A Monarchical Mishap: Parts II and III
By Omar Ateyah
Creative Writer
II.
The next morning, the first and only person that Oliver saw was Tetzel. He came to the Parl’s house just at dawn, when the sun only made the sky a very navy blue color so it was difficult to tell whether the sun was rising or setting. Oliver had been waiting for him at dawn and when Tetzel arrived with is mule, he made his way towards them without any word of salutation or otherwise.
Tetzel ordered Oliver to place his wrists together and Tetzel tied them with a rope. He then guided Oliver on to the mule and tied him by the waist to the saddle of the mule, facing toward the back. Tetzel effortlessly swung himself onto the mule and guided it forward with the pair of them jolting upwards with the creature’s every step. Oliver felt his intestines squirm and his eyes burn when he realized that neither his mother nor his sister decided to say good-bye to him.
The mule would stop to inhale deeply and then exhale, as well as to take large bites from the scarce grass along the roads and the shrubbery, taking with him some of the beautiful roses that grew on them. Tetzel would then drag rough on the reigns to get the animal back to the task at hand. This process continued for approximately three hours until they arrived at Kalb’s Land.
Kalb was the wealthiest landowner in Mugwump and this was a fact that held true sans acknowledgement. Upon entrance, a stoned tiled bridge spanned a mini river that from the entrance of the mansion to the front of the bridge. The water bubbled serenely and reflected the sun that was by then brimming in the sky and rippling in the water as well. The bridge was beige color and beautiful chunks of stone were clearly visible on the inner surface of the bridge. Tetzel tied the mule down and untied Oliver and he placed a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and guided him across the bridge. Tetzel knocked on the plain black door that had shards of emeralds decorating the edges.
The door swung open and Tetzel looked slightly confused when a girl stood before them on the threshold. Her eyes glimmered more than the emerald’s did, the green like dewy grass in that time of day where humans miss most of the simpler beauties. The girl’s hair sprawled from her scalp to her mid back in a lively brown curtain. She smiled and her eyes crinkled right at the corners where the green gave in to ruddy and healthy cheeks.
When she spoke, it seemed as if all the creatures of nature were silenced as though attempting to figure out how they could possibly tune out the unprecedented girl with her mellifluous tongue, that was a concoction of ginger for its directness which was reminiscent of spiciness and honey due to the way its residue in the air left one with kinder things to say than originally intended.
“How may I help you?” she asked. “I am Malakah, to introduce myself.”
“Tetzel,” Tetzel said abruptly, his voice almost obscene when following Malakah’s. “This is Oliver.”
She smiled with her mouth closed, which was of little importance since it was all in her eyes; Oliver tried to prevent the gay smile that wanted to overtake him when he saw those crinkles that gave a whole new meaning to the phenomena of beauty and that of gentleness.
Then, a man appeared suddenly on the threshold his daughter having gravitated to the side just by his appearance. This man seemed to view smiling as a project that was time consuming and counter-productive; the corners of his lips actually crinkled into a permanent grimace. Above his mouth and under his nose, his skin curved slightly like someone accustomed to disgusted expressions.
“Didn’t we reach the juncture,” he began, by way of greeting, “that you would come here with an offer or not at all?”
“We did,” Tetzel said, grinning. “This time, however, I do have an offer.”
Then, naturally, he held out the boy who was presumably the offer. Oliver looked into those frozen green eyes of Kalb’s and shivered; this would be his home for three long weeks.
“I’m here to sell you the boy to tend to your land for three weeks,” Tetzel clarified. “Oliver Parl here will take care of your land for that amount of time during which, I am optimistic, a lot may be accomplished.”
Kalb was silent for a moment, and then he shouted, “MALAKAH! GIVE ME THE COIN SACK NOW!”
Malakah returned within moments and her father offered a hefty handful of coins to Tetzel who promptly counted them and then made his way across the bridge to leave without another glance in Oliver’s direction. Oliver was ushered into the house immediately and his first responsibilities were assigned without pause for breath.
He was guided into the vast yard behind the mansion that was, simply put, yards upon yards of green expanse that eventually lead to the southern region of the Pax Portion that glistened like a second planet from Oliver’s perspective. His first task was to collect all the worms of a certain kind that infested the grass, and his only tool was a small shovel.
The guards watched over him, their expressions unchanging and their mouths unmoving. He finally placed the shovel down an hour after sunset after he had just cringed at his latest finding: a worm shedding what appeared to be a coat of mucus. He shuddered again as he lay on the back steps; it was then that he was informed he would be sleeping in a small stable that was so deep into the darkness of the night behind the mansion, that the moon did not dare to shine there.
III.
At this point, it might be sage storytelling to relate what might be happening within the quiet and locked study of the Tri-arch. The three rulers sat in cerebral conversation on the splinter-plagued wooden table, each of them wincing when a miniscule shard of wood poked their fingers; despite the intellectual meaning behind their dialogue, nothing was accomplished.
King Ramo the Unknown was saying, “Demos Parl is a man of courage, courtesy, and logic so we must work with him and develop that Parliament just for such an attitude that he and his friends have depicted. This could finally be our chance at peace.” It was laughable how the young man stated his opinion as fact when his sisters shoved it away like a bothersome child.
Queen Elizabeth V retorted, “Once again, younger brother, you have revealed your ignorance and ineptitude; these are not people we could work with as a collective and expect any form of peace. We must gather a portion of them and, at most, give them larger plots of land and exceedingly minor roles within our judicial party.”
Now, Queen Mary Sangre IV’s expression had been that of a hungry predator. She had listened patiently, but the moment of pouncing could not be delayed any longer. When she spoke, her voice resounded at the end of each syllable like a knife briskly colliding with a hard surface.
“You have both revealed your level of ineptitude as rulers,” she began, her voice like dark and grey clouds, the caution of wild thunder’s arrival. “Many of the Parliament supporters have transgressed beyond tolerance, and we must not let them go unpunished. Small roles for the decent commoners should be established but only to give them a minor sense of importance, a distraction of sorts.”
“How do you think they have transgressed?” Elizabeth asked slowly and placidly.
Mary Sangre’s eyes snapped to their left and unfocusedly gazed at Elizabeth.
“They,” she said conspiratorially, “are very well the reason why our father decided to take the eternal bath in the Pax Portion, sister.”
There was no proper response to that assessment, so neither Ramo nor Elizabeth offered one. After a few minutes, Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and breathed heavily, her cheeks pursed inwards and her eyebrows drawn in low.
“Our father did establish some advisers for us in the island just north of here,” Elizabeth muttered importantly. “We should come into contact with them, and perhaps they could tell us how to, or otherwise not to, deal with this Parliamentary issue. We are in need of courtiers and new jurors for that matter as well.”
“We are?” asked an unaware Ramo.
“Yes, we are,” said Mary Sangre in tones with more life than usual; she had excitedly picked up on her sister’s sadistic strategy. “Elizabeth and I should grab the ships and attempt to evoke some catharsis to earn some assistance.”
“And what shall I do at this time?” Ramo inquired, frustrated with his own confusion of his sisters’ plan. “Surely, I must join you as the masculine arms of this party.”
“On the contrary, brother,” Elizabeth said instantly. “As male, you should stay behind and maintain the safety of our kingdom, the residence of our people. I am sure, dearest brother that you cannot argue with such logic.”
Ramo was speechless, but his stomach was filled with gratitude and a fire of triumph. All he possessed in his mind was the lust of powerful responsibility; his own mind shadowed his sisters’ ulterior motives.
“I shall keep a firm hand of Mugwump in your absence,” Ramo vowed aloud.
“Good man, you are,” Mary Sangre said in a mockingly good natured voice. “The kingdom will be yours for the time being. Elizabeth, we must begin to load the ships.”
And, thus, the gentle yet foolish man’s wits had heartbreakingly failed him in his first battle.