The Light in the Dark ✓

Chapter 5 Darkness Rising

Cassius stood behind the throne on the right-hand side of the King. He clasped his hands behind his back, his chin slightly elated, steel-grey eyes scanning the gathered crowd of petitioners with cold assessment. The peasants are bickering, as usual, he thought with annoyance.

'My King!' The man in old but sturdy clothing fell on his knees before the throne. 'Only half of the new seeds provided by the Church took roots and bore the crops. The rest of the fields are dead! We can't pay the full taxes! I have family, my lord! We will starve!'

'Maybe you were lazy and didn't work hard enough?' the King said, his voice bored and disinterested. He was not even looking at his subjects but fidgeting with lavish rings on his fingers.

'No, your highness! I swear! We worked day and night! Even the youngest children. But without enough sunlight, it's almost impossible for anything to grow.'

'Is it my fault our Lord Sun lost his power?' the King growled, his voice sharp, eyes focusing on a man in front of him for the very first time. The monarch was an older man known for his hot temper, but after the failed Ritual, he got more dejected.

Cassius scoffed soundlessly. He was always a weak fool, even before this whole disaster. A man who inherited the throne by his bloodline but lacked the spine necessary to rule the country. But he had to admit that the King made his job much easier. He was a perfect puppet. Cassius sensed a wave of anger and annoyance rising inside of the older man like a tide. He still showed some resemblance to the hot-headed man he used to be in his youth.

The Grand Inquisitor looked at the cowering peasant and smirked. The man was desperate. He knew his family wouldn't survive winter if they had to hand over all their crops to the Church as an equivalent of due taxes. He would never muster the courage to come here and beg the King otherwise. But he wasn't brave enough yet to say what was needed. Cassius gently pushed the dark wave of despair further, enhancing it, giving it more power. The peasant suddenly felt that there was no way out for him. He either convinces the King to lower the taxes, or all his family will perish.

'No, Your Highness! But the whole country is suffering from this plague! If you don't relieve the taxes, you will ruin all of us! There would be nobody to pay your taxes next year because we will all be dead!'

The murmur raised from the gathered crowd when the man said bold words. Uncertainty, fear, hopelessness, desperation – Cassius sensed all those feelings engulfing people like a thick fog. He prodded it with his mind. Just a little bit was all he needed.

The King stood up abruptly, his wrinkled face contorted in anger. 'You insolent fool!' he bellowed, his voice shaking with hatred. 'How dare you address the King in this manner!'

The peasant realised he was doomed. He fell into the bow, his forehead touching the cold stone floor. 'Forgive me, Your Highness!'

'I will not tolerate it! Guards! Take this man away and put him into the dungeon! Maybe a week without food will teach him some respect!'

The peasant shrieked in protest when two guards dragged him out of the audience chamber. The crowd murmured and shifted nervously.

The King sat back on his throne, breathing heavily. 'Would anyone else like to discuss taxes?' he growled. 'Are you taking me for a fool? You all know that we need to keep an army of Inquisitors to keep the Shadows away from your precious fields, don't you? Or maybe you would like to fight off those creatures by yourselves?'

The silence was deafening. The crowd was looking at the floor. No one dared to raise the eyes to an enraged King. Their despair chased away all thoughts of protest.