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“So? What do you think?”
He said to him, signalling to the words written on the crackled parchments. The man nodded, taking a good look at the sheets of paper spread across the table.
“Are you going to be able to pull it off?” He asked him as he reread the plan.
Keir Halworth was the mastermind behind the idea, he was known for his great intelligence among the workers of the castle. As the librarian, he knows everything like the back of his hand, and especially, how to come up with a plan to kill the King. He had thought out every detail, every slight incident that may overturn it and each step to make away the almighty ruler of the Kingdom of Thrandolin. Some might say he’s a genius, some might say he’s psychotic.
His friend, one of the greatest swordsman of the land, Evander Lochridge, was dragged into this… scheme of his; he only did it for the potential consequences of Keir’s almighty plan.
The two men had met at a palace staff meeting, the contents of it had left his memory a long time ago, but, the pair had clicked it off instantly. Keir’s undoubtful cautiousness and timidness and Evander’s energetic and reckless personality just seemed to fit. Ever since, they’ve been aiding one another and have been good allies henceforward, which is why Evander had been helping his comrade with his demented project.
If the entirety of the plan worked, without any slight defaults, the librarian would finally gain the hand of the infamous princess.
Accordingly, the plan of action was rather simple (if you weren’t nitwitted of course), Evander was to kill the king, and as his genius’s friends mind was virtually always precise with its predictions, if they revealed the suspect of the assassination as a arbitrary nobody with some implanted proof, Keir would be able to finally have the hand of his dearest princess that has stolen his rather disturbing heart. Evander had no option to refuse, he knew how cruel Keir’s thinking can get, and if he had refused, he’d be the next in line after the king.
The swordsman knew this plan was well thought out… and blatantly insane but, he knew Keir had thought of everything. After reviewing their objective, they knew there was no going back to normal after it. Well, for Evander, that is.
They waited patiently for the infamous day to arrive, Evander training the future knights of the kingdom in his impatience, and Keir doing his quotidian chores in the library. Keir hated the library.
As much as he loved organizing and shelving the many books of the prestigious room, he felt disgusted every time he touched the desks made of refined Titus wood, most probably assembled by filthy slaves. He loathed the way the ornate olive green carpets felt underneath his shoes, it made him feel less worthy of his own mind. When he found himself rather disinterested in his work, he would stare at the arched ceiling made of marble with antique paintings covered across them, Keir found them rather dull but sometimes it was better to stare at something so plain than to draw his last breath out of boredom from hearing his coworkers pester him with unintelligent questions. Nevertheless, the man never let his abhorrence of the dreadful library get in his way of his work: he was a perfectionist after all, even when he was brassed off.
On the very morning, Keir and Evander met up in the very same corner of the library, reviewing for the last time the plan of action, making sure they memorized it and didn’t miss one step. As they both analyzed the plan for the last time, they set out for the King’s bedchamber; the pair could easily get there given that guards or maids would never roam the passageways of the palace at such early times in the morning, Evander and Keir were most likely the only ones awake at such a grim hour of the day.
The corridor they had chosen to take was a rather uninviting one, it was exceedingly slim and quite unclean owing the fact that maids rarely passed through it since it was in an unfamiliar corner of the palace. Multiple worn out metal arms extended above the heads of Evander and Keir, holding unmelting lit up candles so passers-by could at least envision where they were headed to. In Keir’s knowledge, it was the safest as well as the fastest route to the king’s ensuing death bed.
After a fair bit of walking and observing their surroundings, the partners made it to the main corridor of the royal chambers, his majesty’s was the furthest of them all. The main hall was rather large, with high ceilings revealing the same paintings as the library, much to Keir’s dismay, and sage green paint imprinted on the walls encased in lavish gold trim. The two stealthily made their way across the hall, Evander looking far too many times behind him to ensure they were alone, his nervousness was almost nauseating for Keir.
They made it to the king’s door, Keir took the resplendent doorknob in his hand, slowly turned it, and pushed the door opened without making any sound; he thanked the gods for his elegance.
They entered the room and Evander had abstained a gasp. The monarch’s dwelling was astonishing: two arched windows situated at the right side of the luxurious bed were almost as high as the ceiling, covered with gorgeous blood red curtains that Evander simply wanted to surround himself in. Above their heads hung a rustic chandelier, with multiple non lit candles and intricate designs carved into the aged gold that Keir presumed had been in the castle since its creation, as it is quite filthy. Omitting all these features that brought jealousy to both men, the most important feature of his majesty’s room was the bed, where he laid, clueless that today was his last day of ruling the great Kingdom of Thrandolin. They both approached the resting ruler, making eye contact and Keir nodding to affirm that it is time. Evander unsheathed the dagger on his belt and hesitantly brought it to the King’s throat, sending a reluctant stare to his partner. His hands quivered, his forehead began to be coated in a thin layer of sweat as his mind ran at a pace that he couldn’t estimate.
Out of annoyance of Evander’s downfall, Keir stole the dagger from his neurotic partner and quickly slit the monarch’s throat without a second thought. In a second, blood rushed out of the wound and onto the King’s bare chest. He heaved, trying to catch a breath but only receiving blood from his severed trachea. The pair watched, a hinted smirk appeared onto Keir’s lips, and Evander had stayed in the same position that he had been when Keir tore the dagger out of his hand. His empty stare observed the end of the king’s struggle, he quickly stopped thrashing around in an attempt to live, and took his last aim to achieve one last breath.
The king is dead.
Keir’s plan worked…
His mind was right…
He had done it…
The king is dead!
Keir stared at his perfect murder in glory, while Evander struggled to suppress a gag. Keir gave back the bloodied dagger to his owner, took his arm and ran for it.
His plan had worked!
They darted back to their bedroom’s, running down the same sophisticated hallway and its nearby filthy and uninviting neighbour. The partners in crime separated as they arrived to their much less refined corridor and headed to bed. It had been a sleepless night of worry and guilt for one, the other had had one of the best rests of his life.
As the morning arrived, all palace staff had been requested to meet in the ballroom at the earliest hour. For Keir and Evander, it was obvious what was to come of this meeting, and Keir took pride of everyone’s bewildered faces. Assumingly, the Queen had stated that the sole ruler of the Kingdom of Thrandolin was deceased.
“We must catch this assassin at once, to give peace to my used-to-be husband, and to seek justice for our kingdom.” Her highness voiced to the palace workers.
“We cannot let such a filthy human roam free, do what you must, no one can be trusted.” She finished.
The staff returned to their workplaces, Evander went back to the training grounds with his future and current knights, and Keir returned to his dreadful library. As the day passed, Keir unusually spoke to his coworkers, not that any of them had noticed what he described as an abnormal behaviour for himself. He kept repeating to each of them that if the assassin of the king was found, the Queen should give the hero the princesses hand, as they have no son, so who would be the next ruler of Thrandolin? He repeated his ideal to multiple staff members, until a notice was placed around the castle.
“The hero that shall find the murderer, shall have the hand of the princess.” Keir read and proceeded to laugh to himself, knowing that this was just another step of his flawless plan.
The dark curtain of stars slowly crept onto the bright blue sky, dimming the suns light, signalling that it was now time for Keir to move on to Act III of his plan. The final step to his plan.
A vague smirk appeared on his face as he walked out of his chambers, walking towards his target. He arrived in front of the door and rushed in.
“EVANDER! GET UP, THERE’S AN EMERGENCY!” Keir yelled as he pulled the frightened man out of bed. He proceeded with the same panicked tone, “Get dressed! We need to get out of here immediately!”
Evander nodded worriedly, hiking up his trousers and buttoning up his shirt messily. Keir grabbed his friends belt from the dresser and shoved it in Evander’s chest.
They ran through the palace, taking lefts and rights through various hallway’s and corridor’s, yet Evander had seen no one else. He was quite muddled as to what was going on. The two had finally came to a stop as they stood in front of a door that Evander didn’t recognise. Keir barged into the unknown room without letting the poor confused man ask anything, pulling him inside aggressively.
“Your Highness! I’ve found him! I’ve found the killer!” Keir started, shoving Evander’s body towards the bed where rested the startled woman. “Here’s the murder weapon to prove his treacherous act! Didn’t even clean it, the bloody bastard!”
Evander stared at what he thought was his friend bewilderingly, not knowing what to think in the precise moment.
What was Keir doing? This wasn’t a part of their plan, why was he…
“Evander? I would’ve never thought you’d slightly think of ever killing my husband.” The Queen affirmed strongly, occupied by removing her duvet and getting out of bed, cutting off the young man’s trail of thoughts.
A frightened Evander stared at her in awe, shock even. He couldn’t move, maybe even breath. He thought that his heart might rip through his chest and lay beating on the wooden floor under his bare feet like a fish out of water.
He heard her Majesty order his captor to do something: his mind had blocked it out, the shock still too freshly implanted in it.
All of the sudden, Evander felt his body be pulled towards the exit of the Queen’s bedchamber and into the hallway, and down another, and another. He still hadn’t woken up from his state of prostration, his mind still numb as well as his limbs.
The smell of his surroundings changed abruptly, from a sweet lush lavender to the smell of rust, sordid mould and wetness, if you could count that as a smell.
Evander started to regain his consciousness, the walls were no longer the pale sage of the palace hallways with elegant gold trim and the occasional discerning paintings hung on the tall walls connected by the arched ceilings where hung the lavish chandeliers… No, now it was soiled grey bricks with multiple trickles of water between its cracks with lousy brown candle holders with small melting tapers that barely produced any light, making it almost impossible to see the puddles of water on the mucky stone floor and the iron bares that connected the ceiling to the floor.
The dungeons. That’s where Keir had been ordered to take him.
A sudden pain emerged onto his back as he was propelled into one of the filthy cell’s floors, Keir’s piercing gunmetal eyes bore into him, a shit eating grin reflecting onto his astounded face, lips slightly agape as he looked back at who he thought of as a friend. The deserter pulled the metal cage to a close and locked the metal lock, the familiar expression still glued onto his pale face.
“You know this is what you truly deserve, my friend.” He whispered as he locked the padlock and threw its key into a nearby sewer grid.
Evander hadn’t muttered a word ever since he had been grasped out of his warm bed that he was surely going to miss, he didn’t really need to as he was sure his face reflected his exact thoughts of confusion, anger, and confusion once again.
Keir walked away thoughtlessly, without looking back at the desperate man, as he scrambled to his feet and gripped the unwashed iron bars while he cried out to his betrayer in sorrow. If Keir wasn’t such a heartless monster, he might have taken a small pause in his steps to second guess his decisions, but he knew that it was the right thing to do, according to his values.
A few days had passed since the infamous night, the palace was to get ready for the royal wedding and the coronation of their new king, Keir Halworth, hero of the nation for discovering their antecedent ruler of the Kingdom of Thrandolin’s assassin. The staff of the chateau had been busy ever since the discovery of the soon-to-be monarch’s heroic act, as the Queen had announced it to the people of Thrandolin at the first hours of the day. The staff rushed left and right and up and down the numerous marble staircases, carrying whatever they needed to get everything ready; perfection was key as this was one of the most important events of the Kingdom’s history.
Once the sun started setting, it was finally time. Dukes, Princes and other relatives of the royal family as well as nobles from other countries that had been invited by the princess and the Queen, their wives scurried to their seats with their arms latched onto their husband’s, excited to witness the historic event. The missus were mostly there for gossip, and the husbands were there for meeting the new King to gain an addition of power and possibly, a new ally.
The sound of chatting and the clatter of heels died down as the ceremony started, the pastor beginning his accustomed wedding speech, introducing the words of god into the palace and onto the soon-to-be newlyweds. However, none of them were in the said room; it was customary that the princess always arrived after the groom but, where was he? The ceremony had already started yet, no sign of the eager man. It raised suspicion among the horde of guests seated in front of the altar as the Queen addressed the concerning matter to the Holy man.
As rumour’s arose about the state of Keir, some quite demented and uproarious, Her Majesty sent her gaze around the room towards the many knights guarding the sacred ceremony, signalling them to start a search for the absent groom.
The bannerets and gallants went looking for the missing man, and only to be found with nothing.
The library? Not one soul.
His bedchambers? Only the remnants of his lack of tidiness was found.
The dungeons? Only the grimy rats and the bones of deceased animals in the corners remained, as well as the opened cell doors that caused an occasional grate in the disturbing silence.
One room they had blindly ignored was their precursory commander Evander’s bedchamber. No one had thought of looking there as it was in the North Wing of the palace and completely on the opposite side of where the matrimony was being hosted, until they had found the astray groom lying in his bed, dagger in hand as his neck bled out onto the linen white sheets of the bed, staining them with his deep red liquid.
“A man reaps what he sows” had been carved in his skin, signed E. L.
The End