Weekly Expression #2 MS

The man in whom she appoints, could never have been more foolish. Or could you say it’s sheer ignorance? Perhaps this man is average, for his crowd shares the same mindset. This man, the glorious new king of Persia! Appointed by the queen herself! This man, along with crowd, each believe that they are witnessing an appointment to king; after all, they are witnessing an appointment. Sir Xalvador was Lord William's, the sleign king’s, closest man. He was held in high royalty throughout the kingdom and led their army into many battles. He lived among the king, ate and drank from his cup, and was treated as his son. After many years of loyal service, it was decided that he would be the next king, after the passing of Lord William into the next life. Unfortunately for Sir Xalvador, the next war raging was planned to be the greatly feared… Roman Empire. Sir Xalvador could not lead his men into death, but he could not let his “father” down. The first strike of the sword was easily the most devastating of mankind. Sir Xalvador watched his father fall dead to the ground as the soft dirt turned a dark burgundy color. Sir Xalvador’s heart was ripped violently from his chest as Lord William’s head made it’s final thud into the soaked ground; at the same time, the sword crashed through the turmoil of emotion, covered in a sleek red color, too horrific for the army to face. Sir Xalvador followed the sword up from handle, to hands, arms, body. When he did so, he was looking straight down. He, himself was holding a red-dripped sword, hands spattered provided for a most gruesome sight. His father layed motionless in a puddle, eyes open, staring directly at Sir Xalvador. Sir shut his eyes deeply, a single tear streamed down his face, and his heart sank down past his toes. He lifted his head, breathed out and… smiled. The throne was finally his! With feet faster than ever before, he sprinted after his army, who had not witnessed the sight. “The king has been sleign, the king’s dead!”, he shouted… without his sword. The entire army froze, fear gripped their hearts. The army was in confusion, some in panic. Sir Xalvador announced to his men that they (himself and Lord William) had been ambushed and the king was killed, he was merely wounded. The army looked down at Sir Xalvador’s armor, which was pierced and soaked in a dark red. The army was astounded, speechless at the least, for they did not know that the wound was self-inflicted. “We must win this battle for Lord William, long live the king’s legacy!”, somehow escapes this murderers mouth. The army is filled with a false passion for their loss, into battle they rage, hearts low, tears many, but swords high! Never before seen in history, the Roman Empire was wiped away like a tear on the beach after the tide goes out. Effaced by the Persians whose souls are raging like fire as they defeat the one’s who ‘defeated them’. Triumphantly, they run back to Sir Xalvador, soon to be known as Lord Xalvador, king of Persia! He congratulates them and they get sent back to their homeland. It was a long and difficult travel. For the army, physically, their muscles (every one in their body) sore from battle. For Sir Xalvador, emotionally. They finally reached home, such a joyous celebration! The next day was the appointment, in front of a large crowd of hundreds, including the military in formation, the queen took the sword from Sir Xalvador. Sir Xalvador smiles, and kneels down. The army chants “All hail Lord Xalvador, the new king of Persia!” “Ahh, not yet”, chuckles the queen, “I still have to touch both of his shoulders and then his head, don’t get ahead of yourselves.” The queen smiled at Sir Xalvador. She touched both of his shoulders and then his head with the sword before saying “I hereby officially pronounce Sir Xalvador… DEAD!”, and slices down through his neck. Sir Xalvador’s body falls over as his head rolls across the floor, now entirely covered in red. The crowd is entirely in utter horror. The army watches their last remaining leader’s head continue to roll. The room breaks into an uproar of shouts and screams, and many soldiers dive across the room as their swords pass directly through the queens torso. As she falls to the ground and breathes her last, she utters “Ah, but I was aware of something none of you were…”.