Affairs Of A Knight

Shall We Kill The Knight? 28

"What is more important, that Caesar is assassinated or that he is assassinated by his intimate friends? ... That,' Frederick said, 'is where the tragedy is."
― M.L. Rio

AOAK 28

*+*

Cromwell sat on his mighty throne, looking down on the noblemen scuttling around, performing their tasks, he sighed quietly. He needed to get someone killed-he had been avoiding out, hoping that his reputation would do the job, precede him. It did. It had, but of late, something had embolden them, given them a brazen edge, they were being difficult.

The monarch's hand itched for the whip. His session with Sir Louis had satisfied him yesterday, today was a new day. He touched to inflict fresh pain; perhaps he should call the female knight? She was the only one who could take all he was ready to dish.

"My lord?" a nobleman called from below, a bit of irritation lacing his voice, making it obvious it was not the first time he had demanded the Monarch's attention. Cromwell restrained himself from lashing out.

He needed to do something that would have these noblemen back underneath his heel, where they belonged. Perhaps an execution? The death of someone believed to be invisible and powerful?

The usurper's mood began to lift. Yes, he needed to have someone killed. Now, who would it be?

"We are ready for you Sire."

*+*

Aline woke up with the feeling of dread enveloping him. He didn't realise he had fallen asleep. He felt something cold and sharp graze his neck, his brows furrowed and his eyes fluttered open. Then, almost immediately his heart leapt into his throat. There was a blade, a sharp weapon holding his neck hostage and at the end of the sharp metal was the Sir Louis.

Aline tried quell his panic. "We've ought to stop doing this as soon as you wake up."

"If your throat moves wrongly, the blade will cut."

"I can, er, feel that."

The knight stood, her sword unflinching, Aline blinked and regretted his actions. He should have left her to die, he would be doing the whole of England and the world even, a massive favour.

Suddenly she retracted her weapon and stretched forth her hand instead. The young royal eyed it warily. "Don't worry, I have no weapon hidden."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it or not, my hands are stretched in gratitude. That's the best you could get."

"You hoist me up and plunge your sword into my chest?'' Aline crossed his arms. "No thanks." he huffed indignantly.

The knight made a sound that sounded suspiciously amused. "I swear on my honour, I will do no such thing."

"You have no honour," he muttered.

Her lips curled further. "I swear on my sword then, no harm will come to you today." he accepted her outstretched hand.

She hauled him to her chest, her eyes crinkling slightly, before she jammed her knee into his thighs, making him collapse on her bed. Aline sat up angrily. "I was a fool to trust you."

"Indeed." she replied, stepping away from him and surveying her room.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing serious other than keep you alive!" she shrugged. "You are too petulant for a prince."

"And you are too ungrateful for someone who just got their life saved by me."

"I would have survived regardless."