- Oct 16, 2009
The Greek lay on his bed, thinking.
He could see above his head little cracks in the ceiling of his room, just like the cracks in the floor which the Duke of Porto had seen many years ago. But the Greek did not see opportunistic ants, and ways in which to crush then as Henrique did. He saw a maze of intrigue, complex ties and hatreds which all conspired together to create an intriguing conundrum.
The Archbishop was dead. Sancha had been dismissed and Akakide's new wide, Maria, had been appointed as Steward of the realm. Elvira now stood alone against the the Greek, Akakide and Maria in court. Thus, the King now had their ear, and the lurches and swings between the factions was ending- bringing a little stability to the realm at last.
His eyes noticed a long, thick, deep crack, which pierced across the others like a knife wound. He had never truly loved Kata- the king had only married her off to him in order to gain friendship amongst the Greek states in the east of Asia Minor. But still... her loss was still a shock. He was too used to her being around- and her advice had often been invaluable.
But there was no time for that now. He steeled himself, and continued his thoughts.
Something was up with the King. His depression had changed into a twitchy paranoia, demanding more and more security and becoming wide eyed and distracted at court. And it had all started eight years ago, after that business with the Seljuks...
Akakide had stayed up all night, convincing him to change his mind about war. It had worked, but the Greek had been forced to trickily manoeuvre the realm's way out of that mess. He still wasn't sure it had worked.
But what really gnawed at his mind was what the king's "urgent business" had been. Many times since then the King had cut short council meetings because of this council meetings. But despite his best efforts, he had been unable to ascertain what that business was- except that it was something to do with a little Iberian province called Navarra, a vassal of the Duke of Porto.
Akakide and Maria were the only people he could trust. Akakide had finally got over the shock of his first wife's death, and had remarried seven years ago- instantly falling in love, finally curbing his, ah, "nocturnal activities" at last, and giving him back his respectability in the eyes of many courtiers.
The Greek moved away from his bed, and walked to the window of his chambers, looking across the sea.
It was very late- two or three in the morning, the same time at which Davit had been found dead, long ago. The sea was surrounded by dark beaches, the winter sky towering above the world, its haunted clouds circling the palace like vultures above their prey.
The Greek stared around this scene for a long, long while. Georgia could not go on with David as king. He would be the ruin of them.
For a long time, David had ruled by hiding behind the shield of the Romans. But they were a weak and failing empire now, with only a little of central Greece and the Crimea which was not either up in arms or under Seljuk control. Now, Georgia was at the front-line against the Islamic invaders.
The Pax Romana was over. The time had come to deal with all the strife, all the fear, all of the devil's darkness that threatened to end them all.
The time had come to kill the King of Georgia.
Enewald- Ah, my mistake. For dramatic effect though I'll keep it as it is, for now.
loki100- Time shall tell...
Alfredian- Indeed not. And no, it may not count for a lot, but the Turks do have quite a lot on their plate which I haven't mentioned yet, and probably will do in the next update.