The two guards sat together in the peaceful, damp dungeon of punishment. They were both eating nice meals that were brought to them by a servant boy in the castle. They weren't saying a word. The Dungeon of Punishment was not a place for conversation, but for thought. Their task was to make sure nobody got in or out, and it was the easiest job they've ever had. They had one prisoner, and he was blind, deaf, and a mute. There was no way he was ever going to leave.
Suddenly, the prisoner coughed and the two guards jumped. "I wish we had a constant noise down here so the sudden ones aren't so dreadful!" One exclaimed. The other nodded and agreed.
"So," the other said at last. "Who is that man?"
"Nobody knows," The first guard replied. "He is a criminal, a bad one, or else he wouldn't be here."
"His ears..."
"Hush! We don't speak here. Eat your lunch, the new king is coming later to deal with that poor old man. Then we can speak."
They spent the rest of the day in silence.
Twenty-Five Years Previous
"The king of this land, King Jakobi III, has decreed that all able men between the ages of the twenty-five and thirty-five be taken to work pay-free for his majesty. They shall work sixteen hours a day to build his new home on the hill out yonder" -- the messenger pointed East at a beautiful mountain -- "and those who are good shall be rewarded. Those who are wicked will be punished. Be grateful for this opportunity men and be proud to work in the service of a great man such as his Majesty."
The entire crowd was silent for a matter of a few seconds before an uproar of anger.
"How dare he!"
"I will not give in!"
"I have children!"
"We'll all be dead!"
The messenger stood and took the verbal abuse because the knights around him were defending him from any physical harm. A sly smile spread across his thin face.
"Well I'm glad we're all agreed!" He said once the panic was calmed. "The men who don't willingly come will be collected tonight nonetheless. Women and children, enjoy your day!" He spun on his heel and left. The messenger, named Tye, walked to his friend Vincent Marcelo, an accountant for the royal family. "How did I do?" Tye asked.
"Splendid indeed!" Vincent laughed. "Sometimes you're too stupid to insult but too smart to compliment my dear friend."
"Ah, your words are kind brother, but your meaning is filled with much sarcasm. Honestly, how did I do?" Tye said, smiling.
"Without our escorts here, you'd be dead!" They both laughed and hopped on their horses to ride back into the grounds of the king.
"Where do you think you're going?" Tye said as soon as Vincent got on his horse.
"What do you mean?" Vincent replied.
"'All able men between the ages of twenty-five and thirty five. That includes you." Tye said matter-of-factly
"What? Then it includes you too!" Vincent said, feeling a knot in his chest tighten. Tye simply laughed.
"I'll be watching over all the workers, with pay."
"But I'm the king's accountant, he needs me!" Vincent cried.
"The king needs a messenger, not everyone can do that. But anyone could count." Tye said and laughed again. Vincent could tell that this false statement was driven by Tye's pride, because he was chosen as the king's favorite. "Get off that horse you peasant!"
"Peasant?" Vincent shouted.
"You're a slave now, not unlike all those peasants. Making you a peasant my dear friend!" Tye shoved Vincent off the horse.
"I will rip out your eyes and feed them to the crows you coward!" Vincent cried, not thinking about what he was saying. "I will bury you alive and wait until the sand stops squirming and I hear your last, miserable breath! You are the peasant you sick monster!" Then, in a matter of a sharp pain in the back of his head, Vincent only saw black.
Light flooded Vincent's vision. He felt dizzy and scared. One day ago, he was the root of financial growth in the kingdom, now he was in a small little shack wearing nothing but a torn shirt and baggy pants. His head was scabbed over and there was a bucket of blood lying next to him. Suddenly the door swung open and an old man walked in.
"You're a lucky man, my friend." The old man said. "I found you lying in the dirt, bleeding your brain into the dirt. I brought you here and cleaned you up." As he spoke, he was fixing some soup in a pot.
"Thank you," Vincent said.
"Next time, don't be so stupid." The old man said with a grin. Vincent did not share the smile. "What kind of fool would shout at a messenger? You don't realize --"
"I do realize you foul codger!" Vincent screamed. "I am the king's accountant! I run this city!"
"What does the king look like?" The old man said calmly.
"Well," Vincent started, but realized he had never seen the king. The king always gave speeches to the people, but Vincent was trapped away with many advisors in meetings. The orders he receive come from Tye on behalf of the king, that's how they became such good friends.
"I don't know," Vincent admitted.
"Well then you are never close enough during his speeches and you obviously don't work for him. You are a peasant, don't lie to yourself." The old man gave Vincent a bowl of soup and told him to drink it. "Raised by peasants, you'll always be a peasant. Your brother wasn't a peasant, he accomplished great things. But you, you are a peasant at heart. Like myself." A tear was in the old man's face.
"What do you mean? I have no brother." Vincent said cautiously.
"Of course not!" Said the old man with a chuckle. "How silly of me."
Before Vincent could question further, the door burst open.
"Ah I knew we missed somebody!" The guard said, grabbing Vincent by the collar. "There's work to be done my good sir!"
