Why Me?

Amidst the grandeur of the morning's devotions, I stood. The classical servants' movements, choreographed like a symphony, presented their offerings—a delicate dance of reverence and tradition. Like whispered hymns, their words sought to inspire me and fortify my resolve for the day ahead.

But inspiration, like the morning mist, often evaporates in the harsh light of reality. As I stepped away from the ceremony, the echoes of their well-wishes faded, replaced by the cacophony of my people—their grievances, their pleas, their unyielding demands. They swarmed around me, a storm of discontent, each face etched with its own story of struggle and need. After all these years of the same routine, I had gotten used to the same faces. Mr. Peeplen, the town's baker, was a constant presence. His flour-dusted hands trembled as he spoke of rising costs, dwindling profits, and dreams of expanding his bakery. Chatenrine Vox, with her unwavering determination, championed the cause of education—a new schoolhouse, she insisted, would light the way for generations to come.

And so it went—a carousel of voices, spinning faster each day. Ideas collided, clashed, and merged into a blur. How many times had I heard of the same proposals? I looked around in frustration for the knights who didn't seem to cast these people away.

Yet my father's wisdom echoed: "A king listens, always listens." But listening, I discovered, was an art fraught with challenges. Thundering voices threatened to drown my thoughts—their urgency, desperation, and raw humanity.

"Have you seen Vliman?" I asked Timo, one of my most trusted generals, who came to my side after I had entered the palace doors, away from the crowd that kept shouting, hoping my ears would catch just a whisper and be enough to respond to their wishes.

"No, last I heard, she's slept away at the children's hospital attending to a frightened child they brought in just last night," he responded.

"Why would you allow that?" I asked, straying my focus away from the list of requests one of my servants read as he walked beside me.

"She decided to keep herself occupied since she felt a lack of sleep," Timo responded in his usual state, prepared to give answers with a neutral face. That was the reason I always preferred when he came instead of Jicko.

I knew the answer to her lack of sleep. I had already missed three nights of my usual dinner with Vliman. However, I had no energy to endure another hour of conversing, even if it was her. I thought of slipping an apology note into her room, but there was no time.

Tika, a neighboring kingdom, kept pressuring me with more attacks on my borders. The generals kept pressing for more strategies on attack to keep them busy for a while.

Nothing worked.

I had sent treaties, requests, and gifts, yet I couldn't understand the source of their attacks. Their king was an ally of ours formed by my father two years ago. 

Of all the times we'd receive them as guests, I never felt any grudge.

I sent spies to figure out what they could plan, but they all came with useless information.

I sighed heavily, focusing on the servant's words to forget, even if, for a moment, the problems that were upon me.

"Timo, send a carriage and ask Vliman to meet me at the breakfast Parlor," I said, sending everyone away.

-----

Vliman's melodic whisper voice caught my attention. Her eyes, storm-gray, captivating, and fierce, bore into mine as she dipped into an awkward bow, her gown cascading like midnight silk; I stifled a chuckle. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Her words held both formality and mischief, a dance of contradictions. 

"And to think I would find you mad at me," I said, my tone almost questioning.

Rolling her eyes as she sat across from me, she said, "I know it wasn't for any wrong intention. I saw you sleeping in your uniform." She said, smiling brightly.

I laughed while forgetting as if the whole situation never occurred. Once again, as before, we engaged in casual conversation, exchanging loving smiles and warmth.

-----

"Your Majesty, we're under attack," the soldier's voice cut through the air, shattering the fragile peace of my meal. The golden goblet slipped from my fingers, its crimson wine staining the pristine tablecloth. Vliman was mercifully absent, engrossed in matters beyond our chamber. I dined alone, the flickering candlelight casting elongated shadows on the walls.

Had she been here, I would have glimpsed the subtle furrow of her brow, a fleeting expression of sadness. But tonight, the weight of the kingdom rested solely on my shoulders.

"A King always places the crown first" were words that scared me the first time I heard them, spoken by my father, as I stood beside him overlooking a used battlefield. Even now, I tried forgetting them, but those words clung to me like stubborn glue, refusing to be dislodged by time or circumstance.

There was a constant struggle in me: priority of my friends, my family, my first love, or the people who depended on me for their every breath.

I sighed deeply, and with determination, I quickly followed the soldier to the attack.

---------

In the hushed confines of my private chamber, I settled into the high-backed chair, its polished wood cool against my palms. The room exuded an air of secrecy, a sanctuary where I could unravel my thoughts without interruption. The heavy velvet curtains, drawn tight, veiled the world beyond—a world that now harbored danger.

The recent attack had left its mark, etching worry into the very walls. A traitor lurked among us, concealed within the opulent confines of the palace. My pulse quickened as I retraced my steps, pacing the room's perimeter. Who had gained access to my notes, rifling through my secrets like a thief in the night?

"A king knows who to trust, only with the power of sight," my father's words echoed. I had scoffed at his cryptic advice, dismissing it as the musings of an aging ruler. But now, as I stood in the dim light, I understood.

I couldn't blame Timo, or Jicko, for that matter. Even if they could be possible, I won't allow myself to go that far.

"I said not to -" I cried out but paused when I saw who entered my private library.

" I thought I had told you I would be the one to open the new schoolhouse!" she cried out, facing me with tightened fists.

I straightened, my spine rigid. "Vliman, you asked me to step back, and I did. I "don't even know the date for it."

Her nostrils flared. "Don't lie to me, Yoki. I —"

"I told you I didn't do it," I interrupted, my patience fraying. "Go ask Timo. If that is all, you can leave. I was in the middle of something."

She glared, but I turned away, my gaze settling on my father's desk. The culprit remained elusive, hidden in the shadows. I revised my mental list of suspects, each name etched like a dagger, waiting for her to exit.

-----

As the days stretched into an unyielding tapestry of tension, my once-clever strategies turned against me. Each move I had meticulously plotted now felt like a noose tightening around my neck. My notes remained untouched, their inked secrets etched into the parchment. Whoever betrayed me had committed my every word to memory—a silent saboteur lurking in the shadows.

Agony gnawed at my resolve.

The clamor of the masses grew louder, their voices merging into a single chorus of discontent. They clamored for better protection, their demands echoing through the palace halls—responsibilities piled upon my shoulders, a mountain of obligations threatening to bury me. Meanwhile, Vliman was absent, always by the children's hospital. 

 It was no longer I who lacked time.

She came to me the other night seeking forgiveness for her accusations. Yet, even as she apologized, her eyes held lingering suspicion. She avoided my gaze in the marble corridors, seeking refuge in distant chambers. And there, in the quiet of the night, I glimpsed her laughter—shared with Jicko.

But I couldn't afford distractions. The generals, stern-faced and unyielding, pressed for more resources. How could I do that when I worried one of them might give that information to my enemies?

And so in each battle, each skirmish—I led them, my mind a vault of unspoken ideas.

Only when I awoke in my room because I had fainted while eating my breakfast in the morning did I realize the most important words my father had given me.

"Never lose focus."

I surged to my feet, determination igniting my veins. The generals could convene and plan amongst themselves. I would reclaim my vigilance, my senses sharpened. And as for Vliman—the rift between us would mend. I sought her out, bridging the chasm that yawned between accusation and understanding.

------

The day dawned with a cruel clarity—the sun slicing through the battlefield haze, illuminating the clash of steel and the anguished cries of warriors. It was the day I confronted my enemies, face to face, on the blood-soaked canvas of war. And as I surveyed the chaos, I realized that the whole world had conspired against me.

They had pinpointed my ultimate weakness—the chink in my armor that threatened to unravel my kingdom. My plans, once shrouded in secrecy, now lay exposed. The traitor's whispers had seeped into every crevice, corroding trust like rust on iron.

For a fleeting moment, I believed things were shifting, seeking a resemblance of normalcy. I tested my theories, baiting the enemy with false leads. I had thought it was over. I witnessed myself, the shock of my enemies, when my true strategies unfolded, was a bittersweet victory—a testament to my cunning, yet a reminder of their relentless pursuit.

Amidst the chaos, I sought time for Vliman: attending to her needs, visiting her at dinner, and even visiting the children's hospitals where she spent most of her days.

Even as I knew my priority lay within the battle that emerged, I shook my father's words from my mind.

The battle raged—a tempest of courage and desperation. My generals fought with unwavering loyalty, their lives woven into the fabric of our cause. Over an hour elapsed, each second etched with the agony of loss. I called for retreat, my troops battered and bloodied. Wounds festered, and strength waned.

And then it happened—a searing pain, a deep wound in my stomach. I staggered, heaving breaths, my resolve teetering.

"A king never gives up," echoed in my mind, a mantra forged by generations of rulers who had faced the abyss.

Timo, steadfast and scarred, stood by my side. "Retreat as well, my king," he implored, shielding me from another deathly blow.

"I will not leave," I vowed, my voice a brittle blade.

If only I had listened.

Vliman stood before me quickly, armored and in hand a sword gleaming.

"Vliman, I told you to stay-"

Timo blocked another blow; this time, it was her.

"Fall back, Yoki!" Timo yelled again, but I couldn't get my feet unstuck where they touched the bloody ground.

My breaths grew more ragged; I blocked out my father's words and couldn't allow myself to believe what I was witnessing.

"Oh, she's not here for you, Yoki." said the enemy's king, laughing as he called his soldiers to fall back.

I tumbled backward, and as Timo pushed me, his attempts to get me to safety, but where? With a swift glance behind me, I saw my castle lighted with flames; all the while, Vliman jumped to the enemy's horse and retreated.

Were those eyes staring with regret? I couldn't know as I fell from another arrow that pierced me deeply.

-----

In the silence of the night,

My thoughts linger,

"Why me?" should I be kept from delight,

My thoughts pointed to all a finger.