Call of Duty

Written for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge with a word limit of 300.

The prompts: This story must contain the line: "Don't go out there."

Call of Duty

Erik’s eyes blinked open to an unfocused world of sensations.

Blurs of bright colors combined with sweet smells, smile-inducing music and …a sensual touch.

Erik managed an incoherent, “Wha, wha?”

“How did you sleep, My King,” whispered a nearby voice; very nearby.

The beauty came quickly into focus, as did everything else. There were satin drapes on the room walls. A table set appropriately, For a King, was attended my young maidens whose smiles beckoned him to partake of the piled breads, fruits and meats. Scantily dressed sirens strummed harps over in one of the corners.

“Where am I? Who are you? Who am I?” he asked no one in particular.

An old woman stepped into view and said, “You are King Erik and this is your private chambers. This is where you spend all of your time, enjoying the finest life has to offer.”

Nothing about that felt right. He didn’t remember being king. What king would spend all of his time indulging himself? Wasn’t a king meant to lead?

He could hear a faint drumming in the background. Waving the sirens into silence, he tilted his head and let the beating of the drums move him.

“What’s that sound, old woman?”

“Those are your armies, Sire. They are preparing for battle.”

“Without their king? Who will lead them?” he asked standing up.

The nearest beauty sat at his foot and rubbed his leg cooing, “Sire, your place is here with us.”

“Don’t go out there,” admonished the old woman.

Erik could feel the tug of the drums. He saw he must choose between unfathomable comfort and battle.

In the end, it wasn’t even close.

He walked out of the room onto a grand veranda where he was met with cheers.

Soon-to-be king Erik, had passed his final test.

Word count 300