The Hated King

This is a colab story between me and Laird Tom. We have a vague idea and shall see where we go from there.

King Zephiel lay alone in his chamber. The day had been long and hard. It had been hours upon hours of complaints.

The taxes are to high

Theres not enough food

We're overworked

The city isn't safe  enough

"For goodness sake I'm sixteen. I'm hardly ready to be king. At least I have Chancellor Macian to watch out for me." The King had been laying here for hours. It was pitch dark, the night was clear and there was no sound coming from the outside night. He sat up, completly unable to sleep due to stress. Dark shadows and vague outlines now formed the decoration of his room. The bed curtains, the coat of arms, his dressing table and his dog Francois.

The dog was awake, Zephiel could see. It was a black labrador, small in build. He had a small head with a long nose. He was looking and growling at the corner of the room. The young king looked at the corner, shadow. Just like the rest of the room. He sighed, it was obviously nothing. He soothed Francois for a while, then  looked about. He was slightly unnerved by the dogs growling and he clutched the hilt of his short sword.

Zephiel jumped in shock as the dog suddenly started to bark wildly. He shot a glance at the corner of the room, instinctively drawing his sword. The shadow in the corner began to move towards him. Zephiel cried out, adrenalin rushed through his body, his breathing was heavy and his hand was shaking. He had come face to face with an assassin.

"You were waiting for me to fall asleep?" He called to the figure, it didn't reply but continued to step towards the bed. The dog continued to bark.

Zephiel prepared himself, the figure was like a deep black hole in the dark. Threatening to swallow all life. Zephiel swung, but his blow was easily parried and the assailant sent him to the floor with a sharp kick.

The young king was dazed for a moment, his head had hit the floor. He regained his senses and drove his blade upwards, cutting something free from his foes clothes. Zephiel hopped up as his foe doubled back. The assailant had all the grace of a swan as he pulled a throwing dagger out from his side pouch. Zephiel braced himself.

The chamber door burst open and the castle guards charged in shouting. The assassin fled bursting from the window. Zephiel had survived.

The End

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