The King's Messenger

Chapter 1

The king's Messenger wore the king's colors, of course. White and gold, with a richly purple cloak; the colors of royalty, of peace, of dominion, of prosperity. He wore a gilded shortsword, seemingly for show more than anything. A mask, too; subjects weren't meant to be able to tell one messenger from another. All were the same in the eyes of the king and his kingdom.

The people made way for the Messenger as he stepped through broken streets, littered with shattered bits of glass and shit in his pristine white getup. They all stared, conspicuously inconspicuously, at his white mask and its air of mystery. The King's Messengers were mystical, almost, in their anonymity; the people vyyed to umask him with their eyes even as they parted for him to pass.

The Messenger hated the scrutiny, to be honest. He longed to be among the people; with a life like his, he'd learned to appreciate their company, and now he was forced apart from them. Nevertheless, he would do it, not just for the people, but for the crown prince as well.

The Messenger felt a tug at his cape. He turned, seeing a small girl with a hand hanging on his cape. Her mother swooped in and pulled her away.

"I'm so sorry, Lord Messenger," she apologized profusely. "She's but a child, and a fool one at-"

The Messenger held up a hand, stopping the mother in her tracks. She swallowed nervously and shifted her weight to her back foot.

The Messenger knelt so he was eye to eye with the girl. "Do you have a name, girl?" he asked, his voice soft and melodic.

"Melle," she answered.

"It's very nice to meet you, Melle," the Messenger said, dipping his head in a bow. Melle's mother's eyes widened, but she relaxed, nudging her child. Melle curtsied in return. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"My da's gone," she said, childishly blunt. "Ma said the guard won't even try to find him. But that's their job, innit?"

"Melle!" her mother admonished. "You can't say that to a- You shouldn't say such things." On alert again, she continued. "I... forgive her, milord. She-"

"It's all right," the Messenger reassured. "I would like to hear this message."

The mother didn't look convinced. The king's men were not meant to act like this.

"Would you like to discuss it elsewhere?" the Messenger pressed on.

She hesitated. Finally, she said, "My home is close to here. We can speak there, milord."

"Very well," the Messenger said. "Please, lead the way."

Melle's mother took Melle's hand and started to lead. The crowd, which had started to press in to eavesdrop, suddenly thinned again as the Messenger's attention was broadened. As they walked through dirty alleys and unkept streets, Melle's mother kept sneaking glances back at the Messenger. As he walked behind her, these looks didn't go unnoticed.

"Is there something you wish to ask?" the Messenger asked.

"N-no, milord," the mother replied, eyes straight ahead.

"Well, I have something," the Messenger said. "Do you have a name?"

"Yes, milord. Kalis."

"Kalis," the Messenger repeated. "You don't have to call me milord. Messenger is just fine."

Kalis didn't respond at first. "If it's all the same to you, I'll keep calling you milord," she said eventually.

The Messenger frowned under his mask. "If that is your preference," he said mildly.