The next part was the section of the story the rest of the Storyteller’s audience had been waiting for. He dictated a fantastical story with flying ships, sea monsters, and battling armies while the children ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’d. The Storyteller was good at his job, keeping Sinbad, the children, and I entertained with heart-stopping cliffhangers and jump scares. A fantastic actor as well, he captured Jacob and Ava’s ways of speaking and moving so well I could easily picture the events in my mind.
The story emptied its secrets in front of me, my experience with other stories to pick out the foreshadowing and see the path it was going to take. Once the final piece clicked into place, my eyes widened. I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants in anticipation, listening closely as the Storyteller drew close and closer to the end.
Finally, he said, “The Mad King was no match for the combined powers of Jacob and Ava. The mad king’s army stood off to the side, torn by fear for their families and by the strong shared desire to see the King dead. They utilized the magic of this world and their powerful teamwork to get past his defenses and dismantle his armor piece by piece until he stood before them in his suit.” His feet danced beneath him as he demonstrated, acting out the battle as the children clapped.
“With a single, final blow, they defeated him, sending him flying into the ocean beneath the cliff.” The Storyteller mimed falling off a cliff, wide-eyed and arms wheeling before he tipped back, his hands grasping for something to hold on to. With enviable flexibility, he tipped further and further back, catching himself with his left foot just as I thought he’d let himself strike the ground.
“The Mad King had killed all the contenders for the throne in his madness, leaving no heirs. According to our ancient laws, in those cases, the winner of any duel against the King would be the next to be crowned. Ava insulted us greatly, refusing the crown outright. Jacob went to great effort to fix her mistake, accepting the crown, and, in a moment of spontaneity, dubbing my friend the heir to the throne and passing along the crown as the onlookers watched in confusion.”
Jacob sat on the throne, the feather adorning the top of the crown bouncing with the movement. It glittered where it sat above his brow, a heavy weight on his head. He bore it proudly, his cool gaze sweeping across the room. Cameras focused on his face, broadcasting his speech to the wider world.
“I am proud to announce that the Mad King has been defeated, and a new ruler has taken the throne.”
A tremendous thundering of applause and stomping of the feet broke out in the crowd, so fierce the throne shook with the force. Jacob sat comfortably on the throne, looking every bit as though he belonged there.
His face morphed into one of grief. “However, I am Ava and I cannot stay,” he announced. Fearful murmurs crashed over the crowd in waves. He waited for them to die down before contuing. “And so, it is with a proud heart that I announce my successor, who will rule over you with a just and fair heart.”
Anyone who hadn’t spent much time with Jacob might have assumed he was as regretful as he let on, but over the months we spent together, I could see the amusement glittering as bright as the crown on top of his head as the crowd hung onto every word.
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My friend stepped onto the dias, and kneeled before Jacob. Jacob lifted the crown from his head, laying it across my friends brow, and naming him King before the relieved cheers of the court. My friend gracefully accepted the burden–
“You’re friends with the Mad King?!” The child next to Sinbad asked, aghast. Next to him, Sinbad had pulled his knees up to his chest, a contemplative look on his face.
The Storyteller mournfully rose from his knee. “I was.”
“But why?”
“He was a good person, once,” the Storyteller said, his voice far as he lost himself in distant memories. The throne was too heavy of a burden for him to bear alone. At the beginning, he had his wife and I by his side. He would lose himself in my tales, forgetting the weight which he carried on his shoulders. But I’d developed a taste for adventure, and would frequently leave to gather and write new stories to bring back, and didn’t notice the madness brewing in him.”
“Tell me, my friend,” the King bade me one evening, as I finished telling him of my recent adventures.” I looked at the sagging skin on his face, and the deep wrinkles beneath his eyes, and the palness of his normally healthy skin.
“Anything, my King.”
“Have you heard any rumors of unrest?”
“No more than the usual. Why?”
An emotion I hadn’t recgonized at the time crossed across his eyes. “No reason.”
Two days later, his wife was executed for treason against the crown. Three, and he’d married some other poor woman. That woman was executed the next morning. His guards wouldn’t allow me an audience with the King, claiming he’d ordered them to ban me from his company. Still, I had to confront my friend, to find his reasoning. I used the skills I’d developed all those years ago to sneak into his chapters, and waited.
He knew me too well.
He sighed as he entered, waving his guards and attendants out and setting his crown on it’s pillow beside his bed as he collapsed into the chair opposite me. “I expected that wouldn’t hold you for long.”
“You killed them!”
“I did.”
“Why?!”
His face morphed into something ugly, unrecognizable. “She betrayed me.”
“Both of them?”
He scoffed. “All women are traitors. She poisoned everyone against me. They were going to rebel–I had to.”
Beneath the weight of the crown and the perceived betrayal of the crown, he’d gone insane. For every point I had, he’d concocted a story, reasoning for his actions that made sense in his mind. His paranoid delusions convinced him that even I was a traitor. At the first whisper, I ran from the castle and went into hiding. The next day, even as he murdered another wife in cold blood, he ordered my immediate execution.
He continued down his path even as men hid their daughters, sending them off to the far reaches of the world and out of his reach.
“What about our queen?”
“Yeah! They’ve been married for ages!”
The current queen, Shahrazad, is a crafty woman. The daughter of the Wizer, she grew up well-educated and well-versed in the ways of the court. When the time came, she offered herself to the King, swearing to her father that she’d stop the King from killing any more women. She survives by spinning tales each night, stopping at the perfect time and keeping him just hooked enough to keep her alive one more day.”