The Knight

Chapter One

Phil made his way down through the large archway of one of the many corridors he wasn't allowed in. Most days he was only permitted to enter a wing or two on the bottom floor of the palace, but today was an exception. He had received a personal demand from The King to present himself at the royal study as soon as he was capable.

He was incredibly nervous. A palace guard was only ever invited to a private meeting when he was in a heap of trouble, and even then, it was never with The King. Normally it would be an irksome group scolding to discuss everything they did wrong during drills or their daily shifts. It was always with a military official or another high up in the palace staff. The fact that this was a request from The King himself made his palms sweat.

Phil rounded one more turn, nearly tripping over his own polished staff-issued shoes when he arrived at a massive wooden door, two guards posted at either side.

"Are you Philip Lester?" The guard at the left asked.

Phil nodded and fumbled into his waist pocket to retrieve his ID. The guard studied the card for a moment before looking back to Phil. Seemingly satisfied with the identical images, he nodded curtly to the guard at the right.

"King Marcus will see you now."

The two men distanced themselves a few feet from the door, both with a sturdy mental knob in hand, allowing Phil to enter The King's study. He had only seen pictures from news magazines or short clips from government broadcasts on television, but as he walked into the room, he realized suddenly that those scarcely gave it justice.

Every wall was plastered with floor to ceiling bookshelves, probably containing thousands of books that will never be opened, dolefully doomed to a stagnant life on a shelf collecting dust. The space was big enough to fit a house, but only contained a large desk cluttered with documents along with a small table or two containing maps, lamps and the occasional tea cup.

The King was sat at the center desk, fixated on the loose paper he was holding. The only light transpired by a large window on the far wall, allowing the last remaining moments of daylight in.

The fading sun haloed The King's mousy brown curls, illuminating a soft glow around his frame. His face aging was set taught, his mind clearly in the middle of a burdensome thought. Hunched over his work, King Marcus only looked up when he heard Phil's footsteps.

Phil stopped a few feet from the desk and worked his towering form into a stolid bow, wanting to show nothing but respect for His King. The man at the desk chuckled lightly, waving a hand towards the soldier.

"Please Philip, that's not necessary. Take a seat."

Phil did as told and took the chair across from The King, taking a deep breath as he placed himself onto the plush cushioned seat. Although His Majesty seemed troubled, he did not give off any aura of disdain or anger. The pit in Phil's stomach lessened, but soon deepened when he realized the position he was in.

Sat face to face with a person so powerful he could get beheaded with a snap of the older man's fingers. Phil was only ever this close to The King once, when his father was being promoted to the head of the security staff in the castle walls. That was a joyous occasion, one where Philip felt nothing but pride, but today he felt like a child who was getting reprimanded.

The memory of that event was pleasant. It was a fairly large party, every member of the guard staff was invited. Phil remembers his mother and father giggling like teenagers in love. They were so happy. His father was a good man, who was very dedicated to his work. He passed away a few years back, leaving Phil to take care of his mother at only 14 years of age.