CHAPTER 85 - TRISTAN

Tristan Denvorn’s ears grew tired of the king’s curses in every council meeting. He had stood like a statue behind King Terrowin Randall who was sitting at the head of the long, marbled table. The five members of the high council had seated on both sides, with the absence of the sixth member—the king’s sister.

“Taxes? This shit again?” the king snapped. “I’ve already told you to raise it. Have you gone deaf, Rique?”

“Forgive me, eh your grace,” Lord High Rique, the Pursemaster and a man bald, lowered his eyes in respect. “Eh I did get this order sent to every house of the country. However, the peasants and eh low class couldn’t bear to afford such an amount.”

“And you’re passing this on to me? Then double all their labor!—Bullshit, you’re the Pursemaster. Do these crap yourself,” said the king in a mad voice.

“As what I was about to say, your grace,” Rique bowed.

“Where the hell is Miranda anyway? I told her to take this bloody matter into account,” the king said.

The council room fel