The Fall of Arnon

Chapter 27

"It's Your Majesty to you, Sir Knight," Sir Storen sneered.

"Sorry. Your Majesty," Sir Ryan corrected himself with little gusto.

"So, what is your business roaming my streets?" he questioned.

"Last time I checked, this was still a free land, in which we may roam wherever we like." Sir Ryan stared pointedly at the newly appointed king.

Storen frowned before turning his attention to the two boys. Lerendo had pulled his hood far over his face in hopes of not getting recognized as being the son of the late king.

"You, boy, take your hood off. I want to see your face," Sir Storen gestured at Lerendo. He hesitated for only a second before his hood was pulled up forcibly up by the young knight that stood beside him. Throughout the room, an audible gasp could be heard. From across the room, one of the guards whispered rather loudly, "That's the prince."

"And, what do we have here?" Sir Storen looked Lerendo up and down. His eyes seared through Lerendo's skin like a hot poker. "Did Daddy leave behind his little baby boy," he said, mockingly.

"The boy's with me," Sir Ryan interjected hotly. "He's done nothing wrong."

"Nothing wrong? So, enslaving men, lying and betraying his own people, and wrongfully sentencing innocent people to death isn't wrong?"

"Those were his father's sins. The boy has done none of those things."

"Stop calling him a boy!" Sir Storen cried. His voice echoed through the hall, throbbing down the corridors. "He is a man now, and he will pay for his father's sins." He smiled threateningly. "Somebody has to."

He rose, the robe he wore fell around his glistening armor. "Tomorrow morning we shall have vengeance. For every child that has grown up without a father because his own father was murdered by his own king and for every knight that has died in service of a king who sat getting fat off of our misery. For I sentence Prince Lerendo Cartonian the third to death for the crime of betrayal of the realm of Arnon." His fist fell upon the arm of the seat with a resounding thud. "He will hang tomorrow at sunrise!" With that, he sat and motioned for the four to be taken.

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The church had been empty for too long. Dust had begun to settle upon the old silver and golden chalices standing alone on the table of communion. Through the blue, green, and red streams of sunlight filtering in through the stained glass windows, dirt could be seen swirling through the air.

Father Thomas walked slowly down the long aisle with Sir Ryan and Televtale close on his tail.

"What do we do now?" Televtale asked as he dragged his feet along the stone floor.

"I don't know," Sir Ryan answered.

"We can't just let this happen," Televtale said with conviction.

"We have no choice. We can't set ourselves against an entire city."

"It is no use fighting among ourselves," Father Thomas turned around, stopping the two of them in mid-stride. "We must find another way."

"There is no other way!" Sir Ryan suddenly cried throwing his hands up and falling into the long wooden bench beside him.

"There is always another way," Father Thomas sighed. "God will make a way."

"God, God?" Sir Ryan scoffed. "Where has God been when my city was falling, where was God when my wife was stolen from me, where was God?" He suddenly broke, and the tears began streaming down his wrinkled face.