ᵉⁿᵍˡⁱˢʰ a Story of [Original Story]

II

════════ ✥.❖.✥ ════════

We're the same

A part of the big whole

════════ ✥.❖.✥ ════════

Except for the metallic clink of two silver claws tapping the iron arm of the throne in a deliberate rhythm, the throne room was silent despite the people present. Not long ago, the merchant who came to the capital once a week to sell his wares and return home had arrived. The difference from his previous visits to the city was that today he had been commissioned by Gillian to procure something for her.

"How can it be that you are robbed on the very day that you carry my casket?" asked Gillian calmly, finishing the jingling and looking at the man in the middle of the throne room, who was not empty-handed at this moment, "You have been coming to the city for years, selling your wares at the market, and never once have you been robbed. But today, of all days, you have been robbed? Explain."

"Your Majesty, perhaps..." but Gillian raised her right hand to silence the merchant again, and after a moment looked over at Mayron, who was standing against the wall watching the proceedings in silence, "Someone must have known that I was for you..."

"Someone must have known. Of course, I'm spreading the word so that every country bumpkin who comes along knows that you're carrying something for them." That was as far as it would have gone, for the casket was worth more to Gillian than all the gold in the castle. "I hope for your sake it was worth the money, because you're going to have to pay with a lot more."

There were enough people in the capital and the surrounding villages who were only too happy to pay double or triple the price Gillian offered the merchant, simply because the box was for them.

Many believed that in one of the supplies they would find something they could use to overthrow the king and queen and help the country return to the good old days. To the old glory. Hundreds of shipments destined for the palace were searched en route, or the traveling merchants were attacked by thieves, robbers, and highwaymen. Always with the same realization that nothing of value had been found.

Quietly, Gill rose from the throne, placed her left hand on her right, and walked with deliberate steps toward the merchant. Arriving a few inches in front of him, she paused, raised his chin with her right forefinger and middle finger so that he looked straight into her eyes, and without any hint of what was to follow, she thrust her left hand into his chest and gave the rest of his body a gentle shove back, causing him to fall heavily to the ground.

"Told you you'd pay with a lot more than that," Gill spoke to herself, not that a dead man would have understood her, nor any of those here, looking at the beating heart in her hand, "explain to me why it's not possible to get a small chest? Get me someone who is NOT OVERWORKED with a small TASK!"

"Sis, what do you expect from the common peasants?" a sigh escaped Desmond as he saw the lifeless body of the merchant on the floor, his blood spreading around the throne room, and he finished looking at Mayron, "What about thieves? Is there anyone you could say is up to the job?"

"Not within a hundred miles," Desmond had actually hoped with his question that Mayron could calm his sister Gillian a little and not that things were getting worse because, it seemed, there was no one to do their job, "The citizens want to see you fall, not possibly help you become more powerful."

No one could be counted on.

////////

Little note. The story is also available in German just in unedited.