A yet to be named story.

[Guest]

Well I was just typing and I came out with this. Who knows, it might seem a little cliche right now, but I'll see what I can do.

Prologue

“P-please-!” The smiling curve of the blade trailed upwards into the man. Entering through his abdominals and exiting at the shoulders, ending with a simple tug as it was ripped free again- leaving a spray of crimson to erupt from the wound and rain down on the cold wooden floor, painting it red.

The man looked far less of what he was when standing. The life had turned from his eyes and was replaced with the look of fear everyone seems to have if their last moments are less than expected. Deep creases under his eyes and at the corners of his mouth, which might have made him an experienced and wizened individual in life, only served to portray him a feeble used up old man in death. The noble look of his embroidered fabrics diminished as they soaked in a wash of his own blood. The only proof remaining that this man was more than others, was the glint of gold that formed under flickering candle light, which origins were a simple four pointed circlet that clung to the old man’s old spotted hairless head.

The gloved hand wrapped around the weapon’s leather hilt, flicked its wrist and sent small flecks of blood to the ground. With a grunt, the silhouetted figure pulled out a white cloth from the folds of his cloak and ran the ivory cloth tenderly against the cold steel, like a mother wiping her messy child’s mouth with a hint of amusement.

Bending down, he set the blade beside the man, and put two fingers to the underside of his jaw. And he sighed; a sigh of relief rather than annoyance.

“It was not my intention to strike you down, my good man, with your own weapon.” The figure rose to his full height and smiled down at the body beneath him.

“But whether you intended to or not, you left me with little option, and I’m afraid trivial courtesy is not something we can afford when things are already running so far behind.” The figure stepped lightly around the man like an artist criticizing a piece of his art with an analytical tilt of the head.

“Do not fear though, for I shall see to it personally that you are hailed by the people as you should be sire. As what is customary.” He flourished his hand around in practiced fashion.

“For what they shall here,” He lunged an ran an imaginary foe through the middle, “-is how their noble king stood on his feet, every bit of the warrior he was in his youth.”

He let his arm fall back mechanically to the side and looked about the small room, a study, with only three distinguishing features. The wall of books, filling up the shelves they’ve rested in for years (and will mostly likely remain in), the large window that looked out upon the moonlit hills in the east, and lastly the simple wooden desk pressed up against the third wall directly in front of the figure. A chair was pulled out beside it and a mess of crumpled notes littered the surrounding area. Unfolded though, in the middle of the rigid desktop, was a scroll of parchment with black ink on it, you could still see the shine stating the liquid had yet to dry, and as the figure approached, slowly the words formed more intelligible script the closer he got.

Curling his fingers around the parchment, he drew it towards his eyes and scanned through the lines of information mundanely, interested little in what they said. With a shake of his head, he turned the material around and set it down on the glass candle that barely lit the tiny room they resided in. The words on the other side could be seen quite clearly as the flame licked up at its underside, and after a few seconds in the center of the paper a little blacked circle formed as the fire ate through it, spreading at the edges, and finally consuming all it could wrap its tendrils around.

“Tut tut, Henry.” The man chuckled to himself. “Did you really think a few words would be enough?” He spoke to the disinterested corpse that lay on the floor.

“A good effort for sure, even you must have seen time was already up.” He continued, while watching as the letter completely faded to ash.

“I’ll give it to you though. Had I been just a little slower, you may have gotten this letter off in time.” As the last bits of parchment disappeared, the man turned towards the door just behind him and strolled towards it with a casual pace, and as he opened it to leave, his eyes found the still king once more.

“And here’s where our relationship ends your majesty.”

With a nod of his head, the figure slipped out the door and clicked it shut.