CHAPTER FOUR

THE KING

Now, I fear it’s time to introduce you to the evil King. You will have to look far and wide to find someone whose heart is as black and bleak as his. I wish we could avoid this, but as he is the main character in a later chapter, we must deal with him somewhere, and here is as good a place as any.

                                                                 

King Boyce, who was by far the meanest leader in a long history of cruel leaders, sat behind his desk in the lowest reaches of the Castle's underground labyrinth. He preferred the solitude his office afforded. It helped that the office location was so far off the beaten path that few knew it existed. Only his semi-vice leader knew of the office, and he took an oath of secrecy. The vice-leader in charge of knowing about the secret room changed weekly. Untimely accidents were a common occurrence for the poor soul from the previous weeks, for Boyce dispatched them to other, more dangerous parts of his city when their week ended. Some were buried in unmarked graves. The poor person chosen for knowing the office location this week fell upon Owen, the son of Smedley, the unfortunate person from last week whose absence didn’t go unnoticed.

King Boyce’s mind whirled with evil and sinister plots, which he hoped to release upon his loyal subjects. He’d unleash these evil deeds as soon as he achieved his current sinister plots.

He was a man of small stature with a beak-like nose and beady steel eyes. His massive ego made up for what he lacked in size. A thin pencil mustache, bushy black eyebrows, and thinning black stringy hair were well greased, so it wasn’t difficult to sweep his thinning mane off his forehead and have it stay in place.

His name-tag, which he decreed all public servants must wear, was sky blue with puffy white clouds wrapping around a name; Hunter Haines. Yes, he was too cheap to replace the name tag. Hunter was the King before Boyce and would most likely still hold the position if he had taken the time to become immune to poison.

                                                                 

Owen Braithwaite, son of Smedley, did not know the proper etiquette required when disturbing the King, which of course meant an appropriate request in triplicate sent three weeks before the required disturbance, which isn’t possible since the King kills his vices after only the first week. So Owen burst into the secret office with his arm full of official-looking documents and a warm cup of fizzy mocha latte. Boyce ducked and rolled under his desk, afraid the disturbance might be an avenger of a former victim of his regime.

“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty.” Owen paused when he noticed his King cowering under the desk. Curious, Owen asked, “Did you lose something, Your Grace?” 

Boyce’s face reddened. “You imbecile.”

Owen dropped to the ground and groveled, making sure he didn’t spill his latte on the exquisite carpet. “Sorry, Your Eminence, but we have a significant incident on our hands. It requires your undivided attention.” He crawled forward, offering the leader his free hand. “Let me help you up.”

“I’ll decide when and where my undivided attention is required.” King Boyce batted Owen's helping grasps away. “I don’t remember a request from you requiring my interest. So leave, now.”

Owen placed the latte cup on the carpet and got on his knees before he lowered his nose to the ground. “But, Your Majesty, I knew nothing about requesting a meeting with you in advance. I have great news.”

“You’re new, aren’t you?” Boyce asked without looking at his soon-to-be ex-vice leader. “I’ll cut you some slack. I’ll be benevolent and give you five seconds to leave my office, turn in your resignation, and depart. You won't find a better offer in another four seconds.”

“But sir,” Owen was still on his knees. “we’ve learned that leprechauns have entered the Valley twice in the last month.”

“Impossible,” retorted Boyce as he stood and quickly deposited himself into his sleek, jewel-encrusted office chair. “Leprechauns have been extinct for the last thousand years.”

“That might be true, but we have undeniable proof that leprechauns have entered our valley within the last month.” Owen attempted to unroll a scroll on the floor with one hand. The other hand held the now-lukewarm coffee.

Boyce swiveled his chair around to face the opposite wall. “It’s a free valley. Creatures can come and go as they please as long as they pay the Toll Trolls when they enter.” Boyce knew nobody could leave or enter the valley, and he laid-off the Toll Trolls months ago when the treasurer told him there wasn’t enough money in the bank to pay both him and them. The trolls took it hard, but there was nothing they could do about their predicament except plan horrific revenge on any unsuspecting soul foolish enough to enter their mountains.

“Your Excellency, have you forgotten the prophecy?” Owen shuffled his feet as he pointed to the partially unrolled scroll lying on the lush red and black checkered carpet.

“What prophecy would that be?” Boyce asked, even though he knew the answer.

Owen rifled through a dog-eared book and ran his finger down a chosen page. “A child shall reap the harvest of the unrighteous seated upon the throne. Rainbow watchers and unicorn shepherds shall assist in the conquest.”

Boyce laughed aloud. “Oh, my dear Owen, you have fallen victim to the age-old problem of trusting in prophesies. Prophesies are invented by holy men like myself to instill fear in the minds of their sheep-like followers. You can’t believe them.” Boyce knew the prophecy was the real deal and should have the proper treatment. “However, if it will make you sleep better, I’ll authorize you to search the kingdom, nearest the castle, and arrest and detain any child whom might match the brat in your prophecy.”

“But Your Grace, I know nothing about children or leprechauns,” Owen said, scratching his head.

Boyce snarled, still facing the opposite walls. “Trust me. There is not much to know about the subject.”

Owen stiffened his back and puffed out his chest. “But, Your Magnificence, I am your vice leader. It is beneath me.” He lowered his head. “Besides, I don’t have the expertise to carry out such an elaborate search.”

“Come, come, Owen, you can do it. Besides, you’re no longer my vice-leader. I can’t allow your complete disregard of rules to go unpunished. You are now free to assume a new position in my employ. I am assigning you as under-secretary to the under-secretary in my newly formed Search and Destroy division of Boyce Enterprises.”

“Thank you, Your Benevolence.” Owen shivered with fear.

“Excellent. When can you begin?” Boyce rummaged through papers on his desk, ignoring Owen.

Owen lowered his head, lowered his shoulder, and walked toward the door. “After I clean my desk out?” He bowed and walked away meekly.

“No need. I had your desk fumigated and burned the instant you walked in unannounced.”  Boyce held back a huge smile. “Might I suggest you begin at once?”

“Yes, Your Gruesomeness.”  

“Your first order of business is to find the extinct leprechauns and their hideout and then arrest all children in the kingdom.” King Boyce coughed and repositioned himself in his chair. “Shut the door as you leave.”