Chapter Twelve - Age of the True King

Orlando DiCaprio awoke with a start, reaching for his sword as he rolled out of bed. His eyes searched the room, only to discover he was not in a church, but rather his bed chambers in the palace in Merisna. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, and shoved his sword into his sheath. But the anger that stirred within him had not been quenched. How could he, Duke of the Seventeens, King of Elenaesia, dream that he married a hedgehog? And a pink one nonetheless? It was humiliating beyond belief. And to ensure this humiliation never happened again . . . he called loudly for his aides. Within a few minutes three aides came rushing into the room, bowing low before Duke DiCaprio.

“Yes, my lord?” one ventured timidly.
“NO!” DiCaprio shouted. “I am KING! King of Elenaesia! You WILL acknowledge that.”
“Yes, my lo . . . your majesty,” the aide apologized, red faced with shame.
“Now, listen, all of you. And listen carefully. You are to send out riders, the best executioners there are in the Seventeens. You are to send them to every single village or farm or town or any place where humans reside, and you are to give them these orders. They are to kill every woman, girl, and babe, married or unmarried, any and all, who bear the name Cynthia, Cindy, or any form of that name. And if there are any maid child yet unnamed, they are to kill those too. No pleas for mercy, no bribes, no anything is allowed to sway their minds. I want them sent off, and I want it done NOW!” he roared at the end. “So let it be written, so let it be done,” he murmured to himself as the aides ran out.

The aides ran from the room, and heard him slam the door shut behind them. They glanced at each other in shock. What had so angered the Duke, or rather, the King as he now wished to be called? Something, that was for sure. Something had made him very very angry. But they must do what was needed.

The sun dawned bright and clear from the direction of the sea. The company awoke as the warm rays shone down on them. The blue sky showed no trace or hint of clouds, a much nicer outlook than the dreary rain of yesterday. The Bachelor Bears appeared to have been awake for quite some time already, and seemed to be finishing their breakfast.

“We sived some stuff for ye, for ye to eat,” Albert said, proffering some remnants of the rabbits from the evening before.
“That’s very kind of you,” said Jessica.
“Very kind, but in case you had not noticed, we can’t exactly eat very well with our hands tied behind our backs,” Edmund said.
“Ye can’t? Are ye trying to tell me something?” asked Albert. “Oi’m afride Oi don’t quoite understand.”
“Eat with hands tied behind our backs, we cannot,” chirped Yoran. “Telling you that, the boy is. Untie our hands you must if wish for us to eat you do.”
“Well, mites, Oi’m afride Oi’d ‘ave to ask Cap’n Ashley, before Oi do that. Oi’d ‘ave to get ‘is permission, of course. Ye don’t moind, do ye?”
“Not at all,” Kathryn said in that sweet voice of hers.

Albert shuffled over to where Ashley was sitting with Peter and Richard. Robert appeared to still be stuffing his face with some sticky texture that Edmund assumed to be honey. The others were trying to listen in on what the Bears were saying when all of a sudden a mist rolled in, and a light breeze began to blow. Everyone looked up from what they were doing, and glanced around. Something felt out of place, out of the ordinary. They did not know what it was, or how it happened, or even why they felt like this, but they knew that they did.

Then, out from the mist, there seemed to float a figure. Her long white hair, her purple and green dress, her lavender eyes, her bare feet all struck a bell in the minds of Edmund, Jessica and Yoran. It was Heather the Sage. All were silent, but Edmund recovered quickly enough to whisper that it was the Sage whom they had met earlier into Kathryn’s ear. No one moved, there was barely any breathing. The Bachelor Bears seemed to be in a state of hypnotic shock at the sight of her. She opened her lips, and seem to speak, was it another prophecy, or what was it?

Weary travellers though they be
Soon a new age you will see
For heralds of the news they bring
Soon the age of the true king

“True king, ye say?” asked Robert, interested. “The one whom all them prophecies been talking about?”
“True king indeed,” the soft melody and harmony blended together again in her voice. “The days of the true king are upon you, and you sit and tie up those who shall usher it in. Let them go free, or you shall stay under you curse forever. The choice is yours to make, the fate of Elenaesia lies in your hands. But remember, utter the words spoken to you, and you place your life in jeopardy. Set them free, or I shall return to you as a thief in the night on the wings of a storm. Thus speaks Heather the Sage.”

The breeze grew stronger, and then gradually lessened. The Sage seemed to fade away as she almost floated back from the direction she came from. The mist rolled in about her, hiding her from view, as a curtain closing on the final performance of a play. Still silence waited, hanging over them, the breathless joy of the audience, the seemingly impossibility that the performance was over, the sense of wonder of the happenings. It was all there, and yet it was not. It was all there, and yet, there was more.

The day was getting on, the sun was moving across its gentle arc, and the bright city of Eirtue had come in sight. General Hayden Potter raised his arm and signalled for the army to stop. Then, with a short wave of his hand, he summoned Lieutenant Pevensie, who seemed to be mostly recovered from his misstep that morning.

“Yes, my lord general?” Pevensie asked quietly, after giving the general a smart salute.
“Inform the men to fall into battle formation, Lieutenant Pevensie,” Potter said with a snap. He wanted to start fighting, and he didn’t want to wait for them to take however long it was to fall into formation.
“Yes, my lord general. Is there anything else you wish?”
“Not at the moment Lieutenant. Make this quick, I don’t want to waste valuable time waiting for stupid soldiers to move slower than they did when they first entered the barracks school.”
“Yes, my lord general. I hear and obey.”

It did not take as long as Hayden Potter thought it would for the army to enter into battle formation. Other lieutenants came and gave quick status reports to the general. Then, when all was ready, when all the lieutenants reported in, General Hayden Potter raised his arm, glanced around, and then brought it briskly down, the signal to charge. They rode or marched towards the city. Soon catapults were being set up around the walls of Eirtue. General Potter rode to the gate, where what looked to be the leader of Eirtue’s defense was waiting.

“Greetings!” he shouted up to the man at the top of the wall.
“What do you want with us?” the man called down. “What have we done to rouse your wrath?”
“It’s not what you have done, but it is what you have not done,” Potter said. “Vow you loyalty to Orlando DiCaprio, once Duke of the Seventeens, now King of Elenaesia, or face the consequences.”
“King?” the man on the wall asked curiously.
“Yes, king. What, are you deaf, man?”
“Who died and made him king?” the man shot back. “And I am far from deaf.”