A kid who used their strength and size to bully other kids was sent to Lord Kormwind, Kosh to his friends, to try to teach him, the parents were at their wits end and needed help. He refused to listen to them anymore as his parents, weakened after having gotten sick, could no longer get him to stop hanging out with .... less than pleasant crowds. -- Anon Guest
Whitekeep never kept anyone in chains. It was one of the founding principals of the king's family. Broken chains were even part of his family crest. That was why Jaylin Smith was so sure of hirself. Even as the realm's guards forcibly escorted hir into the very castle at the heart of the realm.
The king wasn't going to imprison hir. Thrice-Sworn or not, no matter all the rumours about him, the king would never hurt a child. He was famous for that.
Jaylin had hir age in hir favour. What was the king going to do that no other grownup could? Ze'd learned that strength and power gave hir everything ze could want. Bigger and stronger than every other child in hir village. Ze could plausibly be punished by anyone bigger and stronger, but that would only prove hir right.
Leave hir to do as ze pleased, and ze would. Punish hir for doing so? Prove hir right in hir ultimate theory.
The Thrice-Sworn King had one leg in splints and bandages following his victory against the Giants of Soo'raan. Only the basket chair he was confined to seemed to slow him down.
"So. You are the Terror of Waidale, ja?' Were it not for the golden device set with gems attached to his horns, he looked like any other Hellkin. There were grey-blue streaks in his hair, which he kept long and in intricate braids. "The little kind who thinks it's fun to beat up those smaller and weaker than you."
"It's my right. Spoils to the strong."
"Spoiling the stronger," said the Hellkin. "What do your friends think of your policy?"
That gave Jaylin pause, if only for a moment. "I don't need friends. I get tribute."
The king scoffed, and set his basket chair down some corridors. "Gekommen sie. Let's see if can keep your weltanschauung."
Jaylin had guards making hir follow. Well. Blocking hir opportunities for escape. Ze didn't have much choice, so ze followed. "You can't even walk. It seems like it could be a fair fight. I might be able to beat you. Do I get the crown?"
"Think you can light the Blood Throne now? Unglaublich... the hubris."
There was a ballroom with its floor lined with padding. There were twin rows of children, all younger, smaller, thinner, or lighter than Jaylin. A team of larger and older ones cleared the path for the king's basket chair. The guards kept Jaylin at the door.
"What in the hells trick is this?" Jaylin demanded.
"Your test," said King Kormwind. He came to a halt at the other end of the room. "All you have to do is walk to me, and touch my crown. My students will be in your way."
Two little pipsqueaks in white pyjamas stood in hir way.
Too easy.
Jaylin raised a fist to one and made to push the other... And found hirself staring at the ornate plaster ceiling with some aches in hir arms and torso.
The castle guard lifted hir up and set hir back at the door where ze started.
The two who faced Jaylin turned their heads to the king. One said, "Sensei?"
"Take turns," said the king. "More fun for everybody, I think."
Every wisp of a child in the room hollered, "HAI SENSEI!"
Jaylin tried running, and four set on hir. Two tripped hir and two more did something very painful to Jaylin's shoulders.
"Sensei said walk," said one of the stringbeans. "You walk."
The guards dragged hir back to the entrance and the undersized waifs shuffled about with much giggling.
The king, very pointedly, was working on some embroidery. "Go on," he said. "Prove yourself to me. Prove your right of strength and bulk."
Some of the tinier ones were giggling. One was in pigtails and had flowers in her hair. Jaylin watched in stunned horror as that was squaring up as his next opponent.
She kicked Jaylin in hir face before he could raise a fist. Swept hir feet out from underneath with her tail. And busted hir nose for good measure.
"Defend, liebchen," chided the king. "Not attack. Attack is the first resort of the fool. You're not a fool, are you?"
"Sorry, Papa," said the tiny little girl. "I mean Sensei."
Papa? "You're a princess?"
"I'm a student of the Art of Shadows," said the princess. "Just like everyone else here."
There was a very bored healer with the castle guard, this time. They made Jaylin's wounds all better, though the memory of the pain remained.
It was sixty feet to the basket chair and the king, peacefully sewing. Jaylin could charge across it in seconds, under normal circumstances.
It began to dawn on Jaylin that these circumstances were pitched against hir.
[Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash]
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