he stops and smiles at me. A creepy smile, for the lack of lips and face in general, makes it uncanny.

  “Deathsitter Eliza Bealie.” He says, smiling at me. I shrug as if he expects me to know who she is. He sighs and begins to explain.

  “She was a major scandal magnet a few years ago in the Court, for her debate with Ivory Warrior Jackson Kingston. The debate was simple. Suppose clergymen and women should be taxed. Jackson, was in the pocket of the anti-tax crowd, while Eliza, as Deathsitters pays taxes unlike other clergy members” At this he spits out nothing towards the ground. “And she cited actual evidence as to why. Jackson had the King banish her from the court, yet she was appointed as a wandering Deathsitter to the duchy. She is incorruptible and wise. Plus, showing up with a Deathsitter in tow will scare the local notables.”

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  “Why is that?” I ask, as my adherence to the god of death should be well known amongst the court at large.

  “Rumors are flying, in City, of murders. Cult-like murders.”

  “A demon ruler has escaped?” I ask, shocked.

  “It is possible, however unlikely. It may be one of their vassals. Which is worse.” He says as he shakes his head.

  The demon rulers have caused chaos and war wherever they go. And if a god is warning about them, it is bad. The last time this occurred was 400 years ago when the Seagards took the throne. This is not what I wanted to hear.

  “Can’t you give me good news?” I ask, shaking my head in despair.

  “I’m the God of Death. Not of Good News.” He retorts, smiling still. I shake my head as he disappears flipping a Throne coin in the air to disappear.

  “Damn gods…” I mutter to myself, as I leave the chapel, and send a note to this Deathsitter requesting a meeting. I get a response back quickly, thankfully she is in the capital today.

  A few hours later in my study, I sit, as she enters.

  In the ceremonial robes of a Deathsitter, you would expect an evil-looking robe, dark with skulls and bones. Yet, they are white after the bones of Rorues, with symbols not of death but of birth, his other domain.

  “Thank you for meeting with me Deathsitter,” I say as she bows in the manner of the junior clergy.

  “When the new Crown Prince calls I answer.” She retorts and smiles.

  “Please, sit,” I say, gesturing to a chair in front of my desk. “I assume you have heard which of the gods I favor.”

  “Rorues, the Lord of Ending and Beginning.” She states, the formal title of the god. I simply nod.

  “I need a good Court Chaplin to join the inner court.”

  “Why me? I was banished from court.”

  “Because Rorues and I have an… understanding,” I say, as I place a small bone from my pouch on the table. It is the pinky bone of Rorues, a gift from years ago. She gasps, covering her mouth.

  “He granted you a marker of his blessings?” She asks, shocked. In history, most gods and goddesses have granted a marker of some type of their favor. Yet never Rorues.

  “10 years ago, when I first killed an orc. He said the forces at play needed him or something along those lines. So will you join my court?” She continues to look at the small bone as she nods, mutely.

  The next morning, we set out to Whitwater City. Instead of the 15th Guard, their name has officially changed to the 1st Whitwater Guard, their banner is no longer the 15th’s banner.

  A shield split in two, gold and red, with three red crowns upon the golden top half and a golden dragon upon the red half. As the men march out while I ride upon Onyx’s back, I feel a sense of sadness, knowing that Sophia is now the commander. As the Duke, I cannot command any one unit specifically, least of all my personal guards.

  The Inner Court ride beside me, while two patrols of cavalry ride in front and behind us. I look at my court, the men and women who have pledged to aid me in the service to the realm and smile.