Dethroned

Twelve

"Invincibility!" The King of Aghata mouthed. "Everybody likes it, right?"

"What, your majesty?" Shouted the old, tall and feeble man with few teeth in his mouth; the rest were murky, dressed like an undertaker and the hammer in his hand bouncing back from the metal armour, shaking his worn mustles.

The dungeon was very hot, smelly, dark and that lava red molten iron and some fire sparks were the only source of light. There were a lot of irritating sounds of banging metals and breathing furnaces. A cloud of angry Steam spiraled up, increasing the oblivion after the hot metals were dipped into the cooling tubs.

"You wouldn't comprehend it. That itching and squishing feeling in a powerful man's palm. Hitting walls. Its like running down the woods having the sharpest axe." He stood there, infrond of the old man, analysing his work and giving an ugly grin followed by an annoying chottle as he spoke, "This will make me a suitable match for the hein." He rubbed his nose, gripped the old man's shoulder and whispered in his hairy ears, "your grandchildren will grow in the safer hands, if you are to watch them grow."

He heard a voice saying, "My King, I came to inform you, your son has returned."

He turned around and let the servant stand up. He passed beside him, wadden across the hall and climbed onto the staircase. The door made a loud creak in the suface hallway. He breathed in the fresher air of the outside environment, wringled his blurry eyes, tidied his coat and put on a firm face as he made his way to the castle.

Ramanal was waiting, his scar looking more visible that he could barely lift the chin up. He had strong men standing behind him. They knelt down at the King as he entered the castle. They quickly rose up.

Ramanal strongly voiced, "Your majesty!"

"Just call me father," panted the King. He stared at the men behind his son then they made their way out.

He submisively uttered, "Father, I have fulfilled my juty as the royal son." He gaaped and continued, "The hein has been desyroyed."

The King discontently set eyes on him, heavily.
Ramanal felt that heavy ship stare on him. It drove him to lift his head up st to see the cause of this awkward standing. He clearly had no idea. Was he happy or just satisfied? He felt him touching his scar. He felt like a wimp. That young bullied and unloved kid which he thought he got rid of through his excessive training, hard work and a hard proof of his worth. The King or his father had to see him, honor him and be pleased by his contributes.

"They're not dead!" He said.

It didn't make him react. He did not hear that. Wait, he did. "What?" He panted. He was wrecked.

How did he know? I saw them drown, blood in the water, he indicated in his mind.

"Get the the soidiers ready for war."

He shuddered as his father's voice alarmed him.
The King showed no emotion in his face. Just a simple nice look.