Fallen Royals

Chapter 2

Natan's royal brigade consisted of 3 cars, cavalry and footmen. He was driving in a Tesla. 2 Toyotas were even older than the Tesla, using petrol. They used the old roads, most of them were full of cracks but they were still better than not having a road at all. The sea was on their left side, the brilliant blue was mesmerizing. On the horizon you could see islands basking in the sun. It was a sight for artists and dreamers. Natan didn't pay much attention to it, he was revising the plan in his head. Once they get to Zadar, they're going straight to Konavle's house to arrest him. If he's not there, his household will tell him of Konavle's whereabouts or suffer the consequences. Unfortunately for them, the late king gave Natan thorough lessons how to torture without killing the person immediately, prolonging his suffering and moment of death. Someone will talk for sure. They have for sure torture devices in Zadar. What an irony, to spend so many years in this kingdom, never to see its beauty but to know its every dungeon. The late king was really the sadist everyone whispered about. Going on a trip wasn't a reason to give me a break. No, he had to drag me everywhere with himself. Once your favorite pet, but not anymore, right?

Natan turned his head to the right to face the Chopper King. His head was cut off in the moment he was begging for his life, he was crying and his eyes full of terror. It was a perfect face to impale on the stick and a perfect message to send to his enemies - years of imprisonment haven't broken him. He was a kind ruler to his people and a vicious opponent to his enemies. No mercy. No head. He chuckled to himself. It could be my parole.

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It was the middle of the night when they arrived. The city was shrouded in the darkness. The sound of the waves disturbed the silence. The king knocked on the door. Nothing could be heard from the house. He knocked again. A muffled voice asked them to wait. An old woman opened the door.

"Hello." The king whispered not to wake up the neighbors, he could give them several more minutes of sleep.

"Who are you? What do you want?" - the old woman asked.

"I'm your king and I'm in need of your master." Woman's eyes widened in recognition, she opened her mouth to scream but the king was faster, shutting her up with a palm over her mouth. He moved her aside, letting his troops enter the premises

Soon the house was in turmoil, its inhabitants were thrown out of bed, kids crying and the grownups protesting.

"Where is Nino Konavle?"

"He left on a business trip but he didn't tell us where." - a woman in early 30s answered. She had long brown hair falling down her face and onto the floor. She was kneeling in a silk nightgown. The kingsmen rounded the household in the atrium of the house. They were all on their knees or lying on the floor.

"You don't know the whereabouts of your husband?" - Natan made an educated guess.

"He doesn't tell me anything. I only take care of the house. Don't know anything about his work."

"And about his loyalty?"

Woman now visibly trembled. All her bravery was melting under the king's unspoken accusation.

"We, we, we're your...." - her throat parched, she gulped - "loyal subjects. You're our king." The woman dropped her body on the floor, lying at his mercy.

Natan ignored the woman and looked into the crowd. Who wears a wealthy nightdress besides the wife? His gaze stopped at a boy and girl. His children.

"Marko, take them all to the dungeons. Put those two" - he pointed at children - "and the wife in a separate cell than the rest."

The dungeon smelled like he remembered it, blood, piss, gore and salt. The usual despair in the air was now amplified with fear of 11 more souls.