Serpent King’s Castle is a sword-and-sorcery-inspired fantasy tale. Wulf Almsson is a city guardsman torn between duty to a tyrant king and love for the people quietly rising against him—until he discovers the king is an inhuman serpent.
Blackmailed into helping a rebellion he never chose, Wulf must decide how much of himself he’s willing to lose to save a city already sliding toward ruin.
***
Last time, Wulf walked Dyani home, promising to have dinner with her and Ari that evening. When he went back to the Guardsmen barracks, he ran into his Captain, Royse, and was assigned a night shift in the castle.
On his way to the North Quarter, Wulf swung off the main thoroughfare onto a small, alley-like street that eventually emerged into a square hemmed in by homes and gardens. In the center stood the chapel, a building made of the same sandy stone as the walls of the city. Normally when Anselm—the priest who had raised him—was there, the door to the small building was left open, so that anyone approaching could see the priest puttering inside.
Tonight, however, the darkened wooden door was closed, though the lantern beside it was already lit for the night. Anselm had already gone home for curfew, it seemed. Wulf considered climbing over the garden fence and checking in on the priest, but ultimately decided against it. Knowing Anselm, he was probably already in bed, eager to make the most of a quiet night in case his sleep should be disturbed by a death or a birth or any other situation—of which there were many—that people thought needed the presence of a priest.
Wulf made his way to Ari’s home, tucked into a dead-end street in the North Quarter. Thanks to the early curfew, there were few people out on the streets, and those that were hurried past with barely a glance at him. As he walked into the little dead-end lane, the lamps, hung at intervals through the street, illuminated the little grassy neighborhood commons at the end of the lane, where Ari’s two goats were still grazing among the yellowing weeds. The brown one, Nan, lifted her head, her rectangular yellow eyes watching him intently as he knocked on Ari’s door.
“Eh, don’t worry, Nan,” he told her. “You’re not on the menu for tonight.”
“Threatening my goats again, are you?” Ari asked as she swung open the door.
Wulf grinned. “She started it. If her lead was long enough, I’m sure she’d be chasing me through the door again.”
Ari chuckled. “You know she doesn’t like guardsmen. Only reason she’s lived this long is because she headbutts anything in a shiny tin suit.”
“Or anything out of one.” Wulf stooped down, planting a quick kiss on the short woman’s head as he kicked off his sandals.
He followed Ari into the kitchen. No fire burned in the hearth, but Dyani stood at the small counter, chopping some sort of greenery. The air was pungent with the scent of garlic, beans, the tangy smell of fresh bread, and goat cheese.
Ari flicked her hand at the table, gesturing for Wulf to sit. He slid onto the bench between the table and the room’s large bay window. A pine basket of berries sat in the middle of the yellow-flower-patterned, well-worn tablecloth. Wulf snagged a plump blackberry and popped it into his mouth.
“ ‘Ey,” Dyani said. “Those are for dessert.”
He grinned at her sheepishly. “Sorry. I bought a basket earlier, but Julen he knocked it over.”
“Hmm.” Ari eyed him for a moment. “Nola gave me that basket this morning on the way to the market, in payment for a joint salve for her father. When she picked it up after curfew this evening, she told me that as she was packing up, some guardsmen confiscated the rest of the baskets. For the castle.”
“That’s not my fault, Ari,” Wulf said quietly.
“Aye, I know, lad.” Ari rummaged in a cupboard and brought out a small, dark glass jar. She slid it across the table to him. “Lemon balm salve. For your bruises. Dyani tells me that you got into a scuffle with Julen.”
Wulf felt a flush rise to his neck and ears, but he quietly took the salve anyway, popping open the top. The earthy, zesty smell of lemon balm filled the room. “I wouldn’t call it a scuffle.”
“No, that makes it sound like you fought back,” Dyani agreed, scooping the chopped leaves into a bowl.
Wulf shot her a startled look as he replaced the top on the jar. She hadn’t seemed upset earlier, when he’d walked her home, but now he could see the strained lines of her face and body. Something had happened between then and now. He glanced over to Ari.
Ari sighed. “One of our neighbors was visited by some guardsmen, shortly after he got home for the early curfew.”
“Why?” Wulf asked. He hadn’t heard any commotion that would accompany a new prisoner while he’d been at the barracks.
“Suspicions of illegal activity,” Ari said, sounding like she was quoting someone. “He wasn’t arrested--they didn’t have enough evidence for that--but he was...badly beaten. In front of his wife and children. I think they weren’t serious about him being involved, but they thought he at least knew something.”
Wulf’s stomach knotted, and he glanced at Dyani again. She didn’t look at him. “Did he tell them anything?”
Ari shook her head. “I’ll need to visit them again after dinner and change the dressings on his wounds.”
Wulf looked down, using one finger to trace the outline of one of the flower petals on the tablecloth. “Captain Royse told me that there have been posters all over the city. Calling for another rebellion.” He lowered his voice. “It’s going to be the West Quarter all over again, if they’re not careful.”
Ari sat on the chair beside him, patting his hand. “I hope it doesn’t come to that, Wulf.”
“Me too, Ari.”
Dinner after that was a subdued affair. Dyani shared out the salad--sorrel, dandelion, and corn greens with a light garlic oil and vinegar dressing--and put a plate of hummus, a bowl of hulled walnuts, and a platter of sourdough bread on the table. Ari tried to keep the mood light, for the most part, sharing stories about the neighborhood children and their misadventures--many of which seemed to also involve the goats, as they were curious, busybody animals. Wulf managed a few genuine chuckles at the most amusing stories, but he kept sneaking glances over at Dyani, who mostly stayed silent as she picked at her food.
After dinner, Ari excused herself and took a basket of food, bandages, and salve over to their neighbors. Wulf watched her cross the street, making sure she was safely inside the neighbor’s home before he closed the front door. The dinner had been delicious, but he knew it was mostly because both Ari and Dyani were allowed outside the walls to forage for supplies to make their potions and salves, and they were also allowed to have a large garden that went mostly unmolested by the guardsmen. Being the sole apothecary in the city had its perks, however small they seemed.
He helped Dyani scrape and rinse the pottery dishes, then accompanied her outside as she did the evening chores. The chickens were fed and shut in their coop, and they untied the goats’ leads and brought them back to the little stable. Dyani remained silent, but as she sat down to milk Nan, she suddenly sighed and leaned her head against the goat’s side.
“Are you all right?” Wulf asked softly.
Dyani didn’t reply, but Wulf gave her space for a moment. He knew she would share. They’d known each other since they were just barely old enough to walk. Dyani had never been one to bury her feelings, at least, not for long. Not around him.
“You should leave the guardsmen,” she said suddenly.
Wulf felt blindsided. “What?” he said.
“Leave,” Dyani repeated, in a tone that he knew meant she was feeling stubborn and angry. “Just…walk out. Tell the captain you quit.”
“Dy... I spent my entire teen years wanting to be a part of the Guardsmen. I trained. I worked hard for my place. I can’t just--”
“Yes, you can,” she interrupted. “You dreamed of joining the Guardsmen because you love people, and you wanted to take care of this city, Wulf. But the guardsmen don’t care for anything but themselves and the king. They don’t protect us anymore.”
Wulf paced to the door of the stable, running his hands through his hair, wincing as his fingers became snarled in knots he hadn’t bothered to brush out after his bath. He stared up, past the small torch in the yard, and up into the sky. The slightest bit of orange tinged the western horizon from the set sun, and overhead, stars twinkled, dotting the dark velvet sky like sequins. “This is a bad time to be talking about this. Especially with the...” He trailed off, turned back to her.
“With the rebellion on the rise again,” she finished.
He nodded.
Dyanni waited for a moment, then said, “I suppose you’re going to lecture me about that, too.”
“Not a lecture, I just wish... I wish you wouldn’t put yourself in danger like that.”
“Someone has to,” she shot back. “The Guardsmen certainly aren’t.”
Wulf flinched. “That’s not fair. I try to help, Dy, I really do. But I’m hobbled.”
“Are you?” Dyani stood up, clutching the rope handle of the milk bucket.
“I could’ve let Julen beat someone from the crowd this afternoon to protect you,” he shot back. “But I didn’t. I stopped him, completely.”
“No, you didn’t. You let him beat you up instead, without raising a hand toward him, and then, he came back and finished the job tonight anyway.”
Wulf froze. Thought of what Ari had said earlier, about their neighbor getting beaten. “Julen...came here?”
Dyani nodded. Put her free hand on Wulf’s arm. “The city can’t take much more of this, Wulf. It’s...”
“It’s going to be another West Quarter, if something isn’t done.” Wulf put his hands on her arms, feeling her warm skin beneath his cold fingers. Fear writhed like a worm in his belly. He’d grown up in the North Quarter, knew its people as well or better than he knew his fellow guardsmen. “Don’t get involved. Just keep your head low, Dyani, please.”
“And let the men like Julen and the king run the city? I can’t just sit by and let everyone suffer.”
“The bad people outnumber the good, Dyani. Especially in the guard. Best we can do is keep our heads down and help where we can.”
Dyani pushed past him, swinging open the kitchen door. “I don’t believe that we can do that anymore, Wulf.” She paused, looking slightly sheepish. “Do you...do you want to come back inside?”
Wulf scraped his hand through his hair again. “No, I...I should get back. I have a night shift. At the castle.”
Dyani bit her lip. “Be careful, Wulf. Please.”
Wulf felt like there was something she expected from him, something she was waiting for him to do. He hesitantly reached forward, brushing a curl of hair out of her face. “Don’t worry about me, Dy. I’ll be fine.”
She seemed slightly disappointed, but nodded, waiting until he’d made his way to the garden path before she closed the door.
Wulf made his way back up to the castle, the conversation churning over in his mind. He didn’t--couldn’t--agree with Dyani that trying to do good was pointless while he was in the City Guard. And she’d seemed upset he’d let Julen take out his anger on him, without fighting back. Wulf wasn’t sure if he could get Dyani to understand the why behind that--that he viewed it as standing between the townfolks and Julen. Letting Julen take his anger out before he turned it somewhere else.
It had worked, until tonight.
Wulf ran his fingers through his hair. Well, he had a nice, long, boring guard shift tonight to try to come up with a solution.
Thank you for reading this installment of Serpent King’s Castle!