I.
Two men stand within the dark quarters of a resting area. One man sits upon the edge of a worn cot grasping the handle of a blazing torch. The flame dances, and glares through the room with an orb of warmth, and light. A taller, well-built male paces the boundaries of the light, back and forth within the dim-lit room. He seems troubled, his brow furled in a manner of retort.
The male sitting stares through green orbs, and says, “If you continue walking like this, you will tire yourself out. You have a council meeting in which your attendance would be surely praised.”
“Oh shut it William! You are nearly as incompetent as my fool of a father. A century comes-and-goes, and the man is still alive! Why! Why out of the oldest living men, he must be a part!”
William’s eyebrows raise in delight, and through half a smile, “Sire, perhaps instead of wearing your boots and your mind, you could instead just kill the man, since you hate him so much.” The man stops his pacing and stands for a moment. His blue eyes avert toward William, sitting ever so delightedly upon the cot.
“You do not think I have thought of this already? Yes, just kill him, won’t I? I am sure it is as easy as it sounds. The old haggard is only the god-damn king, isn’t he William! What har-”
“It was merely a suggestion, sire. Indeed, judging from your response, not a very good one at that.” William quietly interrupts.
“You..” The standing male seems to have run out of anything to say. A grunt of disapproval escapes the male, before he once again resumes his pacing. “There must be another way to remove one from the throne. There must be..” His voice trails off quietly at the end.
The sound of footsteps clapping down the corridor just outside of the room clouds his thoughts, and he looks to the doorway. A heavy-set guard stands in the doorway, peaking in. “The council awaits your arrival, Prince. Your brother has already arrived, and the cou-”
“Alright!” He slams the door shut on the guard, and stares back at William. “When this meeting is over, we shall discuss this further.”
William stares back with those smiling green eyes, “Always a pleasure, milord.”
Opening the door, the young man steps out into the dark corridor, where torches resembling William’s line the walls. The mumbled chatter from the meeting hall echoes through the hall, along with his loud footsteps. The Prince shoves the two large swinging doors open, and walks inside. The conversations suddenly seem to die out, as all eyes fall on him. The next highest powers of the kingdom sit within the decorative chairs, siding the long thick wooden table. The table is a dark-red color, covered in goblets of drink, and plates of food. The twenty-three men of the council, including his father, the King are mostly elders. Old men completely soaked in their own esteem, and their self-crafted horse-s**t of honor, and prestige with their heads held high, and their smiles empty and wide. A delicate laugh that boils the blood of the lone Prince gently sounds through the large council chamber.
“Ah, so you decide to join us Xytas. My boy, take a s-”. The Prince quickly slams his hands down upon the heavy table, leaving two closer men of the council to coil back in cowardice, completely unaware of their surroundings, so it seems.
“I will not have you call me by my name here in the presence of the royal council, Ruthis. As the King of this high empire, I assumed you have grasped that concept by now. Though my presumptions fall quite short these days when dealing with the good of.. Your royalty.”
The old king stares at his young, rebellious son. That same, amused smile remains upon the wrinkled face, hiding a deep, darkness within his very soul. Xytas spots the narrowing of his father’s eyes, and his lips curve into half-a-smile, before he seats himself at the table. Another male stands, presenting himself to the council. Waves of blonde hair in brilliant strokes lines the handsome male’s helm. Xytas snorts to himself as his brother takes the attention of the council.
King Ruthis speaks, “My son, have you something to say?” The King’s eyes beaming whole-heartedly toward the older son of the two, Rillin.
Rillin’s smiles toward his father, and slowly his blue gaze roam the watchful eyes of the council. They fall sternly upon Xytas.
“It has come to my attention, as I am sure it has the others, that the tension between my dear father, and my pretentious, yet all-caring brother seems to strengthen every meet, and every day. I would request, for the sake of the empire, the kingdom, and the royalty within these chambers that we look past any ill personal acquisitions, and resume this in a manner beyond civil, but that of royal justification.” Rillin’s eyes remain fixed on Xytas.
“Yes, my son. You are right in your words, and your selfless manners surely reinforce the weight of your speech. We shall continue, and disregard any..” the King’s eyes fall back to Xytas, now both his brother and the King staring. “misdemeanors of our council members from the past.”
Xytas stares back at his father, then to his brother. Alone, he leers back with a ferocity that only the royal family itself can recognize. Rillin, and King Ruthis share a fatherly-son gaze, with a taste of something hidden beneath that glance. Something stirs within Xytas’s stomach. A certain discomforting feeling.
They are planning something.
An old council member claps the table with a hand, and all others fall silent in their quiet chatter to accommodate this man with their attention.
These men could give a horse’s rear what any other has to say, but under the eye of my father, they completely alter their personality, to appeal to a higher power. One day, their sons will kneel to me. And my brother.. That b*****d..
Xytas lets his angry eyes fall to his brother, Rillin.
That geocentric son-of-an-imbecile is so stuck up in himself. He is no better than these other power-hungry fools. He appeals to my deranged father with such false servitude. The pathetic old man doesn’t have a soul whom cares a damn about him, after the death of my lovely mother, the Queen. With her death, a darkness has fallen upon the kingdom, and I plan to regain what my mother once attained, and held with her last dying breath. Honor.
The council member speaks, “Your highness, Galieod marches his army from the east front. They have minimal forces to provide a flank. If we march to their crown, we can easily defeat them, even without a secondary force to provide a sweep.”
King Ruthis rests the palms of his hands together, and in a rhythm lets bony fingers collapse into one another again, and again. “Your suggestion will not go unmet. If Galieod manages to carry his force through Deilon, then so be it. I would prefer to handle this diplomatically, though if that ceases to occur. Then of course, we shall destroy his army and send him alone back the way he came.”
A few men share a quick laugh, at a joke Xytas does not seem too amused to hear. He stares across the ancient table at his father, whom merely ignores the gaze and relishes in his own amusement, and the false-appraisal of others. Rillin, whom is seated in arm’s reach of the King, claps a hand to the old man’s shoulder, and whispers something in his ear. The King stands.
“The meeting shall fall short of its term, and halt here. All is well in the empire, and we have no reason to pursue little matters of no importance. Return to your doings, my friends.” King Ruthis stares back at Rillin with a shining gaze, and together they share another short laugh.
The council rises, and begins its departure from the hall. Rillin stands, and nods toward his father in response to a murmur of conversation he could not understand. As his brother exit’s the chamber, their eyes lock to one-another’s in a conflict of will.
After his brother has left the chamber, it is only him, and his father. Not eager to spend another minute alone with this hated man, he stands to leave.
“Xytas. Wait. Just a minute. Take a seat, will you?”
“I would much rather stand, your highness.” A serpent in his voice.
That blood-boiling chuckle escapes the King, and creeps up his spine. He faces the doors to leave, away from the old man whom he fears if he looks toward, he will wind up stabbing through the heart.
“Suit yourself, my boy. You were never one to listen, at least once your mother passed away. Every night, I wonder to myself why you hate me so much. Don’t say you don’t, I kn-”
“Father, I was not going to interrupt your ramble by saying I do not hate you. You know damn well that I do hate you.” Xytas turns to stare with those cold, hard eyes at his father. The King does not phase.
“Yes, and I was getting to that. If you would only let me finish for once.” He takes a breath, to regain his previous composure. “I have done nothing wrong to you, nothing ill to destroy the love, or the respect we once shared for one another. When your mother was alive, you were a beautiful young man. So full of love, and life. Your older brother even looked up to you with a certainty that you were beyond his being. Now.. Now you are just bitter. You are cold. Your eyes, I can not see into them. They are as cold, and as solid as ice. Whatever reason you hate me, I do not understand, and I will not until you tell me. As much as I doubt you will, I leave you with this last statement.”
His father sits in a glum manner, as if the older male is about to spare news that would destroy Xytas, and the very ground he stands upon. It is not far off.
“Upon my passing, your brother, Rillin, will be crowned King. We have agreed long ago you would, but from recent situ…” Whatever his father said after that, was drowned out by this sudden vortex of hatred. It stirs madly within him. His blood is boiling more than it ever had. His eyes brim with tears, and a dire, uncontrollable fury rushes his beating heart. His fists, hard as stone slam viciously down onto the table. Xytas grabs the head of a heavy, ornamental chair and throws it as hard, and as far as he can. He screams in rage, rampaging the sacred council hall like a monstrosity filled with terror, and cold-hard hate.
King Ruthis merely stares at his wild son, and releases a soft sigh of contemptuous manner. “This is the attitude I speak of, my beloved son. I love you no less than your brother, but I cannot fill your dangerous hands with the power of my kingdom, you must understa-”
“You b*****d. You filthy, old disgusting b*****d. You stink this castle up with your filthy self! You are corrupt! You are malicious! I am the only noble one in this whole god-damn family! You know this, and Rillin knows it. Now you have plotted against me, to destroy me, to crumble the steps I have climbed. Know this father. Regardless of your decision not to crown me, I will be king. One way or another. In your lifetime, or in the next. The crown will not fall upon another malevolent being, such as you, or Rillin. I will restore the honor you have since leeched out of the empire since mother had died, and regain the essence of a previous age.”
“Son, you know the only way the crown can be removed from its taker’s head, is through death.” The King laughs out, amused by the possibilities of this statement. “What, are you going to kill me?” He laughs again. “You will kill your brother? Is that what you will do?” His eyes alight with mockery.
Xytas’s cold, hard eyes stick to the King’s without blinking. “If no other way presents itself, I will nor search any longer. I will without hesitation ram my sword through your chest, and even easier through Rillin’s. He is nothing but the bad you have spawned. You think him good, but you are not one to pass judgment, for you are the biggest scum I have, and ever will know.”
He shoves the doors open, and steps right through the two guards outside of the chamber.
“You will never be king! You shall never hold a higher honor than your brother. He is a man, you have not grown past your juvenile self!-” The King’s thundering voice drowns out as the doors slam shut, and once again Xytas steps into the silence of the corridor. A madness surges through him as he walks back toward his room.
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