Fictitious 52 #12

So this one is a three part story. Usually I'd consider this cheating, but I feel it really does naturally split into three well.

 “Would you care to tell us the tale once more, General,” the king requests..

“Yes, general! Please, tell it again!”

A cheer goes up from those gathered at the banquet in honor of Drel, T, and Ikura, encouraging the former adventurer to recount the story. The tale they'd heard not a few times before of the cursed weapon and how it was responsible for leading these three friends and warriors to their kingdom.

With a smile Drel raises the hand he is not using to hold his drink in a gesture to quier the crowd.

“No no,” he says. “While I would certainly love to entertain your request, my king, I cannot.” He turns to his right. “Not when my friend, our Commander of the Guard, can tell it so much better.”

A round of applause, started by the General, goes up for the Commander as he rises to his feet. He straightens the long, somewhat loose fitting jacket of his formal uniform. His colors, red and blue, as well as the traditional gold of the Guard Commander instantly draws attention, especially when compared to Drel's earthy greens, somber blacks, and the traditional silver of the Crown General uniform. And when compared to Ikura's, admittedly striking, whites, paler blues, and Protectorate Captain's bronze; far more gaudy. Fitting, given their personalities.

He smiles, motioning his hands to request calm and quiet. Once the crowd has settled, he speaks.

“Thank you, Drel, for the humility. After all, let's be honest, you've never been all that talented at public speaking. Wouldn't want to bore everyone to tears.”

The crowd laughs at the joke. Drel rolls his eyes.

“You know it's true.”

“He makes a point, Drel,” Ikura chimes in.

“Alright, I think everyone now understands that I am a raging bore. Will you be proceeding with our story, or performing the fool's routine for the rest of the evening?”

“Tempting offer, General, but I believe I will continue with our story.”

There's one more burst of laughter from the assembled nobles before they fall silent to listen. T runs his hand through his wild bright red hair as if thinking on how to begin the story. He smiles again.

“Has it really been seventeen years already,” he muses. “It doesn't seem nearly that long ago when those strangers came to our village...”

---

The man sits in the booth at the back of the tavern, his table. He had been a patron for well over a decade now, the folks knew him. Old Thul. Not that he was particularly old. Fifty-Three wasn't that old in his mind. But he was biased. Old or not he'd experienced more in his life than most ever got to. He'd been an old soul for much longer than he'd actually been old by any other definition.

The winter had been particularly cold this year, which is why he continues to wear the green scarf and bandana despite having been sitting in the tavern's warmth for the better part of an hour, drinking alone as he often did. Occasionally Rina, his student, would join him, but while he enjoyed her company, he was generally happier when she didn't. She saw enough of him learning the sword during the day. She should be enjoying her youth as he once had. With friends like he once had.

He takes a swig from the bottle the barmaid had left for him and strokes the thin graying beard on his chin.

“The years haven't been kind.”

Thul looks up from his drink to see a man about his age sit across from him in his booth. He removes his white and deep blue hat and sets it on the table, revealing a close cropped head of lightly pink tinted hair. The years of his life are etched into his face and an eye has apparently been cut out, considering the eyepatch he bears over the left one.

Thul pushes the goblet he should probably be using, instead of drinking from the bottle straight, over to the man. “You're one to talk, Crown General T,” he says simply.

“The Guard Commander is waiting for you with half of the Guard outside of the this establishment, Drel. Or is it Thul now?”

“Pseudonym’s are generally a good idea when you're a wanted man.”

“Are you going to come qui--”

“When did you get so serious, T? Can't you just sit down, have a drink and a talk with your friend before you get down to business? How long has it been since we've spoken?”

The Crown General scowls. “Friends? It's been seventeen years and that's the same night I 'got so serious.' It's the same night our friendship ended.”

Drel smiles sadly. “Seventeen years. What a coincidence.”

---

The banquet had been fantastic. As usual, his storytelling was stellar and he had nobles eating out of the palm of his hand. And speaking of eating, it is a good thing he had scheduled himself for duty immediately following the commemorative event. He would be the ranking officer on the patrol of the northern city walls until morning.

Two hours into his patrol he notices someone approaching rapidly. As they draw nearer he quickly recognizes the figure as his friend.

“Shall we raise the gates Commander,” one of the Guard asks.

“Let's not assume anything, he may simply be approaching to discuss something with me. Better leave the gates down for now while I go down to see what is going on.”

“Yes, sir.”

Before long T is on the ground and Drel is standing before him. He seems winded, as if he ran the whole way. His brow is sweaty, despite the evening chill, and his eyes seem oddly focused.

“What's wrong, Drel.”

“Tell them to open the gate for me, T.”

“Why, what's happened?”

“That's an order, Guard Commander.”

T is taken aback by this for a moment before he becomes a little annoyed.

“Excuse me, Crown General, but I do not take orders from you here. We are within the city limits and outside of the castle walls. I hold rank over everyone save the Crown itself here and it is my duty to make sure no threats are allowed free passage through these gates. Now, Crown General, why do you wish for them to be raised?”

There's a smirk on his face after he says this. However, despite the response, he does signal for the Guard to raise the gate and allow the General passage.

“Thank you, and I'm sorry. It is just that I haven't the time to explain in fu...”

Suddenly a fire is lit in the castle's guard tower.

“Drel, what's going on?”

He looks back at his friend to find him with his great sword in hand. His eyes are cold, as if they'd just performed some type of cruel calculation and he was now acting upon it. Before T can manage a grip upon his own weapon, a staff, Drel attacks.

Had it been any other night, T would have been wearing two layers of protection under his standard Commander's jacket. Tonight, however, he'd come directly from the banquet. The jacket he wears now is for formalities, not combat, and he has no protection on underneath it. Drel's blade cuts a bloody swathe across T's chest, and the Guard Commander falls to his knees.

It seems as if Drel will deliver a killing blow when he notices T's Guard leaving the wall to protect their commander. T, for his part, tries to gesture for them to forget him and close the gate, but by the time they realize their error, Drel has escaped.

---

Drel had murdered the king that night in cold blood. There is an investigation and, considering T and Ikura were his closest friends, they were obviously under suspicion as well. However, given the wound T had suffered in an attempt to stop the mad general's escape, most assume their innocence. Still, T himself insists that he, at least, be investigated as is proper. Ikura agrees, after all, it will be the Protectorate doing the investigation. It is a matter of pride.

Of course, they are both found innocent of any wrongdoing. Drel's departure leaves a hole in the Crown Army's leadership that public opinion is quick to want T to fill. Following her coronation, the Queen agrees. There is a restructuring of the Army, Guard, and Protectorate with Ikura and T's leaderships being transferred and Ikura's second in command taking over the Protectorate.

Drel is never found.

---

Drel is silent for a while. He takes another long pull from the bottle.

“Get up,” T orders, starting to stand himself.

Drel looks at him, there are the start of tears in his eyes.

“Things didn't happen the way you think.”

T sneers, but he sits back down.

“Really,” he asks, incredulous. “Tell me, how did they happen?”

End Part 1.