Though the gates were only just recently closed during the night hours on command of the nobles.

The door's opening felt like the disturbance of a grave to the ancient kings.

A transgression on the majestic prestige and the authority these kings once had.

 

Emma returns his mind to the present as he walks into the now desolate hall.

Entering barefoot into the halls as he wears only the tattered garb of a prisoner.

Returning to the halls of the royalty and the nobles that controlled his dear country.

 

Removing that bittersweet remark from his mind, he looks around the hall.

Noticing now that there were a few knights still guarding the hall during the darkest hours.

Remained even in their death as silent reminders of the tragedy and its speed.

 

As many of the carcasses unable to bear the weight of armor have become slumped to the ground.

Though some remain standing as if they are still proud in death.

Emma inclines his head to each standing husk in turn as he heads further inside the royal palace.

 

Once at the next set of doors, he notices the two guards slumped in front of it.

Though it looks unintentional at a glance, their entire bodies are in front of the door.

Even in death, they prevented access to the chambers beyond. 

 

Though this would not stop someone from trying, it is still an admirable display of duty even after their death.

Emma summarizes as he slowly and hesitantly grabs one of the corpses and starts dragging it.

Once done dragging one of them, he begins to drag the other way struggling to move fast.

 

He eventually finishes his task, as he idly wonders what some of the guards would say to him.

As he on this occasion recalls some of the noble's gaze across the court from his spot next to the king.

Gazes that were full of Envy, Scorn, and Greed in abundance, that all seem to wonder why the king listened to his fool.

 

The Royal Faction thought of the act as humoring my thoughts, which I would agree with in all likelihood.

The other Nobles were not found of such an aware fool at the court, desiring a less notable one in my stead.

Many of the noble's were already leery of my quips and my jokes, finding distaste with them or me.

 

The death of his king was just the perfect excuse to remove him from his spot on the court.

Once at that conclusion, Emma sighs as he opens the door.

He then proceeds to head up the staircase to the next floor.

 

Once inside the next room, he starts going through his old shortcuts to the king's throne room.

Though he calls it shortcuts, it wasn't as glamorous as a specially made path.

It was just a specific set of paths and rooms Emma secretly marked for ease of travel.

 

Looking at the husks of the unfortunate servants who died away from their families.

Emma tries to keep his emotions in check as he goes through his old path.

After some more staring, he walks faster in an attempt to avoid staring at them further.

 

Staying silent as he rushes to his destination, no longer willing to take his time.

As he wants to know the results of what he had done and leave this place.

This place that holds too many joyful memories, now tainted by such a grave tragedy.

 

Staying here any longer would make him fall into a spiral of sorrow if it continued.

Just as he starts to sprint faster, he starts to slow as he realizes his goal is in sight.

Emma skids to a stop once he arrives at the back door to the throne room.

 

Preparing himself for what he saw within, he moves to the handle and turns it.

Pushing the door forward, Emma walks into the place that was once his workplace.

Remembering the old cheers and the congratulations that came with his work as he looks around.

 

Though what greets him as he enters the room is far from a joyful chorus of cheers for his return.

It is a scene out of a book of horror and a grim atmosphere.

Bodies of the dukes and marquesses strewed about the place, still in their thoroughly decorated spots dictated by rank.

 

Many of the other nobles were dead as well, a few still standing in their spots, as if they were in mid discussion.

Knowing how the nobles might have strung the child ruler along, it is likely they were.

Telling him twisted variants of rules that sound pleasing to the ear but were always in their favor.

 

Some might presume he would know better but a child in grief and yet fully trained in the ways of the court.

This was a sad outcome for the country, but one Emma had feared.

Emma held the old king as a close friend, but the man was stubborn as he was charismatic.

 

Unwilling to allow his child to bear such a strict regimen that was in place for 3 generations now.

Rather having his son begin his education much later than his father and grandfather had set as an example.

Emma would not dare say he made a mistake because no one could have predicted his early death by a mysterious cause.

 

Walking into the room, he looks at all the nobles in the room, categorizing them in his mind.

Those that did nothing but stand to the side as he was taken by those who felt wronged by his presence.

Those who tried to gather support through intrigue and discussion but lacked any presence to do so.

 

All are now dead, with their corpses filling the room as macabre decorations.

With the crown jewel of the room, the dressed-up king of a puppet throne.

Covered in dozens of articles of cloth, far more than his father wore.

 

Now a just a dried-up corpse on display for anyone to enter to see and observe.

The only remnants of this ruler are his carcass and his emotions.

So strong in life before death, I can still feel them now glowing with ever incandescent glee.

 

Emma stares at the remnant emotion with a pained heart.

Staring at the crystalized emotion resting on his old friend's son's corpse.

Pride that outlasted death for the royal pedigree he had from being my old friend's son.

 

Such is the end of the last line of our country's kings.