Tuesday, September 30, 2008

The King's Champion

The King’s Champion

By Scott Wilson
Word Count: 1,053

“Well, my old friend. Who do you think did it this time?” King Theodore said to his Champion Knight, Sir Trentzor.

“I believe that it is our old friend the Church of Palpatour again, my King.”

“Curse them, Trentzor.” The king yelled and rose from his throne. “Who do they think they are? This is my country and my rule. They follow a perverse, fabricated tradition of religion, not what the Bible intended at all. For God, King and Country, not the Godhead.”

Trentzor rose to his feet and followed the king to his lectern. The king flicked through the open Bible and shook his head.

“We must stop this nonsense, once and for all.”

“I agree, my king. What would you have me do?”

“Trentzor, you are my most loyal and trusted knight. You alone, can I trust in all matters. Your council I seek on many occasions, as you are as wise as you are noble, in your own right.”

“You flatter me, my king. I only do what duty calls for.”

“Trentzor, we have known each other since our fathers were in the same position as we are. I call you my friend as readily as I call you my Champion Knight.”

“As do I, my king.”

“Then, as my friend, what do you suggest we do.”

“As your friend, Theodore. I would tell you to banish these priests and let the people follow the true Christian faith. Allow the Protestants more freedom and restrict the rule the Godhead has in our country. The Church of Palpatour has killed more of our citizens and destroyed out economy more than any Norse invaders.”

The king turned to his trusted companion and put his hand on his shoulder.

“That is true, my friend. Too true. I want you to select half a dozen of your most trusted men and begin an investigation into this latest riot. If you can find enough evidence to prove that, the Roman Church had something to do..., no... anything to do with this problem.”

“Consider it done, my king.”

Trentzor left the King’s Hall and headed straight for the Knight’s quarters, at this hour of the morning they would most likely have just finished training the squires in swordsmanship. Within a matter of half an hour, he had briefed his select crew of the confidential and discreet investigation. While the official capacity of this team of loyal knights was those of the king’s guardians, their unofficial, and real positions were investigators of the crown, known as The Royal Shaft. Sovereign immunity allowed them access to places and people that were normally out of reach and beyond investigation.

With individual missions set, all members of the Royal Shaft departed the quarters and each made their way to their suspect. Timing was essential in all investigations as the Cardinals had an uncanny way of discovering any charges against them before even the king knew who they were. By the end of the day, all suspects would be identified and brought to the Castle dungeon for a little chat. Trentzor left his companions and headed straight to the cardinal’s lodgings in the east end of the city; greeted with the anticipated hostility.

“I don’t see why I should have to go anywhere with you.” Cardinal Grendal shouted harshly, spitting his words at Trentzor.

“By Royale Decree, Cardinal Grendal, you are hereby requested to accompany me to the Royal Palace to discuss matters of the recent burning of three citizens of the city of Harrow.”

Grendal remained seated behind the overly large oak desk, using it as a buffer and tool of intimidation. The desk was situated on an elevated platform in the Cardinal’s study so all who entered were just below eye level when standing in front of the desk.

“I have been authorised to use whatever force necessary to see that you attend this meeting immediately. You may come willingly or I shall drag you their by your ceremonial robes, Cardinal. What shall it be?”

“The Godhead shall hear about this. You mark my words; this matter will not go without consequence to you and the king.”

Trentzor walked around the desk and grabbed the Cardinal, ripping him out of his luxuriously padded velvet seat easily. He dragged the Grendal to the ground and halfway across the study before Grendal agreed to walk willingly.

“Now that’s better isn’t it. It would be an embarrassment for the Church of Palpatour to have its superior officer dragged through the town square now wouldn’t it?”

The Cardinal grumbled something blasphemous sounding and straightened his robes. Trentzor was mindful of the dozen or so young acolytes pretending to be busy searching the multitudes of precious books for some essential information the Cardinal would need to defend himself of these allegations. They were more likely than not awaiting a call for help from the Cardinal; to which they would answer with their young life if necessary. The fear of their immortal souls was greater than the fear of such an intimidating knight as Trentzor.

“Send word to the Godhead. Immediately.”

“Yes, father.” The reply came in choral unison. None of these boys’ voices had broken, yet they had most likely seen more sexual perversion than any aged prostitute already.

The girlish squeals and shrieks Grendal and his brethren, made during the questioning were heard throughout the castle, though none objected. For too long, the abomination under the guise of a religion had tormented and tortured many innocent souls. The acolytes did not reach the Godhead to pass the pleas for help on; those that refused to renounce their faith in the Palpatour church were kept in the cells with the six Cardinals.

The citizens rejoiced and held celebrations at the outlawing of this false religion in their country and swore an oath to defend their freedom from this oppression at all cost. No more would the faith of another country be forced upon them. At least while King Theodore ruled that was. For one hundred years prior to his reign no other ruler had the backbone to stand against the oppressive Palpatour’s.

Trentzor faithfully maintained his post under King Theodore, although there was little conspiracy to investigate in the years to come.


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