• Part 2: An Audience with the King






    "What was that?"
    tab Gorash tried to keep himself calm, but a sudden cold fear began creeping through his body. When he'd entered the throne room mere minutes before, he'd known the implications.
    "Look at me when I speak to you, Uefire." The chilling voice said, no, more like commanded him. He lifted his bowed head to look up at the young man sitting on the throne a few feet in front of him. Many may have called him handsome, short blond hair framing unmarked skin and a slight muscular build. His lax pose on the throne betrayed the fact that he could snap into action at any moment. But his blue eyes were as hard and icy as the sapphires adorning the gold wrought crown on his head.
    "Yes, my king?" Gorash asked, trying to disguise the waver in his voice, and he swallowed nervously. That didn't fool the young man, who smirked knowingly at him.
    "I said, what was that? I could have sworn you were disobeying a direct command."
    tab He shifted uncomfortably in his crouched over position, kneeling on one knee with an arm balanced on it, and the left stretched out on the cold marble floor, fingers of his palm splayed apart. For once, he was glad he wasn't wearing his cumbersome armor, though the weight didn't bother him. But at least it was some form of shield from the eyes that stared at him.
    "You don't seem yourself." The young king went on, propping an arm on one of the decorated throne's armrests, leaning his clean shaven cheek in his hand and casting a curious glance at him. "Tell me who you are."
    "Gorash Uefire, Knight of the Royal Guard in the Kingdom of Taraxacum." He replied with only a slight moment's hesitation, not daring to blink once while he stared ahead from beneath his black bangs.
    "Black Knight." The young man corrected, eyes glinting and his tone gaining a superior note. Gorash lowered his eyes submissively as he went on. "And as the Black Knight of the Royal Guard, in the Kingdom of Taraxacum, I expect you to follow whatever order I give you, and whenever I give it. And so saying that..." A rolled up parchment with a red ribbon slid across the floor to stop as it hit the tips of Gorash's fingers lightly.
    "That's the report of one of the men that was in your regiment half a fortnight ago." He paused, taking a sharp intake of breath. "You did well. Although, you failed in one thing."
    tab He stood then, and folded his arms behind his back, pacing now slowly back and forth. "I distinctly remember saying for no mercy to be taken upon any living survivors. Including children."
    tab Gorash felt his heart pound hard in his chest and he swallowed nervously again, his hands trembling. His head started to lower to view the floor again, preferring the stone to his king.
    "I told you to look at me when I speak to you!" The king's voice thundered suddenly above him and his head jerked up to see him standing less than a foot away, his face livid. He made as if to say something, but instead swung at Gorash, his fist hitting the man's cheekbone and rocking him where he knelt. That only seemed to make him angrier. Gorash let himself fall down when the young king kicked him hard in the ribs repeatedly, venting his fury. He closed his eyes and bit his lip as the king stopped kicking, hoping, just hoping, that the young man would dismiss him to his quarters. Instead, he felt a burning pain in his gut.
    tab Gorash cried out at the sharpness, though no physical blow had caused it. It was like a live coal had been placed inside him. The feeling boiled there briefly before working it's way up in agonizing slowness to his lungs, as if it were liquid fire. He cried out again, curling up in on himself, hands clenching and eyes shutting tighter. It twisted around wildly, causing fresh waves of pain to wrack his body. Then, just as it was wrapping it's fiery fingers around his heart, ready to squeeze, a calm voice spoke out.
    "Now, now, my liege. You don't want to kill him, do you?"
    tab The fire cooled and faded, and Gorash took in heaving gulps of air. Relief flooded into his mind, chasing away the despair that had begun hazing it. His eyelids opened a tiny bit, to look in the direction of the one who spoke. A man looking about in his twenties was leaning casually against the throne's side, a smile across his face. The garb he wore looked outlandish, firstly because it was mostly black. A long coat flowed down his thinnish frame to brush below his knees, the collar turned up slightly. A red thread embroidered vest hung untucked over a dark brown cracked leather belt, dark pants, and polished shoes. A white button up shirt peeked out from the top of the vest, a limp red ribbon bow adorning the collar, and the baggy cuffs protruding from the end of the coat's sleeves. A crimson cloak fastened onto the vest's shoulders, reaching the marble floor. Finally, a top hat rested on his midnight colored hair, the points of ears poking from between the strands. If that wasn't enough to cause curious glances, the man had bright, feral looking yellow eyes to go with the whole ensemble.
    "Who are you to tell me what I can and can not do, Vladimir?" The young king prompted, his words coming out with a growling sound. "Need I remind you, you are the adviser here?"
    Vladimir gave a bark of laughter and waved a hand carelessly in the air. "And that's exactly what I'm doing. Advising."
    tab The young king cast his cold glare on his trusted adviser, who had never really steered him wrong in the few months he'd been there. He'd come to the court as an unknown noble, rising quickly up and soon gaining the favor of the lone ruler. Then his broad shoulders slumped in the smallest fraction as he stalked over to his throne to plop down hard. The edges of the beautiful cloth arms became more frayed as the king picked at it absently, a scowl present. Gorash hadn't moved from his tense position, blood pounding in his ears with a thundering force. At last, the young king sighed to himself, crossing his legs.
    "Get up."
    tab Gorash shuddered at the harsh sound, rolling over to his hands and knees before pushing himself up to kneel again. "All the way." Gorash complied, his lips forming a tight white line as he braced himself against the lasting feeling the fire had left. His chest rose and fell lightly he tried to slow it, directing his gaze to the floor. Seconds passed like an eternity, filling the quiet.
    "Why did you disobey, Uefire?"
    "...Because...I felt it was wrong..."
    "Wrong?"
    "Yes..."
    "How?"
    Gorash searched his mind for any answer that wouldn't invoke his king's wrath again.
    Because killing is wrong. Because killing children, who did nothing, is wrong. Because slaughtering whole villages, or armies, is wrong. Because this kingdom was beautiful before, but now it's an ugly hell. Because you're evil. Because of you.
    "Because...I'm a monster..."
    The young king's hard glacier-like eyes glinted with ill won satisfaction.
    "Yes, that must be it. Nothing else would be the reason, correct?"
    Gorash nodded dispiritedly, defeated in every way.
    "This kingdom is destined to be great. For that, dark deeds must be done. Behind closed doors." The king said haughtily. "Even if it is by a monster such as you." He rested his elbows properly on the throne's arms, bringing his arms to clasp in front of his face.
    The haunted man standing balled his fists in a sudden flare of anger before loosening them. He could have torn the younger man sitting down into tiny bloody shreds, decorating the throne room. But he didn't, couldn't.
    "Now, I'm through with you. Leave until you receive further orders."
    Gorash gave an obedient bow, keeping his gaze trained on the cold marble floor under his feet. "Yes, my King Garreth."
    tab He straightened and turned around briskly, walking quietly down the medium sized room's distance to the door to leave. But he stiffened when he heard the young man calling after him. "Oh, and do check up on Maxwell for me, Uefire." Gorash didn't look over his shoulder as he nodded and opened the door, slipping out like an unwanted ghost. Once out in the hall, his lifeless expression transformed into a grief stricken one. He pressed the palms of his hands hard into his eyes, barely retaining his breaking composure as the servants of the king passed by, unnoticing.
    tab Back in the throne room, King Garreth relaxed his taut muscles just a bit. Vladimir made a tsking sound with his tongue, shaking his head from side to side slowly.
    "What?" Garreth demanded, his attention turning to his adviser.
    "Nothing. Well, actually not nothing." Vladimir crossed his arms over his chest lazily.
    "And that is...?"
    "I'm amazed at how one can treat their own kind."
    Garreth frowned, his eyes narrowing. "What are you rambling about this time?"
    Vladimir just shook his head again and gave a forlorn sigh. "You wouldn't know."
    Before the young man could say anything further, his adviser straightened and gave a sweeping bow, exaggerating it by using one arm to expand his cloak out in the air and tipping his hat.
    "I must be going again. Forgive me."
    tab He walked with long strides and silent footsteps, being a fair height, to disappear behind the throne with a slight rustle of his clothing. The king, not finished with his interrogating, leaned quickly around the throne's back to catch a glimpse of Vladimir, but the strange man had already gone. There were no trap doors, or secret entrances behind the throne and the 6 feet distance from the wall. The only secret way was on the east side of the room, beneath a wall hanging.
    tab King Garreth sighed and settled back in his chair, resting his blond head and golden crown on the cushioned back. A timid knock echoed from the door Gorash had left through, and it cracked just a bit so the voice of the page boy filtered through. "They're here." The king sighed again and passed a hand over his face, then his body, muttering something indistinguishable, voice low and deep now. "Very well, let them in."