Shades of Grey

This is a story of revenge; a poor, unfortunate soul with a magniloquent air about him. He yearns for succession, fighting for every inch closer to his vengeance. His main focus: pride, as is true for most men surrounding the protagonist. Prepare for his chance of a lifetime! Will he, at least, be given his rightful dues? This loathsome hatred instigated from a ghastly incident years before, involving two kings of neighboring lands and their respected families.
The notable king Alaric Archelaus Agrippa of the land of Andvari, a large kingdom with a highly esteemed manner of law, was a stout fellow. He had a square face, a thin and firm mouth, a hoary bush on top his head, and eyes that did not only penetrate; they ransacked. King Alaric’s eyes were the mirror of his wretched nature, revealing his constant, insatiable lust for more. The reader should think the man would be content with a flourishing kingdom engulfed in its own ecstasy, resulting from its wealth and status. However, this is not the case for ill-fated King Alaric. The distinguished king’s greed imbued his mind with the idea to conquer the neighboring land of Jair. “What a benevolent battle! Surely one with much to gain with minimal effort!” sang the king in reverie of his plan. He was correct, Jair was a prize worth fighting for. Jair lies near the great river Pirell, and the land acts as a crossroad for foreign trade. Jair’s government managed the flow of imports into wealthy Andvari, and the tax paid by Andvaric citizens was the main source of income for Jair. The reader must know that, although Jair’s location was grand, the kingdom itself was undesired. The surrounding area is billowing land thickly covered by forest, rivers running in all directions, the most grand being the admirable river Pirell. Kingdoms, like forests, have dens in which hide all of their most vile and terrible monsters. But in kingdoms, what hides thus is ferocious, unclean, and petty, that is to say, ugly. In forests, what hides is ferocious, savage, and grand, that is to say, beautiful. Den for den, those beasts are preferred to those of men. Caverns are better than the wretched holes which shelter humanity. What the reader should imagine is a hole.
Both kings of Andvari and Jair know nothing of the poor. Rulers turn away from what taints their land, but the miserable souls of the poor haunt the towns, forests, churches, just outside the castle doors!! Jairic King Zalmon was a cruel leader. A mere wall separated him from the abandoned beings. He frequently gazed out his high windows upon them. Every day at every moment, he could hear them, see them walking, going, coming, talking, begging, dying, and the King never graced them with the mercy kings should demonstrate. The poor’s’ words, there were groans of despair, and the King did not listen. His thought were elsewhere, upon dreams of a rich, splendid land to rule, and all the while human beings, his people, were suffering death and poverty beside him! Is it not when the fall is lowest when charity ought to be the greatest?
Very few laws were enforced with what diminutive defense force Jair had. Decrees involving taxation were favored by King Zalmon, from what else would he increase his wealth? Other forms of debauchery, theft being the most prominent, were left to the Jairic citizens to settle for themselves. Can the reader fathom why Jair would be effortless for King Alaric of Andvari to conquer? Jair had minute governmental support, and who of the abject poor would support their king? They welcomed Alaric with optimism. Only King Zalmon and his royal family would dissent, knowing full well that their future would perish if Alaric drew near.
King Alaric called a meeting for all of his army and subjects to attend. King Alaric addressed the Andvaric citizens in an orotund manner. Accompanying the King, and gracing Andvari with just her presence, was his daughter, Princess Rosalie. Her beauty could not be compared to any other woman’s; every man could find himself dreaming of her. She remained near her father’s side as he spoke, her face emotionless. King Alaric’s voiced bellowed out over the crowd: “Jair is ours for the taking!! There lies a country that could easily be conquered by Andvari, as many countries preceding have. Such a location would be most beneficial, we could harbor our ships on the sea with no fear of sabotage or tax! Then it would be us who will control the transactions between many lands. Prepare for battle! As soon as our forces are armed, we invade and attack! No time to wait!” The crowd roared unsettled like the waves of the sea, eager to come crashing down on Jair.
Only one man was blustering and ranting in the crowd. A mournful sight was Kaine. He was a child; less than twenty, with a pretty face, charming auburn locks, the glow of spring in his eyes; yet he had all the vices and aspired to all the crimes. The digestion of what was bad gave him an appetite for what was worse. He was the boy turned vagabond, and the vagabond become assassin. He was genteel, graceful, robust, and ferocious. He lived by robbery. Few prowlers were so much feared as Kaine. At eighteen, he had already left several corpses on his track. More than one traveler lay in the shadow of this wretch, with extended arms and with his face in a pool of blood. Frizzled, pomaded, with a slender build, an air of admiration about him from the girls in the town, an elaborately-tied cravat, a flower in his button hole; such was this charmer of the sepulcher. Few knew the secret life of this charming man; those who did feared to tell. To society, he was just a man who too-frequently publicized his thoughts.
All men were hostile towards Kaine’s sudden outburst, but he shouted his insults against Alaric: “And by us, you mean you. You will receive the riches and glory, not I or any of these men near me. What more do you want now? Your people have already fought many battles in your name, while getting nothing in return. Your riches already exceed those of other kings!”
Another young man grabbed Kaine, and spoke to him with intent: “ My brother, I know you are in a great distress right now, but hold your tongue! Do not call out against our king when you are alone in opinion!” Indeed, this was Kaine’s brother, favored more by the king for his loyalty, success, and charm. Frey’s appearance similar to Kaine’s, but a demeanor nothing of his brother. His golden hair neatly combed, bright cerulean eyes, long, lean body, clothed in an esteemed purple jacket, given to him by the king himself. Frey was highly respected in the community for his wisdom, and highly exalted by the king.
King Alaric continued, answering Kaine’s inquiry: “ And the most note worthy prize will be awarded to the man who returns most triumphant in battle by bringing me the sword of King Zalmon. He who does this will be given my daughter for marriage!”
At this, all eyes were on Rosalie, who, despite the previous announcement, remained motionless and utterly prosaic. Her stature, however, did not take away the men’s desire for this prize: to marry the most beautiful woman, and eventually become king himself.“Now, dawn your finest armor and sword, and prepare for battle!”The men moved eagerly away in a mob, and headed home for what might be the last time.
As Dawn’s rays reached the land of Jair, so did the Andvaric men. Jair was instantaneously twisted into this hell ; buildings torched, men slaughtered, and with minimal effort (due to the unarmed and dazed Jairic citizens), Zalmon’s castle was soon invaded. Leading the encroaching mob was Frey, sword held high. Andvarics inhabited every room in the castle, searching for the king. To Frey’s pleasure, it was his room where King Zalmon’s family hid. Frey swung his mighty sword, but the King shuffled out of the way. Each man went on striking, fighting for their lives. Frey stabbed King Zalmon in the neck, to the horror of his viewing family, cowering in the corner. Death soon came to the poor king. Frey pulled out his blade, dragging out both life and sword. He quickly sheathed Zalmon’s weapon, advanced to the family, consisting of five members, and death soon came upon them, following their king into the next world.
Frey flew out of the castle, shouting triumphant words to his men. The Andvaric soldiers soon began to walk the long path home, exhausted from battle, but proud of their accomplishment. Many men wept for the fallen friends. Kaine searched for his brother, and finally met up with him while trekking through the forest. Frey began to describe his success, gloating about the sword and what prize awaits him. Kaine, with an obvious expression of jealousy and anger, grabs the sword from Frey’s hands, and pretends to examine it. Frey allowed him to carry it, and soon began to walk ahead of his brother. Without warning, the sword was thrust into the back of the prominent hero. Red blood spurted as Kaine repeatedly stabbed his own brother, through jealousy, rage, and habit. When he was satisfied that Frey will never return home, Kaine was now to boast: “No more will you cheat me out of my share in glory. I will marry the princess, and I will be the honored!” Kaine, turned and walked home, never looking back. Frey mutters his dying words: “You are doomed for an unfortunate future, my brother. You will pay for your sin.” Darkness came upon the man.
King Alaric was delighted to see his men return home with success, rejoicing with their loved ones. Kaine approached the king, presented the sword, and feigned a story that led to the death of his brother and how Kaine received King Zalmon’s sword. The king reiterated this sorrowful, yet unknowingly false, tale to his people, who mourned the loss of Frey. But as promised, he who presented the sword will marry Rosalie. Kaine was no exception.
And whom, should the reader ask, is the protagonist of this story? To Andvari’s unknown fear, Frey did not kill all of Jair’s royal family. The oldest son was still alive, and planning his redemption to what he lost: his future. Two years after the death of his father was when he acted on his plans.
Grey was a fine looking young man of great height, with heavy black hair that covered his brow, a collected and reserved expression, and an indescribable something beaming from every feature, which was once commanding, superior, and knowledgeable. His profile, all of the lines of which were chiseled and strong, with a handsome jaw. His manners were reserved, cold, polished, far from free, and hardly expressed. But his mouth was very pleasant: his lips the reddest and his teeth the whitest in the world. His smile, although hardly demonstrated, corrected the severity of his physiognomy. His complexion was dark, although not tanned by labor outdoors. By daylight, his skin radiated a beautiful golden tint. His eyes were a pleasant contrast to his dark appearance, emanating the brightest green that flashed lightning. At the time of his most horrid abandonment, he noticed that girls turned when he passed, and with a deathly feeling in his heart, he avoided their gaze. He thought they looked at him on account of his ragged apparel. A prince is not used to the life of the poor. He thought they laughed at him. The truth is, they looked at him because of his graceful appearance, and they dreamed over it.
Grey, however, always dreamt of becoming king of his land. Alaric stole this from him. Grey had meticulously planned his vendetta, which involved the death of the king and marrying his daughter. That is the only way he will ever be able to be king. His thoughts were a matter of pride! No one recognized Greyson as a prince, and he was easily able to become a servant to the king in the castle. As time passed, working ever-so slightly closer to his vengeance, was able to woo lonely Rosalie with his charm and looks. All was done when Kaine, now her husband, was away. Rosalie was so attracted to this new man who spoke nicely to her and she loved him, but the reader should suspect that Grey did not actually love her; he was using her.
Within a few months, the two lovers’ affair produced such strong feelings for Rosalie, who never really loved Kaine; she believed him to be a hardhearted man. When Grey proposed the idea of running away, back to Grey’s land, she willingly agreed. In the night, when all was silent, they escaped alone into the darkness, led by Grey to the ruins of his castle, all the while Rosalie knowing nothing of the plan except that they will be together. That’s all she wanted.
Before departure, the Prince of Jair was able to leave behind a clue, only for the king to find. Upon the next day, Alaric was stunned to find this threat. To his horror, a monster seemed to have captured his only heir, and to find her alive, the king must meet the Prince of Jair. “And who is this master of tricks?! What sly scheme is concealed is his mind?” the King screamed. Alaric, in a panicked frenzy, assembled his best men and adventured hastily into his forgotten land of Jair. Every house was ransacked, every building destroyed, every person questions. No one knew of this prince.
Grey and Rosalie were safe in the abandoned castle, Rosalie chatting as a woman in love would, while Grey feigned interest as he planned his further actions. The journey of the king, in a desperate attempt to save his daughter from, what he believed, a monster, took two days. As he searched unsuccessfully, the runaways lived in the reverie of their love, Grey continuing to charm the naive girl.
In the midst of a conversation, shouts of men could be heard through the broken windows. Rosalie dismissed the noise, but Grey was at the window at once. The king, Prince Kaine, and his men were coming towards the castle. Grey whipped around. “Go hide in the library! Do NOT come out!” His voice was frightening and manic, and chilled Rosalie to the bone. She stood up in a daze, and followed her heart’s orders. When he was sure the girl was away, he returned to the window. He was no longer the calm and collected man he portrayed; he now looked like a phantom. He paced back and forth, revealing violent agitation. He grabbed his sword, already sharpened in preparation of this confrontation., and then returned to the windowpane. The men were now close. “Only the King will enter!” roared from the depths of Grey’s core, and his tone struck terror into the men. Looks of confusion and betrayal were evident on the faces of the men, once they recognized who the monster was: a supposed servant who was trusted. King Alaric was the only one to proceed to the stronghold, confronting his fate in an ill-fated attempt to rescue Princess Rosalie. Ami, one of the King’s most trusted men, groaned out to his king: “ Your Majesty! Do not face that man alone, or death will soon be your fate!” Ami’s attempt was in vain, for Alaric entered the castle alone.
King Alaric shuffled around the entrance, debating whether or not to continue, and probably die, or turn back to gather his men to fight for him. In the name of honor, he reluctantly continued up to the highest tower, moving slower and slower with every step. At once Alaric stood in the doorway, sword drawn, facing the monster. Grey smiled with the grin of a maniac, laughing at the twisted pleasure he is about to receive. “Do you know what you have done to me?” escaped from his mouth, barely a whisper. The king just nodded.
“ I don’t think you quite understand, “my lord”! You killed my family. You ruined Jair.” Grey paused, and like a body which recovers its center of gravity, became motionless once more. His eyes pierced the very soul of the ill-fated King. “I was going to be king. My country would have prospered under my rule, but you stole my chance! Now, my only goal is to destroy the man that destroyed my future. “ The King did not move. Running would be useless; his only option was to fight. King Alaric swung his sword at the Prince of Jair, missing every time. Menacing hilarity escaped Greyson, who had yet not attempted to strike. Then, in a moment, Grey thrust his sword into the head of the king.
Alaric plummeted to the ground. Grey stepped on the body, and pulled out his sword. He stood there, staring at the corpse. The Prince, although achieving his vengeance, felt empty. His concentration was broken when a man could be seen in the doorway. Oh! It was the notable, “honorable” Prince Kaine. “ Thank you for saving me the effort of searching for you. My task needs little effort,” Grey exclaimed to Rosalie’s husband. The two men fought feverishly, throwing the room into utter chaos. Kaine never took notice or felt sorrow to see the King dead. He fought merely for his wife. The clash commencing produced horrible noises that drew Rosalie out of hiding. In fear for her lover, she sprinted to the tower to view a terrifying sight: Kaine sliding his blade into the would-be King of Jair.
Grey fell to the ground, clasping his side and withering in pain and anguish. His contorted figure shook violently. Rosalie left the doorway of the room, running to the side of the poor, unfortunate soul. Tears of love and misery flowed across her once radiant face and dripped onto Grey’s chemise disheveled with crimson blood. With a violent jerk, his bloodstained hand firmly clenched Rosalie’s delicate arm. She shifted closer; she could hear his strained, spontaneous pants, evident of his sufferings. Words were not exchanged, but all the while never breaking each others’ gaze. A set of fits overcame the poor man’s body; terrible sounds escaped his mouth through pain. At last the cries subsided, and Grey groaned forcefully, “Oh! What a fatality!” his body went limp, and darkness came upon his eyes. He stirred no more.
Rosalie hastily stepped away, placing herself in the centre of a triangle, formed by the bodies of her father, her love, and Kaine formed the point. She spun around in an overwhelmed manner. Kaine’s appearance was stern and unmoved, as if unaffected by causing the agonized death of Greyson. He hesitated, but slowly advanced towards Rosalie, his arms out as if to attempt to comfort her. She moved away from the cruel man’s grasp. “Stop!” she commanded. Rosalie then raised her eye to her father, thrown carelessly aside. In this proximity, she could see every detail of his hoary hair, although greatly disguised with his own blood. She then looked down at her love and heart, the would-be King of Jair. He was stretched at the entrance of the room, with scarcely a vestige of the human form about him. She then raised her eye to Kaine, and cried, “There is all that I ever loved!”