Dethroned

Three

A long shot of expanses of twiggy green plants mixed with ivy whistling grass, appeared to be dominant in the Aghata lands, given the life by the two intersecting fresh water streams, a yeilding place for peasant farmars, just few miles from the castle, was where the horse shoes tiredly paddled their way to the palace. Hoes and other tools were dropped from the farmers' rough hands when the focus was altered to the man in a hurry. Kids who showed no concern of the man's agency ran with kites along the road. They almost bumbed into him if it wasn't for their mothers who cried over them.

He was riding so uncomfortable, small metals jingling on him, a waving black cloak on his back, that even his silver protective vest looked as if was on a wooden strunt, he held tight. 

The look on the farmers' eyes said it all. They knew what the messenger carried. Not quite, but something to do with the hein for sure.

A watchman stood arlet, arrows fully stretched, and eyes glued to the messenger to fully make sure. He got his mark, quickly gave a signal to the gatemen, and a pair of ion thick gates were slowly wrenched open. You could hear the spools and chains shrilling in tension. He drifted inside, jumped from the back, and splashed onto the muddy surface with his wringled dull leather boots.

He stepped forward, shoved back by a heavy weight souldier, tried not to resist, and then he spoke out, "In the hollow way, the fire comes from afar."

The guard nooded and let him pass. He gazed at the endless stairs to the great palace bounded by thirty-four pillars all around, then jogged up.

He skipped a stoop, ran across the hallway, threw himself in front of the King's throne, but he wasn't at the throne.

He agitatedly lifted his head to make an evasive scan. It was easy. There was a dim part at one of the windows.

Like a stump he stood breathless, hands behind his back, broad chest up,  dull hair lined with grey silk matching with his long grey coat, eyes down to his troops and a vitious mind making the plans. He turned around and stared at the messenger as if he was confused, and he waited.

The messanger stared back, cought up in a moment, then a frightened portion of his brain sharply rang a bell, and he vomited it all, "My Lord, please! My word comes with an urgent notice...."

Before he could finish, the Heinkin King of Agata raised his second finger and panted, "Stop!!" He mantained the seriousness, making the messanger gobble back in fear. He grinned, letting his white teeth exposed, then asked, "Are you afraid of me?" This time, the voice was mellow and calm.

He impulsively nooded in disagrement. He wanted to believe in the calm voice, the welcoming face, but for some reason, which came from aloof, he knew this was all play of a pithon. Any time he can snap.

The king pitily looked into his eyes. As if he was concerned, he stretched his hand to lift him up.

The messenger was shocked, but all he could do was go with it.

Heinkin put his arm over the skinny boy's shoulders, forcibly walked him over to the window, and murmured, "Have you ever wished of being a King's son? A prince!"

"Who wouldn't want that, my Lord?"

"Well, tell me." He released him off his hand.

"You see these troops? Some of the brave soldiers are going to perish because of what my son parted in. I'm about to make the biggest sacrifice. It's for the paramount safety of our nation."

How did he know Walter was going to Bunglbough? Does he know about the hein, too? The messenger wondered.