The Werewolf King by Ryan Matthew Harker (recommended books to read .TXT) 📖

The atmosphere of the tavern was loud and raucous. Bawdy music erupted from towering speakers as the band pounded, twanged and strummed their instruments with varying degrees of skill and focus. Half naked serving girls wove their way between drunken customers, moving in and out of the multitude of many faceted conversations as they served drinks throughout the bar. Drunken delinquents of all shapes, sizes, races and colours laughed and cursed in response to the lively comments boisterously bantered about by their equally drunk comrades and cohorts.
This chaotic dive was named the Hobbled Hobgoblin and the Hobbled Hobgoblin was Max Kimbal’s favorite pub within the city limits of the massive world capital Dirsellia.
An alcoholic physicist from an alternate reality turned royal advisor to a throne on a world not his own he had found that the tumultuous crowd was a wonderful place in which he could lose himself from the minor stresses of the palace life he had been living for the past thirteen months.
The dim lighting changed dramatically as the front door opened to admit the blazing light of midday. Drunk by noon was Max’s daily goal and he lazily turned his head towards the door to survey the newcomer silhouetted in the entryway. The door swung shut on its own, blocking out the undiluted rays of the sun, and as his eyes readjusted to the bars near perpetual gloom Max saw that the newcomer was a woman, a woman whom he knew. This woman was dressed in a striking combination of red and black and as she slunk her way through the crowd conversations slowed or ground to a complete stop altogether as she passed and was recognized by a few of the patrons.
Max sighed inwardly and finished the last of his drink for she was headed straight for him. The woman took the seat opposite him and said, “It’s never too early for you is it Max?” as he waved over a serving girl.
“Two whiskeys, one with ice,” Max told the server before he agreed, “It never is Sefu, it never is.”
The serving girl promptly returned with the two drinks and Max gave her an affectionate pat on her behind to send her off. “You’ve got to love the snappy service here,” he enthused and Sefu took a sip off of the top of the glass with ice. “So what brings you here at this time of the day assassin?” he asked speaking the word assassin quite a bit louder than the rest and chuckling with enjoyment as he watched the people around them cringe slightly.
Sefu scowled behind her glass and said, “Ex-assassin Max. You know I haven’t practiced that profession since Candlelite ascended the throne.”
“I do?” Max inquired innocently and as Sefu scowled again he answered himself, “Of course I do but,” and he waved his glass in front of her extravagantly. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Sefu could not help the smile that played at the corners of her mouth for there was something about this wizened little drunk of a man that amused her and always had. “I’ve been hearing some things,” she told him.
“What kinds of things?” he asked.
“The kinds of things that our young, new king may find interesting,” she leaned forward across the table and purred.
“Rumors?” Max asked leaning across the table as well.
“I believe them to be more than mere rumor,” Sefu answered and abruptly sat upright, tilted her glass to her mouth and drained half of it in two swallows.
Max admired anyone with a propensity for drink, especially a woman, and a gleam sparked in his somewhat dulled and bloodshot eyes. “And I imagine you’ll want to speak with him directly,” he stated before he too sat upright and drained half of his glass.
“Not at all,” Sefu surprised him. “You know as well as I do that even after all these months he still doesn’t trust me.” She smiled a predatory grin.
“Well you did try to kill him and Absinthe on more than one occasion,” Max guffawed and whiskey spittle flew from his lips.
Her predatory grin turned very predatory indeed as she savored the memories and Sefu let loose a small chuckle of her own.
“I suppose my efforts were doomed from the beginning,” she mused thoughtfully and finished her drink. “Damned prophecy!”
“I suppose they were,” Max agreed as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve, then he quickly changed the subject. “Why don’t I buy you another drink and you can enlighten me as to these things you’ve been hearing.”
The ex-assassin’s spirits perked up a bit and she pushed away the disappointment of the past. “Sounds like a plan you ol’ scoundrel,” she said and belched loudly.


The throne room was a long, wide stone hall with tall walls draped in magnificent tapestries. In the center of its expanse stood a long stone topped table buttressed underneath with stout timbers. The throne room was entered and exited at one end through a massive set of superbly carved and intricately inlaid wooden doors, fifty feet tall they were guarded by twelve men with swords sheathed but rifles ever ready. At the opposite end stood a pair of large stone thrones backed and seated with richly embroidered and plush cushions. Once these thrones had been made of solid silver but their present occupants felt a more primal kinship to the stone. Upon these thrones sat these occupants, a serious looking young blonde man and a beautiful red haired woman with green eyes that sparkled like emeralds.
The woman sat upon the left throne with a grace and poise that could scarcely be matched by any other female of her generation. Her name was Absinthe and at the estimated age of twenty-four she was the youngest queen in all the long history of the planet AnEerth. From her seat of authority she calmly surveyed all the happenings around her, the comings and goings of pages, messengers, dignitaries, farmers and soldiers, all there to conduct business with her husband the king. Upon them all she bestowed the gift of her radiant smile.
The man who sat to her right wore the bored expression of someone who wished they were anywhere but where they were. His name was Candlelite, High King of the planet AnEerth and as yet another disgruntled farmer’s squabble was resolved he rested his gaze on his lovely wife who brightened his day instantly with one of her radiant smiles. He adjusted his crown to a more comfortable perch on his head. She reached out, took his hand and gave it a slight squeeze which he returned.
“Ahem, my lord,” A polite cough from his right redirected his attention in that direction and to the woman who stood there.
The witch Farewethor, chief thaumaturgical advisor to the crown, stood with a bemused smile on her face as she looked patiently down upon her king.
“I’m sorry Farewethor,” Candlelite apologized tiredly although it was only early afternoon. “Where were we?”
Taking note of the young king’s weariness Farewethor made a diplomatic decision of her own and answered, “I believe we were just about to break for lunch my liege.”
Candlelite barely concealed his sigh of relief as Farewethor signaled a page who gathered his disciples and began emptying the throne room of all of the men and women who still awaited an audience with the king. Once they had ushered everyone from the room they left as well, bowing slightly to the king and queen before doing so.
“I will make my way to the kitchen and see what the chef has on the menu for today,” Farewethor said to Candlelite and Absinthe and then she disappeared into a bright flash of light.
Absinthe’s laughter tinkled softly and she confided, “One of these days I want to learn how to do that.”
Candlelite responded with a low chuckle of his own and rubbed his eyes while he replied, “One of these days I would like them to teleport a little less brightly.”
The young couple was laughing when a small side door to the right opened and in staggered the drunken scientist Max Kimbal.
“Max” Absinthe squealed delightfully and sprang from her seat to rush the old man whom she considered to be almost a father.
The energetic young woman wrapped her arms around him and as the already unsteady man became even more unbalanced he grunted, “Whoa there lass, before you topple the both of us!”
Absinthe gave him a wet kiss on the mouth and stepped back suddenly. “Eewww Max you taste like liquor!” she objected.
Candlelite laughed at the disgusted look that besmirched his wife’s delicate features and grasped the smaller man’s hand in his own. “Good afternoon Max. What brings you in here before dinner time?”
“I don’t know what it is that makes everyone think that they know me,” Max grinned toothily as he shook the young man’s hand. “I can be unpredictable sometimes.”
“Sure can Max,” Absinthe gushed happily as she hooked her arm in his and began to lead him to the long table. “As it is you’re just in time for lunch.”
“Good ‘cause I’m starving,” the scientist growled and allowed himself to be seated.
At that moment the throne room was illuminated by a bright flash of light which dissipated quickly to reveal the witch Farewethor and a serving cart heaped with delicious smelling foodstuffs.
“Good afternoon Maximillian,” the witch greeted as she pushed the cart over to the table.
“Hey there witchy, what kind of vittles have you got there?” Max craned his neck to get a better look at the over laden food cart.
“Wait your turn you old scoundrel,” Farewethor admonished as she slapped his hand away from the food.
“You’re the second woman to call me that today,” Max told her as he rubbed his hand good naturedly.
“And who would the first be?” Candlelite asked from his place at the tables head.
Absinthe laughed and placed her hand in his. “I’m sure it can wait darling. Let’s enjoy our meal first and talk shop second. Besides weren’t you getting tired of business?” she teased.
Candlelite smiled and put his suspicions on the back burner. “You are right my dear, as always. Let’s see what Farewethor has conjured for us this afternoon,” and he dropped the witch a playful wink.
“Conjuring is not my specialty, your highness,” Farewethor scolded.
“Damnit Farewethor, how many times do I have to tell you to drop the highness crap when it’s just us?” Candlelite scolded back.
“I am most sorry, highness,” Farewethor said with false contrition and a wink towards Absinthe.
“Now leave Farewethor alone Candlelite,” Absinthe laughed.
The young king leaned towards Max and whispered conspiratorially, “You see what I have to deal with every day?” and barely dodged a blow from his wife.
“Don’t drag me into it sonny,” Max told him around a mouthful of the food that had been deposited in front of him by Farewethor.
They all laughed at the old man’s statement and settled back like the good friends they were, talking and laughing over the scrumptious meal. When they had all consumed their fill the four sat back to discuss Max’s unannounced visit.
The physicist adjusted his glasses to a higher position on his nose and belched politely before he pulled out his ever present flask and took a drink. “Ahh, that hit the spot,” he said as he recapped the flask.
“The meal or the drink?” Farewethor asked him, arching an eyebrow sharply.
“Both witchy,” Max answered seriously for he had no reason to intentionally insult anyone. “Very nicely conjured.”
Candlelite erupted with laughter