Hail To The King

Epilogue: St. James

James was beloved by his people. He conquered life at the taverns with the townsfolk, having drinks with them and getting to know them. Some said he was marked by genius, others claimed he could only channel good. Most often the king was misunderstood, but of course, they had been wrong many times before.

Although James was a sinner, he blurred the lines of what was right and wrong and blazed his own trail on which to lead the people. He was bold and fearless, and the people followed him willingly and wholeheartedly. They knew he would not lead them astray.

Some nights he would walk the streets late, share a few pints with the beggars and thieves. He even broke up a few of their brawls, and in their eyes, he became a friend more than a foe. Some days he would lead the people in song, and they would happily sing along with him. He bonded with the townsfolk, made a connection with them that would withhold any trial.

He would think of ideas that would make the city a better place. Slowly but surely, they fully restored the town. He spoke up for those who kept quiet, and when midsummer’s heat sweltered the city, he shared drinks with them. For every sorrow, he was their light.

He was their St. James.

Each night, he would go off to the cliffs by the sea, watching the water and taking time to be alone. The people used to disturb him at this time with questions or problems, but over time they learned to leave him to his peace.

It was on a night like this, some years after the Shepherd had left the city, the king of was sitting on the rock. He closed his eyes, feeling the wind in his face, tasting the salty sea breeze on his tongue. The sound of the waves lulled him, and he took a deep breath.

“They told me I’d find you here.” A voice called out.  A voice James knew well, that had not graced his ears in many years. He opened his eyes, small smile ghosting his lips.

The Shepherd of Fire had returned.