The soldier knelt drudgingly, eyes avoiding his King as he entered the room. Even when the King ordered him to speak, he would not. His disposition frantic, his vision flicking around his surroundings in panic and entire body trembling. The King, certainly not in the mood for such antics, grew impatient. “Speak…” he said in a low growl. When he received no answer, he reached for his sword, seeing fit to plunge it into the man’s chest.
“Grahamas!” the soldier finally blurted out, stopping the King’s advance.
“What?” the King uttered,” Where did you hear that name?” Demanding, Idimus’ blade crept up to the soldier’s throat.
“We attacked the home as you ordered….” The King pushed the steel forward harder. “We tried to…and we had the woman and child pinned, but then someone broke through the window and killed the others…” His voice was quick, his breathing rapid and Idimus wondered if the soldier was fearful of punishment or if he was still scared of what had happened to him. “He was so fast. I reached for the woman but he skewered my hand to the wall with a dagger before I could do anything. We were helpless.” The King dropped his sword momentarily. “He gave me a message…ordered me to come straight here to tell you. I thought he was going to kill me, but he let me go. Only demanded that I tell you that your reign is going to end…and that he will be the one to end it.”
“And he told you his name was Grahamas?”
The soldier nodded slowly, “Grahamas the True, Lord.”
The King turned his head, looking out the window. He seemed almost unaffected, “And the task?”
“Failed Sire. They got away.” The King sighed, yet he showed no emotion. “I am sorry my Lord, I have let you down.” And the soldier bent further, starting to grovel, “Please my King, I offer penance.”
Idimus shook his head slowly, “No. No, it’s well. Penance is not necessary.” Idimus jerked his arm, driving his sword forward and embedding it into the soldier’s chest. And in the same idle manner as he had used to look upon his window; he slid the blade free, the soldier slumping to the floor as Idimus tucked his weapon back against his throne. “Your death pleases me enough.”
Slowly a twitch danced its way across his face as another grain of sand in his proverbial hourglass tumbled down. At the end of his hallway, the two soldiers who guarded the door, whom most nights heard only silence, now heard the King screaming in agonizing rage.