“You sent for me, sir,” Luke declared as he entered Anthanasius’ chamber, where he lay resting.


    “Yes.” Anthanasius said. He stared at the ceiling with his hands behind his head.


    A log crackled in the fireplace at the far end of the room. Soot blackened the cracked hearth. The floorboards ran from the doorway, underneath some rushes of varying colors strewn about the floor, to a fireplace at the opposite end. Paths worn by years of foot travel made noticeable marks in the boards. The paths made a triangle from the door to the bed, the bed to the fireplace, and the fireplace to the door. Another path between the fireplace and the single window hinted at many decades of use.


    The solitary window doubled as an arrow loop. From its position on the top floor in the castle, it commanded an impressive view of the surrounding country. When one looked out the window and turned to the side, he would see a rocky road disappearing into a once-well-tended forest.


    Anthanasius continued speaking, “Did you enjoy the feast?”


    “Yes; very much, did you not?” Luke answered as he moved toward a chair by the fireplace.


    “It was certainly better than my conversation with King Nigel.”


    “Why, what happened?” Luke sat down with care.


    “He didn’t speak to me. Didn’t even look at me the whole meal.”


    “He spoke with few people at the feast. Don’t take it personal.”


    Anthanasius suddenly sat up and looked anxiously at Luke. “Will you come speak to the king with me?”


    Luke hesitated before answering. “That’s what you summoned me for, isn’t it?” He turned and stared at the fire beside him for some time then asked, ‘Why must you bother him? He knows what is going on. He heard what we said.”


    “There’s something on his mind.”


    “Could it be that his entire kingdom is being invaded? Could it be that his people are dying and he thinks he is responsible for their deaths? Could it be that he thinks he isn’t doing enough?”


    “No, not that,” Anthanasius interrupted, dropping his feet to the floor and walking to the window.


    Luke looked at him with one brow lower than the other. “You need more rest,” he said as he stood up to leave.


    “No, wait. I mean besides the invasion. There’s something else on his mind.”


    “What then?”


    “I don’t know. That’s why I want to talk to him.”


    “Then why do you want me to come?”


    Anthanasius turned from the window. “I don’t know why.” He walked toward the door and turned halfway around to face Luke. “Will you?”


    Luke didn’t answer but walked toward Anthanasius and followed him through the door into the passageway.


    *****


    The door to King Nigel’s chamber rested ajar and he stood alone. He didn’t seem to notice when Anthanasius and Luke entered a few paces and looked around the large room. Rich furnishings abounded, with a large four-post bed along one wall and a heavy looking table near the center. Upon the table sat an ink bottle with a crisp falcon feather protruding from it, a lens, and a large map of the Rohian kingdom and its surrounding lands.


    Candlesticks with crying candles held the map down from the eastern and western edges. It was cold, and the map’s edges seemed to try in vain against the candlesticks to curl back up. A particular chair at the southern edge of the map rested away from the table. Paintings of the king and his late family members hung from the walls. The paintings of King Nigel’s parents hung on either side of the fireplace with his smaller painting directly above the mantle. His strangely-small painting commanded a view of the entire room and looked out through a window on the far wall. From that window, the southern sun entered and laid itself on the floor. It moved slowly, though imperceptibly, steadily making its way further and further across the room.


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    *****


    The king stood at the left corner with his back to the door. His head bowed slightly as he stared through the fire in the fireplace without seeing anything. He held his left wrist with his right hand behind his back. His crown was on his head and his cloak on his back; he remained dressed the same as at the feast.


    Luke tapped on the door to draw the king’s attention to his visitors. He turned around with surprise at seeing his friends.


    “Anthanasius. I… And Luke, hello. I was just. I, uh. How did you enjoy the feast? The venison…” King Nigel sputtered out, his eyes darting between looking at their noses but not their eyes.


    “What’s on your mind?” Anthanasius demanded as he pushed the door partially closed  and looked directly into King Nigel nervous eyes.


    “I. Oh, you know, the kingdom. The pressures that come from leadership.” He turned back to face the fire.


    Anthanasius went and sat down next to the king, who remained standing. He chewed on his upper lip as he stood there, a habit Anthanasius remembered he had from when they were children.


    After a few minutes of watching the fire, the king took a loud breath in and sighed. “My actions haven’t shown it, but I really am grateful you stopped to visit,” he said, turning to face Anthanasius, and looking him in the eyes for the first time since he returned. “What did Boniface and Cajetan talk about with you this evening?”


    “That someone’s trying to kill me through you,” he said bluntly.


    King Nigel didn’t show surprise if he felt any and sat down beside his friend.


    “But you don’t believe that, do you?” he asked suddenly.


    “Yes, I do, but I don’t believe you want to.”


    “Certainly not, certainly not.” He stood and strode to the fireplace and leaned one hand against the stout mantle with great agitation. “And do those two think the same as you?”


    “Do you think they do?” Anthanasius queried.


    The king gave a hollow chuckle, “Yes, I can see why they think that; they are observant—very worthy advisors…” He trailed off and pulled at his beard nervously.


    “I really am glad you are here.” he repeated after a while, turning to look at both of his visitors with moist eyes. “I’ve missed our days together. When I sent you…”


    Just then they heard a man’s scream from out in the passageway. The three jumped and Luke started for the door but the king called him back. “Wait, stay here. It’s probably nothing. Close the door.”


    Luke did as his king commanded and all three listened to the commotion from without. The king grew pale as he must have recognized some of the voices. He turned to Luke again and hoarsely gasped, “Open the door again; hurry!”


    Luke ran to the door and opened it but several soldiers already ran towards the king’s chamber with Semias Norworth at their head. They saw Luke open the door and Semias immediately called out, “We heard a scream from the king’s room; stand aside villain.”


    Luke held no weapon and provided a minimal struggle to the overwhelming numbers about him who held him fast and continued on through the open door.


    Semias rounded the door and saw the king backed against the fireplace and Anthanasius with a small knife in his hand, which he drew after hearing Luke’s futile struggle.


    Semias’ eyes danced with a sarcastic victory while his face feigned perfect seriousness as he intentionally misinterpreted this scene. “We’re not a moment too soon.” He said as the others began to enter the room. Immediately two crossbowmen leveled their weapons at Anthanasius and demanded he drop his weapon. From a half score of yards away he had no choice but to throw down his useless knife.


    “Dear, dear, dear,” said Semias, monopolizing the conversation as the soldiers closed in around their next victim, “is trying to kill our wonderful King Nigel the way you thank him for hosting a feast for your return? It’s good I was nearby and had time to gather forces when we heard him cry out.”


    The newcomers held Anthanasius by each arm. He looked daggers at the wretched man who came closer during his taunt. Semias leaned in and whispered, “Way to be a hero, you couldn’t have made this any easier on me.”


    A powerful elbow broke from the captor’s hold and sent Semias flying backward to the ground. The guards restrained Anthanasius again and Semias looked up gasping and bleeding. “Take them away!” he yelled in a rage.


    The obedient soldiers quickly hauled Luke and Anthanasius from the king’s chamber. Soon only Semias and King Nigel remained. The king glared from his spot by the fireplace and his advisor looked amusedly back. “Two more out of the way.” he chuckled and stared at the shocked king.


    The king’s face contorted in a flash of anger and he almost shouted but Semias moved in close to his face and growled, “These two… or your parents… you can decide.”


    Slowly the king’s angry look melded with one of helplessness and his face fell to the floor. Semias’ mouth curled into a sneer as he saw the outline of the king’s eyes going red. He turned to the door and slammed it as he left.