A Medieval Action work with a number of different genre as each round's prompts dictate.
Battles, Kings, princes, a princess; crowns, plots, twists and turns.
Achiever of all the nine belts.
WINNER OF ROUND 9 - "A NEW WORLD"
Something different fo...
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Using ointments and bandages, Jo tended the closest wounded warrior before moving to the next.
Her brother, Jaz, knelt beside the king, lifting the crown from his bloodstained head and placing it in the royal hands. Carefully patting healing ointment on the wound, Jaz whispered, "Best leave it for the air to heal it."
Ignoring the king's groans, Jaz cleaned the calf wound, applying a numbing lotion before stitching the flap of flesh and muscle and bandaging it.
As Jaz stood, the king tossed his crown toward nearby undergrowth.
Jaz closed his eyes, praying. Squatting down, he spoke softly, "I've no claim to your crown, Sire."
"How is it, you look like my son?"
Silence.
"Answer me!"
"I might look like your son, but I'm not. I have no history with you."
"Why did your sister claim that I'm your father?"
Jaz bowed his head.
"How old are you?"
"I believe we'll be eighteen in January. Mother said we were born six months after she left her kingdom. I was born an hour before Jo."
"Tell me more," the king urged.
"Mama was married to our father before our birth. She died three years ago..."
"How— where, then, did you live?"
"In a monastery..."
"You were trained in defense and combat skills?"
"Yes, as long as we can remember— and we were educated there, too."
"Your mother lived with you?"
"Yes."
"What was her name?"
"She called herself 'Jewel.' Before she died she said her name was Isobelle."
"Yes, Isobelle." He stuttered, "J-J-Jewel."
"Was your name, Adonis, Sire?"
Hoarse laughter caused wheezing. He said, "My chest aches."
"I'll fetch my back pack to prop you to sit."
More comfortable, the king queried, "Do you have other names?"
"I'm Jazper-Aurik; she's Jolana-Isobelle. Jo said we were named after our grandparents."
Silence lasted almost a minute before the king asked, "When did your sister tell you that?"
"After Mama died. Jo was obsessed with finding you."
"Didn't your mother tell you my kingdom's name?"
"No, but, Your Majesty— I, we shouldn't further disturb you— after that terrible battle— we should leave in peace."
"Don't you have aspirations to be king?"
"Oh, no Sire, I'm satisfied with my life. It's Jo's wish to know why our mother was abandoned."
The silence was long; the king's eyes never left the face of this earnest young man.
He commanded, "Fetch my crown and you will wear it when I'm gone..."
"No, I don't want it! I don't want any of it," Jaz declared. Dropping to his knees he said, "If Jo could see our grandparents, that would be enough."
Noise of a company riding from nearby trees interrupted them. Henchmen drew weapons as if to do battle.
The leader jumped from his horse, shouting, "Father!— You're alive!"
Jaz stared at the young man, his face a replica of his own. Unsure, he bowed his head,
But the prince had eyes for one thing only— THE CROWN!
