(WP) All Hail the King
The revolution began in the bowels of the king’s castle; everyone from the lowest servant to the highest-ranking noble was sick to death of their ruler.
“What a bumbling fool,” A noblewoman said, smirking over the rim of her chalice, filled with wine. “We really should get rid of him.”
Low, quiet laughter followed her statement, as if the crowd surrounding her were amused by the suggestion.
But some people, obviously, did not take her joke for jest.
A joyous voice rang out of the crowd: a young woman dressed in a servant’s livery, her eyes taking on a manic gleam.
“We can start a revolution and kill the king! Don’t you see? If that idiot is slain, then the noble houses can put someone else on the throne! Someone of their own stock, and someone who can actually run the country.”
“Surely you speak of treason,” someone said in a low, shocked voice, their eyes as wide as dinner plates.
“The idea has merit,” said another noble, a smile splitting the lower half of their face.
Murmurs of revolution and unrest began to simmer throughout the kingdom, and the common people became anxious.
For his part, however, the king, a strapping young lad of but seventeen, was not worried.
After all, he was King Alastair, and he had been divinely chosen to take the throne.
“Jester! Cook! I demand food and entertainment, this very instant!”
The two individuals in question ran to do the King’s bidding.
Really, how could he be unhappy, with all the word at his feet?
His two advisors, a pair of aging siblings, stood next to each other, on either side of the ornate throne.
“My King,” said the female advisor, named Amara, smiling tightly, “Do you not think that this is the time for festivities? After all, I’ve been hearing the most unsavory rumors about the common people.”
Alastair’s face darkened, with rage or disinterest, she couldn’t tell.
“That’s all they are, Amara. Rumors. I have you two for such things, do I not? Unless you aren’t satisfied with your employment. In which case, I could easily get rid of you and your brother and hire someone who actually understands the needs of a young king.”
“You are unwed, Your Highness,” Amara replied tartly, eyes narrowed. “Your rule is far from secure. I meant no offense; I only offer a word of caution going forward.”
“It would be wise of you to quiet down,” Alastair murmured through a forced smile and gritted teeth.
Amara’s brother, Cassius, shook his head at his sister, so subtly that the young monarch didn’t see it.
Caution indeed, he thought to himself. But that had always been his sister’s fatal flaw. She was too outspoken, too hasty, always eager to make her opinion known.
But if they wanted to succeed in pulling this off, they had to acquiesce, for now.
They would be no good to the revolution if they were sent to the chopping block.