The Unfortunate

for the feeling that his heart would burst from his chest to cease. It was not until he had regained his composure that he finally moved. He first used the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his forehead. Then needing to calm himself further and to clear his mind, the king pushed the blankets away and inched to the side of the bed. He sat momentarily before exhaling deeply and standing to his full height. Whatever the reason for the dream, he still did not understand. There had to be a purpose for the vision, but the truth would have to wait. In time it would be revealed. The king was certain. There were matters of diplomatic importance that required his attention. Having expressed another deep sigh, he walked across the room, but before he could enter the adjoining chamber, the alarm bell sounded. And in those few seconds, the odd dream had become the least of his worries.
DONG DONG! DONG DONG! DONG DONG! DONG DONG! DONG DONG! DONG DONG!
The alarm bell rarely indicated an existence of absolute danger. During Beadurof’s life there had been only two occasions when an attack had occurred that could have been considered reason for concern, and those instances had been when he was still a boy. Lesser uprisings such as angry mobs were to be expected annually, but they never escalated to more than a minor brawl between the guards and the rioters. Nevertheless, no matter the situation, the king never underestimated what it could be or what danger awaited.
DONG DONG! DONG DONG! DONG DONG! DONG DONG! DONG DONG! DONG DONG!
As the bell continued to announce its warning, Beadurof pushed open the door, rushed through the next room, and did the same for the door that led to the main passage. The king quickened his pace, and he almost slipped as he sharply turned a corner, but it was not the near fall that caused his heart to return to an irregular tempo. Despite the momentum he had developed, Beadurof halted when he saw two dark forms emerge from the shadows, but he soon recognized the intruders as his advisor, Raedan, and one of his sworn shields.
“I was coming to wake you, Your Majesty,” Raedan explained. “There is something requiring your attention.”
Wake me? As if the bells had not been enough? But he kept the thought to himself and instead inquired, “What of Marlisa?” The king’s concern for his wife was spoken hastily.
“No. The queen is safe.”
“Then what is awry?”
“A thief,” Raedan answered, placed a hand on the king’s shoulder, and guided him toward the great hall.
“How is this possible? Are there not guards monitoring the perimeters?”
“There are. Every twenty paces as you ordered, but—”
“I want you to find who is responsible,” the king interrupted with heightened aggravation. “And see to it that he is punished.”
“As you see fit.” The advisor nodded to the trailing knight who quickly pivoted and disappeared into the darkness of the passageway.
Beadurof remained silent a moment, but he did not avert his vision as he continued to pace briskly. Numerous questions raced through his mind, and he eventually expressed one of them to the advisor. “Have you spoken with this thief?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He claimed no harm was intended.”
Of course the thief had proclaimed no harm had been intended! Has an intruder ever admitted to his wrongdoing? The king snorted sarcastically.He wanted nothing more than to expose his advisor’s witlessness, but he again kept his thought private and instead inquired, “Then what was his purpose?”
“Food. Gold. Weapons. Perhaps clothing. I do not know.”
“Did you not ask?” By this point Beadurof had had enough of his advisor’s vagueness, and he was prepared to make his distaste known. One more pathetic response, and I shall!
“Forgive my lack of information, but I thought you would prefer to question his motives,” Raedan replied with a smile before pushing open the doors of the great hall.
The king of Armania nodded before glancing toward the far end of the great room where a small group had gathered, and he hurried to join them. He went first to his wife and embraced her. “Are you hurt?” He could feel her still trembling slightly, but he knew she would never admit her true feelings. Never had she displayed weakness.
“Startled but nothing more.”
He nodded and kissed her brow. Beadurof kept his arm wrapped around Marlisa as he turned to the guards who had gathered. He noticed they all had swords drawn and all the blades were pointed at a young man who knelt. Initially the king almost howled with laughter because of the absurdity of the situation. The so-called thief did not appear to be able to fend for himself. It was more than apparent that he was not able to wield a sword properly let alone any weapon. In a way Beadurof almost pitied the man. Had the thief been caught, depending on his determination, the guards would have been cleaning blood and carrying away his corpse. The man would never have survived a fight. Despite such feelings of sympathy, which were only minute, the king did not tolerate those who opposed justice, especially if it were he who had been wronged. He quickly dismissed his thoughts, and in a tone that clearly suggested authority, Beadurof inquired, “Do you know who I am?”
The thief kept his head lowered and did not answer.
The monarch knew it was an act, but he remained calm and offered a different inquiry.
“Did you not hear me?”
Silence.
Now it is more than an act. One thing he could not stand was ignorance, and worse still was intentional ignorance. Stubborn piece of filth! His patience had been worn thin, and he quickly left his wife’s side, approached the man, forced him to alter his vision, and exclaimed, “I am King Beadurof of Armania, and your kind is unwelcome!” He almost concluded with a spat but stopped himself.
“My kind?” The thief finally spoke. “I know who you are, Your Majesty. I have lived in Caberton my entire