“The king will speak with you now.”

Snapped from his daydreams, a warrior clad in a charcoal armor rose from his seat on a stone bench. He swallowed hard and acknowledged the younger knight. The boy was less than half his four decades, and most likely had never seen battle. The innocence in his eyes shown through like the fierce blue color of his iris. “Of course.” The warrior replied.

As they entered the hall, the King sat atop the throne gazing down, his long charcoal hair draped down upon his crimson robes. He stared down the length of his thin nose, chin held high. The warrior glanced back and forth, realising the guard had strangely been increased almost threefold in the throne room. “Sir Alistair.” The King’s voice was deep and ever commanding. “Do you know why I have asked you here?”

“I know not My Liege.” The warrior spoke as he watched his guide join the rank of guards surrounding him. “Has there been an attempt on the throne?”

“Interesting question.” The King pointed his nose further into the air. “There has been a growing movement.”

“What can I do then my liege?”Alistair knelt before the King and looked up to him. He noticed the demeanour of the King was quite cold. This sent a chill down his spine.

The King rose from his perch and stared down at the humble warrior before him with disgust. “You can confess your crimes before the crown!” His voice boomed in the stone walled room, and Alistair rose to meet the accusation. As he stepped forward all of the knights in the room drew their swords, almost in unison.

“My Lord?!” Alistair raised his hands passively. “What is the meaning of this?”

“If you will not confess, you will bear the brunt of the punishment immediately!” The King bellowed.

“I’m not sure what you speak of!” Alistair stepped forward and the knights encircled him, with two rows between him and the king. “Please my Lord, I beg of you, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about!”

The King’s face turned red with rage, his nose wrinkling as his mouth contorted into a scowl. “Subdue him and bring him!” He screamed. The king pushed past the knights as they battered Alistair with gauntlets and hilts. He lead them through the halls and through the front gates to the castle.

Alistair’s vision blurred through his left eye, while his right eye blinked away the blood from a wound just above his brow. Two large knights were dragging him along on his knees, their grasp tight beneath his shoulders. The poleyns of his armor sparked along the cobblestones of the streets until finally they came to rest before a small home in the kingdom’s residential area. Even through the blurs and the blood, Alistair knew where he was. He was kneeling before his own home.

A crowd had gathered around the King as the knight was dragged before the front of his home and placed on his knees before it. Knights restrained his arms and another knight pulled his sword, still in its scabbard, across his neck and forcing his gaze upon his home and the King atop his steps.

“My good people. Your King has come to this street to exact justice, against a treacherous and vile family. They live among us and yet act out against the very foundation of the kingdom itself!” The King paused to the gasps and whispers of the crowd. He pointed to Alistair. “This man has been a trusted member of my knights and a valued member of our society. He has moved rank and made many contributions to our society. However now! I find out that this very man, has been rising up against the crown in secret! He had been earning supporters and gathering favour all for his ultimate goal… to become King!”

The crowd gasped and whispered. People yelled out for his head. Alistair felt the tears roll down his cheeks. He’d never made a single negative comment about the King. He loved his land. He loved the King. He did everything he did to make the King look better. He couldn’t be assed about being a King. The scabbard tightened at his throat, in case he wanted to speak out now there were no options.

“Today, I exact a King’s justice. People who wish to rise up and break my trust will now know what the consequences are.” He grabbed a torch from one of his knights and shook his head. “Let this purifying flame take those who have collaborated for such crimes against your King back to the fires from whence they came!” He tossed the torch into the house, and it landed amid some hay that had been spread throughout the home, instantly starting a blaze. As he stepped down from the steps he stared coldly at the accused traitor.

Alistair watched as his house began to go up in flames. Felicia! Gabriel! He felt the adrenaline begin to pump through his veins. His wife and son were still in there, he knew they had to be and he had to do something! He pushed back against the man with the scabbard around his neck and slid below it, then with a surprising burst of strength he stumbled forward from the clutches of the two guards holding his arms. As he rushed forward into the house, the King held up a hand. “Let him go.” He said sternly.

Flames licked at flesh and metal as Alistair shielded his face from the flames. “Felicia!” He called out. “Gabriel!” He glanced back and forth as he rushed through the rooms until he found them. He dropped to his knees as he breath escaped him. He stared at their charred corpses. Bound together around the waist and both gagged. The flames danced wildly around them as their features were unrecognisable, but the small iron bear his son always carried around lay nearby on the floor.

“Treason. It comes with a price.”

Alistair’s blood boiled with rage. The King’s voice was close. He spun to face him, drawing his own sword and staring down his foe. “You! Why have you done this!” He shouted through gritted teeth. “I did everything for you! Everything!” Lumber collapsed nearby and neither man flinched.

“You were becoming too popular. A risk. A King must remain more popular than those who command his army, or else he loses control.” A sword shimmered in the flickering light of the flames at his side. “If only you hadn’t been so good at what you do.”

Tears turned to steam in the heat of the fire raging around them. Alistair raised his sword amid the embers dancing on the breeze. The two men stared at each other as if to size up their opponent, until the King let a sly grin slither through. Alister erupted forth with a flurry of sword swings, surprised when the King deftly parried each one.

“You are a fool to challenge me. Accept your fate, be with your family.” The King smiled. “Be at peace, Alistair.”

With a roar, Alistair cleaved through the smoke and found his blade embedded in a wooden pillar engulfed by flames. A sudden piercing pain shot through below his right arm, and burned through his internals. He felt his throat close off as blood sputtered from his mouth. The king twisted the blade as it stopped at the shoulder plate on Alistair’s left. “Be at peace.” The King whispered. “And thank you… for helping me become King.”

With a quick pull, the King’s blade slid effortlessly to his side and blood sizzled as it dripped into the flames. Alistair cupped below his arm, watching as blood flowed forth uncontrollably. Suddenly he felt cold, dizzy and then collapsed face down into the flames at his feet. The King shook his head and sighed. With his free hand, he grabbed Alistair by the back of his gorget and pulled him into a sitting position. “You’re heavier than you look… bloody knight.” He then dragged Alistair’s lifeless body through the door, emerging to the cheers of the crowd.

“The traitor is no more.” The King announced, his hand sliding from the gorget. “Behold the homestead of those who have committed treason. None shall build here, for this is to be an example for those who forget easily. A visual reminder of sorts.” Alistair’s lifeless body fell backwards from its sitting position, leaving the poor man’s body sprawling on the stairs of his own home. The king glanced down with a scoff. “Leave him here to burn with the rest of the house.” As he and the knights walked away, the crowd stood and watched as the house burned away to an empty shell, the corpse on the steps withering amid the flames until nothing remained but a shell of armor with some flame licked bones.

Alistair stared at his home, his remains strewn across the stone steps and shook his head. “Why are you showing me this?” He wept openly. “I couldn’t have saved them, so why?” He turned to the hooded figure beside him, his eyes pleading for answers.

“Because through death, you can become death.” The hooded figure’s raspy voice sent chills down Alistair’s ethereal spine. “But with every wish for vengeance, comes a price. I brought you here to remind you of the price you’ve already paid.”

“Is it not enough?” Alistair asked, his arms gesturing to the smouldering remains of his home.

“Not for me to grant you a second lease on life, it is not.” The figure whispered. “So do we have a deal?”

Alistair stared through the smoke and embers dancing with the breeze. “But will I go to Heaven?”

The hooded figure shook its head. “That is impossible. Killing is killing and even if you do it for your King, who does it in the name of God, only the purest may reach paradise.”

With a cold look, Alistair turned to the figure, the muscles in his jaw clenched tight.

“Then I will take my vengeance.”