Shadow Kingdoms | Book 1 ✔ (REWRITTEN AS 'THE EXILED KING')

Chapter 10 - King's Guard

Robert opened his mouth to answer when they were interrupted.

"Sir Caermon! We must hurry to the castle. It'll be dark soon and we'll get lost." One of the younger soldiers shouted.

Sir Caermon. It must be the notorious Sir Caermon of Glyffhill.

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At Stonewall Castle, Adviser Richard was having a bad day. He glowered at all the servants and his limp brown mustache twitched as he gave an angry sigh. He wore a red outer robe that brushed the ground when he walked. Richard also always wore a thick gold chain, one that signified his station. He sat at the high table, reserved for nobility. He was nobility. Only when the king visited did he have to vacate his seat in favor of a more modest seat. After all, the king was the king and he deserved the best of the best. As did his wife, the most noble Queen Elysadora and their children, princesses Zaiela and Elvina, prince Leyon and the eldest, Crown Prince Adrian.

His brother was a priest and was currently staying at Stonewall Castle for a while before returning to Starfire Abbey. The abbot Gerin Duaeyn stormed into the audience chamber of the ancient castle.

"Richard! The king wants the Scarvalley Abbey drained. It was flooded."

Richard, already in a foul mood, glared at Gerin.

"May I ask, who did he tell? If he wanted me to do it, then he would have sent a messenger to me." Richard gave a nasty smile. He knew that Gerin was rifling through his messages, intercepting the messengers. "Don't you think?"

Richard savored the look of utter bewilderment then annoyance flicker on his brother's face. Then a sneer formed Gerin's features.

"So. You know."

Yes. Richard had long known that Gerin saw all of his messages before he even had knowledge that they were on the way.

"Aye. So, you must drain Scarvalley Abbey with your resources." Richard smirked.

Gerin exploded, "Gods above, Richard! We're haggling over so little!"

His purple robe dragged on the floor and over the hay that had been laid over the cold stone floor inside the building as he walked. It was smokey and unpleasant, inside the castle walls, but when it was not too cold, castle servants flung open the windows allowing the smoke a pathway outside as so not to choke everyone in the castle. Richard angrily shoved a servant out of the way as he followed Gerin.

"I'll drain the Abbey." Gerin said, "But you must let me have more foresters."

"I have none to spare!" Richard spoke, annoyed.

"You seem to have trouble keeping the forests clear of them, though." Gerin remarked.

"Glyffhill's not doing so badly. He caught two this morning."

Gerin frowned, "He should be catching more."

"He says that he needs more men."

"He has plenty." Gerin muttered.

"Glyffhill's brains are in his backside." Richard growled, "What he doesn't need is more men but more here - Richard pointed at his head - and goodness knows, he's not getting any smarter."

"Your forests are teeming with foresters. Let me have the two Glyffhill caught."

Richard gave a snort, "As if you'd want them. They're peasants. But test them, by all means, if you insist."

"I most certainly will." Gerin smiled and stalked to the dungeons.

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In the dungeons, Robert looked up at the grate that covered their only way up. Their prison was a simple hole with a heavy iron grate reinforced with bolts over the entrance. The only way to get in or out was to have the guards lower the rickety ladder kept against the walls for this purpose. Sometimes, if the prisoners were male, they would just push them into the hole or make them jump. It was a little shorter than the height of two men, one standing on the other's shoulders, so if they landed right it would not hurt much.

"They'll kill us, you know." Myrk whimpered.

A scratchy voice echoed through the dungeon, "No. They'll leave here to rot."

Robert turned. "Who's there?"

A man stepped forward. Then another and another until there were about five men without Robert and Myrk.

"Whoa. I thought we were the only ones unfortunate to be stuck in here." Robert said.

A shape slowly moved to Robert. The light from the grate revealed an ancient man. He had stringy and matted white hair and beard and a dirty face. His thin hands cupped something. He shuffled closer to Robert humming and muttering nonsense.

"He's mad." The man that spoke before said.

"Oh I ain't mad. No." The mad man shook his head, "No. Oh. Look, Robert. New arrivals."

Robert frowned. That man was most certainly completely insane. The old man shuffled closer to Robert and shoved his cupped hands at him.

"Say hello to Robert." He said in a singsong voice, opening his hands. There was a mouse in there. Robert pulled away in disgust.

"No. I'm Robert." Robert said.

The old man shook his head, "No. This is Robert." He said pointing at the mouse. Then he stroked it.

Myrk laughed, "You have the same name as the rat!"

"That. Is. About as funny as us being stuck in here." Robert said icily.

"Sorry, Robert." Myrk said, shamefaced.

There was a creak and they looked up.

The grate was opening.