The Seventh Servant

Prologue

The clatter of plates and silverware rang through the large room, the bustling of feet shuffling against the ground echoed into deaf ears. "Lucius!" the named was shouted out by a hefty-looking, old woman holding a pot of stew in both hands and appearing angry. A young male, aged around eighteen at most, popped his head out from his search of more pots, pans, plates, silverware, and whatever else he could find. "Stop your dawdling and work faster, the king isn't going to wait all day for his supper; you know how impatient he can be!" She gave him a stern look before shoving her chin into the air and making off with the pot of stew to finish making the ruler's meal. When her ordering around was done, it appeared that the rest of the servants had continued on with their work and gossip. In the kitchen, it was never this busy, but since it was a special night that day, the servants were being rushed more than usual.

The man sighed once the woman had gone around the corner and could longer be heard or seen or him be heard or seen by her. Standing to his correct height, Lucius dusted off his pants and grabbed whatever he could from the cupboard, then commenced with his cooking. Being a servant was tedious work, but he had been one since he was a little boy and knowing that, it did not bother him as much. He knew, that no matter what would happen, he would always be a servant to the king, he would be no one special or important in his life. If only . . . he thought to himself, stirring the contents of a pot and subconsciously getting baked bread from the oven behind him. If only I was someone important, someone who mattered to people and not stuck down here with the rest of the servants. It was all just a dream in his head, though; dreams were wishes from the heart and his heart could not always have what it wanted.

Suddenly, a bell rang loud and clear overhead, yanking Lucius from his thoughts and shoving him back into the cruel reality of his life. "The king is far too impatient, get what food is ready and bring it to him!" another servant ordered the rest to do. Rolling his eyes, he skillfully snagged some of the baked bread and tossed it onto a sliver platter that held a bowl of stew. If a bowl of stew and bread was supposed to be fit for a king, then he was definitely a king in his life or the servants were just lazy. Bringing the platter to the cart, he placed it in the center, where there was empty space, then took off with the cart to give to the king. Be a composed servant, Lucius, be something the king is proud to present to his guests, even if you are just a lowlife servant, he thought to himself. That thought did not last for long before he entered the dining room and saw just how many guests were sitting at the table.

At the sight of the full long table, the man almost pissed his pants; he had never seen so many people in one place for such an occasion like this. Then again, he was always stuck down in the kitchen cleaning or keeping the food warm, if it were necessary, not having the duty of taking the food to the king. Still, it was quite the experience for him and he felt a sensation of delightfulness run down his spine and through the entirety of his body. It felt like he were king, coming to greet all of his guests, but in the long run, Lucius knew that he was not what he felt like at the moment. He found himself staring at the people for too long and quickly looked down to avoid their stares back at him, making his way over to the table. For the remainder of the time he was there, he walked along the table and set food in front of the guests, starting with the king, himself. Once he saw that everyone had some type of food in front of them, he gave a small nod to himself and turned around to leave, only to have the king himself call to him.

"Lucius, come here," the older man called to him, beckoning with a calloused hand toward the servant with, what seemed to be, mild importance. Pursing his lips together, he let go of the cart, smoothed down his clothes and turned around once more, to face his master. "I said come here, boy," the king repeated, a more stern and angry look on his face than what Lucius had thought would be. Silently, the younger male obeyed the command of the older and walked over to him, his eyes to the ground, making sure not to look at him without permission. The fact that the king wanted to see him, scared him slightly, it made him feel that he was in some sort of trouble he did not remember getting into. Actually, he could feel his legs wobbling partially as he made his way over to the beared man, fearful that he had done something wrong. All he hoped, was that the king did not punish him in front of the guests, it would be an embarrassment to him and a shock to the others.

"Yes, my liège?" he responded in a soft tone, swallowing the lump that he felt in his throat in the process of answering him. What scared him the most was King Anselm, but he had yet to figure out what exactly made him scared of the kingdom's ruler. As far as he remembered, the king had done nothing to him but order him around and tell him what he could and could not do. Yet, there was that aching feeling in his stomach that told him the king had done something far worse to him than he thought. What it was, though, Lucius was not sure, it was just an instinctive feeling that he was unsure of whether to follow or not. Unexpectedly, the king grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to face the rest of the people that were in the room; already he could feel his face heating up. The king was planning something, something that he could not tell what it was and it scared him to the core of his body.