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The Journey, Chapter 2
Chapter 3.
Naturally as it does the news of the passing of King James, Braiden and Zeindaryys spread like wildfire. The arrows were taken in as evidence to the courts, an investigation also being launched, but no answers were found. Not long after the blood red feather arrows disappeared.
The funeral of King James was a somber one, the Elves wished to come and show their respects, but Thomaz refused to acknowledge them, he did however let them take Braiden back to his birth place somewhere far in the East. The King's body was placed on a pyre boat and pushed out to sea, Thomaz himself notching a flamed tipped arrow, arching it into the sky so it landed, setting the soul of the King free to reach the plains of the afterlife.
Somewhere low down inside the caverns underneath the Royal Palace there lived a hag, a small hump back scar faced woman with long scraggy wispy hair, and crooked yellow black teeth, her eyes shaded with cataracts. There was a makeshift cot in one corner, tables and shelves scattered all around, jars of concoctions and ingredients, chicken feet, newts, tadpoles, frogs legs, chicken eyes, and many many more. A large overused cauldron in the middle of the cave sat on a bed of fiery logs.
“The plan is set in motion, it won’t be long until Thomaz will be crowned, and I’ll be there in his ear.” A calm collected raspy well spoken voice came.
“You will be careful, you not fuck this up! I won’t have it!” Came the croaking screech of the Hag, her voice so awful and grating it could make your ears bleed
Thomaz didn’t want to wait, in his arrogance he ignored the traditions of the coronation. Sitting on the throne he looked to the Pope and demanded the crown be placed on his head instantly.
“Place the fucking crown on my head Pope” He hissed venomously at the Pope. “Or your life will be forfeit” The Pope with shaking hands carefully placed the crown on the now King's head and declared. “All Hail King Thomaz, King of Men”
The public dropped to one knee and bowed their heads as a chorus of ‘All Hail The King’ rippled through the throne room. Gifts of congratulations were brought forth by the dignitaries and advisors, gold and silver armour, a dwarven smithed sword adjourned with all manner of gems, a curved dagger of Elvish make, followed by fur and cloth and gold coins.
The crowd gasped as a tall slovenly built man with dark black hair and bright red eyes walked down the room towards the King, he unsheathed a thin rapier like sword, with a flourish presented it to the King, “I Rubian Blackthorn hereby declare my loyalty and fealty to you my liege!” he said in his calm, well spoken raspy voice. The King smiled, raised the man's sword and tapped the blade once on the left shoulder, and once on the right. The King himself proclaimed, “About fucking time Rubian, my friend. I name you my right hand.”
Thomaz's first act was to declare all alcohol to be his right, meaning no one else could drink it but him, his second act was to raise taxes. His people turned on him, but cared he did not. If anyone disagreed with them, they would be punished to death, regardless of whether they were right or wrong.
Aaron, one of the few butchers in the Citadel had failed to pay the full amount of his taxes. The King ordered his chariot ready, pulled the finest pure black horses, he raced through the streets knocking over stalls, scaring his citizens, making them jump out of the way in fear, and he cackled, his stature so tall and proud and fearless, and demented. He revelled in scaring his people, that is until he saw Aaron walking down the street with his family. The King screamed “I found you little piggy!” And charged forward on his chariot, poor Aaron froze, almost at the last moment he pushed his children out of the way, he wife coming out from the store to see what the hassle was as she saw her husband get trampled on by the King's horses and the rode over by the wheels of the chariot, there was a deafening crack as the sound of Aaron's spine and ribs snapped, the King reeled himself round, as his horses striking. The King shouted, “Pay your fucking taxes” Turned his chariot and headed straight back to the palace. The Citadel healer quickly moved forward to check on Aaron, looking up at Aaron’s wife, he solemnly shook his head.
The Journey, Chapter 2
Chapter 3.
Naturally as it does the news of the passing of King James, Braiden and Zeindaryys spread like wildfire. The arrows were taken in as evidence to the courts, an investigation also being launched, but no answers were found. Not long after the blood red feather arrows disappeared.
The funeral of King James was a somber one, the Elves wished to come and show their respects, but Thomaz refused to acknowledge them, he did however let them take Braiden back to his birth place somewhere far in the East. The King's body was placed on a pyre boat and pushed out to sea, Thomaz himself notching a flamed tipped arrow, arching it into the sky so it landed, setting the soul of the King free to reach the plains of the afterlife.
Somewhere low down inside the caverns underneath the Royal Palace there lived a hag, a small hump back scar faced woman with long scraggy wispy hair, and crooked yellow black teeth, her eyes shaded with cataracts. There was a makeshift cot in one corner, tables and shelves scattered all around, jars of concoctions and ingredients, chicken feet, newts, tadpoles, frogs legs, chicken eyes, and many many more. A large overused cauldron in the middle of the cave sat on a bed of fiery logs.
“The plan is set in motion, it won’t be long until Thomaz will be crowned, and I’ll be there in his ear.” A calm collected raspy well spoken voice came.
“You will be careful, you not fuck this up! I won’t have it!” Came the croaking screech of the Hag, her voice so awful and grating it could make your ears bleed
Thomaz didn’t want to wait, in his arrogance he ignored the traditions of the coronation. Sitting on the throne he looked to the Pope and demanded the crown be placed on his head instantly.
“Place the fucking crown on my head Pope” He hissed venomously at the Pope. “Or your life will be forfeit” The Pope with shaking hands carefully placed the crown on the now King's head and declared. “All Hail King Thomaz, King of Men”
The public dropped to one knee and bowed their heads as a chorus of ‘All Hail The King’ rippled through the throne room. Gifts of congratulations were brought forth by the dignitaries and advisors, gold and silver armour, a dwarven smithed sword adjourned with all manner of gems, a curved dagger of Elvish make, followed by fur and cloth and gold coins.
The crowd gasped as a tall slovenly built man with dark black hair and bright red eyes walked down the room towards the King, he unsheathed a thin rapier like sword, with a flourish presented it to the King, “I Rubian Blackthorn hereby declare my loyalty and fealty to you my liege!” he said in his calm, well spoken raspy voice. The King smiled, raised the man's sword and tapped the blade once on the left shoulder, and once on the right. The King himself proclaimed, “About fucking time Rubian, my friend. I name you my right hand.”
Thomaz's first act was to declare all alcohol to be his right, meaning no one else could drink it but him, his second act was to raise taxes. His people turned on him, but cared he did not. If anyone disagreed with them, they would be punished to death, regardless of whether they were right or wrong.
Aaron, one of the few butchers in the Citadel had failed to pay the full amount of his taxes. The King ordered his chariot ready, pulled the finest pure black horses, he raced through the streets knocking over stalls, scaring his citizens, making them jump out of the way in fear, and he cackled, his stature so tall and proud and fearless, and demented. He revelled in scaring his people, that is until he saw Aaron walking down the street with his family. The King screamed “I found you little piggy!” And charged forward on his chariot, poor Aaron froze, almost at the last moment he pushed his children out of the way, he wife coming out from the store to see what the hassle was as she saw her husband get trampled on by the King's horses and the rode over by the wheels of the chariot, there was a deafening crack as the sound of Aaron's spine and ribs snapped, the King reeled himself round, as his horses striking. The King shouted, “Pay your fucking taxes” Turned his chariot and headed straight back to the palace. The Citadel healer quickly moved forward to check on Aaron, looking up at Aaron’s wife, he solemnly shook his head.
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