What happens when a queen gives birth to two, identical princes? This unique scenario brings an opportunity for the Caldine Empire. A royal family secret kept from the masses brings hidden strength to their empire, able to rule in new and incredible ways.
However, what happens when one of the twins has their own agenda, and fuels a deadly sibling rivalry?
Hello loyal readers! Thank you again for tuning in. Am a little bit tardy today, but hopefully this unique Mage Hunter short story will make up for it.
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Twin Kings
An infiltrator skulks the castle hallways in the witching hours, only the moon offering illumination through the windows. His feet were light with care as to not make a sound. One of the doors creaks opens, and from it comes a royal guard, adorned in armor that his dagger would fail to break. The inlet was his friend, the sneak retreating in its hiding space, now hugged tightly between a statue and the wall. The knight patrolled, walking passed him without suspicion. With confidence in his stealth, he gently hopped from his nook. However, the knight stood still thanks to his keen senses – and abruptly turned to confront the intruder. “Halt!” He shouted as he drew his blade.
Against the rogue’s instincts, he elected to stay still, all thanks to the man’s familiar sounding voice. He slowly turned for a confirmation. “Leandron?”
“Who are you and how do you know my name?” the guard demanded. The sneak answered him by lowering his cowl, revealing his young face and matching green eyes to be a brother. “Thane? The bloody hells are you doing here?!”
“I could ask you the same, mate. You finally completed the academy? Thought you gone and quit.”
“Momma didn’t raise me to be a quitter. Sad I can’t say the same for you.”
Thane’s handle on his dagger tightened at the bite of his brother’s words, “She raised me to be wise, wiser than to serve a corrupt tyrant!” the flustered assassin lunged with powerful speed. Leandron’s reflexes forced the blades to grind, guiding the dagger to leave only a minor dent into his pauldron. The two danced with their blades. Thane was like the wind, weaving around the guard’s sword with elegance and grace. However, his dagger was unable to find a chink in Leandron’s fortifications. Following a brief, yet intense scuffle, the two stepped away at a distance, squaring off to gauge their opponent.
Leandron broke the tension, “that’s what this is about? Petty politics? You trying to kill him over what? A ten-silver fine?”
“You’ve always been a selfish twat. You care nothing of what goes on beyond these damned walls!” He reached for a second dagger, one much longer than the first. He charged in with heightened pressure. The metal sang with each strike, and the entire hallway was filled with the heated air of grunts and clashing of steel.
“You have nothing to gain here. Leave now!” The taller brother warned.
“And you have nothing to gain serving King John!”
No matter how long their bout went on for, they remained at a stalemate – until a new voice called. “What is the meaning of all this noise?!” From an opened door emerged an old, tall man adorned in luxurious silk sleepwear, and a crown.
“My liege, no!” Leandron cried, but it was too late.
The king froze as the mercenary, in a blink of the eyes, drove the shank deep into his chest. “This is for all the people of Eisenhorn, you bastard.” The king stumbled back and fell clumsily onto the velvet floor. An ocean of blood spilled from his wound and soaked the carpeted floor.
“My lord!” Leandron cried. A trio of guards finally arrived to the scene to confront the assailant. The brother turned with a fiery scowl, “Treasonous scum! You will not get away!” The guards rushed in with their blades. Thane parried with all his will and might, but still was left with a few sharp lacerations as the blades tore through the leathers and his cloak. The guards backed him against a window, and as Leandron came in rushing like a spear aiming for the final blow, the mercenary struck the pommel against the glass, shattering it for an opening. He rolled over the window, narrowly escaping in spite his vicious wounds. Leandron spat, “Damn it! Find him! And fetch an apothecary, now!” he ordered. The guards immediately rushed out, leaving him and the dying king in the hallway. He knelt over the bleeding lord, tears in his eyes as he pled to him, “I’m sorry King John. Forgive me. I failed you,” he confessed with the depths of frustration and gloom.
The king coughed, reaching his hand up to Leandron’s chest, adding words of reassurance. “You…did well, Le-Leandron. Fear not…” he panted, struggling to maintain his life as death’s hand claws at him, “A good king…always has an ace up his sleeve.”
Almost right on queue, another door opens, “What is the meaning of all this noise?!”
Leandron fell and scuttled back on the floor, shocked at the revelation. “M-my lord?!” He rubbed his eyes as if he gone mad – a second King John!
The curtain closed on this cliffhanger scene, with a sound of trumpets striking an ominous chord, paired with drums and cymbals. The theatre was ignited in thunderous applause.
***
The two-hour long play concluded before sunset, and the crowd of attendees left with stark satisfaction over the show.
“Thanks for taking me out tonight. I had a great time!” a lady spoke to her partner as they navigated through the masses.
“Well I thank you for joining me. So how would you rate it?”
“Solid eight out of ten! You?”
“I’d say nine. I’m really impressed at how much they improved the illusion magic since the last time I’ve been here. I was about to grab you and run during the arson scene.”
“Sometimes it almost felt too real. They didn’t need to add that odor of burning wood. I was about to have a panic attack!”
“Fair point. They could’ve toned down some parts. But man, they had an impressive group of illusionists this year.”
“My mother said they didn’t use magic back in the day in plays. She said there used to be a whole stink about ‘ruining the authenticity’ or something.”
“Really? That’s odd.”
***
Authors Note:
Thank you for reading this short story. “The Twin Kings” is a play written in the world of “Mage Hunter,” by a halfling bard named “Berryl Ironfang” originating from a distant kingdom. While an old story, it has grown in popularity throughout the St. Celestine Kingdom over recent years.
This performative piece depicts a fictional tale of a kingdom ruled by twin kings, each with their own – and sometimes conflicting agendas. This play brings out a guessing game for the audience as they think to themselves which King John is which anytime he is seen in the play. One schemes to overtake the other, while the latter always finds himself at least one step ahead. To this day, people are still speculating which one was which, and this mystery drives the excitement of enthusiasts.
What did you think? Be sure to leave a comment down below.
A well-thought out play within your universe--that's some deep world-building! Later on, you could probably write a novel on the actual in-universe events the play is based on, and we can see how much the halfling bard got right.