The King’s castle rested just atop a slight hill to avoid flooding. The front entrance was a wide four story base with ten or twelve story extensions sprouting up in different extremities of the castle. Each corner on the roof and the tops of the towers housed a giant red fox. The walls were built of perfectly stacked rectangular stones that alternated between black and gray to set an ominous tone. A huge falcon was carved into the vast, black wood front entrance. After the guards inspected the paper, Ed could hear the convergence of straining ropes and chains lifting the door straight up. Edburgh strolled inside as the big door slammed down hard behind him. He shuffled up a set of stone stairs to finally penetrate the castle. He approached a guard with curly blond hair and a fancy looking face.
He went through the same proceedings for a fourth time.
“My name is Sir Penrose Ellsworth and the King has alerted me of your visit. I believe he is in the solar if you will just follow me,” the knight welcomed.
They walked through a huge hallway that seemed to be a mile long. Posh decorations hung from the walls and elaborate carpets cushioned Ed’s steps even as nervousness shot though his body. His pulse jumped as he neared either a pile of golden fox coins, or a fox trap. He wasn’t very religious even though his father tried to force it upon him, so he didn’t bother to pray internally.
Penrose broke the awkward silence as they approached a spiral stone staircase, “Where is it you come from?”
“Waters Edge,” replied Ed listlessly, trying not to reveal anything.
You can never trust anyone in the Capitol.
“That’s a long, long way from Falconhurst. What brings you this far?” Penrose questioned.
“Just have something to discuss with his highness,” Ed stated shortly, trying to end the stilted conversation.
Luckily they arrived at what must have been the solar.
“Wait here,” Penrose told Ed as he disappeared behind the door.
Two men emerged but Ed still waited for several minutes. Then a young man with bright red hair and a red fox across the front of his black leather vest came out and passed him. Ed assumed this to be Ali-Ster Wamhoff and bowed quickly saying, “My Prince.” He had been to the castle a few times with his mother, Ali-Pari, but Ali-Ster was never there.
The red headed man scurried off as if he hadn’t heard Edburgh and then the door opened yet again.
This time it was Penrose inviting him in. This was like no solar he had ever seen. Upon entering, he noticed that the sun beamed down through many different small openings in the ceiling, creating a series of speckled patterns all over the floor and tables. The room looked dark like it was early dusk, as only solar powered beams lit the room. There were several rectangular wooden tables. At the head of a six-foot table in the center of the room sat King Ali-Stanley Wamhoff. His golden crown hung down over his bushy eyebrows as if it was more of a burden than a reward. The crown had a wide, gold base that wrapped around his head with seven points extending up. Six of the points had giant mother of pearls as big as a baby’s fist but the one above his forehead was a golden fox. The King with the crown of Donegal on his head looked anything but fierce.
Ali-Stanley spoke up in his screechy voice, “Welcome my nephew, welcome to Falconhurst again. It is a shame that we don’t see each other more frequently. How were your travels?”
Edburgh ripped his hood back and bowed deeply to the King, then kneeled down on one knee. “My King, I am humbled you have accepted this meeting,” a soft-spoken Ed uttered.
Even though the King was his uncle, Edburgh never had a one on one conversation with Ali-Stanley. He had heard a lot of bad things about the King from his father combatted by good words about Ali-Stanley from his mother.
The King turned to Penrose, “Please wait outside now.” He waited for the knight to leave and continued, “I am sorry to hear about what happened to your bride, you wrote that they found the sick man who did it.”
“Yes, your majesty, I found the peasant dock worker with a golden fox in his pocket and guilt on his hands. He admitted that a grander plan was in order and our enemy had put him up to it before he faced the king’s justice.” Ed’s hands were clammy even though it was chilly in this so-called solar. Every solar he had ever seen had a huge opening to permit lots of light. He began to overheat.
Keep it together. You can do this.
The King spoke solemnly, “Again I am sorry, I too have lost a wife to an early death so I know of the pain it causes. I believe your letter stated that you had inside information about a pressing matter.”
Ed unknowingly shot an evil grin at the King and responded, “Yes, my King, it appears we have a common enemy who we may be able to help each other dispose of.”
The King had a scowl on his face as Ed began to hash out the plan that made him even more nervous.
Keep calm, come on, you can pull this off.
TRANSFERENCE
LEIMUR
Leimur moved down the hall toward her father’s drinking room. It had been four years since she’d walked through the royal palace. The King of Goldenfield enjoyed relaxing alone every day after supper in this room. At least he did when Leimur had lived there. She looked back and gave a nod as she entered.
A luxurious comfort room of gaudy couches and chairs greeted her. It also contained an elaborate bar with various wines and ales. The furniture was upholstered in a red velvet theme with gold accentuation, while a large dark blue carpet covered the floor.
She saw a fat, disgusting man sitting in a fancy crimson chair. The obese King, Pascal Leluc, was so drunk that he was almost passed out and his blue eyes were nearly shut. King Pascal was balding with islands of bushy black hair on the sides and back of his head. The fifty-one year old also had a full beard and mustache. He shared his darker complexion with Leimur.
“Wake up,” shouted Leimur.
Her father jumped in his seat and groggily looked over at Leimur.
“Not exactly what I was looking for, but alright,” said the King.
The King lifted his robe, unknowingly exposing himself to his daughter.
“Never get caught with your pants down. Don’t you even practice your own rules? You honestly have no idea who I am?” Leimur asked as she shook her head in disbelief.
It has only been four years, you nasty drunk.
“I will not have some whore come in here and talk to a king like this,” Pascal retorted.
“I am not a whore. I am your daughter,” she screamed back.
Pascal slowly rose and squinted to focus his bleary eyes on Leimur. “What in the hells do you want?”
“It is good to see you too, father…”
“Forget that,” he interrupted, trying unsuccessfully not to slur his words, “you were never supposed to return here after what you did.”
“Well, if you would respond to your eastern army correspondence, I wouldn’t have to do this. And that pile of horseshit got what he deserved,” she quickly responded.
“That PILE was the son of the wealthiest lord in Goldenfield, and you killed him in this palace,” the King bellowed at his daughter.
“He raped me,” she shrieked.
“Ha, a husband cannot rape his wife. She is his for the taking whenever he wishes,” the King returned.
“He told me he would wait until I was ready, but then he had sex with me while I slept. That is rape, father,” she said emotionally.
He shouted, “Don’t call me that. In fact leave here right now.”
“Absolutely not, I am home to stay,” Leimur said as she approached her father.
“Don’t make me call for my guards,” he threatened.
“Oh, but don’t you see, that would be failure number two,” she smartly pronounced.
“Failure number two? What do you mean?” a leery King queried.
“Allow me to remind you of the first failure. It was three years ago when you told General Rigby to force your seventeen-year-old daughter into the fiercest part of the b
attle, and leave her to die.”
“Well, it appears that the General is lying to you,” King Pascal responded quickly and nervously.
“You will like to know he did take your order. He fed me to the fire but I wouldn’t burn. The flames enriched me from within and only fueled me to become stronger. Like a tiger,” Leimur said almost in tears.
“Enough of this already, I will not be called a liar in my own palace. Either you leave this instant or I will call for my guards. I brought you into this world, and I will take you out if you force my hand,” the King declared with confidence.
“Please do, my King, it would be my pleasure,” the Princess proudly retorted with a mocking curtsy.
“Henri, come in here at once. We have a situation,” the King yelled.
The door slammed open and a man’s head rolled in and came to a stop in the center of the room.
“Well, there is Henri. Would you like any of your other guards to help you? We have them all. And here is failure number two. I am positive that you will be surprised to know a small disturbance can draw most of your guards outside the palace for easy pickings. Pathetically, you never realized Sevring was so ripe for sack.”
Fear flashed across Pascal Leluc’s face much to the delight of his daughter as she continued, “All we needed was one of the six protector cities to join our cause. So when two came rushing, begging to join my side, I knew what must be done,” she said, smiling to expose her tiger-like teeth.
The King turned and ran as the Warrior Princess pounced on his back. She quickly removed a dagger from her belt and drove it into the side of the King’s neck with a downward motion toward his chest. It had about a twelve inch blade that was made of amethyst. King Pascal had given it to his daughter as a gift but it was more of a decoration than a useful knife. Over the years the Princess had transformed it from a ceremonial item into a real killing weapon. It had a dark purple grip that matched her eyes and a gold pommel and cross-guard.
He fell on his stomach struggling to remove the dagger from his neck, but he only succeeded in flopping around like a fish on land. She held the blade for several moments, taking pleasure in her father’s frantic pleas for mercy. She almost expected red wine to pour from the wound, but human blood actually spurted from the dying King’s wound when she pulled the dagger out. He fell flat on his regal face and two more quick jabs to the back of the neck ended the reign of King Pascal Leluc of Goldenfield. His twenty two year rule slid away, mirroring the moving stream of blood on the floor. Leimur stared at her deceased father for several moments before leaving the room. General Rigby was waiting outside.
“Where is she?”
“She is right down the hallway here. We didn’t want to, uh, disturb her,” General Rigby stated.
“Are my brothers safe?” she asked with concern.
“Yes, they are safe with us,” he reassured Leimur.
They came upon what used to be a guest room. Leimur heard sounds of passion through the thick walls.
No shame. This is how she did not hear the takeover of her own palace.
Leimur booted the wooden door open, rattling the couple in bed.
“Get out before I have you thrown into the dungeons,” her mother exclaimed in a raspy, dry voice.
“The dungeons, that is a good idea...”
Before she could finish, her mother jumped out of bed, completely nude, and rushed Leimur. The Princess responded with a closed right fist to the side of her mother’s cheek, knocking the Queen onto her ass.
“GUARDS,” howled the Queen.
“Don’t waste your precious breath mother, you haven’t much left, and besides they are all dead.”
The Queen peered at her in the sparsely lit room, realizing that it was the daughter she had always hated. Leimur looked at the man in the bed only to see it was her uncle Marcel. A brother of her father’s, but that didn’t make this situation any better.
“Uncle Marcel, your Queen seems to think that you should spend some time in the dungeon to ponder what you have done.” She looked at the open door. “Sir Pierre and Captain Salina, please come in here. Take this man to the dungeons.”
Just as commanded, the pair entered the room and wrestled a reluctant Marcel Leluc into submission. They bound his arms and dragged him from the room, naked and unwilling.
“Be careful uncle, I hope the rats aren’t hungry tonight,” Leimur snidely remarked as her uncle left.
The Princess glanced covertly at her mother and saw the horrified look on her face. The Queen of Goldenfield realized her time was up and started to get desperate.
“What did I ever do to you, my child?”
“You must have a worse memory than your drunken husband. Well, not any longer, I suppose. Don’t try to pretend that you didn’t ignore me from birth until sending me off to die. You hated me because I wasn’t the girly princess you expected me to be. But this is more about what you two did to the realm, driving it into the ground.” Leimur moved closer to stand over her mother.
Queen Harla Leluc was a short, bronze skinned woman of thirty-nine. Her brown eyes were now reddened from impending tears. Her black hair looked disheveled and she was overweight, but not as much as her husband. She stared at the daughter who had caused the immense pain to her jaw.
“And what are we to do with you?” Leimur asked.
“I don’t know exactly what you have done. But you will need strong counsel to rule a realm,” the Queen reminded her.
“So right you are again. You are wise. I shall heed that advice. General Rigby, come in here please,” she commanded.
The haggard General stepped into the room. The Queen didn’t even attempt to cover herself.
“General, what should we do with our Queen of Goldenfield?” Leimur wondered.
“What are her charges?” calmly asked Rigby.
“She is charged with treason, and with putting everyone in Goldenfield in danger of their lives through a rule of ignorance and overindulgence.”
“Why not let the people decide her fate? If she has served them well, they will come to her aid,” the General counseled.
“Great advice. Thank you for your recommendation about counsel, my Queen,” Leimur sarcastically stated. “Tie her hands behind her back and take her to the front steps.”
“Can I at least put on clothes and have some dignity?” her mother begged.
“You have already shown your dignity in this room. You are lucky I don’t parade you around the city so you may be stoned and beaten with sticks. Father didn’t even teach you not to get caught with your pants down. Nothing shall conceal your treason against Goldenfield,” Leimur said, raising her voice.
She rushed downstairs to be greeted by hundreds of supporters gathered inside the palace doors. Leimur had brought some from the eastern front and picked up others along the way.
This is amazing. General Rigby could have done this a long time ago if he wanted to. Why didn’t he?
They pushed open the ten-foot high doors to expose Leimur. She walked up to the front entrance a princess, and moved outside to her throngs of citizens as their Queen.
A crowd of thousands flooded the city and erupted in elation when Leimur walked out to the top of the marble steps. The rich intermingled with the poor in an extremely rare show of kingdom unity. Goldenfield had been plagued with lots of infighting due to taxes being too high and unreasonable. General Rigby handed the golden crown of the land to Leimur. She held it high in the air as the crowds exploded again. It was too big to fit her head so she just held it in her hand as she orated over the audience.
“My people, the tyranny is over. All citizens of Goldenfield, we must work together to return this realm to greatness…”
Before she could finish, the mob cheered again.
When they calmed down, the new Queen continued, “We have our first decision to make as a new Goldenfield is born. Your former Queen, Harla Leluc has been charged with treason against Goldenfield.”
Quee
n Harla was pushed out to the delight of the jubilant people.
Leimur went on, “We will either put her to death or exile her to another land to live out her days. All in favor of the Queen being exiled speak up now.”
A hush fell over the boisterous citizens with no one rising up in the Queen’s defense. The crowd remained silent for a few moments and then broke out into pandemonium. She stood disgraced, with people shouting about her fat body, along with any other insult that could be articulated. “Gluttonous whore” seemed to be the phrase most often used.
“Now, all in favor of death…”
Before she could complete the words, the Goldenfield crowd went crazy, clapping, stomping and screaming. The Queen was led over to the chopping block reserved for the king’s justice and placed over it. The stinging embarrassment made the Queen welcome a quick death. The undertaker drew a mighty sword and held it in the air to the delight of the crowd. Leimur stepped in to stop the executioner. She couldn’t let him do it.
“I will carry out the people’s wish myself,” Leimur stated.
Dusk started easing in as the purple and blue skyline was being flushed away, like the rule of overt excess at its worst. Leimur pulled her sword and got swept up in the chaotic wailing coming from her people. She understood the pent-up aggression from decades of abuse. Leimur felt like a liberator, walking on air as she approached the former Queen.
“You have been found guilty of treason against Goldenfield. Your people have spoken and now you shall pay with your life,” she confidently proclaimed.
The sword gleamed in the last rays of the setting sun. Leimur took a deep breath. She raised the sharp steel above her head and brought it straight down, cleanly taking off her mother’s head. Power effectively transferred from the old Queen to the new one with just a single swing of the sword. The moment was surreal for Leimur. She stood, shaking, and looked at her new people. She thought that her heart might explode from her chest. Everything slowed down for Leimur and her ears fell silent for a moment, but then the roaring returned.
TWO HEADS TWO SPIKES (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga) Page 8
