The Unfortunate, стр. 33

“Here,” Gildas turned the parchment over, reached for a quill and ink, and wrote the king’s title and name.

King Wyman

of Winnix

“Let us say this is the key. It is a poor example, nothing against you, Your Majesty, but it will suffice,” the owner of the academy stated before continuing. “Take the words know in for example.”

“Know in?” Wyman became even more confused.

“Yes, I know they mean nothing, but it is for explanation purposes only. If I wanted to encode those words, it would appear as such.”

1-1-1, 1-1-3, 2-1-1, 2-2-1—2-2-2, 2-2-3

“With this first set, the letter k occurs in line one, word one, letter one. The letter n occurs in line one, word two, letter five. The letter o occurs in line two, word one, letter one. And the process is repeated for every letter with words being separated by a long dash or other sort of divider.”

The king half nodded, a possible indication of his understanding of the situation. “Which language will have to be used to decode?” he eventually inquired.

“I shall not know until I see the key,” the master of fighters replied. “If this original letter is all you have, however, we shall need to go to the dungeons and speak with the prisoner who—”

“That will not be necessary,” Wyman interrupted.

“Your Majesty?” It was now Gildas who was confused.

“The spying bastard is no longer in the dungeons. He and his cousin, for whom he translates, are members of your academy, and they both survived today’s fights. At least the bigger man did. The other piece of shit did not even participate.”

Gildas nodded understandingly, but before he could reply, the door of the study was flung open.

“How could you?” the man who had barged into the room exclaimed. “You were given the choice to have him killed, but you let him live. Again!”

Wyman looked to his advisor and smiled. “Calm yourself, Pleoh, and we shall discuss this in an appropriate manner.”

“No,” the advisor countered. “I demand justice for what Yrre did to my daughter, but for over two years, you have ignored my requests, stating that monster had already been punished. Castration?”

Gildas again winced to himself.

“How is castration or any form of mutilation adequate punishment for the rape of a noble? What if it had been your daughter?”

Despite his earlier what if explanation, the king made no reply, but the tenseness in the room quickly escalated.

“Sometimes,” Pleoh quickly added, “I question whether it was you, Your Majesty, who was mutilated!”

Gildas’ heartrate doubled. Even as a bystander, he could not help but dread the possible wrath that could be unleashed. What ever happened he knew he would be in the middle. But at least he was not Pleoh. At least he knew when to hold his tongue. Only a fool, both the figurative and literal types, would speak to his sovereign like such.

Wyman’s jaw clenched, and his cheeks flushed, but he surprisingly displayed no other indications of having been provoked. “You are my advisor,” he retorted, doing his best to maintain composure. “And because I respect your opinions, I ask the same in return. Wait outside, and I shall speak with you later.”

But stubborn as he was and believing his case was just, Pleoh remained motionless.

“You are dismissed,” the king added with clenched teeth. Each word more littered with frustration than the last.

The advisor still did not move.

“Did you not hear me? You are dismissed.” Wyman’s anger continued to mount.

“You claim Yrre has been punished,” the ever-defiant advisor finally spoke. “But what about my daughter? Her horror occurred over two years past, but she has not yet healed. How can you call that justice?”

“She is still alive!” the king exclaimed.

“Alive?” Pleoh smiled dubiously. “Yes, she is still alive, but she is only a shade of her former self. You call that justice? Not I.” He paused momentarily before adding, “Have you forgotten the King’s Creed? A king is strong when all are weak. His is the advice others seek. He is the one who cannot fail. For he will betray his people. Tell me, King Wyman, have you been faithful to these words? Have you been strong when others are weak, or have you betrayed your people?”

The room became unbearably still, but Gildas could sense the building tension would soon reach its climax. It was like an approaching storm, a tempest that was merciless. It was like one trying to keep his head above water, being unable to stop the incoming flood and praying the next breath would not be his last. Not wanting to be present when the dam finally gave way, the master of fighters stood and announced he would be departing.

Wyman glanced at Gildas but remained silent initially before offering a nod. “Return to your academy and speak with the Drunishmen. Obtain what information you can and report back to me.”

The academy’s owner bowed. “Your Majesty.”