Stories Inspired by Music

Round Table Rival

A cool English day. A setting perfect for a heated battle of words. Syllables dancing around like fencing blades, stabbing at one another to see whose words cut deeper. Whose words convinces the non-tangible judge sitting in a far away land, nonexistent. The man on the far left end of the table, according to perspective if one were to walk through the door, slams his callused fist onto the long oak table. With his other hand, raised into the air with quick precision, points at another man at the opposite side of the table, wearing differentiated uniform. Different colors worn by this man to symbolize, he is not of the original man's faction. The chain mail clatters at the body movements of these two great leaders of the sort, but none would be readily prepared for whom may step through the door and cast his own presence.

As the hulking powerhouses of the room churn with frustration and anger, their ferocity will break out into a one on one literal sword fight. No more words fighting their battles for them, only action. Steel striking steel in a spark of great strength. Swift silver swiping through the air like a clash of juvenile dipper birds. The members of the meeting stay back, not sure whether to join the fight or stop it, but yet stand with a stillness, closely watching the skill sets of both kings collide.

But as one thrust after another misses the fatal shot, nor wounding the skin of the other, the wooden door to the room breaks open into a splintery mess.

Another man of tall, yet slender, stature stands in the doorway. Brown leather jacket and g-force leggings like those of the modern day jet pilots, adorn the body of someone not of this time. You could, quite literally, call him a space cowboy, or rather, a time mechanic. The device on his wrist caught the most attention, glowing a bright blue. But the attention snapped away once the first shot was fired from a legendary weapon. The pistol aimed at a bystander, flashes as smoke and flame rings outward, propelling the metal pellet through chain mail and bone. His skull, demolished by the blast, and the body, falls limp to the ground as death surrounds. The clash of swords stop in a sudden moment, only to have blades-a-plenty pointed directly at the mysterious man of unknown origin. A smile streaks across the traveler's jaw as he cocks back the pistol for another shot. Before the tips of metal could even harm him, a shot through his own bone and flesh would end his life and leave the crowd in confusion. The blue light on the device dims as the warmth of the skin diminishes. His body, clothing, and all devices render useless, and considered dangerous among those witnesses whom stood watch as chaos unfolded in split seconds. The traveler, buried with all belongings, leaves the world, but with impact left behind. The two kings discuss with no sure indication to what events took place. The men concur and decide to keep a treaty to defend one another if any mutual enemy were to enter into the land. Peace surrounded the territory.

The book closes shut with dust flying. The hands holding the scripture, lays it down gently like a child onto the side table next to a chair, where sits a man with a watch that glows blue. A man whom fixed the past, died in doing so, but was born again, because he knew time like the back of his very own hand. In the story of two kings uniting, the middle man has come to be known as the round table rival. A name well deserved, but never mentioned, because it was history.

Song: "Round Table Rival" by Lindsey Stirling