Caleb's Journey
Chapter 8

At the Castle of the Light King

When Malachael arrived to deliver the message of the theft of the artifact he felt distinctly out of place. His friar’s attire, simple and modest, contrasted sharply with the lavish displays of wealth and might in the capital city of the human empire. In this, the showplace of the power of Victor IV stood many buildings of various sizes, tightly packed against one another as if to say, we are so many that we must have close quarters. All of them stood in excellent condition with ornate brightly colored facades and shiny red clay shingle roofs that glistened in the sunlight. The streets had an identity and teemed with life as the multitudinous masses bustled about in busy fashion each with their own destination.

Shops prominently displayed their varied and wide ranging wares; the clothier hung his articles of dress outside his building, belts, pants of various styles and materials, dresses, some silk, others cloth, all showed to advantage. Patrons bartered with the street peddlers for fruits, snacks, and assorted sundries. Smells of all kinds, such as roasting meats and baking breads wafted through the air and aroused the monk’s senses. The clanging of a smith busy at his forge rang in his ears. The clomping of horses hooves, including his own, echoed on the brick pathways.

Malachael dismounted at the livery and left Nistor in the care of the hostler. Before him stood the guilds which represented every trade in the realm. Each signified by the emblems above their respective doors, telling all potential customers what wares to expect upon entry. In front of some shops, a boy stood outside announcing the exciting articles for sale behind the door. Everywhere he looked he saw the same message: in this place you are safe, commerce is protected here, while discord may have its place outside this city, peace and prosperity reign supreme in the home of a human king!

When compared to the pastoral surroundings of the temple, Malachael’s new environment made him feel as though he had been transported to another world. As he continued his walk, he noted that in the absence of a merchant establishment, street performers sometimes filled the entrepreneurial void between them; fire-eaters downed their flaming sticks to the amazement of onlookers, jugglers strolled as they juggled multiple objects and exhibited their excellent dexterity, tumblers did handsprings, gathered into pyramids, and performed handstands. Fortune tellers sat behind their tables and told patrons what futures they beheld numbered but some of the varied performers.

Town criers ranged the streets shouting news of the trial of some criminal or other, the time, or some other kernel of information. Wading through this sea of activity towards his destination, the Palace Brilliant, Malachael found himself awash with feelings of pity for those he beheld, for to him they scurried about in search of goods, prizing the material world. “A short-sighted outlook on things, to be so consumed with worldly goods, for the brevity of the worldly existence passes in but the blink of an eye,” he told himself. “I don’t see an abundance of man helping man. Uua preserve them, they know not what they do.”

So he continued on his path, burdened by what in his mind constituted very sad news, the weight of which slowed his normally rapid gait. Who among us desires to deliver unwelcome information with great alacrity? Most stall the presentation of such unwanted tidings out of consideration for the receiver, known or unknown.

A mysterious, innocent-faced, blue-eyed girl with flowing flaxen hair crossed his path and for some reason unbeknownst to him, he felt compelled to follow her and to see her face before he changed the world with his sad news. Somehow, he felt a connection to this woman, yet despite his inner reflection as to when or where their destinies might have overlapped, he felt ignorant. After pursuing her through the crowd for a few moments she paused and looked over her shoulder. Their gazes met and she flashed him a warm, welcoming smile before she disappeared into a throng of people, lost to his further tracking.

Thus, he resumed his march to the palace and the court of the Light King, slumping as he walked towards his destination, weighed down by the heavy burden of his information. While he had never visited the Luminous City any person who had or had not traversed to that place had no difficulty in spotting the Palace Brilliant. Even he, who had experienced a great many things in his long life, marveled at its opulence.

The castle stood on a raised parcel of land on the outskirts of town situated there for better defense against the marauding hordes, monsters, and other invaders, from a time long since passed. Lumanous the Great triumphed in the War of the Five Kingdoms, then defeated the other races in a military campaign that spanned thirty years of his life and set the world on its present course. Ramparts that previously encircled and protected the castle had been taken down and the bricks used to build the many testaments to commerce previously mentioned. What remained, an imposing completely refinished structure with a turret at each corner, linking the walls, had gold dust mixed into the composition so that the palace reflected brightly in the light of the sun.

That light that radiated without suggested the brightness that emanated from within for inside dwelt the most powerful monarch on the planet surrounded by his court of knights and nobles. Courtiers from the other major allied races, elves, dwarves, and tigans, all had residences in the castle from which to advance their respective ends and intrigue against those of the others. In addition to their political jostling, the ideas from the various cultures intermingled and court served as the center of knowledge and fashion.

As Malachael approached the steps that led to the entrance of the castle, he felt pangs of guilt for not having better served Uua and for the task with which he was now charged for the despair he anticipated its delivery would produce. An elite group of knights stood guard outside the castle, more for show than protection, for the Light King felt perfectly at ease in his abode and had little to fear from armed invaders. From the group a large knight stepped forth and bade Malachael to halt. He spoke with a deep, booming voice,

“Sir, what business do you have in the castle?”

To this, Malachael reached inside his robe and produced a letter from Summal and replied, “I carry a letter bearing the seal of Master Summal, from the Order of Tears. I have most urgent news, which must reach the ears of the Light King immediately.” The menacing knight stepped forth, took the letter, examined and politely said, “Enter, please.” He waved his hand and barked, “Raise the gate!” At his command a great winch was activated and the shiny, great oak wooden gate was raised by the movement of a thick, heavy chain, the clinking of which was heard by all. The gate groaned as it was raised upwards, the knights moved aside, and the castle’s newest entrant ascended the massive, marble steps and made his way into the colossal structure.

Once inside the courtyard, Malachael beheld grandeur on no less a scale than that of the outside of the fortress. Immaculately manicured lawns of lush green grass ranged the entire walkway that led to the interior dwelling. Large, flowing fountains stood in carefully selected places, designed to enhance the aesthetics of the grounds as well as provide a sense of serenity to all who passed them. Bright flowers of every variety occupied expansive flower beds that carefully dotted the landscape. Rows of perfectly edged bushes stood against the inner walls so as to provide the perfect canvas for the aforementioned array of colors. Statues of Victor IV’s ancestors were strategically placed on the grounds. Visitors walked upon a golden pathway that cut through the center of this spectacle and passed between two large wooden doors.

Inside the castle, Malachael was greeted by a well-dressed, fast-talking emissary of the king whose words seemed to move as rapidly as his feet, “Good morning, sir. In order to direct you I need to know the nature of your business. The guards have seen fit to let you by, now I’ll lead you to your destination. Your name, please.”

“

Malachael of the Order of the Tear.”

“

Order of the Tear. Don’t know it. Never heard of it.”

Malachael felt that people such as this man tried his patience, “I’m sorry you don’t know it, but I have pressing business with the king. Recent events have transpired that warrant his immediate attention. This letter of conduct from my master grants me admittance to the great hall and when I stand before the king, I will deliver my message which is for his ears and his ears alone.”

The quick moving clerk took the paper from Malachael’s hand, eyed it rapidly as his mind processed the relevant pieces of information. He folded it back up, politely handed it back to its owner, and said, “All seems to be in order. I shall conduct you to a room where you can place your things and rest. You will be notified when dinner is served and conducted to a table befitting your station. Thereafter, you will have your chance to stand before our sovereign lord.”