King Harodin sat at his table, near drunk again. He had his golden cup in his hand. In the other, he had his royal pipe. His was the fate of a man that was doomed to die, and he found no reason anymore in life except to drink and make merry.

"The days of a man in this world are short," he said. "For who knows when he will die."

He was a little man with an even smaller face, soft and cleanly shaved. Apart from being royalty, he was handsome. What he lacked for in height, he made up for with his comely looks.

The table was in his chamber, a big affair with golden torch holders and furniture made from the best wood. The king's image was carved into every one of the furniture and the chamber screamed wealth and royalty. At a corner, there were chests of gold. Harodin was tired of the wealth. He was tired of his people not loving him. The kingdom of Kora had been caught up in the times of new things with peasants and common men wanting to have a say in the way the kingdom was governed. It irritated Harodin, drove him to near madness. If he were a peasant, he would find pleasure in other pursuits of life and leave the governing of the kingdom to those who were born for it and into it.

"Nature seldom makes mistakes," he said again, trying to convince himself.

He was a weak man. Maybe because his father and the king before him were strong men. Tough times created strong men; strong men created easy times; easy times created him, a weakling even if he tried to act like it was far from the truth. He knew. It was always difficult for him to take a stand of his own. He had heard of the police chief escaping with children of thieves, yet he had not had the mind to confront him, probably because the police chief was put in service by his late father. He knew he could have the soldiers round him up and have him brought to the palace. He could have his head cut off and served to him on a plate. He imagined it, and imagined the type of fear and respect it would bring to his name. If only he could do it, but he could not.

In fact, he had found himself lately thinking about the new ways. He did not want to be dethroned and would rather have the peasants ruling his kingdom with him. It was an idea that was repugnant to his most trusted advisor, Shear. Like most of the people in the palace, Shear had served his father and was now serving him. The man knew a lot about ruling that he did not. Most of the time, he had no choice but to listen to Shear.

Someone knocked on the door, and before the king could say anything, Shear pushed the door open and breezed in. Harodin swallowed. There was that too. He had no authority anywhere. Was it because he did not keep his beard. Shear, on the other hand, kept a beard that he made into twists. They drew attention to his prominently square jaw, the sharp edges that looked like they could cut through the toughest of rocks. He was also tall, much to Harodin's unease. Whenever they stood together, Shear would bend down to whisper into his ears. Harodin wondered if this was enough reason to depose his father's advisor, so he could find an advisor that did not make him uneasy.

"My lord," Shear said, bowing slightly. For all his knowledge and claims of knowing how to run a kingdom, Shear still paid his respects, when he remembered them—it frightened Harodin. What if Shear, one day, forgot who his loyalty was to?

"Shear," Harodin said, "join me and drink."

"I have come to give the reports of the spies, my lord. I doubt I will have time to sit and drink. I…"

"Sit and drink!" Harodin shouted before he realized what he was doing.

Shear flinched. Then he sat beside the king.

"I am sorry," Harodin said. "I did not mean to shout. You can go if you do not feel like it."

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

"No, my lord," Shear said quickly. "This is who you are, the one that speaks with authority and forces many to listen. I will drink as much wine as you want of me."

"Very well then, help yourself."

Shear poured some wine in a goblet for himself and poured it down his throat, smacking his lips afterward.

"What do you think?" Harodin asked.

"Excellent, my lord. This must be from our reserve."

"You did not lie," Harodin replied, pleased. Kora makes the best wine. Those peasants sure know how to brew wine."

"Those peasants are also after your life, my lord," Shear announced.

Harodin looked away.

"We had our spies tell us what exactly they were planning. Since your father died, they have no fear. Their burdens have been reduced and they have the time to meet and make plans. I think we should…"

"We are not sending anybody to the mines, but slaves," Harodin said.

"But your father would…"

"I am not my father!"

He hated it whenever Shear did this thing, and the elderly man was fond of it. It bared his inadequacies to his face and constantly reminded him that he was not worthy.

Shear swallowed and bowed his head reverently, "my lord."

He stood up to take his leave.

"The days of a man in this world are short," Harodin said, standing up and walking to the window.

From his window, he could see the kingdom laid out in all its glory. His father would often tell him that with the introduction of the gun, the future was here. He would say that the future and the past would meet and clash during Harodin's reign, and his greatness would be determined by how he would handle the controversy. Maybe, if he had listened a lot more to the old man, he would not have to depend so much on Shear for advice. Every word of advice Shear gave him, including clamping down on suspected peasants who were planning his removal had backfired. The plan was no longer out in the open. It had retreated to the darkness, but it was there, growing.

"Indeed, my lord. In his time, a man must do what he can to be remembered."

"Same thing my father would say."

Harodin turned around from the buildings, the roads, and the towers and stared straight into Shear's eyes.

"What do you remember my father for?"

"Buildings, renovations, and keeping the peace," Shear answered quickly.

"Would you call it keeping the peace when people resent you and can't stand the sight of you? But they can do nothing because they would be beaten or killed by your guards?"

"How did you come to this conclusion, my king?"

"I was friends with a peasant boy who did not know I was the prince. I would sneak out at night and play around with the boys, some of whom were my age, and some that were not. He spoke of the clampdown, father sending people he suspected of speaking against him to the mines where they would later die. So, is that peace?"

"My lord, the people would never entirely love you. There are some among them, some vipers and snakes."

"None of them ever loved my father. At least, none of those that I saw."

"That is why you would be different."

Harodin sighed. "You are standing. Are you going already?"

"No, my lord."

Harodin walked back to the table and took his golden goblet again. He poured wine from the jug and dropped it on the table.

"You haven't told me about the spy, have you?"

"No, I was about telling you."

"Go on."

"Some peasants have been arrested. They were caught calling you names."

"I don't understand."

"They said you were weak and being controlled. That you deserve to die for the sins of your father."

"Did they say how I was going to die?"

"What? No, my lord."

"Release them."

"What?"

"Set them free with this message: I am not my father. I will help you where he erred, raise you where he threw you down, and march with you where he abandoned you."

"Are you sure of this, my lord?"

"I am very sure. Now go and deliver my message. The people will love me again."

Without a word, the advisor pivoted around on his heels and walked towards the door. Harodin had already mentally dismissed him from his mind, turning back to the window again. These days, he could not go down to walk among his people without any disguise. His face had been on too much papers already and the people knew exactly what he looked like. If they found him without protection, they would kidnap him, or worse still, kill him for his father's sins. But he would change all that. He would make it possible for peasants to dine among men, for big men to not look down on peasants so much.

"We would have no food without these peasants. They till the ground, water it, and plant the food, then they feed the livestock and watch them grow," he murmured. Again, he was trying to convince himself as he was going against Shear's advice.