In a quiet meeting room several met. Each one of them carrying a blade. Each blade were of various conditions of care, or lack thereof. As had became tradition, these blades were exchanged amongst each other, no blood upon them, and then thrust into a soft wooden half-sphere that lay upon the table showing each hand was empty. They discussed why they came to the palace, why they had once wanted to kill the king. What they had learned from the King in their year of sitting at the side of his throne. Some of these individuals were much, much older now, with more than a few battle scars, and some, like Dag, were quite young. The lords were getting restless, it was time to let potential knives know what their lords were really up to.
A spin off of this prompt. @internutter/challenge-02971-h048-tools-of-politics -- The Knives
There were five of them now. Kris, Dag, Lundi, and the ladies, Pel and Fawn. All of them had created the Council of Knives with the King's consent. Something was rotten in the realm, and each Knife knew where the fault lay. Their bloodless blades went into the knife block as a sign that they were not a danger to the king.
"The lords under the King want to live by their own rules," said Kris, the first among them. "I'd wager it won't be a month before another deluded young soul comes in the night with a blade of their own."
Pel, who actually got past the guard of Knives, added, "It won't be a month. These lords think that being a King is all of the benefits and none of the responsibility. Lord Baisingr, Lord Basingbrooke, Lord Felroth... he sent two of us. They lust for power and power alone. And there's mine... Lord Dreev. He's insidious."
"Something has to be done about them. Before another grasping greedy sod sends a misguided minion," Fawn ran a fingertip along the grain of the wood. "We can't counter their bards. They just have a battle of words that would only make the Lord look better."
Dag looked to Lundi, then to Kris. "What if... instead of blades... we became boomerangs?"
"What?"
"It's something I read about in the library," and a year ago, Dag could barely read. "A throwing weapon that comes back to its wielder. We could... come back against the lords who sent us?"
"We'd have to take turns and guard the King."
The Knives agreed. It was not enough to block them in the councils. They had an entire season to come up with a different plot, or groom another Knife. The biggest threat, despite the sweet flowery poison of Dreev, was Basingbrooke. He was the one who sent two Knives.
He had to go first.
Strategy and debate raged, and the hard part - seeking permission from the King. They would not operate without his approval.
"You have to be lucky every night, your Highness," argued Dag. "We have to be lucky with it. Remember Pel? How close she got?"
"You scared the life out of me with that, I don't need a shave bit."
The King, sharing his meals with them as always, said, "I don't believe it's a good idea. Assassinating my liege lords would set a dangerous precedent and only cast me as an evil dictator. Find another way."
When they got their sixth knife, they did.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Garry518]
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