The long corridors of the royal palace were driving him to madness. After another turn, he stood before the golden archway that led into the king's chambers. The elite palace guards stationed outside recognized him and opened the door. His brother's room was in its original state, apart from the elderly scheming man sitting on the king's bed. In it still lay his aged drugged brother, the 'king' of Trianon.
The founding king of Trianon, Jason the mad one, had cast an enormous spell on the region around Trianon. When a king died, everyone older than eighteen in the spell's area could join the 'king's tournament'. The magic trial would find the strongest leader amongst the population. He still had to chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all.
"Why would you put the strongest bullhead in charge of a country? Intellectuals should lead. Fighters should fight."
After they had killed the crazy king, the royal family had to breed the strongest fighters from then on. When the strongest royal fighter won the tournament, they would keep them in a drugged state. Then, the true kings could rule Trianon from the shadows. The drugs had side effects like increased aging, but it was only a minor caveat.
"Spymaster, why did you call for me? Is his condition getting worse?"
The elderly man smiled his sly smile. "No. This time, his replacement has failed."
"Did the prince get beaten in a fight? I don't see that happening. With the amounts of artifacts and potions he has, he should be undefeatable."
"Luckily, he didn't lose in combat. Still, he lost in the alchemist's competition. That wouldn't make me call you the only room safe from prying ears. In the tournament, he met a cultivator called Leonard Avvenci. The royal alchemist set both of them up as rivals to awaken the prince's competitive spirits. In a surprising turn of events, that boy beat the prince and insulted him. Now, he is throwing a fit and wants Leonard dead."
Sweat ran down his brow. The only unknown factor in their succession system was the prince. The prince had artifact implants with which he could kill everyone in the palace. Yet, it was a necessary evil to allow the intellectuals to rule. As long as one didn't anger the prince, it had always worked out fine.
"Shit, Shit, Shit. Dogshit. We need to keep the prince as content as possible. Find that boy and bring the prince his head on a platter. I don't care what it takes to keep him happy. Inform the council that the royal family allows them to use aether to attack suspects."
The spymaster's face paled at that command. "Are you sure you want to resort to such drastic measures?"
He steeled his gaze with conviction he didn't feel. "Do it. If the prince decides we are obstructing him …"
He trailed off but the spymaster understood his meaning. "My duke, I will send the message immediately."