The king's piercing gaze lingered on me, studying my every move and assessing my character. I stood tall and met his eyes with a similar inquisitive look. It was clear that this meeting held great significance, far beyond a simple casual encounter. I couldn't help but admire the king's strength and resilience - it takes a formidable leader to keep a sinking ship afloat for so long.
Despite the state of his kingdom - with decentralized armies, minimal support from neighboring kingdoms, and an ongoing war against the demon king for the past thirty years - hell he has been fighting demons since the day he ascended after his father fell in battle 24 years ago , someone with such history is bound to have a big presence with himself.And sure enough I was not let down
"Lord Favian," the king spoke, his deep and resonant voice filling the room. "I have been hearing accounts from those who led the raid, including my daughter, Sir Victor, and Lord Alistair. Your wit, resourcefulness, and above all, strength have all been praised."
"I am grateful for Your Majesty's interest in me," I responded cautiously, wondering where this conversation was heading.
The king leaned forward, his piercing red eyes locked onto mine. His gaze seemed to penetrate deep into my soul, as if searching for something hidden within. "Now all men fight for a reason," he began, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "Some for glory or wealth, others to protect what they hold dear. And then there are those who simply revel in the violence, living each moment as if it were their last."
"And what about you, Your Majesty?" I asked, curious about his own reasons for fighting.
His tired eyes met mine, and he sighed heavily. "I fight because it is my duty as king," he replied with a hint of resignation in his voice. "When the other northern kingdoms fell, its citizens fell with it. Some managed to escape and seek refuge here, while others lost their lives trying. As their ruler, it is my responsibility to ensure their survival amidst the chaos."
Actually he forgot to point something ,the citizens who were unable to escape their kingdom, now overrun by demons, were not only trapped but also used as a source of sustenance for the demonic beings and their army, they were literally livestock , fed and bred for thaf. They were treated like mere animals, caged and slaughtered for the benefit of their captors. Despite this horrifying reality, I hesitated to correct him, not wanting to disrupt the flow of our discussion.
As he spoke, a servant arrived with our drinks - tea for the king and honeyed milk for me. I thanked them before taking a sip of the sweet, warm liquid. It provided a brief moment of comfort amidst the tension that lingered in the room. The servant bowed and left us alone once again.
I turned back to the king, as I took in his weary expression. "I admire your dedication, Your Majesty," I said sincerely. "To have such a strong sense of duty towards your people is truly remarkable. Not many can boast such convictions."
A weak smile played on his lips as he replied, "Is it really something to boast about? After all, I am failing in fulfilling my life's mission." His weariness was evident in every word he spoke.
Is my purpose in his life reduced to that of a drinking buddy, someone he can dump all of his issues onto? I didn't even get a chance to have a drink before he unloaded everything onto me. Does he need someone to grumble with?
"It's been ten years," he began, his voice trembling. "Ten years since we've had a victory. When I sent our army out, I was ashamed to admit that I half-expected them to fail. Does that make me a bad king and father?After all, I sent my daughter to die " His hand rose to his face, shielding himself from my gaze as he spoke, as if he was scared of it.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Is he really going crazy? What king would admit that?And why is he telling me all of this? Is he nuts?
"But then, I received news that the army was successful. My daughter was safe and most importantly, a young man had killed the demon who slaughtered two of our war-saints. My daughter spoke so highly of you - boasted of your tactics. Our generals tried implementing them and they were amazed at the results." He paused, his eyes meeting mine and sending chills down my spine. His once clear eyes were now clouded with desperation, like a lost soul searching for a glimmer of hope in the fog. It wasn't madness in his eyes, but something even more unsettling - hope, the poison of mankind...
My mind raced as I tried to make sense of it all. Is he truly losing it or is this just a facade? Either way, I couldn't deny the fear creeping up inside me as I looked into the depths of his troubled gaze.
His gaze, filled with desperation and longing, was reminiscent of a drowning man grasping at a lifeline. He clung to any glimmer of hope that came his way, worshipping it as if it were a deity. Never once did he doubt that it could all be for naught; instead, he held onto the belief that this chance was certain to lead him out of his despair.
I saw many men with such expressions, and most of them were then crushed under the failure of their own self-assure certainties. I wondered if that would be his fate, as ahead of me was not the strong king I believed him to be , but he was the shell of a man, or better yet an actor playing a part inside a play doomed to fail.
He was a dog waiting for a hand to feed It , too scared to eat himself....
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