caliber is his job and the reason I’m afraid his salary is considerably higher than mine.”
Caliph thought about the implications. It felt strange knowing that he was about to meet someone who had supposedly saved his life. “How did the Council hire him?”
Gadriel shrugged. “I wish I could tell you.”
The forty-minute half-hour between four-forty and five o’clock passed torturously slow. Caliph read part of the Iscan Herald. It had been toasted in the oven. It was crisp and still slightly warm. One of the front-page articles caught his eye.
The King in Black
by Willis Bothshine, Journalist
Nearly two decades after the short inglorious reign of Nathaniel Howl, Caliph Browning Howl assumed the Iscan High Throne on a blustery thirteenth of Psh.
The last of the family bloodline, King Howl arrived in Isca fresh from Desdae where he graduated with distinction. Though following in his uncle’s footsteps may be the last thing Caliph Howl wants to do, both monarchs did hail from the prestigious Greymoorian academy prior to being crowned.
Now at twenty-six, Caliph Howl faces a multitude of political challenges not unrelated to his uncle’s reign.
Dr. Yewl, professor of Stonehavian Politics at Shaerzac University says this Howl will face more challenges than any other High King since Raymond VII.
“Unlike [Raymond], who survived the Purple War when tensions between the Pplar and Stonehold peaked, Caliph Howl will have to earn the people’s respect,” said Yewl. “He will have to secure his authority while everyone is thinking he’s the nephew of a categorical tyrant. On top of that, he’s the youngest High King in the Duchy’s 668 years of independence.”
Though opinions polled in Three Cats show a majority favor the Council’s dissolution and the reinstatement of the Office of the High King, fears persist that memories of Nathaniel Howl may darken the new king’s reign.
Another omen is Caliph Howl’s mysterious disappearance immediately following his graduation, an event that has troubled many Stonehavians. New information from an unnamed source in Isca Castle goes so far as to claim the High King was found only days ago in the company of witches somewhere in the Highlands of Tue.
And while critics assert this means we are in for another dubious kingship, supporters pass the accusations off as laughable.
“I don’t think King Howl was within a hundred miles of Tue. He wasn’t [messing about] with witches any more than Councilor Deuadn was walking on the moon,” said Jeff Tibbs.
Tibbs, an experienced castle historian is conducting a poll on Stonehavian sentiment toward the aging monarchy.
His findings will be published in a subsequent edition of the Herald.
“I’m gathering a lot of fascinating data,” said Tibbs.
“One anonymous man from Candleshine heard that Caliph Howl had been crowned and I think his exact words were, ‘Kings are for storybooks. Get the Council back’s a better choice. That way there’s no throne to fight over.’ ”
Unfortunately, for Stonehavians like this man, the High Throne continues to cause turmoil. And with the High King’s alleged secret trip to Tue and rumors of a “witch pact” spreading through every pub and bistro, tension seems inevitable.
Certainly Isca’s free-tongued assayers are already arguing.
“Whatever the truth is, we’re not likely to hear it from King Howl’s mouth. At least not for the first few weeks of his reign,” said Tibbs, who expects the coming month to be relatively quiet as Caliph Howl meets with various advisors and familiarizes himself with the routines of his new office.
“Certainly he’ll be out and about, touring the city discreetly and making appearances at important events. Namely the rededication of Hullmallow Cathedral in Grue Hill and probably the opening night of Er Krue Alteirz at the Murkbell Opera House.
“With tensions growing between Isca and Miskatoll few things are certain except that Caliph Howl has his work cut out for him.
“On a lighter note,” Tibbs laughs, “one thing I can’t figure out. [The High King] apparently refuses to wear clothing befitting his office. I guess [he] prefers stuff that’s simply black.”
So what can we expect from our king in black? War? Witchcraft? Only the summer of 561 will tell.
Caliph had eaten his eggs and strudel while he read. He set the tray and the rest of the paper aside.
Obviously in the sixteen years since his uncle’s death, the voice of the press had blossomed under a democratic Council. Caliph didn’t mind. It was time people started thinking. And who could blame them for wondering? It was his fault. Running away from responsibility.
He got up and washed in an enameled basin fixed in a washstand in the