[ TT ] [ IP ] Somber Castle

The harsh cawing of the ravens broke the man from his reverie. 
 
 Eyes snapping awake as if from a dream, Elijah looked around at the desolate scene that lay before him, his heart shuddering and threatening to shatter as he drank in the bitter sight. 
 
 Eight years. 
 
 Eight years ago, at the height of summer, the columns before him had been draped in ivy, the courtyard filled with bubbling fountains. The laughter of children had echoed and tinkled through the lower halls as they chased another between the shade of the arches and the light of the midday sun. Elijah had stood there amongst them, his booming laughter resounding in a chorus with the young nobles as he joined them in their little games, playing at a chaste and innocent imitation of war. With wooden sticks for swords and crowns of woven leaves, the boys attempted to live the glory of their fathers, smearing sweet pomegranate juice across their bodies as blood. Eventually, they had tossed away the sticks and resorted to simply throwing the ripened fruits at each other, cackling in glee as when a lucky shot would explode in a crimson bloom. What a joy it had been to be a King's servant. 
 
 Eight years ago, he had been interrupted by the castle steward, a wiry man who pulled him away from the children with a grim expression. As Elijah had begun to explain he was only engaging in harmless fun, the steward shook his head and spoke of news that cause Elijah's blood to run cold despite the sweltering summer heat. The king's madness – first attributed to being a passing grief at the death of his beloved queen – had intensified. Denying that her death had been but merely a sickness, he began to accuse the nobles of the land of her murder, holding their actions to be in protest of his marriage with a common lowborn girl from the countryside. 
 
 Eight years ago, Elijah had been called back from his quiet retirement to lead the king's armies once again. Only this time, he marched not against the Mesarian Raiders who once ravaged the countryside, but against his own kinsmen. Reason dictated that the king had indeed gone mad to tear his own nation apart over such baseless accusations. Reason dictated that the queen had always been a sickly girl, and as much as the nobles may have despised her, she had never been long for the world. Reason dictated that her sickness was only to be expected. Reason dictated that Elijah use his army to remove the mad king from his throne. 
 
 Eight years ago, duty dictated that Elijah obey the rites of fealty he had sworn his lord long ago. Always the loyal man, Elijah had led the kings men in a long and bloody war against the fathers of the children he had played war with in the gardens of the king's castle. Elijah had struggled for eight long years to bring the king the head of every last accused noble. And so it was that he had laid siege to the final lord's castle for three long winters at the edge of the kingdom, cut off from the rest of the world. 
 
 Eight years ago, Elijah had set out at the bidding of his king. But when he came back, heart weary and heavy with the blood and the souls of the kinsmen he had slain in the name of duty, he found that the king was no longer there. During Elijah's siege, the childless king had joined his lover in death, and with most of the nobility dead, the kingdom had no legitimate ruler to claim the empty throne. Chaos erupted in the absence of the army and the nobles, and the kingdom had been torn asunder. 
 
 Eight years ago, Elijah had left this very castle to carry out the will of the king. After all, without loyalty, how was a kingdom to stand? 
 
 Yet here now he stood, eight years later, gazing at the ruins of the castle before him, it's looted and plundered remains so stunningly reflective of the current state of the `` kingdom''. Moving as if in a trance, Elijah traced his hand across the familiar stone columns, the dead branches of the pomegranate trees, the dried and defaced fountains. He took a deep breath as he finality of those eight long years finally hit him, and he broke out in bitter, maddening laughter, so different from the laughter he had once laughed here before. 
 
 Eight years ago, Elijah had played war with the young nobles, just to wage war against their fathers, all to preserve the kingdom. And now, this was all that remained, all that he had to show for his actions. Driven by swords of steel and a crown of madness, he had marched out to taste blood that had been anything but sweet. 
 
 What a joy it had been to be a king's servant.
