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The Red King was no fool.
He knew as he heard the explosion coming from the main entrances of the castle that his time was short. He stood in front of the large window overlooking his kingdom as smoke rose from the buildings. He took note, distantly, that they had attached his watchtowers as well. His knights would be too preoccupied to stand any real chance against the rebellion inside the castle.
He sighed, breathing in the dusty air of the throne room. He was… disappointed. The Dessert Rebellion has been persistent, even more so now that they had disposed of one of their own. He had hoped that by killing the fool, they’d be too busy in their grief to attack. It appears he was wrong as their grief quickly turned into anger and their attacks just became more aggressive.
All this, over a stupid table. Ren thought the magical item was hardly worth a war, yet here they were. A loud boom sounded from another side of the castle. His time was running short, he knew. As soon as the attack happened he had sent his guards into the fray to help the civilians, leaving himself defenseless. A necessary act to protect his people.
It hurt, though. The look on his Hands- on Martyn’s face as he gave the order. He knew the man wanted nothing more than to remain by his king's side, but an order was an order and he reluctantly left with the others.
He just wished he was able to give him a proper goodbye. But time was short as the sounds of a commotion grew closer to the throne room as a pair of footsteps approached the door. The grand doors were thrown open as a man with gray skin and eyes as red as blood sauntered in.
“Ren! Long time no see.” His tone was dripping with faux jovial. His smile was sharp and sharklike, similar to that of a predator that just cornered its prey.
“Scar.” The name was fitting for the rebel leader, whether it was his birth name or not, for his skin was littered with them. Patches of discolored scar tissue decorated him in all shapes and sizes, his lack of shorts doing nothing to hide them.
He wasn’t surprised by the lack of a shirt. It did bother him though, that he didn’t seem to be wearing any armor either. Did he really think so little of the king, to show up at his throne to kill him half naked and without armor! The disrespect!
“Sorry for the abrupt visit,” he was still smiling, acting as though this was just him popping in to see an old friend. Ren sopposes, in a way, he was. Scar continued, “I would have given you more of a warning but, you know. I got busy.”
“Yes, well, let’s skip the pleasantries.” The rebel leader’s smile faltered before fixing itself just a moment later. “I suppose you’re here to take my life.”
“Yup. Scott wanted to do it, you’re knights took his husband after all, but he got a bit held up on the way here.” He did notice the absence of the blue haired elf, and of a certain pesky witch. “So I guess I have to do it. Or…” Scar grinned.
“I’d rather you take my life then hand you that power fiend.” He drew his sword, pointing it at his opponent.
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t give you an out.” He drew his own sword and the two engaged in a dual.
Later, after the battle was won, the kingdom received news of their king's death. Many mourned, many others remained unbothered. Either way the process began of deciding a new king, for what was a kingdom without one? Eventually, the world forgot. Forgot of the king who put a price on magic, who kept his people safe despite the controversies, of which there were many. They forgot the king who spent his last, dying breaths protecting his subjects.
And the world moved on.