Salamander

Chapter Twenty Nine: Infiltration

Chapter Twenty Nine

We walked through the stone hallway, the arched ceiling hanging with numerous candle-lit chandeliers and the walls hung with torches. The young girl held her white dress with one hand and a torch in the other because she had claimed that the way to the audience room was rather dark. “Hurry along,” she said over her shoulder.

            I had so many questions, the biggest one being if she was King Plarsky’s daughter, how could she have possibly known King Algory, because she would’ve been living in the prince’s castle in Elegroth City. Was it possible that King Plarsky knew his father as well? Was it possible that they had broken the traditions of so many kings and princes before them?

            We exited the hallway and entered a large, coiling stairwell without any source of light. The only thing allowing us to see was the torch that the girl held as we clumsily ran up the staircase. It had seemed like an eternity before we reached the top. She opened a wooden door and we found ourselves in a great room with four sets of large, wooden doors with gilded locks. “He’s in there,” she said, leading us towards the doors, each one with two guards standing at attention. She walked up to one of them and said, “They request an audience with the king.”

            The guard looked at us briefly. “He’s already in the middle of one.”

            “They need an audience with the king,” she repeated in a more forceful tone. She gave the guard a wry smile. “I’m sure he won’t mind me interrupting. But I do know that I’d mind you not letting me in.”

            The guard shook his head and pushed open the double doors just a crack, enough for one person to go through at a time.

            “Thank you,” the girl said gratefully and waved us over. I gave one last concerned look towards Byron and followed him and the girl through the narrow opening in the doorway. What I saw once I entered the audience room completely took my breath away: a large, arching ceiling with stained-glass windows. Large, marble pillars dotted the area in an organized fashion, their tops carved with intricate angles and flowers. But what had initially taken my breath away was what was at the other end of the room: a throne, as tall as house and sitting on it was the king himself.

            King Plarsky.

            He wore mainly blue. A blue crown, blue tunic, and a blue cape. His face, in fact, appeared blue, but it could’ve been because of what he was wearing that caused him to look that way. Before him was a peasant bowing, his nose down to the ground. “Please, your highness,” he said.

            “Be gone,” the king said softly. “I cannot prevent rats from stealing your crops.” He flicked his hand away and a pair of guards came and grabbed the peasant by the arms. After lifting him to his feet, the guards led him out of the room, shutting the large, wooden door we had come in through behind them.

            We stood there in silence as the girl walked across the hall, still holding the torch in one hand and her dress in another. She gave the torch to one of the guards and bowed before her father, however slight it was. “Byron Marcellus is here,” she said.

            King Plarsky looked at Byron curiously, and then, to my dismay, his eyes flicked over to me. “Who is the other one?”

            “His son, I presume.”

            Bryon laughed. “We’re not related.”

            King Plarsky looked at me with disinterest and stared at the old scientist. The king was a lot older than I had expected – he was at least in his mid-thirties. However, even from where I was standing at the other side of the hall; I could see the spark of wisdom in his eyes. The same wisdom older people have, people like Byron.