Everworld Knights

Chapter Six: The Effervescent King.

Ryland was never good at confrontation. It was one of his worst qualities and one that would, had he not dropped it, forced him to remain under the Everworld Knight’s with no chance of ever becoming one. Today was the day he would have to drop this negativity to conflict and face up to his actions. Something that he was worried about, something that frightened him and challenged his very existence. He needed to meet with King Edmond of Everworld, the warring King campaigning to claim all of Everworld as his own.

Why then, would he not be nervous?

Ryland was led through a dimly lit hallway, which extended from one end of the palace to another, where the king’s resting chambers were. Roland had come very close to the king and Alyssa, Ryland’s mother, was a close connection with regards to what was going to happen in regards to the future of King Edmond’s campaign to ruling the five human nations.

He wasn’t sure why he came alone, why he set this meeting behind his mother’s back though he knew that by the time he returned home, word would have spread and he would get a mouthful from her as to why he didn’t include her in his plans. But Ryland knew he had to do this alone. He needed to face up to what happened and with every fleeting moment, he was losing grip on his father faster and faster.

It was just another day to the rest of the town, knowing that their loved ones would no doubt return soon, but something bit Ryland to fight further. Why hadn’t they returned? Time was fleeing and with every moment his father wasn’t home, Ryland’s mind fell into more turmoil.

When the guard stopped him outside of the king’s quarters, he gestured to a seat. Ryland sat as instructed and waited for his meeting. He was a knight, outranking the guard, but felt humbled in the king’s guardsman. He didn’t know why, accepting orders as though a peasant, waiting for the king to call on him.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned into hours before the first movements came from the room. Unlike what he believed, it would not be the king to greet him, instead, it was a scantily dressed w***e that ran from the room with a coin of gold in her hands and a dapper smile on her face. She lay with royalty, how could she not show the excitement in such an action?

“Are you still out there boy?” The king called from the bedroom chamber. Edmond spent far longer with the w***e than he would have usually, but knowing that he would have to endure a conversation with Ryland meant that he would prolong the event as long as possible, dipping into as much wealth as necessary to avoid it for another day.

Ryland, on the other hand, was steadfast in his mission and he would not drop it. He waited, sat in the same position as he had from the moment the guard left him, lost to thoughts and meditation to ease the burden of time.

“I am, sire.” Ryland rose.

“Great,” Sarcasm laced the word, “Come in then boy. Let’s get to it then.”

Ryland stepped through the door and entered the bedroom. A foul odor clung to it; warm, musky and unpleasant, but Ryland accepted it for the scent of making love and bowed as he would on any other day.

“Ryland, Son of Roland; son of Rayland,” King Edmond looked Ryland over twice, “Where Reland and Ruland?”

The joke escaped the boy. The confusion evident on his face brought a smile to the king. He may have been approaching the stature of an Everworld Knight – unknowingly to Ryland the ranks were nearly completely eradicated and could not reform again – but Ryland was still nothing but a semi-literate farm boy with good intentions and noble heart.

Like his father.

Qualities that did not exist and did not work in this world. Edmond knew this better than most. He knew that the world was a grim place nurturing every delicate flower meant a beautiful blossom of pestilence would ensue.

Where Ryland could not read, Edmond created poetry. He created poetry on the page and in life. His examples of war and efforts that show ferocity and devilish intent were worth far more than what everyone credited him for and even this, the loss at Sanguine Hill, was simply an oversight in his poetic prose.

“Does your mother know you’re here boy?” King Edmond asked. He lay in his bed, sweat dripping from his brow, no doubt due to the excursion that had only just taken place.

“No, sire. I come to speak with you alone regarding my father and the Everworld Knights. The people seem to show no interest in their disappearance but time goes on and each day that passes without return, I grow more and more nervous at what could have happened. Do you, perhaps, have the answers I’m looking for?” Ryland asked.

“Yes. I do. They’re dead. Most lost their lives at the battle of Sanguine Hill, the others remain at large. It was a single-handed defeat against the Northmen and we don’t know how it happened. I would like to tell you that it was different and I would like to reassure you that your father is still alive, but I cannot.” The blunt tenacity with which the King spoke set Ryland at unease. As if he didn’t care about the loss, he stated facts with little emotion in his tone or words.

“And what about the rest of the people? Don’t they deserve to know?” Ryland asked, bowing his head.

“No. Well, yes. But no. If we tell the entire city about what happened to their families it would cause an uproar. We start small, implementing various small plots and plans. Politics is not something you should concern yourself with though, boy. You’re just a sword.” Edmond said, his eyes fixed on Ryland’s brow that remained focused on the ground.

“Thank you, sire. I understand you’re busy. I won’t bother any longer,” Ryland added before heading for the door. Edmond bowed his head in acceptance and turned on his side.

This did not go as planned and that unsettled Ryland.