The King's guard and the King layer

*The Kingsguard and the Kingslayer.* “Pick only one.” The old librarian had said. So I headed straight for the fantasy section, browsed through the books. I wrestled indecision for a bit, reaching for a thin volume. “The Kingsguard and the Kingslayer.” It sounded a bit cliché, but I liked the simplicity. I just didn’t have the mental power for some philosophical thriller nor glorious adventure at the moment. I found a seat. And I read. *** Its pages told of two kingdoms in ancient times. Eleron and Ashmoor, both of which had been at war for centuries past. It opened with the death of two kings. One murdered in his bedroom, the other assassinated on his flight to safer grounds. But then, the story took a surprising turn, its lens shifting to two knights. One, leader of the Kingsguard of Eleron, the other, a sellsword of Ashmoor. The Kingsguard had been away on the night his king was murdered. The sellsword had assassinated the rival king. Filled with guilt and vengeance, the Kingsguard set out to find the Kingslayer. The last line of the story read... “On the plains of Morrowhill, clangs of steel and dying screams echoed. The golden serpent and the black raven had gone head to head in battle, once again. Yet, in this great and noble war, the Kingsguard was nowhere to be found...” The ink came to an end, leaving a large portion of blank paper beneath. I took a deep breath and I picked up the pen. *** Soft tangs of steel echoed in the forest as the Kingsguard walked down a curved carved path in between the trees. When he reached the end, the road stretched into a clearing, a small cabin within. Outside the cabin, a man clad in steel was seated atop a fallen log. He lifted his gaze as the Kingsguard approached. The Kingsguard came to a halt at the end of the path. “Are you the one they call Kingslayer?” “Would you be here if I wasn’t?” Both men spoke calmly, silence stretching between their words. The Kingslayer leaned back, tilting his head. “Doesn’t it feel a little familiar? Leaving a great and noble cause for a personal feud?” The Kingsguard clenched his fists. Then he sighed. “All these years, waiting for this moment. Yet faced with it, all that anger fades to dust…” he said, sitting beside a nearby tree. The Kingslayer exhaled. “Do you have a son, Kingsguard?” The Kingsguard stiffened. “That doesn’t justify any of your actions.” “Perhaps. But one had to die that night. I spared a child for a man who was bound to die, one way or another.” So the Kingslayer stood and unsheathed his sword. “Come now, if you must, I’ve had enough of idle chatter.” But the Kingsguard sighed, standing up as well. “I do have a greater cause to attend to.”

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