This isn’t a story about kings, it’s about a sword. But it’s impossible to talk about the sword without mentioning the kings whose lives it took. Three kings, three lives, three deaths. Each king died for a different reason.
King Terrel was loved by his people. Shepherds in the fields praised Terrel for giving them so much land for their flocks. The millers, farmers, bakers, weavers, and smiths all spoke well of Terrel for lowering their taxes. The merchants traded with the city freely because of the low levies. Far and wide people spoke well of King Terrel. It was only those closest to him that thought otherwise.
The Lords and Ladies of Terrel’s court smiled to his face, but whispered behind his back. The whispers were not new, but the sinister nature they’d assumed was. They complained about the taxes. While King Terrel had lowered the taxes on the general populace he had raised them on the wealthy land and business owners. They hired an assassin and King Terrel was run through.
King Leonal, Terrel’s brother, took the throne. Seeing what had happened to his brother Leonal reversed the laws his brother put into place. His every action was done to please his court. The people of the land suffered as every year their taxes went higher. No longer able to afford doctors or medicine, disease and death ravaged the lower classes. Unwatched sheep were eaten by wolves, crops went untended, the country fell into a terrible depression. And all the while King Leonal and those he called friends laughed and drank the days away.
The people could only take so much. Secret meetings were held. Plans formed. Could the assassin that killed King Terrel be hired? No, that wasn’t something most wanted to do. Even if the assassin could be found. But the sword the assassin used was kept in the throne room as a reminder. Maybe it would be fitting if it was used. A month later a girl was sent to the king and she used the sword to kill him.
The third king was not murdered like the first two. King Corrin was killed in battle. His death was mourned by all. He’d been loved by the lowest peasant to the highest Lord of the land. He cared for the low classes while being friends to those in the high. He’d gone to war, leading his men, and was thrown from his horse. His sword, the sword that had killed two kings before him, fell from his side. An enemy took the blade up and struck King Corrin down.
The sword is the only thing that remains of each king’s reign. Now it sits in the throne room encased in crystal. If you stand near it long enough you can hear whispers. The three kings’ souls remain trapped inside, awaiting to be freed.