LJ Idol Prompt 4 - Raise a Toast to the King - Prompt 4
Raise a Toast to the King - Prompt 4 - “The axe forgets; the tree remembers” LJ Idol
The King stood slowly, crumpling the document in his hand as he clutched the end of the chair’s arm with his other. The courtiers, familiar with his moods, stirred minimally, those closer to the door shifting slowly toward the exit. Those closer to the ruler, straightened their shoulders and backs, fearing the probable outburst, but not wishing to pull attention to themselves. Their lives hung in the balance and blending into the background meant protection.
The King did not disappoint. “Bring me Calwyn.” His voice was quiet, crisp, and controlled. Off to one side, his major domo fought his desire to flee, recognizing the calm voice hid deep anger. He clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. Turning away from his ruler at this time could mean his death. He thanked the Gods silently as the great double doorway at the end of the long room opened, a page slipping through the gap. The young boy bowed low accepting the task, and left, backing away until the great doors closed behind him, then he turned and ran at full speed to take the King’s message to the man he had named.
Calwyn was a mystery to the Court, although he had been the King’s chosen assassin for more than a ten-year. He looked as if he had not aged at all. His step was as spry as a young man’s, yet his year-count had passed 40 by now. Nobody knew where he had come from, but his skill with a blade was undeniable. He had slain pretenders to the throne, opposition leaders in takeover attempts, and several concubines with dreams above their station. He had entered battlefields under cover of darkness, slicing the throats of enemy commanders. Three years before there had been an attempted coup. It was Calwyn who had tracked down and eliminated all the males and all children above the age of eight in the family of the usurper. Although it seemed that he took no satisfaction in his role of assassin, all others who had aspired to that role mysteriously disappeared. Now, there were only two families who might threaten the King’s hold on his throne; one of them had left the Kingdom, and the other had only women and young children left. The court wondered silently at who would be foolhardy enough to challenge for the rule. None wanted the King’s eye to turn towards them.
In his own time Calwyn appeared at the great double doors, bowing deeply, his hand over his heart in fealty. He moved to join his liege.
The King motioned him closer, then spoke. “Darish returns. My spies have reported seeing him passing our Northern border no more than two days ago.”
Whispers passed through the courtiers. “Darish!” “Darish returns.”
“SILENCE!” the King shouted. He looked carefully up and down the ranks of Lords and Ladies. “Silence,” he repeated. “The next person to speak, aside from my King’s Assassin, will lose their tongue, and perhaps their head this very day.” There was a perceptible rustle through the ranks as the courtiers stood tall, proud, and absolutely silent.
“So … Darish has returned. He must be slain. Make it long and hard - many cuts, mayhap some fire too. His death must serve as an example to anyone thinking to come into my borders and threaten me and mine. I warned him when he left, he was never to darken my door again in this lifetime. I never go back on a promise.”
“Indeed, my King, you always keep your promises, as do I.” Calwyn turned away from the monarch, then quickly grabbing the hilt of his sword, turned back with great speed, his keen blade separating the King’s head from his body.
The crowd was stunned. Several of the ladies fainted dead away, but the most of the spectators were merely rendered speechless. Into that void of silence, Calwyn spoke. “I hold this throne for my father, Darish. If you do not support his claim, leave immediately. I give you one hour to leave the city and two days to leave the Kingdom. Make your minds up quickly - this Kingdom is now ours.
As one, the nobility fell to their knees, bowing before the former assassin, soon to be the Crown Prince. Suddenly the great doors were flung open. At the opening stood Darish dressed in shining mail and carrying a longsword honed to perfection. Calwyn turned toward the intruder. “My Lord Father, the kingdom and the throne are yours,” he said as he casually kicked the body of the former King from his father’s path. He then moved out of the way to stand at the right side of the throne.
Darish strode to the dais, halting only long enough to remove the circlet from the deceased King’s head. Walking up the small rise of steps, he turned to sit on the throne at the top. “Remove the trash,” he ordered, waving at the former King’s body. As several courtiers and the Majordomo worked together to pull the corpse of the former King from the room, he continued.
“For long years I planned, and always I remembered, for I can never forget how this Kingdom came under the rule of such a despot and a fool. When possible, every person whose death he ordered was saved instead. Others he threatened simply left overnight, abandoning their old lives behind. Many of them came to me - the courtiers and concubines, the shopkeepers with their wives and children, the old and the young. Those who were not trustworthy I ordered slain, but many remain alive and will now return to the Kingdom to stand at my side, ready to begin a new era - a time of peace.”
He continued, taking a slow review of the courtiers and guards in the room. “Do not think that my kindness equals weakness. I remember everything - every blow, every insult, every deed done in bad faith. I do not forget - not the past, nor any deeds done from this point onward. My son is still the King’s Assassin, and his skill will serve me well.” He stood and looked carefully over the group of courtiers. “I give each of you until dawn to decide. You may freely leave the Kingdom before dawn, never to return. Or, if you prefer, you will swear fealty to me tomorrow when I officially take up the crown. Dissention will mean your death and seizure of your properties. If you leave tonight, however, you may take whatever you can carry with you in a single wagon bed; enough to set up a new household in a new place. The decision is yours.”
The new King surveyed the shell-shocked courtiers. “Calwyn, bring me a glass of wine. I think we must celebrate our victory.”