The Pen.

Chapter 3 - An Ancient Power.

Days had passed since the choosing ceremony and her sisters were still mocking Emma, her dad wouldnt even look at her and her mother would sigh and roll her eyes anytime she looked at her. What was worse was the Kingdoms reaction, Emma couldnt walk anywhere without being sniggered, pointed and laughed at, some of the knights would throw stones and rotten vegetables at her as she passed. The names 'weakling', 'wimp', 'coward' and 'loser' echoed around her from the townspeople constantly. This went on for months, with her family doung nothing about it and King Benedict berating her in front of the kingdom during a tournament and officially declared her useless and an embarrassment to the kingdom. Emma could feel her blood begin to boil but her grandfathers words struck a cord with her, she realised just how powerful she could be with her weapon but  she had to wait for the right moment to strike. 

In the coming days there had been a change in the kingdom, if you were a tourist to Morghanna then its possible you wouldnt notice, but for the locals there was palpable tension in the air. A mysterious play had arrived at the door of the theatre and without thinking terribly much about it, they put the play on in honour of King Benedict, but there was dire consequences. The play had caused a change, people were turning on one another and there was a rising distrust between the people and King Benedict and King Benedict and the people. This anonymous author of the play was wanted by King Benedict, some of the words hadn't hit him or the townspeople until much later. Unfortunately nobody knew who this author was so it was going to be difficult to catch them.

"These are dangerous times" warned Emma's father, as the family sat around the dinner table. "The kingdom is inches away from folding in on itself".

"Well it's that bloody plays fault!" Cried Freya as she banged her fist on the dinner table, causing her ale to spill a little.

"The play had some good points against the King" murmured Katya.

Freya looked outraged but before she could let out her anger, their mother intervened.

"That's enough!" She bellowed. "This isn't helpful. Whatever that play was it's been a week since the play and nothing more has come of it, it's a fluke or something".

"What do you make of this Emma?" Asked her father.

"What is there to make of it? It's a play, it can't harm anyone" she said as she sipped her ale.

"Of course a play can't harm anyone you idiot! What is a play but a bunch of words!" Snapped Katya viciously.

Emma glanced at her father who was staring at her with apparent interest, the family finally ate their meal in silence.

The following week the Kingdom had relatively calmed down but it was once again to be shaken. A poem was written and copies spread across the Kingdom, appearing in vegetable carts, pinned on workshops, the castle gate, slid under people's doors but worst of all it was painted in black paint on the kingdoms gate. On the outset it appears to be nothing, a poem of witches, warriors and a king but when it was read more carefully it was a clear attack on particular people in the Kingdom, especially the warmonger King Benedict.

Emma was woken by Katya and Freya  screaming, shouting and stamping. Emma walked into the kitchen where her mother, father and sisters were huddled together reading a piece of paper.

"What's all this?" Asked Emma.

Freya's green eyes sparked when she saw Emma, "I'll tell you what this is" she spat as she tore the piece of paper from her mother's hands. "That writer has referenced to us in the latest poem!"

Emma raised her eyebrows and scanned the paper. "So who are you meant to be? I'm guessing not the fairy".

"We are the witches!" Screeched Katya.

"Oh" said Emma. "It might not be you"

"Of course it's them!" Bellowed their father.

"No one else has these weapons in the Kingdom! Just because you lack something distinct!" Seethed Katya.

"Is it just you two or the whole family?" Asked Emma.

"The family as a whole is mentioned" said her mother quietly.

"But only this of us of standing, you obviously weren't important enough" smiled Freya.

"Oh how shall I ever recover from not being called a witch" said Emma returning Freya's grin.

At this Freya's smile faded and her nose began to twitch.

"Enough!" Ordered their father. "The last thing we need is for this family to suffer anymore damage".

Emma glared at her father. Her parents and sisters dispersed and Emma opened the front door and saw the carnage the poem was leaving in it's wake. Her family were undergoing severe distrust from the people, they were doubting their motives and their historic strength and King Benedict was exposed as being a warmonger for all to see.

Emma grinned darkly to herself and rolled her pen in her hand. She was not completely aware of what she had been able to unlock but it was an ancient power and had the ability to build and destroy people and civilisations that would send ripples far into the future.