Free Kingdoms in Chaos by Michael James Ploof Page A

sobbed softly.
    “I will return to you. I swear it,” he said.
     
    Whill left the garden and found his personal guard waiting for him. They escorted him to the castle wall where he was to address the people of the city before heading out to sea. Whill hated giving such speeches, or any at all for that matter. His grandfather, the late king Mathus of Uthen-Arden had been a great orator, but Whill didn’t think that he had inherited much of the skill. He could have had one of the council members speak for him, but Whill wanted to be seen as a strong leader.
    The council was there to stand beside him at the podium, and the Watcher offered a placid smile when he saw that Whill had arrived.
    “They are eager to hear from you.”
    Whill couldn’t help but notice the way some of his personal guards looked to the old elf. It had taken many people a long time to accept that the eleven year old boy was actually an ancient elf of Elladrindellia. Many didn’t trust the Watcher, and never would.
    “Let’s get this over with then,” said Whill.
    The thundering of the crowd was overwhelming at first, but as he ascended to the battlements and looked out over the cheering people he found his courage. They called out his name with reverence. Here in the city they knew him well, for they had seen his great power before the Taking, they had witnessed his miracles. Unlike the country outside of the city, where rumors and misinformation were common, here, in Del’Oradon, the people knew the truth.
    “My good people of Del’Oradon, it is with great humility and respect that I stand before you today. You have all made great sacrifices these last six months, and though the winter was a hard one, you have survived. Our city was ravished by the dark elves, yet, we have begun to rebuild. There is nary enough food to fill your bowls, yet you welcome starving refugees into your homes. Even after two decades of tyrannical rule by my late uncle Addakon, your hearts have remained virtuous and true. In a country nearly torn asunder by the Draggard Wars, Del’Oradon is a shimmering beacon of hope to those who have lost so much.”
    The crowd cheered their king, and he took a moment to let their enthusiasm build.
    “But alas,” he said finally. “There are those who would take advantage of such situations for their own gain. There are those who would replace the tyrants that we have deposed.”
    Cheers turned to resounding boos, and Whill let the people’s anger fester for a moment before continuing.
    “To those people I offer a warning. We who serve the light will never relent, we will never surrender. For too long we have been oppressed by the servants of darkness. Never again, I say! Never again!”
    The crowd broke into cheers once more, repeating their king’s proclamation.
    “We have come a long way, but there is still much work to be done. I go now to the north, to spread our message to the rest of Agora. For it seems that there are ever wolves howling at the door.”
    Whill offered one final wave to his subjects, “Be well, good people of Del’Oradon. I shall return to you shortly, and I shall return victorious!”
    As Whill turned from the battlements he did so with newfound strength. His own guards and soldiers were cheering as well.
    “For one who dreads public speaking, you seem to do quite well,” said the Watcher over the commotion.
    “Thank you,” said Whill. “An old friend once told me that the truth rolls off the tongue easier than a well laid lie.”
    “He was a wise man,” said the Watcher.
    “That he was,” said Whill, and extended a hand. “Goodbye, old friend. I will see you soon.”
    The Watcher shook his hand, and regarded him with a serene smile. “Go well, my friend. Remember that inner peace is but a thought away.”
    There was a finality in the Watcher’s voice that was unsettling, but he didn’t press the subject.
    He mounted his horse and gave the order, and the soldiers began through the gates.