The king's new "Knife" has been there for several months. At the end of the year, he had absolutely no intention on using his blade. He understood, now, what was really going on, information he made very certain others knew, albeit, subtly as he knew there were those who were still like him out there.
Then in the night, another knife came, but instead of the king, they met the other 'knife' living within the palace. It was time for a talk.
I thought it might be fun to have one would-be assassin meet a former would-be assassin?
@internutter/challenge-02891-g334-a-precision-instrument -- LongTalk
He lived longer than the year he had expected. He had learned far, far more than he had expected in less than a handful of months. Yet, all of this did not cure one thing that Kris had thought was another ailment in his litany of woes. He had trouble sleeping an entire night. Thusly, he took it on himself to guard the King's hallways in the small hours in which he found sleep impossible.
That was how he met a young lad named Dag. He was a shepherd, if the piebald wool of his clothing was any indicator. Like Kris had once, this spotty teen was sneaking along under the cover of the night with a dagger in hand. The boy froze in the halls, trying to figure out who or what Kris was.
"Let me guess, Your Lord of the land sent you to right a grievous wrong. You think killing the King is going to save your fellows back home and you're willing to lay down your life for that."
Under Kris' patient gaze, the boy flinched. The knife uncertainly wavering up and down. "How--? Are you a witch or a demon?"
"I think you'd not expect an honest answer to that," said Kris. "I was a boy, just like you. Just like you, I thought a knife could cure injustice. I would hope that you will learn what I have learned, in good time."
Now the boy could see the pox scars, and the lingering marks of ill fortune as a child. Worried eyes met his. "You've been charmed against Lord Basingbrooke."
"Isn't he the Lord that demands taxes in wheat and leaves you a quarter-acre of potatoes to live off all year... then calls you lazy?"
The wavering knife lowered... "I'm not lazy. It's the King. Living in luxury and wearing fine silks from foreign lands."
"I think you're thinking of Lord Basingbrooke," said Kris. "The King prefers locally made linen and wool. I should know. I wear the same clothes he does... and so could you."
"What?" said the boy. His knife lowered even further. "How could you not strike a blow for justice?"
"I was offered a chance to learn what justice truly was," said Kris. "I had a year to live, so he offered me a year to see the world he lived in. It didn't take me long to start cutting through all the horseshit he dealt with. That's why I'm still his Knife after two years."
"Two, but you said--"
"I know. Turns out that access to my rightful allotment of proper food and proper medicine has had a great impact on my life."
"You're lying."
"You can try it yourself and see," said Kris. "The King's due to wake up in a little bit, he can make the offer better than I can. Come on. I can take you right to his bedchamber."
Confused, he introduced himself as Dag and his life story was almost a direct copy of Kris'. Right up to the point where he met someone in the dark of night with a knife in his hands.
Kris stood back as His Majesty woke up and took in the new would-be assassin with only a raised eyebrow, and caused much confusion by ordering three breakfasts for a morning tableside discussions about Dag's woes. Dag gained the same deal Kris had lived through, though he seemed more confused about it all.
It took Dag two months before he started cutting the Lord's effluvium short with his words. Including cutting down Lord Basingbrooke's claims of laziness in his peasants.
The King set great value in his Knifes. He never ran short of them.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Morrhigan]
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