My bow drawn back.
A deadly silence laid over the kingdom.
Not a sound has been made, quiet as death.
i hear foot falls in the distance, coming closer.
I press harder into the brush, awaiting the intruders.
Three lords and the King steps into the clearing.
My bow relaxes.
The nobles are mourning the fallen knights, what . . . laughter.
Cruel, mocking laughter.
The lords pull out bags of gold and laid them at the kings feet.
The kings servant, deaf and mute, carried the gold to the Kings castle.
His majesty pulled out a small bag and thrust it into the shadows.
A mercenary strode into the open, clutching the bag,
My anger boiled, he was using the money earned by knights to hire a mercenary!
More laughter, they dare mock the heroic deeds of the knights!
Why would the knights give themselves to such a pitiless, greedy King?
What of the families of those dead knights, they must need that money!?
The Lords and Mercenary hurled insults at the spirits of the noble knights.
The King laughed.
Fury erupted within me, I let loose my arrow.
twang-fssst twang, twang-fssst, fssst
The lords lay dead at the greedy Kings feet.
Wide eyed, the King stepped behind the nameless Mercenary.
Only the King remained.
The King fell to his knees and died.
I retrieved and cleaned my arrows, then placed them in my quiver.
I thought of curses matching the Kings character.
They where all to kind.
None would make his black soul repent in his actions in death.
Some sweetly sour words sprang to my lips as I approached the coming dawn.
"Long Live the King"