Trumpets blared, announcing the arrival of his Royal Majesty, King-to-Be, Raiden the First. Riding in his white-and-gold carriage, the former soldier stared around at his subjects with something akin to awe. All these people were coming to see him? Just him?
Abruptly remembering some of the things his advisors had tried to teach him since he had been acclaimed as king, Raiden straightened, smiling serenely at his subjects and waving at them. Whatever his smile said, Raiden was trying to keep down a combination of nervousness and jubilation. The jubilation won.
How had he gotten here? Once he had been a lowly soldier, doing whatever his officer told him to without delay. Then came The War, five long years of battle to protect life and kingdom. The invaders had finally been driven back not one year ago, mostly due to him, though he couldn't quite believe it. Somehow, on the desperate orders of the general, he had managed to rally an army, coming to the aid of his side in a losing battle. He remembered that day quite well; it was just what came after it that he couldn't believe.
Charging down the hillside on his mighty steed, Raiden's war cries mingled with those of his companions. The defenders, grouped sporadically and fighting for their lives, heard them coming and renewed their vigor. His army swept across the blood-soaked plains, defeating all invaders they encountered. The sorcerers Raiden had worked so hard to convince to aid them added their spells to the battle. Above the din of fighting, Raiden could hear one of them, a sorceress named Rheas, cackle madly as she launched fireball after fireball into the faltering enemy ranks.
Almost too soon it was all over. The invaders had either fled or lay dying on the plains. He was victorious.
Raiden smiled, filled with the exhilarating rush of emotions, as he had been then. Both were times of great victory, one for a country on a battlefield, the other for him in the coronation room up ahead.
Entering the high, domed coronation room filled with courtiers, Raiden walked on the red velvet carpet. It had been unrolled just for him, and he had experienced another jolt at the sight of it. Now he stepped on it calmly, walking the short distance to the thrown, crown and priest among joyous whispers.
As the priest spoke the ritual words, Raiden's thoughts wandered to what he would do once he was king. He would do his best for his people, be their guide, their savior, their shining light in the darkness. He had been a peasant, or close to it, once, and he knew how hard it was for them. He would change that. He would change everything. This was his moment of victory, for him and his people!
Absorbed in his glorious thoughts, Raiden's battle-trained ears never heard the deadly rustle of a poisoned dart against the air. Raiden jerked, arching his back as if to get away from the dart embedded there. Stiffening as the poison began to enter his body, the king-to-be slowly crumpled to the floor. He struggled for a moment to reach the projectile and pull it out, but he failed and fell still.
The invader assassin, hidden in the crowds of panicking nobles, smiled to himself. He had succeeded in his mission; their enemy's not-so-mighty almost-king had fallen. How easy it had been, to kill him as he had ruthlessly killed so many of them. But he had done it, and now their mighty nation would fall to the greater might of his nation. Satisfied, the assassin turned his back and left.
Started and finished 11/12/03 Words: 611