Nomad {Editing}

::Chapter 29:: Out of his Mind

Before anyone had even begun to thought to react, the door had been slammed shut.

No one moved for a brief moment, no one knew how to respond. Charlie had the distinct feeling that up until the moment before, they had been of the belief that they would never see their King again.

Yet here was, but a shell of the former man.

Shaved of his beard and hair, eyes bloodshot and lips bust. It took Charlie aback to see his father in such a state. It didn't seem real, it couldn't be real. The King had always seemed so immortal to his subjects.

And this was a broken man.

Dragging himself to his feet, the King said nothing. Regarding them with a look as though he had just returned from tea, not torture. His eyes narrowed as he drew his lingering gaze across the gathered group, disgust lighting his gaze.

Then his eyes at last landed on his youngest son.

"Good to see your still alive." The sarcasm dripped from his tongue, "Now why the hell are you all still here?"

In those words, the King was quick to disperse any idea that he was not the same man. The same anger still blazed in his dark eyes, the same fury seemed to below from his every movement.

Our enemies can take everything from him, and he'd still be the same man. Charlie hated himself for almost praising him, not that he would have ever said it aloud. The young wolf shifted from one leg to the other.

But the return of the King had been coupled with confusion.

Robert was the first one to speak with some clarity to his voice. "There is no way out, father." He explained as calmly as he could, though the anger was rippling in the under tone. "We're trapped."

King James sighed, as though this was a mere inconvenience. The King very nearly went to run his fingers through his hair, only to remember that it was no longer there. He didn't react to his own mistake and continued.

"Honestly, I thought I'd taught you boys better then that." He spoke with a sigh to his voice.

Despite the insult, every person perked up at these words. Hope lighting their eyes.

All they needed was the smallest amount of hope, and that could be enough to get them out of here.

Charlie had a little more doubt to him however, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to give his father his full attention. Heart so far into his throat that he was sure it wouldn't take much for him to start choking on it.

The King lowered himself to the ground again, each movement was defined by pain but he didn't let him stop it. Soon he had shifted into the four legged tawny brown wolf, it didn't seem to have faired the torture much better. But in this form, movement was much easier for the King.

It was only in this moment that Charlie was beginning to notice how old his father truly was.

And how much of a toll his long life was beginning to take on him.

Charlie had little to no pity for him either way.

Now every pair of eyes in the room was following the King like starving hawks, waiting on the edge of their seats. They didn't know for what he was searching, or if it even existed and their King had merely lost his mind.

But no amount of pessimism was going to make them any less hopeful in that moment.

The King was their last hope, and everything now rested on his shoulders.

For a moment the King paused, waiting by the fireplace he seemed to contemplate something for a short moment. His long tail darting from left to right with concentration, he was perfectly silence. As was the rest of the room.