Plight of an Empire

Chapter Eleven- part 1: Arkayus

Hecuba, Didaan

The King’s wheelhouse was a lumbering beast, slow too, stacked with one floor atop of another and an angled ladder connecting the two levels.  It was a wonder how it did not topple on itself.  It took twenty horses to pull the damned thing.  But King Wymare and Queen Alva would not take long trips without it.  Arkayus watched the stone walls of the city’s buildings pass him by, lit only by the torches of the Didese kingsguard and by the light of the full moon.  The streets were quiet—no children ran in front of the horses, no men tried to sell their bread, nor women their wares.  The city was asleep, as Arkayus wished he was, in his own bed.

The Mountain of Kings, threatening to tickle the stars, cast a shadow over the dark city of stone and rock.  Lights dotted the mountainside, giving light to the great palace built into the rock.  The Greystone Keep was an impenetrable fortress made strong by the Black Rocks at its back and thick stone walls encircling both the city and courtyard of the castle.  The first builders of the city were master stonemasons who sought to build the most fortified city on the continent to protect themselves from both invaders and Behemoths.  Their bones are the foundation for the city, if you believed the old stories.

“It is a great feeling to finally be home,” King Wymare said as he stretched his back.  “I can’t wait to break my bed back in with you, my queen.”  He grinned hungrily at Queen Alva, who covered her mouth to hide a giggle.

Arkayus wrinkled his nose at the thought of his parents sharing a bed, knowing full well what happened when that occurred.  Though he had no doubt his father could break the bed on his own with his girth.  How his mother could bear being under the weight of that man was beyond him.  The thought gave him shivers.

A part of him had wanted for a parade, celebrating his return, like one he had received arriving in Mynoa.  There had been cheering crowds and banners depicting all of the royal houses hanging from the walls of every building.  He was ushered all the way to the White Keep by the masses, all gathered around the streets, waving to him on his steed.  He had received a better welcome in a foreign land than he had in his own homestead.  Perhaps if they were not arriving in the dead of night, they could have been ushered in like they had in Mynoa.  But still, he had longed to be home and here he was.

The wheelhouse pulled to a stop at the first of the inner gates, the Ground Gate, as it was the lowest of all the inner gates.  This first section of the city, called the Stony Plains, was the lowest point of the city—the poorest too.  Here the king, queen, and prince exited the wheelhouse to begin the ascension up the great mountain.  They were met by the captain of the city guard, Sir Abram Jagarrson.  He held the reins to two horses in his hand, one for the painted mare, the queen’s horse, and the other for the cream palomino, the prince’s horse.  Behind him, a mammoth of a horse, black as a moonless night, was being led by the son of Sir Abram—the king’s horse.

“Welcome home, Your Grace,” Sir Abram said with a bow of his head.  “It is wonderful to see that you have returned safely.  As it is to see your queen and son.”  He gave a short nod to them as he handed the reins of the palomino to Arkayus.  The craggy knight had deep lines under his eyes, looked like it was from more exhaustion than anything.  Arkayus sympathized with the man, desperately wanting to be in bed himself.  With a golden haired maiden warming it perhaps.

While he thought of big-bosomed lasses with tiny waists, he heard his father converse with the old knight as he stepped up onto his horse.  “It is wonderful to be back.  After a long trip, a good sleep is in order.  Perhaps the breaking of the bed will have to wait until the morrow, my queen,” he said to Queen Alva, who was being helped onto her mare.

The three followed Sir Abram as he and his son, Eorlen—a lad large enough to guide King Wymare’s beast with no problems.  He was built to be a knight.  They passed through the Ground Gate and trotted up the great stone stairs to the second district, the Treetops—home to the fine shops and markets of the city.  While commoners and lesser nobles resided here, it was still a better place to live that the Stony Plains.  The filth of the city runs down into the bottom district, the dirty waters as well as dirty people.  Some have earned a living down there, but it was still a downtrodden place.  Just passing through gave Arkayus the urge to bath rigorously.