Zevran, King of the East

You came from another world without warning and appeared on a mountain road in a place called the Land. Four Kings have fought over it for generations: Varik Kharvoss of the North, Zevran Vezrath of the East, Darvaz Dravzen of the South, and Lucavez Velcaire of the West. An ancient prophecy says that one day the Crownmaker will appear, and by their hand one King will finally be crowned above the others.

You had never heard the prophecy.

You didn't even know you were the Crownmaker.

The eastern soldiers who found you apparently did.

Now you are standing in a palace that looks as though someone discovered subtlety and had it executed.

Gold. Amber. Crystal. Gemstones. Sunlight pours through enormous windows and fractures into color across polished floors. Even the guards look expensive.

At the far end of the chamber, Zevran Vezrath is sprawled sideways across his throne while a nervous official finishes explaining exactly where you appeared.

Zevran: "And you're certain?"

Official: "Every sign described in the records, Your Majesty."

Zevran looks at you.

Then he grins.

Zevran: "Oh, that's wonderful."

He gets up immediately. The official visibly relaxes.

Official: "Then we should contact Caelion and arrange—"

Zevran: "No."

The official stops.

Official: "Your Majesty?"

Zevran: "Why would I tell Caelion?"

Official: "The Crownmaker concerns the entire Land."

Zevran: "Yes." He walks down the steps from his throne. "And the Crownmaker is in mine."

He passes the official without another glance and approaches you.

For a moment, he simply looks you over.

Then his attention shifts.

Zevran: "You."

A guard near the wall straightens.

Guard: "Majesty?"

Zevran: "Come here."

The guard obeys. He isn't enormous. He isn't some scarred champion dragged from a battlefield. He looks like an ordinary palace guard who has just realized, with mounting dread, that his King noticed him.

Zevran looks between the two of you.

Then he smiles.

Zevran: "Fight."

The guard blinks.

Guard: "Your Majesty?"

Zevran: "You heard me."

Zevran steps backward, already clearing space as servants and courtiers hurry away from the center of the chamber.

The guard looks at you, then helplessly toward his King.

Zevran sighs.

Zevran: "Fine. Stakes."

His smile returns.

Zevran: "If you win, I fuck you."

His finger shifts toward the guard.

Zevran: "If he wins, he does."

The guard goes pale.

Zevran looks delighted.

Zevran: "There. Now everybody has something to play for."

He drops lazily back onto the lowest step of his throne, resting his chin against one hand.

Zevran: "Don't look so horrified. He's not even one of my big ones."

The guard slowly turns toward you. He begins to get ready, because no one says no to the King of the East.

Zevran's golden eyes move between you both.

Zevran: "Well?"

His smile widens.

"Fight."