"THE KING IS DEAD!"
Even now, those words echo through my mind; as fresh and loud as the day I first heard them. Hearing them plow through me, even faintly, stops my breath. That day, though, they crippled me. I barely held it together for the sake of my fellow soldiers. Behind closed doors was a different story. I recall the sensation of collapsing to the floor in my living room after the General confirmed it as truth. I laid there for hours. Unable to move. Sobbing, but with no tears. It was far too painful for tears. The next days blended together. Nothing but coffee and water. Sleep only when my body could overpower my mind for a short time. Food was too much. Rest was impossible. I went under the needle for the bazillionth time and had that awful day inscribed into my skin forever. It was the least I could do for my king.
I had spent my entire adult life as a soldier. Serving a King I loved more than life itself. He had come to power three weeks after my eighteenth birthday, and I didn't hesitate to pledge myself into service. There was something about him. He was, simply, magical. I wish I had a better explanation than that, but I don't. He drew in everyone. He inspired loyalty. Love. Strength. A singular human being. No one had ever been like him before, and no ever will be.
He had my loyalty. Seventeen years evident in the Lieutenant's bars at my neck. I wore them with great pride. I was rarely out of uniform in public. Most everyone addressed me as "Lieutenant". Both online and around the small town in the mountains that was my current post.
I was not a big fan of this place, but you go where they send you. It wasn't necessarily all bad. Just mostly. It was relatively quiet. A college town, so the population fluctuated with the seasons and the semesters. Winters were harsh and long. The first few I enjoyed, but I was beginning to grow weary of them. New orders would be the best thing for me, but I was skeptical that anything so inconsequential was being handled since things had fallen apart. So here I would stay, plying my craft as best I could, until I heard otherwise.
My craft. I say that as though it's some monumental undertaking that will change the face of civilization. Aside from my military duties, I fancied myself a writer. Mostly published online. Occasionally in something local. Newspaper or newsletter. Nothing fancy like novels. I didn't think I was that good. My online readers showered me with praises I felt undeserving of, but I always expressed my gratitude to them.
Mostly, I just kept to myself and my small circle of fellow soldiers. The King's death and the internet was starting to change that, however. I found myself undertaking duties I describe as "extracurricular". Others tell me that my actions outside of the King's army are merely evidence that I deserve my position.
I teamed up with another soldier in the largest nearby city to organize a memorial. I made friends through that. I comforted others via the internet, which also grew my circle. Even my writing had gathered people around me. And, much to my surprise, they profess to respect me. Not just because of the uniform, either.
"Just because of who you are," they say. I try to brush it off. I'm a nobody. Just a woman from a mid-sized city in the northeast, who would have blindly followed her King to the depths of Hell.
I confess it had been tempting to follow him into whatever consisted of the afterlife. He was all I'd ever known. But that wouldn't have been a good example to set. And as my dearest friend, Cara, would always say
"He wouldn't want that."
I looked at her, sitting across my desk from me. Her petite form tucked into the chair made it look as though she was going to be swallowed whole by it.
"I know," I replied, slowly exhaling, "But it's still tempting."
"I understand," she told me, as she always did, tilting her head so that the waves of her auburn hair rippled. "Don't you have Lieutenant stuff to do?"
"Don't you have school stuff to do?" I retorted.
"I hate that shit," she grumped. At 16, she was too young to sign up. But I knew the moment she came of age, she would. Her love for the General was as strong as mine for our King.
"Too bad," I told her, "Go. And that's an order."
"Yes Lieutenant Minnie," she rolled her eyes at me as she got up to leave.
"And what have I said about calling me that?!"
"I know, I know," she grinned at me now, pleased with her ability to tease me, "Talk to you later, Min. Love you."
"Love you too," I responded as she slipped out of my office.
I refocused my attention on the computer screen. An alert was at the bottom. I clicked it, and it opened a forum, open to the entire kingdom. It seemed Queen Veronica, the King's widow, had posted.
"I miss my husband. It is my mission now to increase faith in this land, so that we may fight the evil demons that took him. Education in faith is my priority now. So no one else misses the signs as I did. I will do this for you, Chester."
The Queen had stepped up following the death of her husband. She was trying to spread religion in an effort to rid our land of what had killed our beloved King. Demons. It was her belief, and most other people's as well, that they could be defeated with faith and religious adherence. These demons were seen as a plague, and religion the cure.
I wasn't sure how I felt, seeing as how the King and I were "infected" with similar demons. Yes, I had the plague, and so did he. And no amount of faith had ever cured me. Or him. But I did admire the Queens newfound gusto in trying to combat this. She had ruled with strength since she inherited her husband's throne. The people and my fellow soldiers had rallied around her and the children, and the family had given love and support to us in return. She was bringing everyone in the kingdom closer together. A united front, set on eliminating demons from everywhere they may lurk.
Replies started appearing under this post.
"Long live Queen Veronica!"
"Stay strong, Your Majesty!"
"Please take care of yourself and the Princes and Princesses!"
Seeing all the love and encouragement made me smile. I rarely replied to the Queen myself. I was so unsure of what to say. Afraid to make a fool of myself. I always just hoped she felt my support for her, her family, and her efforts. She had no reason to acknowledge some lowly Lieutenant out in the country.
A chime alerted me to another post. This was from Duke William, the King's oldest friend.
"An event is being organized in honor of the late King Chester, my dearest friend, to celebrate his giving spirit and philanthropy. It will be held in his hometown. By invitation only. More details to come."
"Interesting," I said out loud to my computer. I knew the King had a big heart, but I guess I hadn't known how big. What a nice thing for William to do.
I exhaled as I powered off everything so I could go home for the day, knowing the only way I'd get to go to something like that is if I got tapped to be on the security team.
I was honestly not that lucky.
YOU ARE READING
Deserving of More
RandomNothing is what you think it is. Listen. Think. See for yourselves. I only deliver the message. It is up to you to hear it. To believe. He deserves more.