Yes I didn’t write anything yesterday. I was exhausted after my first day if work, so I read a book and laid in bed. Now I’m back to it.
Write a story based on Gabriel Fauré’s “Pavane.”
Into the Six Kingdoms of Actovias
The bells had rung day and night. The ringing echoed off of the steeples and turrets, curtain walls and towers. “Dead,” they sang. “Dead, dead, dead. The emperor is dead.” Even the clouds agreed, closing off the valley, thick and gray, raining on the city streets like tears, had anyone been crying.
Cygrien had never cared much for the emperor, but it was also no cause for celebration. He stumbled up the slick steps to the gates of Violaceia, grasping a walking stick tightly in his right hand. His robes got in the way of his feet and he tumbled before the watchmen, clad in chainmail that reeked worse than an old iron pot, chuckling.
“Poor fool,” one muttered, stepping forward to give him a nudge with his boot. “Another push and we’ll send him back down to the valley floor.” The two watchmen had a laugh about that as Cygrien rolled to the side to avoid another kick.
He found his walking stick along the soaked stone, pulling himself up. Aiming the stick, he watched the watchmen’s faces fill with bemusement. “Be careful with that stick, old man. We wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt.”
“Be careful who you challenge,” Cygrien replied, grinning. He raised his walking stick and swung it around a few times, knocking both guards to the ground with ease. “Don’t fool with a wizard, gentlemen.”
He moved around the groaning soldiers, tapping on the city gates for entry. When they let him in, he would set everything right.
The letter fluttered to the ground, becoming one with the crème-colored carpets. The prince’s hands trembled, the skin boiling to red and dripping with cool sweat. It was getting too hot, even with all of the windows open to the evening mountain air.
“No, that can’t be right,” he quavered, shaking a finger at the letter. “It’s a lie.”
“He’s dead,” the courier affirmed. “His Grace, Emperor Eleazar Beardess II has been slain by the hands of Norman Blade the Arrogate, as he shall hence be named.”
“Which is why we should be leaving at once,” a soldier near the door interrupted. “Half of the Empire blindly follows the Arrogate, and they will seek to strengthen his hold on the realm by finding you.”
Prince Aethten Beardess closed his eyes. “You’re right, as always, Sir Kenric.”
“But where would the prince go?” The courier asked. “As you said, half the Empire will be out for the reward on his head. And what of the rest of us, who served the Emperor until the end? They will have our heads on stakes to be certain.”
“What of my Empress mother?” Aethten implored. “Did she make it out of the capital?”
Sir Kenric shrugged his armored shoulders. “The capital has been cut off from the east. We have no way of knowing. Only the road to the Kingdom of Tal-Taiorm lay open, and I suggest we take it.”
Well…that’s as far as it goes. Not really a complete plot, but its a good starter for a future story.