Realfunghi Comics

I remember the day King Alpard left for war against the Vazantine Empire.

I remember the day he came back.

Flush with victory, he returned with many spoils of war. Out of all the gold, silk and spice the most notable plunder was the Blue Throne of Emperor Galacius LXXVII and John the Wise, the Emperor’s former vizier, now the King’s slave.

I was simply one of His Majesty’s valets, but I was there when the Blue Throne was placed in the grand hall. The King was so enamored by it, that he broke with tradition and called forth everyone in the castle, from lords to pot scrubbers, to witness its installation.

I can see why he would want us all there. Such an impressive and frightening piece of craftsmanship that doesn’t look made by the hands of men.

The Vazantine Empire was set on the foundation of shipbuilding and seafaring. The Blue Throne reflected through its violent swirls of cerulean and indigo waves emanating from the seat. Its color stupefies onlookers as it changes from one shade to the other wherever you stand in the hall. The stormy scene it depicts helplessly draws your eyes to whomever is occupying it. While there is no depiction of sea creatures in its carvings, it is doubtless that an ocean of life and death swims in it.

It took eight men to move it up onto the dais. Through many shims, levers and the cajoling of muscle, the throne was set down with a mighty thump that cleared the hall of all other sounds. It declared itself a seat of power.

All eyes were upon the King as he strode up the dais in his battle torn armor and sat down. The clatter of his steel echoed about the hall as its sound brought up a mystery. Was this throne made of stone or wood? Those who moved it couldn’t tell by touching it and to look at it; it has both the hard solitude of granite and the vivacious curves of carved oak.  

The throne was so large that it consumed the King. Applause finally broke out amongst the crowd when they seemed to have noticed his Majesty sitting on it. I noticed that only Queen Eliza did not clap as she took her seat, which was moved down a step to accommodate the Blue Throne of Vazantine.

Soaking in the adulation for a moment, King Alpard raised his hand, and we all fell dutifully silent waiting for our liege lord to speak.

King Alpard declared our kingdom victorious against the treacherous Vazantinians who have now come into the fold of the King’s good graces. This throne will act as a sign of Vazantine’s new and enduring fealty to our kingdom.

The King then invited John the Wise to approach the throne. The man was in chains and a rough spun robe that draped over his long form. Despite his shabby appearance, he held his head high as he looked around the room with dark deep-set eyes that drank in all it saw. There in front of all of us and in the sight of our gods, King Alpar ordered John’s chains removed as he was granted the freedom to become the King’s vizier. The hall was silenced as even the King’s counsel did not know how to respond. It was entirely unheard that a slave would be set free and then given such a position of influence.

A feast was ordered and I was sent away to sup with the other valets. It was an exciting moment as we were able to taste the exotic meats and spices from the Vazantine Empire. Even the lowlier servants were granted the rare honor of sharing in the King’s fare.

I was indulging in the roasted shank of a camel when I was called upon to bring the King a robe. Never being one to question my duties, I did find it odd that it was the King’s chamberlain himself who handed me the garment the King requested. He gave me a long-hooded robe of dark azure satin.

The chamberlain looked ashamed of doing so, and I learned why when I entered the hall. While I made my way up to the throne, I could hear guests whispering over a scene that had taken place moments before. The King took great offense to the chamberlain asking if the Queen would have a throne to match. There on the spot, the King gave the chamberlain a dressing down and decreed that he was to be made a valet so that he could work to regain the King’s confidence. The chamberlain was spared death for insulting the King but instead wore a noose made of disgrace.

When I reached the throne I saw John the Wise sitting in the chamberlain’s seat, replete in the silk robes and finery worn by members of the Vazantine court. What set him apart from any other foreigner was that he also donned the King’s livery, in the form of a gold chain and amulet. An honor that is not quickly given to someone who was a slave on that same day.

The King took the robe as soon as I offered it and in front of the Gods and Country, he began to undress. The gasps of the audience were punctuated by the clatter of the King’s armor hitting the floor followed by his gambeson, shirt and all else until there was nothing left on him. The cupbearer and I were quick to pick up every discarded piece of clothing and armor. The King pulled the robe over his head, covering his bare person and returned to the Blue Throne.

It was then that John the Wise stood up and spoke:

“Let all who bear witness share this news far and wide. Our King Alpard, Protector of the Lands of the Ghenhart, Vanquisher of the Fallen Men and now the Emperor of the Vazantine people has fulfilled the Prophecy of Abolition, where all men are to be freed. Those who sit upon the Blue Throne are no longer men but have ascended to the Godhead as their person and this seat of power are now one and the same. Bow and pray.”

And with that the lords and ladies in the hall bowed their heads, though it was evident that many didn’t know what they were praying about since this was the first we’ve heard of this prophecy. The silence in the hall was as full of unease as it was with reverence.

I was escorted out of the back of the Grand Hall and walked past the King in the Blue Throne, I could have sworn that I couldn’t tell where the throne ended, and the King began.

The night ended not long after that moment. The lords and ladies and their retinue filed out of the castle accompanied by the music of their whispers as they tried to make sense of the evening. It was said that the King never left the hall and is still on the Blue Throne unmoving, the hood of his robe covering his eyes.

I could not sleep that night. The image in my mind of the King slowly melting into the Blue Throne remained illuminated and fierce. It chilled me more than the night wind. I couldn’t trust what I had seen; it gnawed at me like an insect seeking a taste of blood.

I made my way by candlelight to the servants’ entrance of the Grand Hall. The room was dimly lit with candles and braziers nearing their end. But, never to be mistaken, there stood the Blue Throne. It looked larger than before, but that must only be a trick of the light. I made my way around it, passing my hand over its curves. It’s smooth to the touch feeling both fluid and hard, a sensation that I cannot comprehend.

As I made my way to the throne’s seat, I see the King still sitting. The hood of the robe kept his face fully hidden, and his hands and feet tucked further away under the sleeves and hem. It seemed that the King was diminishing in front of my eyes. Once a man of great physical gifts who was the measure of all men in the Kingdom, now is no larger than paltry beggar. I looked to where his back met the throne, and my eyes did not deceive me. The King was melting into the Blue Throne as the satin of the robe filled and slowly writhed in the creases of the thrones carved waves. My Lord was being consumed by his prize.

“Sire,” I said as I reached out to feel his heart for a beat. When my hand pressed against him, his body fell away and the robe crumpled into the seat. King Alpard was not only no more; it is as if he never was.

The sound of the servants’ entrance creaking open severed my shock. With footsteps approaching, I picked up the robe and in fear of being discovered where the King no longer is and found guilty of his disappearance, I donned the dead man’s garb. By the time this other nightly visitor made their way to the front of the throne, they would see a body in a robe sitting on the Blue Throne, and I hope they are none the wiser as to who it actually is.

“Comfortable, isn’t it?” said John the Wise in his unmistakable Vazantine accent, “The Blue Throne is not meant solely for those born a king. Any man or woman who takes it have earned the right to sit on it and to rule so long as they can withstand the Prophecy of Abolition and yield its power to grant freedom to all. Answer me this, valet, do you seek the freedom for all or just your own?”

My back sank into the throne as John the Wise pulled back my hood. Every carved crease of the throne’s waves pulled my body towards it like a never-ending undertow.

I remembered wanting mercy, but my words failed me as my ears filled with sounds of water crashing on the shore of my body.

I remembered tears in my eyes, but no pain. Only the gentle sting of salt.

I remembered John the Wise looking down at me as I looked up through the blur of the ocean. The vision of his body twisted in the waves gathering around me, but his smile was obvious.

I remembered it all.

I remember nothing.

I…

THE END.