K i n g
Frozen.
For what felt like an eternity Adron Malvern felt as if he had been frozen in a place between Heaven and Hell. A place that existed in the mind and soul, but was not reachable in the physical realm. This place was dark and cold, yet sweat fell down his brow. It was lonely and barren, yet a thousand voices echoed aimlessly through his mind. Why could he not escape? It was as if he had been bound by unseen chains, ringing in protest to even the slightest attempt of an exodus. If he dared take a step forward, he was ripped back into the pit, deeper, darker, and further from his vision.
He could feel his body. He was not dead. Why did life feel like such a faint memory? Even the air around him was stale and stifling. Slowly his eyelids began to creep open. It was so much easier when they were closed. He didn't have to gaze at this world around him. When his eyes did finally open the amethyst pearls gazed down into what laid below him, around him, covering him. Water. The Black Waters of the Royal Reflection Pool. Designed by the king to amplify his connection to the Dark Side of the Force.
He'd believed by dipping himself into these waters he would achieve something. What was he trying to achieve?
He brought his left hand up to sweep the water from his face and suddenly he remembered. Adron turned his gaze to his right arm or rather what remained of it. The skin was malnourished and black as night, with five fingers hanging lifelessly from the dead appendage. It was little less than a skeleton at this point, preserved only by the Force yet he could no longer move it. He had lost that arm.
Now he remembered. He remembered the imperfection, the casualty, the failure that had come from him tampering with powers he did not fully understand. With the Force he had achieved a skill restricted to only the most studious of the ancient ways. He had breathed life into
NPC Treasury
and even returned that life into a proper vessel. The achievement had been amazing yet the cost was far more than the man was willing to pay. He'd feared the plague that took his arm would take his very soul, devouring it as a toll to fulfil the cost of life. But he was not dead. Not yet, even if in this moment he certainly felt it.
He did not stir in his own mind for too long before a blanket of light washed over him. His eyes rebuked the brightness, turning down to the waters below as a dutiful voice filled the hall.
"That is enough." Jean's voice called out, aimed at the downtrodden King. he carried a tray of silver, seemingly filled with a number of superfluous items. On his back was a pack made from a beautiful azure fabric that almost seemed to shimmer as he walked. "Your majesty you have been locked within this chamber for months. No food, no water, no visitors, and no soap." He spoke the last word with a certain emphasis that made the King's eyes glance up at the man curiously. The thought brought a full rush of embarrassment and shame to the man, however his only reply was a soft sigh before his hoarse voice called out to Jean.
"I told you I did not want to be disturbed." He croaked, his throat was dry and course from lack of use.
"It is the duty of the Chamberlain to maintain all facets of the palace, including those who reside within it. Begging your pardon my liege, but that does include you as well." He said, setting the tray down on the edge of the waters. He took hold of a silver cup, holding it out to the King. "A nice tea, fresh from the Southern Province." The King's fingers wrapped around the cup, almost meekly. Watching how they clasped the cup only made him more angry, more agitated with himself. Had he truly allowed himself to fall this low? Again? He sipped the tea, preferring it's depths to those of his own mind.
"Saraya?" He questioned. He had seen his bride to be sparingly since his arm began to rot, yet her role as the acting Sovereign had been one demanding much of her time. So even those days where Adron did wish to see her she was often taken with matters of the Crown.
"Performing beautifully, my King. She honors your House and Kingdom." Jean responded, pulling the bag from his back and rummaging through it carefully.
"Good...Good. She'll need to meet with the Trade League soon and representatives from GUIDE. These contracts need to be evaluated by the Monarchy every year and-"
"Your Majesty." Jean's voice was accented by a flick of his hand, causing a razor to flip from the silver file he had been holding. "Excuse me, my King." He said bowing his head respectfully for interrupting the man. His arms moved forward as he began to shave the stubbled growth that was forming on Adron's face.
"Are these not duties that you should be seeing to yourself? Lady Arenais is just that, an Arenais. She is not yet Queen, even with your proclamation."
"She is whatever I deem her to be." Adron replied simply, his eyes closing once again as he allowed Jean to shave the mess from his face.
"And you were never one to speak out of turn."
"And you were never one to hide from the Crown."
The King's eyes shot open and immediately Jean's hand fell back from the man's face. Those harsh amethyst eyes gazed into his soul, yet his own gaze did not yield to them, not this time.
"Your Majesty. Command me and I will take this razor and use it to cut out my own tongue, without hesitation. I am ever your servant and will be so until I die. However, the vision you have established does not yet have the legs to survive without you. The time has come where you must decide to continue walking forward. No arm, no leg, no head, you must keep walking my King." As his words were spoken he bowed his head silently to the King.
Adron turned his eyes to the waters below and saw something intriguing. It was familiar. The side of his face, cleanly shaven with his eyes a pristine purple glowing as a result of his anger. He looked a bit more like himself. He exhaled before leaning back in the waters, holding his chin up to the air.
"I've needed a shave. Carry on." He commanded.