The Wandering Wordsmith

Heart of The Beast

Pádraig

Pádraig navigated the halls of the huge castle with ease. He had only just arrived back from the raid and his leg was still hurt. But of course, the king didn't care. He had to congratulate Pádraig on yet another successful slaughter.

The white marble to  Pádraig seemed like some opulent cage. This was his prison and the people were rats. Most had grown to accept him as one of their own.

Waving or bowing their heads respectfully as he passed, but some still spat as or whispered some comment about him. These were his favorite people.

He arrived at the giant double doors to the throne room. Red birch. Scenes of warriors facing great beast were intricately carved in the wood. It's polished surface shone.

No matter how many time he saw it the images always intimidated Pádraig. At the bottom, it depicted a great war with the elves.Above it were the words 'The Battle of Extinction'.

In the middle, it showed men fighting men. Two great giants stood on the outer end of the doors each supporting one army. The one on the right had long hair and was slumped over due to the javelin in his chest.

On the other end stood the thrower in his right hand he held another javelin prepared to throw it. He had a bald head and a malicious smile. His army would obviously win. Over this scene were the words 'The Battle of Fire and Light'.

Finally at the pointed top of the door stood two figures. This one wasn't so much a battle but it was probably the most fear inducing of all the images.

One figure clad in armour stood over a man in rags. A sword was raised over his head ready to deliver the final strike. Whoever had carved it had made sure that the insignia present on the executioner's chest stood out more than any other image on the door.

Pádraig would have dropped his head in shame but he knew he would only see the same crest on his own armour.

Steeling himself he placed one hand on each door and pushed them open. The throne room was the most garish place in the kingdom. The heart of the beast.

On both sides were tapestries with all the colors of the rainbow knitted into them. Pictures of beast adorned them accompanied with more battles. The throne at the end of the room was made of carved ruby and the man that sat on it was made of stone.

Alexander Bates. King of Erilcia sat unmoving atop his precious throne. His green eyes followed Pádraig as he made his way along the blue carpet that ran down the middle of the room.

Opening the doors had split the fighting right down the middle putting each opposing side to a different side of the knight as he stepped through them.

When he came to the foot of the throne he forced himself to kneel before the man who had forced him to do things he will always regret.

''Raise your head knight of the neighbour,'' the king had long ago given him that title. At first, it was for people to realize what he was.

''You summoned me, your highness?'' Pádraig lifted his head to stare the king in the eyes. His visage told nothing of the things that had happened in his name.

He looked like a kind man a neat brown hair was held down under his golden crown. He was just over thirty but he looked twenty.

''I have heard you killed mercilessly in your last outing.'' The king asked placing his head in his hand as his elbow rested on the armrest of the chair.

''For crown and kingdom,''Pádraig assured him the words akin to poison as they came from his mouth.

''Does it not cause you to be ill of conscious? Those men share your blood,'' The king had genuine pity for the large man that knelt before him. ''I gave you soldiers to do such deeds for you.''