4.1: The King

At the Royal Court inside the palace of the Kingdom of S'alazar, a man of old age was sitting on a huge throne made of multicolored gems.

Light from the windows spilled from one side of the fifty feet tall room and passed through the gems, making colored lights dance against the marble floor and white ceiling.

The old man looked onto the floor, one hand against his cheek, and the other dangling off the golden armrest with a glass of glowing liquor in the other.

On a normal day, looking into the old man's eyes will make one feel utter admiration, for that kind of depth can only belong to the eyes of a seasoned warrior. This was a perfect example of how a person with wisdom, power, & innate cruelty looked.

Yet today, for some reason, the usually solid gaze looked bleak.

The king's arm dropped from his cheek as he brought himself up, still carressing the glass. He now walked towards a portrait on the wall opposite the windows.

He stopped for a moment in front of the picture, at first not daring to look.

But as he lifted his eyes, he felt his guts churn, and his frown went deeper.

"Mara..." His deep voice cracked at the mention of his beloved Queen. That, although not dead, was equally grieved by the King and the people, because of her having been in a coma for several years.

The King exuded despair through every pore of his body as he caressed her face, seemingly remembering something.

"Mara, it was today." The glass under the King's trembling hand was emptied before it shattered.

The king's teeth ground against each other as he looked at the woman with pain & regret.

"It was today." He pounded on the wall, leaving a dent beside the frame.

"Today..." His soft whimpers faded with every tear and blood that dripped on the floor.