THE HAUNTED KINGDOM 3 by CHARLES E.J. MOULTON (ereader that reads to you .txt) 📕

and it was growling, scaring away eventual visitors. The paws were large and it was sitting down, head held high and its mane fluttering slightly in some breeze.
It was strong granite on a podium of sandstone.
He passed the lion and dismounted Mercutio, tying him to what he thought was meant for the horses. A hook on a metal bar on the wall with something of a large barrel in which there were bits of everything thrown in. Bread, fruit, raisins, hay, grass.
As Mercutio began eating, Alex told him to enjoy his meal in the company of the bright lights and that he would be back soon.
One of the lights dashed off to the sign above the entrance.
Alexander walked up the four steps and looked at the stone engraving.
It read:

A benevolent king is patient

“Could be true” Alexander said and walked up to the door, chuckling to himself about his recent nervousness, feeling the silver lion faces in his hand, the rings in their mouths meant for knocking. The doors were superiorly massive things, too large for such a dainty looking palace. From the distance, anyway.
As he knocked, he realized the door was open.
The gates swung open and revealed a very wide hallway with coats of armour, weapons, harnesses and armaments on each side. The wooden ceiling was high and the wooden beams were so thick that Alexander wondered how the castle could look so dainty from the outside and so large from inside, Next he wondered of which tree these beams were made and who had put them there. Poor workers, he thought.
There was a red carpet on white-grey stone floor leading up to a red podium and three steps up to a wooden throne. Behind it was a coat of arms depicting a raven, a robin, a tooth and a house. On each side of the hallway there were torches that flickered and swayed metal holders.
Next to the throne on each side were small square tables, very decorated, with cups and bottles and books and lit candles. Two chairs were positioned on each side of throne, sideways so that whoever would be sitting there could talk to the king without having to strain the king’s neck muscles.
There was a muscular man in a dark blue cape, wearing a blue satin beret and gilded leather boots. His right foot was resting on the top step and his left was on the third. He was watching the coat of arms. As Alexander approached the man, having closed the gate quietly, he for the first time felt reverence for someone in power. He was young now. This man was obviously older and experienced.
He walked down the red carpet and as he did, the man turned around and faced Alexander. He was wearing a white closed shirt with a green ribbon tied around the collar, a red vest with golden buttons. The man had a well trimmed beard and it was only then that Alexander found out the man could easily have been him around 1425. The features were different, but the stature was the same. It was like walking up to himself.
The man gazed at him calmly and patiently as he walked up to the steps and the stopped. The man walked down the stairs and shook his hand.
“Good Evening, noble liege.”
“Alexander?”
He nodded. “Winsletenna. Ruler of Prosperania, on a spiritual errand in forbidden zones.”
The man smiled benevolently. He grinned in a way that told Alexander who was boss here.
“Prince Mark, Ruler of Benevolence.”
Alexander laughed at this high spirited introduction.
“Benevolence?”
“The name of this castle. Have been expecting you.” He gestured for Alexander to come up. “Want some wine?”
Alex nodded.
“I was offered soup in the last house, so wine might be a fitting supplement to vegetables. You have all been expecting me.”
“We know who you are” Mark said in a royal manner. “As your time has come to be rewarded you will be commended according to scripture.”
The man had a very regal aura about him, an aura that invited respect.
But there was not much warmth there.
“Scripture?”
Alexander was confused.
“Scripture” the man answered.
The man poured two cups full of wine and handed the one over to Alex.
“Sit down.”
The cups were gilded bronze with the story of the gospels engraved on its sides.
Alex sat down on the left chair, while Mark sat down on his throne.
From here the hall seemed even bigger.
“Did your heart tell you where to go?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you know where to ride in finding this place?”
“Yes, Sir. The lights lead the way.”
”Ahh” Mark said, sing-songing. “The elves.”
There was a long pause.
“But I was impatient. I feel as if I am always being lead everywhere.”
The man put his hand on Alexander’s shoulder.
“Be happy that you are being led, Alexander. That means there is someone to take care of you. You are here to learn. Not to rule. You have enough situations in front of you, when it will be difficult to know what to do. Thank the Lord for his guidance. You do not always have to be in control.”
Alex nodded and kneeled. The man looked surprised.
Alex looked up and started praying.
“I am sorry for my impatience, Lord. Forgive me. Amen.”
Alex stood up slowly and looked at the man.
He smiled.
“You are a true believer.”
”Yes. Always have been.”
”Good.”
”I always find back to the good truth in the end, even if I wander lost.”
”That is your strength. Use it wisely in the future.”
”I will.”
“Tell me, are you familiar with Nocturania?”
”Only what I have read and seen on stately visits, including this one.”
“I mean, the real Nocturania. The inside of Nocturania.”
”My sister has spent the last thirty five years here. It is everything we are not. Darkness and not light.”
”We meaning Prosperania?”
Alexander nodded.
”So you know what is waiting for you after the anniversary of your embarkation tomorrow?”
Alex looked into the man’s eyes and tried to remain calm, the torch flames casting shadows and dancing reflections upon his features.
“I have been tutored in every spiritual custom. I am here to complete my knowledge how to attain absolute spiritual control. I am awaiting the last mile to the forest.”
“Then be prepared for the ultimate battle.” The man gazed at him, trying to find his faults. “If
you are as ready as you say you are.”
The man smiled.
Alex vowed to change the subject and thought of the lion standing outside.
“The lion outside is a symbol for … what?”
“What do you think?”
“Regal rule?”
“Maybe.”
”Then a lion needs to be stern and powerful.”
Mark shook his head.
“A lion needs a heart, too. You have that. What don’t you have?”
Mark pointed at the walls and looked at Alexander again.
“What do you see here? Here on the walls?”
Alex looked around. “Things I also have in my castle. Coats of arms, weapons, armouries. Torches. Ribbons, medals.”
“Some people think a king makes decisions and that is it. But without a heart a lion is lost.”
He walked down the platform and took a spear in his hand. It was the closest one on the right wall from there and it was hanging next to a coat of arms with an ox on it. He threw it toward the back wall and it landed right in the centre of the coat of arms between the four pictures. “What is a lion, really?”

Alexander was slightly shocked over this sudden move, his heart racing and his breath fast. He looked at the spear. It dangled, shivered, shook, vibrated and then came to a halt.
He looked back at Mark and thought for a moment.
“What is a lion, Alex?”
“A noble creature.”
Mark raised his hand and nodded. “You said noble now, not stern.” He walked back to the platform and picked up his cup again, having set it on the floor of the podium. He began walking up to the throne. “And is nobility stern?”
“No.”
“Is nobility powerful?”
“Yes.”
”Care to revise stern?”
“Yes.”
“What is the lion a symbol for then?”
“Benevolence.”
“Ah, yes. Grace. Confidence.” He pointed toward his head. “Intelligence.”
Mark gestured with his cup toward Alex and looked out sipping his wine.
“Do you wish to speak to me about something, noble Sire?” He looked at Alex, tongue in cheek. “Do you wish to talk about … kings and queens?”
Winsletenna was taken aback for a bit, not really knowing what to answer now.
“I wish to wonder why you are asking me so many questions and not letting me answer all of them.”
” I do?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes, very impatient, you are, you.”
Mark applauded and smiled.
“He got it. What I just showed you is what you are lacking. Patience. You lack patience.”
He hesitated and Mark looked at him, raised eyebrows giving him a patronizing look.
“You must learn that, Alex. A lion has power, heart, love, control. But he can lie days in the sun before he makes a decision.”
“I wish to learn your views on regal rule, Sire. I believe that is why I am here.”
“You are a king yourself, my liege. That since over thirty years. I need tell you nothing at all about regal rule. In fact, you being the greatest king of Medatlantia, you could probably tell me something about royalty, eh?”
Alex nodded. “I do know my country. At least, I thought I did know how to rule before I lost it completely. Without it to back me up, I lost my confidence to rule. I thought I had failed miserably.”
“Because circumstance had crushed your situation” he cried cynically. He nodded, slightly bored. “Ah, yes. Bitterness.”
Alex shook his head. “Aren’t you a mentor?”
The man shrugged. “Yes?”
“Then why are you a bored mentor?”
He leaned forward toward Alex.
“Bored as a mirror?”
“I see. It all comes from me?”
“Ah, but only bored because you downplay yourself.”
“How can I be bored and impatient at the same time.”
“Because boredom and impatience are two sides of the same coin, Alexander.”
Alex nodded, trying to understand. At once he did, looking up. Mark understood this and grinned.
“You are from a generation of professional rulers. Only because your family has had bad luck do you downplay your own abilities and hand over your logic to a killer that does not even care on which potty you sit and produce excrements. Shocked?”
“Even a king does that.”
“Then you do know that your abilities are independent of circumstance.”
“Yes.”
”And you know that your life can change if you want it to change.”
Alexander sat back in his chair. “What?”
“Sire Winsletenna. You are from a colourful family. Everyone has bad luck. Being blessed with great expectations or having to push a little to be granted that makes no difference. What matters is your spiritual fabric and not your damn hair colour or shoe size. Why downplay yourself? You put others first, especially those who don’t deserve it. You want to know how? You want to know why?”
”I am interested to hear it, certainly. Lucinda?”
”Maybe. Your vanity, however, just like the vanity of many others I know, Sire, forbids anyone to have not you as their main character of interest. So you chase people you want to convince instead of people who really are convinced in you in the first place. You end up following a Fata Morgana.