#Chapter2
16th Century
Alvar
The stone walls stood high and strong, bearing all the hits and cries of frustration, blocking the entry inside the fort.
Inside the castle, a string of maids was busy in sprinkling medicines to avoid the plague and its harmful antigens to suffocate the clean air. Various healers were working on the wealthy ministers and their families to minimize the effects of the deadly disease. After watching the improvements in their health, the King ordered his loyal guards to let 5 people enter every day inside the gates and provide them with the same treatment.
King Thales has refused to give up. He will work until his last breath to save the last life on his land. The appointed healers were working day and night to cure as many as possible. Special sanitation facilities were undertaken so they don’t get sick themselves.
The Minister of the courtroom, Lord Charles, youngest brother of King Thales, stood in front of the royal vault pale as a ghost. He was a man in his early 40’s. His eyes jumped from one corner of the empty sanctum to another. Clear distress shined in his eyes and lines of worry marred on his forehead. His thin body shifted from one foot to another, and fingers moved in dark silky hairs aimlessly. A tired sigh left his lips as he bent down to retrieve the last golden coin and tossed it in a pot full of gold and other jewels. Moisture blurs his vision as he watched two filled pots with the last piece of wealth they owned. His hopes were breaking slowly. The entire coffer was empty other than these two pots. King Thales has used more than half blindly to help the pulpit and spent some to import food from neighboring kingdoms. The once fruiting treasure room now tasted the dust. Lord Charles removed the golden rings from his fingers and threw them with the rest of the gold. He pulled out his silver chains and sacrificed them for his pulpit. Feeling a little light, the handsome man backed away and gestured at the 4 soldiers to pick them up and load in the cart.
When the tall soldiers entered the treasure room, they froze for seconds in shock, but continue their job without showing any expressions. Their hearts were aching as the truth slapped them hard. The royal treasure has crumbled to the ground, and there was no penny left to serve the hungry kingdom. How were they going to survive? They have nothing left to even negotiate with other countries to house some of the healthy people. It was a crisis, and they were drowning in it.
Clenching their jaws, they bent to pick it up. Their muscles throbbed, and biceps bulged as they lifted the heavy pots and carried them towards the wooden cart. Covering the pots with heavy lids, two soldiers started pulling it in the main hall.
As the plague and drought attacked the kingdom altogether, the poor cattle also died. Horses started dropping lifeless. There was no food for even humans to sniff. How could they have maintained the animals?
The Gods in the skies were cruel to punish the innocent beings for someone else’s ignorance.
As the soldiers pull the carts, numerous eyes fell on them. Their stiffened backs rocked in alarm, unable to trust anyone other than their King. The robberies and murders have left them traumatized. It was the last straw of their country, and they would sacrifice their lives protecting it. They need to spend the sum on important causes to run the empire for a few more days until the death embraces them all together.
The soldiers stopped in front of the stairs of the main hall with their heads lowered. They waited for King Thales to arrive and instruct them accordingly. The maids halted their works for a few moments and sent immediate prayers to the cruel gods to keep their last hope safe.
***
Away from the dejected environment in the main hall of the fort, on the fourth floor of the royal castle- high security was appointed for the safety of the king.
Inside the grand chambers, King Thales of Alvar stood in front of the silver carved mirror as the maids adjusted his clothing and whipped an enticing scent on his garments. He stood like a statue as they worked on him like every day. Two maids were making his king-size bed at the corner while three were busy in emptying the bowl of cold water, which was brought from the barely filled well inside the castle. The King has cleaned his body with a wet towel as they lacked enough resources for a bath. It has been years since he has stepped in the tub.
His vibrant blue eyes stared in the mirror blankly and accessed his 6 ft frame in a new light.
Did he look like a King?
The answer to his conscience rattled him from head to toe. His feet dug hard in the ground to keep the spine straight. Hands tightened in fists, and he dispersed the fumbling maids to relieve himself of the slight ache in his chest. The walls were closing at him, so he took deep breathes before pressing a sweaty palm on his chest. His vision blurred as he looked in the mirror. His conscience had stated the truth by unraveling reality. The only thing that made him look like a king was the crown on his head. He touched the blue gems on the center that worth millions. But what would he do of a crown when there wouldn’t be a crowd to rule. It would be a mere jewel that will always remind him of the golden ages where he had waved at the pulpit wearing it proudly and had received their love and loyalty in return.