The head, covered in blood, still hanging on a lance tip, just in front of the King belonged to a man who before his abrupt death was very close to the king.
He was a messenger and a spy, and as he was killed he was carrying a
very important and secret message, a message which could cause not only the
king, but all of the kingdom, a lot of damage in the wrong hands.
Noone but the king was to know of this secret mission, but obviously this
was no longer true.
The Black Knight slowly approached King Ikthusius, and dropped the head,
still wet with fresh blood, on the floor in front of the kings feet. The
ladies present screamed with terror, and the jester fainted like a falling
tree.
The king became terrified, not so much by the very head, but more by the
consequence of this macabre message.
His face was red with anger and frustration, and he let it all pour over the
knight, for delivering in this ghastly and brutal way, in front of the women
and all.
- Baron, what do you mean by this? This is outrageous!
- I'm sorry, but we are in a hurry.
- I'll be the judge of that! Is this your work?
- No. I found him like this. Unfortunately I couldn't catch the rogues who
did it. I could see them, but they were far away, and had already crossed
the border.
The red colour on the king's face suddenly left him, leaving a light grey
tone of dispair and lost hope.
- They crossed the border, you say...? Did you find anything on him, a
letter or something?
- No. I searched his body thoroughly, to find any proof of his identity.
Only after giving up that task, I found his head.
The king waved impatiently at the knight, ordering him to join him in his
private quarters.
- Come! We must talk.
He rushed into a large tent, instantly sending out everyone in it.
The Baron jumped off his big horse (as well as one can jump dressed in
more than a 100 pounds of heavy armour), and entered the tent.
As Baron Carl, the Black Knight, entered the tent, the king was nervously pacing back and forth, obviously thinking very hard. He scratched his chin fiercely, and threw an irritated glance at the Baron. The king was wise enough not to kill the bad messenger, and still he couldn't avoid showing how disturbed he was by the Baron's presence, being the bearer of bad news. This in turn made him even more irritated, with himself, knowing that the Baron was one of his most loyal and trustworthy knights, and maybe the only one who could help him through this situation.
Finally unable to restrain himself, filled with with anger and frustration, the king gave up a wordless roar.
The Baron waited until silence was again established, then he spoke.
- My dear king. Can I be of any value to you? Is there anything I can do to relieve you of this ordeal?
The king stopped walking, and looked at the Baron with fiery eyes.
- Yes! You can find the message this man was to bring to me!
- I'm sorry if I am intruding in matter, but it would help me to know a little bit more.
The king started pacing again, not saying anything. After a short walk back and forth, he bursted out, angrily -
- It's a map! I can't tell you anything more!
- And you want me to find it?
- Find it and bring it to me! As fast as possible!
And with these last words ringing in his head, the Baron left the tent. He knew that this was as direct an order that he would ever get, and mounted his horse to leave immediately.
The Black Knight mounted his horse, gave his squire some short, firm orders, and rode off to his quarters. His horse was tired, and the people he was supposed to chase was far, far away, so now he had to use his intelligence rather than speed and strength.
He was going to make plans.
But why was his king so secretive, so mysterious? Didn't he trust his old friend and most loyal subject? Why couldn't he tell him more about the document - the map?
What could be so dangerous to talk about, so that the king couldn't even tell his friend?
Back at his tent, it was now the Baron's turn to pace the floor. He had dinner, but he couldn't fully enjoy his meal. His mind was wandering off, far, far into the land on the other side of the border - Pixelonia.
There had been wars. One after the other, one more gruesome than another. The last war had been the death of Baron Carl's father, the baron before him. It had also meant that a big part of Iconia had been incorporated in Pixelonia.
Spies was crossing the border constantly, both directions, and noone was safe, even in times of peace. Whatever that peace was worth.
The Baron heard a horse approach his tent, and looked out to see who it was.