Hall of the Hog King 4
author: Hollow
oOo Friday, the Belgoliath Clan Feast oOo
King Bel’s great girth wobbled about as he strode through the halls of his massive castle – his belly bobbed up and down, jiggling, and so did his large jowls with every big step the large man took. He walked with confidence and a stride almost the same size as his body, yet his expression was one of giddiness and joy. He was, surprisingly enough, excited for tonight.
Naturally, he was snacking as he walked through his halls.
He had in one hand a large tray with ten roasted ox legs, a meal fit for more than a dozen for normal folk, but for King Bel, it was simply a snack to keep his hunger at bay – he grabbed one bone with his free hand and brought the still-cooling meat to his plump lips, and he lanced his tongue out to run up and down the meat’s exterior. It was sweet and warm, singed just right, and flowing with flavorful spices.
“Ahhh,” King Bel said.
He chomped into the leg, and for once, he allowed himself the pleasure of chewing a few bites to get the lush juices flowing into his mouth. It was a river of joyous flavor that erupted upon his taste buds, and he could not contain himself from engulfing more of the leg with his salivating jaws.
In no time, he scarfed down the leg in a matter of three bites, swallowing the steaming meat with no trouble whatsoever. It was broken down by that magic bile, and sunk into his enormous stomach, and naturally, the King was thrilled to soak in every part. He set the meatless bone down on the plate, and grabbed onto the second, just as he passed another hall and spotted his Steward, the thinner man twirling a long mustache around one finger.
“Your Majesty,” Kelren said when he saw his King.
“Kelren, my good man,” King Bel said once he’d devoured half of the second ox leg. He waited to swallow it, then set it down so that his mouth wasn’t full when he continued speaking. “How are you doing this day, my friend? I hope you’re not worrying yourself too much about the feast later this eve?”
Kelren sighed. “Trying not to, Sire. But when a family with the clout yours has decides to pay our kingdom a visit like this…” He trailed off before shaking his head. “Everything is accounted for, per your orders, my King. The royal chefs have poured their hearts and souls into preparing a feast big enough for an entire kingdom or two, and, every inch of this castle has been cleaned, polished, and tidied to the bone. No dust, no dirt, no debris of any sort.”
King Bel nodded, pleased. “Excellent work, Kelren. Please give my warmest thanks to the servants, but, I will make the rounds to do the same myself soon. When this feast has ended… provided the ensuing chaos hasn’t caused too much of a fuss throughout the kingdom, I intend to ensure every man and woman is rewarded double for their effort, yourself included, my dear Steward.”
Kelren gave the globulous man an appreciative bow. “I don’t expect anything extra for my service, my King. I simply do what I can to follow your orders.”
“Bah!” King Bel waved his free hand about. “I am many things, Kelren, and ‘imperfect’ is definitely among them. But never will I be a King that does not care for his subjects and servants!” He shook his head, flapping his thick jowls about as he did. “You have been a dutiful Steward to me for years now, as always, my friend. I do wish you’d learn to be less formal at times, though. You know that you and Lady Irika are free to speak to me plainly whenever.”
There was a pause when he finished saying this. He took that pause to devour the remnant of the second roasted ox leg, swallowing the whole hunk whole, including the bone – which added a lovely salty flavor to it. He then grabbed and shoved a portion of the third into his hungry lips, chewing it a few times again for that rush of juice, before he devoured it like the first two.
Kelren looked at him thoughtfully, waiting for King Bel to finish before speaking. “Permission to speak freely, Sire?”
“Always granted,” King Bel said, a touch of firmness in his otherwise amicable voice. “Speak your mind, my Steward.”
Kelren’s thin lips twitched. “I don’t think this is a wise idea. In fact, I have a strong feeling that there is probably something brewing among your relatives, Padrick. I’ve never trusted your brother – never. He’s a rotten apple that fell from an equally rotten tree when it came to your father, and I wouldn’t be surprised one bit if HE was the one that hired the assassin in some way.”
King Bel fell silent. He regarded his Steward with a thoughtful stare for a moment – he set his plate aside on a column with a flat top, one of many sprinkled throughout each hall for this very reason – then folded his arms over the soft, thick expanse of his round chest.
“You are not unwise to think that,” King Bel said. The air was more serious now, and he did not squander this. “I’ve been thinking something similar ever since the assassin told me the other day. I cannot say in good faith my brother would do this in person, no. He would never bother with such a thing, not him – but, it’s not unlikely that he had a hand in hiring the man, either.”
Kelren said nothing, and simply waited for his King to finish his thought.
“Your worry that there may be something foul afoot…” King Bel leaned in, closer to his Steward. “That is another good point, Kelren. I’d thought it, but tried to dismiss it as a needless concern. However… that you feel it, and I can read it all over your face… that tells me it’s something to be more mindful of.”
“Are you certain you want to go through with it?” Kelren asked.
King Bel straightened his posture, his smile returning. “I am, Kelren. I don’t fear my family, least of all my brother. I will keep an eye out on all things that befall tonight, as I’m sure you and my other loyal servants will. We will have to wait and see how it all plays out.”
Kelren nodded. “Very well then, your Majesty.”
“Do you happen to know how many folk will be showing up?” King Bel inquired. It was one of the few things he’d not heard about, beyond his brother.
Kelren’s lips twitched. “At least seven guests from your family, Sire, your brother included. No doubt they will each be bringing guards with them and likely their own servants, perhaps more – granted, considering how your brother is, I wouldn’t be surprised if they only kept their guards with them while eating during the feast. We’ll accommodate those left behind, naturally. Your dining hall is vast, thankfully, so the number shouldn’t be an issue.”
“Splendid,” the King replied. “My thanks, Kelren, as always.”
Kelren gave a bow. He was about to turn and leave, only to pause. “Ah, one other thing I wanted to inquire about, your Highness. A question given to me to give to you in return.”
King Bel smiled and gestured for his Steward to speak it.
“Your… royal ladies,” Kelren said – he did not like to use ‘concubine,’ even though the term was embraced by the four as a compliment, because Kelren always preferred to be proper and respectful toward all. “They wanted to know if they are allowed to be with you during the feast, or if you would prefer they not be present given your family’s… standards.”
King Bel gave a bellowing laugh that echoed throughout the room. “As if I care much what they think! Ha!” He shook his head and beamed. “I would love for my dear women to be present during dinner, and yes, they are welcome to do their usual duties. I welcome it, and if it unnerves my brother or any of his ilk, then all the better, I say.”
“Understood,” Kelren said. “I’ll let them know.”
“And you and Irika are most welcome, too,” King Bel said. “I hope you’ll be present, but know that neither of you are bound to it, Kelren.”
Kelren was silent for a moment. “To be quite blunt, your Highness…” He hesitated for a few seconds, then smiled a little. “I would not miss the expected… entertainment value of tonight for the world.”
King Bel guffawed once more. “Good man! I love the way you think!”
With that said, the Steward bowed and took his leave to inform the four royal concubine that they were more than welcome at the feast. King Bel, pleased, grabbed his plate and began to walk once more, snagging onto another ox leg to feed himself with – there was plenty of time until the feast would begin, after all, and he’d never say no to a good snack!
Several hours later, closer to the late afternoon, was when the first guest arrived.
King Bel sat in his throne room, dressed in an elegant attire made of soft silk – a long-sleeved jacket that was left open so his ginormous belly was on full display, a purple gem nestled into the cavernous divot at the center of said belly, and thick, yet comfortable silk pants. To his right sat Kelren, in a smaller throne that King Bel had brought in for his Steward to be comfortable, and to his left, a similar throne for Lady Irika – though she was not a steward, she was a confidant and a wise, wise woman, whose counsel he greatly appreciated.
“Presenting, from the Kingdom of Eaglecrown!” came King Bel’s esteemed royal crier – a man whose voice was both loud and powerful enough to reach over a sea of people with ease, and whom would always announce guests that came to King Bel’s hall. “King Holdrick Grembollin!”
“This should be good,” Irika muttered.
At once, there was a loud clattering noise, that of armor clanging together, echoing from the end of the hall. King Bel watched as four men clad from head to toe in stocky armor strode into the throne room, their shields emblazoned with the symbol of Eaglecrown. They then split, two to each side, and there, being carried by six men, was King Bel’s ‘dear’ brother, Holdrick.
“Dear Gods….” Kelren mumbled, so quiet, King Bel almost didn’t hear.
King Bel remained stoic as he watched.
Comparing him and his brother when it came to looks was… interesting, to say the least, because despite the jeers he’d written to King Bel, it was evident the instant he saw his brother that King Holdrick was not exactly ‘thin’ himself.
King Bel’s brother revealed himself now to be a large, rounded fat man not unlike himself – yet whereas King Bel’s figure was equally rotund, King Holdrick had a rather large, swelling beer belly that stuck out almost three feet in front of the rest of his body – a body that was definitely thick and soft from flab, but, still somehow looked oddly small compared to that gigantic gut, which was straining against the almost ridiculously tight tunic that Holdrick was wearing.
King Holdrick’s face was soft, with puffed out cheeks that drooped down onto his shoulders, and he frankly appeared to lack a chin due to how the fat merged with his neck. His nose was bulbous, his lips weirdly very, very thin, and his eyebrows thick and jagged – his hair… his hair was long, flowing even, in back, yet it was evident he had a receding hairline, one he was trying to keep covered up with the plump crown sitting on his big head.
And when the six struggling men finally halted and stopped, and when King Holdrick, with a disgusted sneer upon his mug, stood, King Bel also saw that his brother’s legs were humorously small, to the point where his brother genuinely looked like he was struggling to move with his bobbing belly. Hence, he was using a scepter like a walking stick.
‘My, my,’ King Bel thought. Yet externally, he did not react still.
“Padrick,” King Holdrick said as he waddled off his palanquin, nearly falling onto one of his servants. He snarled and smacked the man with his scepter, however, as if it was the servant’s fault. “Mind yourself, you stupid fuck!”
King Bel nearly leapt from his throne upon the sight, but he refrained from it with a great deal of reluctance. His lips twitched, though, and instead he gestured to one of his own royal knights – all of whom were present in the throne room, eight on each side. He would not have someone belittled or beaten in his court, no – such abuse would not be tolerated.
“Worthless worms.” King Holdrick shook his flabby cheeks, then turned his nasty sneer back toward his brother. “By the Heavens, Padrick. Look at you.” He poked his scepter at King Bel, and nearly fell from the effort. He managed to stay upright, however, and laughed. “You’re so FAT now. Look at you! Dressed like a ripened boar ready for the slaughter!”
“Says the man whose belly is about to burst out of his shirt!” Irika replied.
King Holdrick looked utterly incensed by this remark, his thick cheeks turning red as he glowered at her. “Silence, you impudent witch! I will have no woman speak to ME that way! If you so much as–”
“Oh, SHUT UP,” Irika snapped, rolling her eyes without a shred of care at the other ruler’s threats. “You know damn well who I am, you pompous fuckwit, and you also know I care NOT for your stupid antics or temperament!”
King Bel had to really work to keep from laughing at the display.
It took King Holdrick a moment to swallow his obvious rage, at which point it dawned on him. “Irika.” He sneered now, rather than glowering. “What on earth are YOU doing here… oh, wait, I see.” He trotted forward, closer to the throne, shaking his flabby cheeks again. “A pig that dresses another pig. How fitting.”
King Bel sighed. “You’re as charming as always, Holdrick.”
“More charming than you, brother,” Holdrick replied.
Neither man was pleased in the slightest – although King Bel’s anger was not directed at any jab sent his way. But still, he did not move, not yet.
“Your kingdom is quite the eyesore, Padrick,” King Holdrick said after a moment. “And this castle… ghastly!” His sneer shifted into a look of genuine anger and confusion. “I can’t believe you’ve allowed Father’s once-magnificent castle to become so… so drab and boring. Where are the golden statues? Where are the gem-crusted curtains and carpets? Where are all the beautiful baubles that clung to the walls? What have you done?”
King Bel resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
His brother was a man that loved wealth – loved it to death and beyond, in fact, and always had even when they were boys. King Holdrick cared more for gold and riches than he did pretty much anything else, and the fact his attire was decked out in shiny jewels, including a glistening ring on every chubby finger, and even a rather large, golden belt that literally seemed to be the only thing keeping his gut from exploding out of his own clothing.
“Well?” King Holdrick asked. “What have you done with it all?”
King Bel shook his great head. “If you were hoping to secure all those for yourself, brother, then I’m afraid you’ve come far, far too late. They’re gone.”
“Gone?” King Holdrick’s eyes – which seemed beady when he was sneering or scowling – widened, and for a brief moment, they looked closer to normal.
“Gone,” King Bel repeated. He smiled then, a big, beaming one. “Those hideous golden statues were melted down and turned into golden coins, which I gave to the businesses in town. Whatever was left over was in turn used to give every poor family and person a suitable home of their own.” His eyes sparkled as he continued. “And then, when THAT was done, there was still more gold, so I gifted each family a bag per person.”
King Holdrick’s jaw flopped open comically.
“As for the carpets and curtains with gemstones, those,” King Bel said, waving a large hand, “were cut into smaller chunks and then given away to every servant and servant family. Given how many our Father employed, that proved to be a wise idea, if I do say so myself. And regarding the random baubles and gems that used to be littered about… whatever was not taken by someone as a gift, or given to one of my favored subordinates, were gifted again to the poor.” He smiled grander now. “Suffice to say… there are no more poor here.”
King Holdrick looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “You…” His face turned red, and he appeared to swell up like a bullfrog. But, he released that breath, and instead simply glowered at King Bel. “You are a FOOL, brother, to waste such wealth on your subjects! Commoners are BENEATH royal blood, something you’ve never understood. Mark my words, Padrick.”
He jabbed his scepter at King Bel, although now that he was closer, the scepter nearly poked King Bel’s belly. King Bel didn’t bat an eye at this.
“You will rue the day you chose to spare ‘kindness’ to the filth of this land,” King Holdrick said with another snarl, spitting as he spoke the words. “Compassion, empathy, mercy… FOOLISH. These stupid actions are weaknesses that need to be expunged to make a great King. The peasants will turn against you, just you wait! They will see you as weak, as the shit you are, and you will be overthrown because you did not crush them immediately!”
King Bel hmm-ed to himself. “Is that how you rule, Holdrick?”
“Of course!” King Holdrick bellowed. “I ground the dregs into complacency long ago – they know damn well that I am far above them, and that they are mere specks of dirt in my eye! They exist to serve ME and my greatness – nothing else matters to them, for if it did, I would have them beaten and broken until they realized otherwise.” He slammed the end of his scepter onto the floor. “Bah. I waste my time on you, brother. You are too stupid to understand!”
King Bel did not respond.
He could tell that the words of his brother had an effect on both Kelren and Irika – Irika in particular looked like she wanted to leap at the man and beat him within an inch of his life with his scepter, which she could very easily do given her impressive physique and the fact she wasn’t harmless in the least bit.
King Bel, however, held a hand up toward her, knowing she’d see it. She get a grunt of dissatisfaction, but otherwise remained silent, stewing in her ire.
“Well, Padrick?” King Holdrick said. “Nothing to say in response?”
King Bel smiled wide and picked himself up off his throne. His belly sagged down, jiggling as he trudged up to his brother – the two men were actually even in height, yet their physiques were a contrast, even more plainly now that they were both standing. Of course, despite his greater girth, King Bel was able to stand without any assistance needed; his legs were much, much stronger.
“You know, Holdrick,” King Bel said after a pause. “I have to ask you something personal, if you’ll humor me.”
His brother squinted. “What is it?”
King Bel reached out a hand and clasped his brother on the shoulder – not hard at all, despite the fact King Bel could’ve easily used his immense strength to put pressure upon his brother’s shoulder. Although King Holdrick still cringed from the touch. Granted, he couldn’t move anywhere, since that was the same arm holding the scepter keeping him upright and on balance.
“Was there ever a time when we were lads where you actually saw me as a brother?” King Bel asked. His smile remained in place, yet there was a softer undercurrent to his voice as he spoke this. “All these years… we’ve never gotten along with one another, but it’s often been you that has actively derided and degraded me. I’ve tried to appease you, brother, but it’s become clearer to me over time that such a thing is impossible. Have you always reviled me? Or is this because of our past, regarding our Father?”
There was a long, long pause.
King Holdrick, surprisingly, didn’t answer straight away. He seemed taken aback by the question, to the point where his sneer and irritated demeanor briefly faded away. The man was at a loss for words as the gears in his fat head spun about, and King Bel watched, waiting for some sort of answer.
“…you ask a strangely heavy question, at an equally strange time,” King Holdrick remarked. For once, his voice sounded… normal, devoid of the disdain and smugness it oozed not moments ago. “I cannot answer you, Padrick. For even I don’t know what the truth is these days, about you, about our relationship.” He shook his large head, his cheeks shaking to and fro.
“I see,” King Bel said. He removed his hand and sighed. “I suppose it is inevitable that we would clash, then. I do hope this feast is more pleasant.”
“Hmph.” King Holdrick’s expression returned to what it had been moments prior, and he scowled. “That is yet to be seen, brother.”
He slammed his scepter onto the floor again, and looked around.
“My wife will be arriving shortly,” King Holdrick said. “Along with her guard.” He sneered. “Seeing as how you lack a wife, I doubt you’d understand that part.”
King Bel merely smiled, unfazed completely.
“I demand that my things be put aside for me,” King Holdrick said. He turned back toward the men that had carried him. “You swine! Get off your lazy asses and prepare my palanquin! I am not about to–”
Before he could finish, King Bel’s mighty hand shot out and grabbed onto the man’s thick neck. It was a sudden movement, one that took everyone, especially King Holdrick, by surprise. His armored guards, whom all stood near the entrance to the hall, looked uncertain as to what to do in that instant.
King Holdrick’s eyes snapped back to his brother. “You! You dare–”
“Quiet, Holdrick,” King Bel said. His smile was gone now, and his expression darkened as he squeezed the fat neck’s flesh, enough to cause some discomfort to his loudmouthed sibling. “You are in my halls. In my kingdom. Under my roof. That means, brother, that you are to abide by the laws of my land, in case you’ve forgotten how other kingdoms work. Thus, I want to make two things very clear to you, and you are not to utter a peep in objection.”
King Holdrick for his part was surprised – surprised by the shift in his brother’s demeanor, by the steady glare fixed upon King Bel’s face, and the menacing current beneath the man’s otherwise calm, kind voice. It was a first for King Holdrick to see his brother that way.
“First,” King Bel said. “You are to be respectful – to your servants and to mine. Any man or woman in this hall, regardless of their standing or duty, is an equal to me in my land. I don’t care if they work for you. I don’t care if they kiss the ground your feet touch in your kingdom. This is not Eaglecrown.”
King Bel’s eyes narrowed, and for the first time in a long, long time, even more so than when he’d spoken to the assassin, the globulous King dropped the friendliness entirely – he was a mountainous man with an equally mountainous aura of power emanating from him, enough that everyone froze in awe and shock at the sight. The true King Padrick Belgoliath was here right now.
“You do not use slurs against them,” King Bel said. “You do not strike, nor threaten to strike, a single person here. You do not demand things of my servants, nor degrade your own. I don’t care if you insult me to the end of time itself, Holdrick, but under my roof, in MY land, you do not get to do that to any others. You WILL treat your servants with respect, and my own as well.”
King Holdrick grimaced. King Bel’s grasp was firm enough that that large man wasn’t able to retort to this, even if he’d had a mind to do just that.
“And second,” King Bel continued. His grip didn’t ease. “You are my guest, brother. And as my guest, it is my claim that you have to walk on your own two feet. The instant you entered my territory, you became MY subject, and as the King of Bearmaw, I decree that you, and your ilk, can walk like the ‘peasants.’”
With that, he released King Holdrick’s thick, flabby neck.
His smile returned seconds later. “Do we understand one another?”
King Holdrick rubbed his neck, although it could do little to rub out the obvious wound to his ego. The man was irate – it was clear at the redness in his puffy cheeks and in his dark, beady eyes. King Holdrick clearly wanted to snap, perhaps even to strike at, his brother. But. He did not. He let out a few loud, heavy sighs, as if he were trying to expel his fury instead.
King Bel, again, did not bat an eye at this.
“Fine,” King Holdrick practically growled out. “See to it you don’t put your hand on me again, though, brother, or there WILL be trouble.” He gritted his thick, yellow-stained teeth. “I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing with me, Padrick, but you will lose, rest–”
“It’s not a game,” King Bel said. “It is a law. It is a rule. It is a preference.”
King Holdrick glowered deeper at being interrupted. “To what end?!”
“To bring you down a peg,” King Bel replied, smiling wider. “And to ensure you don’t strike at another being in my castle. I won’t have any abuse thrown at my people, nor will I tolerate it at yours. If you’ve a problem with that…”
He lowered his smile, and again, briefly, dropped the pleasant mask to glare viciously at King Holdrick – enough that his brother froze in genuine fright.
“Then you can show yourself out,” King Bel said. And again, after a few seconds, he returned to his jovial self. “Now then! I imagine our guests will continue to arrive, so, why don’t we move to the great hall, yes? The feast is already prepared – we simply need to wait for everyone to be here. Unless, of course, you have a complaint to issue or some sort of threat to spit at me?”
King Holdrick blinked several times. He did not have a rebuttal.
King Bel smirked, pleased. “Good to know. Shall we?”
oOo