The Accidental Saint of the Kingdom

Chapter 3: Gala of the Good-Hearted

The carriage ride to the Royal Palace was a study in sensory torture. Rhovek sat stiffly against the velvet upholstery, his fingers rhythmically tapping against a small, glass vial concealed in his silk sleeve. Beside him, Kervos sat in stony silence, his hand never straying far from the pommel of his sword.

"Stop shaking your leg, My Lord," Kervos muttered, his eyes scanning the passing streetlights. "You’re acting like a caged beast."

"Because I am one," Rhovek hissed, staring at his own hands. "Do you realize how hard it is to hold a vial of lethal nightshade when your own body keeps trying to reach out and straighten your cravat? It’s humiliating, Kervos. It’s like being possessed by a saint."

Kervos chuckled softly, a rare, dry sound. "Maybe the body knows better than the mind, eh? Perhaps a little nobility would do you good."

Rhovek shot him a look that could have curdled cream. "I am here to empty the treasury, not to win a popularity contest. If I have to kill the King to get to his vault, I will. And I will do it with a smile, even if my body forces me to kiss his ring afterward."

"You’re a piece of work, Rhovek," Kervos said, leaning back. "You’re going to get us both executed before dessert."

"Only if the wine doesn't do the job first," Rhovek replied, patting his sleeve.

The palace gates loomed ahead, vast and ornate. As they pulled into the courtyard, the sheer density of guards was enough to make Rhovek’s old thief instincts hum with adrenaline. This wasn't just security; it was a fortress.

"Stay close," Rhovek commanded, stepping out of the carriage. "If I start acting like a saint, punch me. Hard."

"Noted," Kervos whispered.

They entered the Grand Ballroom. It was a cavernous space of gold leaf, crystal chandeliers, and the scent of expensive perfume masking the stench of political decay. Rhovek moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his newfound 'noble' grace making him move with an effortless fluidity that betrayed his slum-bred background.

"Look at them," Kervos murmured, his eyes tracking a group of whispering courtiers. "They all want something from you tonight, My Lord."

"They want to see if I’m as 'reformed' as the rumors say," Rhovek said, accepting a flute of sparkling wine from a passing servant. He slipped behind a marble pillar, his hand moving to his sleeve to retrieve the vial. "Time for the main event."

A voice cut through the hum of the room, smooth and dangerous. "I didn't think you’d actually show up, Dalmarys."

Rhovek turned to find Veylor Karth standing there, a smirk plastered on his thin, aristocratic face. The man was a snake, and Rhovek knew it.

"Karth," Rhovek said, his tone dripping with mock warmth. "I wouldn't miss a chance to see how the other half lives. It’s illuminating, truly."

Karth stepped into his personal space, his gaze sharp. "You’ve made quite a splash. Tossing gold, saving spies. My sources tell me the King is planning to give you a commission by the end of the night. A bit of a promotion for a man who spent his life in the gutter."

Rhovek forced his hand to stay steady, even as his fingers throbbed with the urge to reach out and pat Karth on the shoulder. Down, you traitorous limb, he commanded internally. "We all evolve, Karth. Some of us just do it faster than others."

"Do we?" Karth tilted his head. "I wonder. What exactly is in that drink of yours, Dalmarys? You look like you’re contemplating murder."

"Just nerves, old friend," Rhovek said, stepping away. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, the King is looking in my direction. It would be rude to keep him waiting."

Rhovek navigated the crowd, his heart drumming against his ribs. He approached the dais where the King stood, surrounded by his inner circle. The path was clear. He just needed to bump into the King, drop the nightshade, and watch the chaos unfold.

But as he reached the edge of the dais, his vision shifted. He didn't see the King’s neck; he saw a flash of steel near the drapery. A man in the livery of a high-ranking official was inching forward, a concealed blade sliding from his sleeve.

No, Rhovek thought, his mind racing. That’s my kill!

His body didn't care about the heist. Before Rhovek could process the thought, his muscles coiled, moving with a speed that bypassed his own conscious control. He didn't drop the vial. Instead, he swung his arm, the glass flute of poisoned wine flying through the air like a projectile.

Clang!

The glass shattered against the assassin’s wrist just as the blade was descending. The assassin howled, dropping the knife, which clattered loudly onto the polished floor.

"Assassin!" Kervos roared from somewhere behind him.

Chaos erupted. The room descended into a flurry of motion. Guards swarmed the dais, tackling the would-be killer. Rhovek stood frozen, his hand still extended in a dramatic, heroic gesture he didn't remember making.

The King stared at him, his face pale, his eyes wide with shock. "You... you disarmed him with a drink?"

Rhovek felt his skin crawl. I was trying to kill you, you old fool, he thought.

Instead, he bowed with a flourish of sickening, natural elegance. "A man of your stature deserves to live long enough to see his people prosper, Your Majesty."

The court fell silent, then erupted into applause. People were cheering. Cheering for him.

"Rhovek Dalmarys!" the King shouted over the din, gesturing for the guards to stand down. "You have saved the Crown tonight! And you did it with such... such poise!"

Karth, standing nearby, looked absolutely green. Rhovek felt like he was going to vomit. His own body was standing tall, chest puffed out, drinking in the adoration of a room full of people he wanted to pickpocket.

"It was nothing, Your Majesty," Rhovek said, his voice smooth, confident, and entirely alien to him. "Just a reflex."

"A heroic one," the King said, stepping down from the dais to grip Rhovek’s shoulder. The King’s hand was heavy, his expression one of immense gratitude. "I have heard the stories of your kindness, but to see you risk your life for mine? It changes everything."

"I am merely a servant of the realm," Rhovek said, his internal voice screaming in agony.

"No," the King countered, his voice booming. "You are more than that. The city of Oakhaven has long suffered under the neglect of the lower districts. The crime, the poverty, the rot... I need someone with a heart, someone who understands the weight of these things, to take charge."

Rhovek looked up, his eyes widening. "Your Majesty?"

"I am appointing you as the Supervisor of the Silt District," the King declared, the hall going quiet to listen to the decree. "You will be responsible for the city’s poorest, most dangerous wards. You will have the resources, the authority, and the trust of the Crown to rebuild them as you see fit."

Kervos stepped up beside him, his expression one of sheer, dumbfounded amusement.

"The Silt District?" Rhovek managed to stammer. "That’s... that’s a lot of responsibility, Your Majesty."

"It is," the King agreed, smiling. "But you’ve proven today that you have the spirit for it. Go, Dalmarys. Serve your people. And tonight, let us celebrate the man who saved the Kingdom with nothing more than a glass of wine."

As the crowd surged forward to congratulate him, Rhovek felt his head spinning. He had wanted the crown jewels. He had wanted the gold. Instead, he had been handed the keys to the most wretched, crime-ridden district in the city.

He turned to Kervos, his face pale. "They’ve made me the warden of the slums."

Kervos leaned in, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, My Lord. You always were good at casing those streets. Now you just get to own them."

Rhovek looked out at the sea of bowing, fawning faces, his body waving back with an ease that made his skin crawl. He realized with a sickening, cold clarity that he wasn't going to rob the King tonight.

He was going to run the kingdom.

"We need a drink," Rhovek muttered, his voice barely audible over the cheering.

"A real one this time?" Kervos asked.

"A very, very strong one," Rhovek replied. "And then, Kervos? We’re going to find out exactly what a Supervisor does with a whole city of thieves."