The next council meeting
Was a mess.
Tempers flared,
Tension snapped taught,
Patience frayed.
But they could not
Adjourn.
Not yet.
The golden eyed boy,
Whose name
They now feared
To say,
Had decided
His price.
And now,
And now,
They must decide
If it is worth
Giving it up.
He had said,
Grin dripping with
Malice
Like a knife
With blood,
What is precious
To your council?
What is the most
Valuable thing
In your arsenal?
I will have that.
I will have that,
And then
I will help.
There were several things
This could be.
Three of them
They simply
Could not give.
It was impossible.
Two of them
Were contracts,
Signed in the blood
Of those bound
By them.
Both were very old,
And very valuable
Depending on
Who you asked.
The eldest looked down
At the rolled papers,
Impassive.
Pick one,
She said.
Pick one,
for each
Is a significant,
But equal,
loss.
The council muttered,
And grumbled,
And argued back
And forth.
They knew
Who they were
Arguing over.
The two
Who were bound
By the contracts
Were not present.
If they had been,
They would have seen
Their lives,
Being voted upon.
The pros and cons
Of losing them,
Neatly laid out.
Like they were just
Objects,
Albeit valuable ones.
And then,
A decision.
The eldest held up
One rolled paper,
Yellowed and stamped
With a shimmering seal,
A twelve-pointed
Flower.
This one,
She said.
We will give him
This one.
And maybe,
It will be enough.
YOU ARE READING
Across A Lifetime
FantasyWar is a tedious, messy thing that often raises eager villains and reluctant heroes. This is the story of a man who had the future at his fingertips, a man who had blood permanently staining his hands, and the cataclysmic events that slid into place...
