The villain in a fantasy world has spent his whole life trying to take over the world. Now he's finally done it, he finds he's constantly bored and yearns for his old enemies to return.
Winning, but at what cost? (Part 1 of 3)
A lowly lad stumbled into the throne room, holding one arm in the other and looking to the floor. King Udragarth looked up with a flick of his eyebrow. He was picking his teeth with his sword, bemoaning that it was of more use as a dental device than it was as a weapon these days.
"Your Majesty... sir... there's a problem," the lad spoke, mumbling.
"What!?" the king jumped up in his seat excitedly, leaning forward to hear the news. "What is it? Out with it boy!"
"It is... the water that we drew for your bath. It is not yet warm. We will have to ask you to wait another ten minutes before you enter your cleaning chambers," the boy answered.
"Oh," Udragarth deflated, slumping in his seat. He looked forlornly at his sword, then back at the boy. "Very well, come along quickly so I can execute you to make an example about perfection."
The boy swallowed, then nodded and timidly stepped inside taking baby steps all the way to the foot of the throne. He knelt down, trembling in fear. The guards lined along the end of the room turned their head away, not able to muster the deaths he brought about his servants.
"I hereby..." Udragarth began, then sighed dejectedly.
"King Udragarth?" the boy asked, both hopeful and terrified.
"I suppose I am not up to it today," the king shrugged his massive shoulders, letting the blade of the sword stab into the ground.
"But you love to kill your serv--" the boy stopped and swallowed, reassessing his words. "Whatever could be wrong Your Majesty?"
"It's this Kingdom. Is it not grand?" the king asked.
"As grand as your beard, sir!" the boy said with pride.
The king nodded and stroked his beard, flattered.
"And my rule, is it not ironfisted?" Udragarth continued.
"The most tyrannical I have ever seen!" the boy said.
"Yes, quite," the king nodded. "Then why is it that no one comes to defeat me?"
The guards at the edges gave each other glances.
"Sir?" the boy asked.
"Why do I sit here and play the same game every day? Wake up, kill a servant, got outside, kill a countryman, have a parade, starve the youth, yet no one has taken it upon themselves to attempt to throw a coup to stop me. Am I not good enough?" Udragarth asked, looking at himself in the reflection of his blade.
"Of course not Your Highness, the people of this land hate you!" the boy said reassuringly.
"Hate me so that they go to sleep with hatred in their hearts, or enough to stoke the flames of rebellion? Notice I said rebellion and not revolution," the king winked.
"I am not sure of the difference," the boy admitted.
"Ah, they do not teach you much in school these days, is it?" Udragarth asked.
"You banned education. You said it leads to the learning of better lives than the ones given by this great kingdom," the boy answered.
"Is that so? Interesting that you say that, I spoke on the topic years ago and I hardly remember delivering that decree. Are you intelligent, boy?"
"I do not know the meaning of the word," the boy responded. He had stopped trembling, now filled with curiosity at what the king was trying to get at.
"Ah, so you are humble?" the king said, impressed.
"No, my king. I simply am not aware of the meaning of the word," the boy repeated.
"Are you smart?" the king rephrased.
"I have been told as much by my fellow slaves,"
"Servants," the king corrected with a point of his finger in the air as if the distinction made a difference to him. He began stroking his beard once more. He looked up to a guard. "Bring in the court artist for a portrait."
The guard hesitated. He wanted to witness the rest of the conversation.
"Well?" Udragarth asked.
"Right away sir," the knight said, failing to mask his reluctance.
"Your name, boy?" the king asked.
"Nathaniel," the boy said.
"Named after the previous king, I take it?"
"Yes. My mother wanted me to be part of the king's court and help him to rule the land with the kindness and compassion he spread," he said.
"Happy to help deliver on half of her wish, Nathaniel," Udragarth winked.
"The royal artist," the guard returned, presenting a man with a paintbrush and canvas.
"Excellent, could you create a rendition of Nathaniel's face on the center of a canvas? No colors, just a quick sketch," the king said, standing Nathaniel up.
"Certainly," the artist nodded, getting started immediately.
"Nathaniel, I am going to give you immunity," Udragarth confided in him.
"Immunity?"
"You may take whomever you like with you as you flee," the king continued.
"Fl... flee, sir?"
"Knights! I have claimed this boy as my own!" the king boomed across the hall.
"You mean to adopt him?" a guard clarified.
"You misunderstand," he said, walking to the artist. He looked at the page, nodded at the artist, then tore it off, "This face is the face of the next person who I will take the life of. None of my guards are to take his life. And for the next hour, none of you are to lift a finger to stop the flight of my prey."
The room was silent.
"Your prey? Sir, I do not understand," Nathaniel spoke.
"I am going to hunt you down in an hour. Whether you are here or outside the walls of the castle, I will chase you down. I will fight you. And I will kill you. Go on now, run along, you haven't much time," Udragarth flapped the paper toward him.
Nathaniel stood motionless, completely stunned.
"Go!" the king exploded. Nathaniel tripped over himself as he ran outside.
"Artist, you will make a hundred copies of this face as a wanted poster. I want him to have a true challenge. Thousands of gold coins in reward for his capture," the king said, walking back to his throne. The entire room stared at him completely dumbfounded.
"Can we participate too?" a guard asked meekly.
The king thought about it. He did not mind it, but he thought he could create more enemies by sowing hatred in their hearts for greed.
"And leave the royal castle unprotected? Absolutely not. In fact, you're all ordered to help the royal artist create the wanted posters."
"But I don't know how to paint--"
"That's an order!" Udragarth exploded, taking a seat on his throne. He held his sword with confidence. He finally felt like it was once again interesting to be king.