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In the world of monarchy, death, and sorcery, life could be eternal, only if handed to you. The kings of the land were great, powerful beings, towering over every single one as long as the crown sat atop their heads.
Legends foretold the crown cursed. That when the Mad King struck, the crown hereunto would forever be poisoned.
She was but a young girl when the elders of the land spoke of the Mad King. He was a ruthless ruler, unlike the original king, so caring, albeit unwise in some decisions of life.
His rule finished just as she was born, taken by a young knight excellent in battle, who successfully killed the king in combat over the crown. This death, however, was not permanent.
No one died in this rule. The original king looked on, as well as the Mad One, doomed to watch their crown taken over and over again, almost always never having the chance to retake it.
They claimed it was the curse of the crown. When the First had died and the Mad King had taken the throne, it was almost as if a curse was placed on it by some deity, as punishment to the Mad One for committing such an atrocity.
The First had risen up at the Mad King’s feet, coughing blood but somehow still intact. In a flurry of panic and madness, the Mad King had risen up from the throne and stabbed him again, over and over, only to discover that he would just not die.
It was discovered later on that the curse only lay upon those who held the possibility of taking the crown. Those who yearned to take it, as well as those who have already tasted its power.
Eventually he had given up and threw him out of the castle, into the town to live as the filth he now was. His wife and daughter took care of him as best as they could, and the townspeople were willing to help.
It was then that the Mad King sought to break every single one of the court into submission. Somebody had to break at some point, and it was the current king who had broken and struck.
He was skilled enough to beat the Mad King, and the crown was successfully taken from the corpse that lay below him. The Red King sat atop his throne when the body began to reanimate, and he was quick to send it away. Of course, the Mad One returned to keep watch of the throne, waiting for the chance to take it back and become the rightful ruler.
But of course, these were only stories she heard as a child. Their section of town was the farthest out of the great kingdom’s reach, meaning more gossip among the people.
As she grew into adulthood, more word reached them. The Red King reigned fairly, despite being as young as he was. He was a just king, almost like the First. He commanded their armies better than the rest, with astonishing battle strategies no one had ever thought of.
And of course, soon it was taken. This king had many other names. The Righteous One, the Mighty One. The Warrior, the Bear.
But he preferred King Mogar.
This king was more violent than the rest, willing to tear a man down if he showed any threat to the throne and his rule. The only one he made an exception for was a young man who served as the royal jester, as well as his wife.
He was a good king, however, Very caring and honest, if very blunt and tactless at times. People were beginning to wonder about him, however. He didn’t seem exactly trustworthy.
When she turned twenty-one it was discovered he was but a pawn of the Mad King, one who stayed loyal to him until the very end of his reign, and beyond that. They fought at the courtyard, and it was the Mad King who emerged victorious, bringing everyone back into his reign.
It was then that her family moved closer to the castle, to the great kings she had only heard stories about. She saw all of them once before, out in the town.
Soon after that the Mad King had hosted a game, and everyone was welcome to watch.
Five men volunteered. The former kings and two others. The jester of the Mighty One, The Fool. And the Builder. The Mad King was assisted by one known as Dragonforce.
She never saw the beginning of the games, but she witnessed the end of it.
They emerged from the depths of the castle in a bloody and tired mess. “Slay the beast and win the prize!” the Mad King spoke teasingly at them.
He laid a hand on the ground, making it glow bright red and sink, revealing a secret underground with tall spirals built so tightly together it created a maze.
“Inside this maze is the beast of which I speak,” he relayed carefully, voice booming over the courtyard. “Now go.”
It was instantaneous. The men sprung up and charged in, each wielding a sword of its own ability. The townspeople looked down as they searched the maze desperately for the beast.
There were screams later on, but it was too dark for anyone to see clearly.
The Mad King’s smirk grew as the screams carried on, but it soon grew silent.
Out emerged The Fool, golden boots soaked in blood, dirty sword in hand. In his other was the head of the beast. “My liege,” he spat, throwing the decapitated head at his feet and lifting his sword.
The King looked down at the head, then back at The Fool. “Congratula—“
It was better heard than seen. The sickeningly satisfying sound of blade sinking into flesh. The silence that filled the court as the Mad King breathed shallowly.
After a few seconds the sound of a body dropping was heard, and everyone looked down to see The Fool, the golden crown now atop his head. The Jester King, they now call him.
She will forever remember that moment. He looked at the corpse of the previous king and turned to the others just emerging from the maze. His lips were stretched into the most nefarious smirk she had ever seen in her life. “Kneel down, or burn.”
In this kingdom, where eternal life reigned in the beings they called kings, life could be eternal, only if you were given it.