[CW: Feedback] A Silly Story About Regicide

[Combat]

(Before we begin, I suppose it would be good to throw some information out there for you. This story was written by me for my Creative Writing class, and as such was limited to a certain number of pages. This story is not what I would consider to be the product of my full use of my abilities, though I will not say that this is a lazy attempt to finish my assignment. As such, I would appreciate any and all critiques and feedback that you can give me, as it will only serve to strengthen my ability as a writer. Chances are, there will be spelling and grammatical errors in this. Please point them out to me, as it will allow me to grow. I also will mention that there may be some uncensored adult language in this story. Before posting this, I attempted to partially censor it, though once again, it is possible I missed it. Thank you for your time, and do hope you enjoy this. Also, this isn't about Pokemon, so if your looking for some fan fiction, you may wish to look elsewhere.)

A Silly Story About Regicide

1

Denmark had never been a very warm place, and on this fateful night in particular the breath of old man winter had once again taken hold. The year really didn’t matter in all honesty; no one had indoor plumbing, leeches were a miracle cure, and the king had just recently died. It was this night in particular where a group of three friends set into motion one of the most famous series of events to ever be told on the stage. It’s worth mentioning, that none of these men had any idea of where their shenanigans would take them, or how many people would die because of their caper.

It was a cold winter’s night, and sitting atop of the north eastern rampart, sat two men garbed in guard’s armor. These two men had been comrades for many years now, and sat atop of their perch searching for an enemy that would probably never come. Both men, standing stoically in their armor, were virtually indistinguishable, as their full body armor covered their faces. The man on the right shifted uneasily, clearly bored from his guard shift, while the guard on the left stared over the edge of the castle, looking intently at something that was not there.

“I miss Italy.” The guard on the right muttered, shivering from the cold.

The guard on the left glared at his comrade, annoyed by his complaining, saying “How many times are you going to say that? It’s because of you and Wallace that we’re stuck here.”

“You’re the one who didn’t deliver the letter on time.” Whined Dis.

“Well, it was your fault you didn’t stop Wallace from getting drunk the night before.”

Both guards fell silent once more, not wanting to argue. The two of them, or three of them if you counted Wallace, often got into fights, sometimes verbal and sometimes physical. Their conflicting ideas and personalities were quite grating on each other, but they were inseparable. Minutes dragged on before the guard on the left began to smile. His comrade didn’t notice it at first, until the guard said “Hey, Gerf, come check this out.” Gerf sighed with annoyance before hobbling on over to his friend, saying “What is it now Dis.”

Dis was smiling like a fool, which Gerf could only see because Dis had removed his helmet. Gerf had chosen to keep his helmet on for some protection from the cold, and narrowed his eyes at his friend’s actions. “Dis… You haven’t smiled like that in a while. What the hell are you doing?” Gerf hobbled on over to Dis, his leg still hurting from the hunting accident they had caused a few weeks back. Dis continued to smile, his dirty long blond hair blowing in the wind as he pointed downwards onto a lower part of the castle wall. “You remember how the old king died a while back, right Gerf?” Gerf nodded, saying “Yeah, that [Censored] tried to fire us like, six times…” Dis continued to smile, nodding to Gerf’s answer. “The king’s son has been devastated since his dad died, and he has only gotten worse since his uncle married his mother, right? Well, look down there…”

Gerf obeyed Dis, looking down to see a group of men, staring at a pale being. “Dis, what the hell is that…” Dis began to laugh, slapping his knee and shaking his head, saying “That down there, is the prince.” Gerf’s eyes widened, and once again, Gerf looked over the side of the rampart, eyeing the figures up. There were four figures standing below the. Three were closely clustered together, two of whom bore the same armor as him, marking them as guards. The third man however, was much more identifiable, wearing a small, golden crown upon his head. “What the hell is the prince doing on the ramparts, and who is that pale guy?” Gerf was quite confused at the commotion going on below him, and gave Dis an inquisitive look in the hopes of getting an answer.

“It appears” Dis said in a mocking voice “that the prince is meeting his dead father for the first time since he died…” Dis once again blew up into a fit of laughter, which made Gerf look over once more, trying to figure out what was going on. The forth figure was very pale, and looked a bit like the old king, wearing armor and a large crown…

“Wait! Dis, is that the old king’s ghost!?!”

The cold wind blew away the next fit of Dis’s laughter, though Gerf was starting to get annoyed by his friend’s attitude at this point. Dis continued to laugh and snort before he wheezed out “No, that’s not the king… That’s Wallace…” Gerf’s head spasmed back to the scene below him, where he looked at the pale figure once more. The figure had lost some of its paleness and upon closer inspection Gerf could spot Wallace’s typical drunken stooped position, his sunken eyes, and his dirty black hair. Gerf looked back to Dis, saying “What the hell is Wallace doing? And why is he so pale?” Dis snorted, saying “Easy, I told him to dress up as the old king. With a little flour, now he looks like a ghost! I told him that if he told the prince some farfetched story, the kid would quite moping around so much and we’d get some laughs.” Gerf wasn’t sure what to say, and once more he looked over the side of the tower. Wallace had begun to walk away from the group, waving his arms about in a drunken manor. The two guards with the prince had begun to discuss something, though the howling wind and the sizable distance between them prevented him from hearing. Gerf looked back at Dis once more, asking “Dis… Are you sure this is such a good idea…” Dis waved his hand at Gerf in a dismissive manor, before saying “Relax man. What’s the worst that could happen?”

2

The barracks were empty, save for Dis, Gerf, and Wallace, who had pulled three chairs together to form a closely knit circle. Dis was sweating, cool beads of perspiration rolling down his forehead as Gerf glared at him. Wallace had his head in his hands, rubbing his temple with his fingers as his friends sat there, not saying anything. It was Dis who broke the silence, saying with a hoarse voice “I’m sorry, ok?”

Gerf stood up in a flurry, knocking his chair backwards and his face flushed read in rage. “You idiot! I told you to lay low, but no! Look what you’ve done! The Chamberlain is dead because of you!” Gerf’s knuckles had gone white, and his fingers were twitching, almost indicating that he might draw his sword on his friend. Wallace interjected, croaking out “Both of you shut up. Someone might hear us if you keep squabbling like hens… I can’t handle anymore shouting; my head hurts to high hell…” Both Dis and Gerf turned to their normally quiet friend, who was recovering from a usual night’s revelries. Gerf returned his chair to a proper position and looked at Dis, and then Wallace, before saying “So, let me recap. You decided that it would be funny to prank the emotionally unstable prince… right?” Dis nodded, biting his lower lip. “So, you and Wallace made some clothes and dressed Wallace up as the ghost of the king, right?” More nodding came from Dis. “And you decided to lie to the prince, telling him that his uncle murdered the old king, which led to the prince snapping and murdering the Chamberlain.”

Dis sighed, before saying “It was funny at the time…” Gerf shook his head, his anger spent, looking forlornly at the floor. “If anyone finds out about this, we’re all dead. You know that right?” Dis flinched, looking down at the ground like his friends, shivering at the prospect. Gerf looked up, a worried look in his eye, before saying “Where is the costume? We need to destroy it or something…” Dis shakily got to his feet, hobbled over to his bunk, and pulled out a large sack from underneath it. Gingerly dragging it back to his friends, he dropped it in the middle of them. Inside, was the regalia Wallace had worn a few days earlier, an imitation of the previous kings clothing that was shedding flour.

“Let’s just dump the dammed thing in the river.” Wallace said, getting up from his chair and staggering to his bunk, where he began to collect his armor. “If we can ditch the evidence, we’ll be home free. And if any peasants see us when we ditch the stuff, we can spook them if we’re wearing our armor.” Gerf and Dis gave each other an inquisitive glance, surprised to see Wallace taking charge for once. With a synchronized shrug, both men began to follow his lead, putting their armor over their casual clothing. “By the way, I have a meeting tonight with one of the chamber maids, so I’m just putting on some chainmail over my good tunic.” Dis bragged to his friends, who muttered out an affirmative to him. Dis had a habit of trying to woo chambermaids to ladies so often that he never actually used anyone’s first names. It did bug Gerf, since he had to cover for Dis when the two of them were scheduled to guard together, though the look on Dis’s face when he returned with a red slap mark over his face was priceless.

3

With a hefty grunt, Gerf flung the sack, which held the costume and a few large river rocks, into the river, which made a satisfying splash as it claimed the costume as its own. The three men watched it sink to the silty bottom, being dragged away from them at a rapid pace. Gerf, who was wearing a set of heavy armor, saluted the sack, before saying “Long live the king.” His friend’s mockery resounding in his ears, Dis followed suit, adding “Goodbye, and good riddance.” Wallace was lying in the grass, gargling and crying, clearly not happy to be sobering up. It had been several hours after Dis’s initial prank, so by now morning had broken and the sun had begun to shine on the cold earth. Dis turned to Gerf, smiling. The cold river had taken the only thing that could link them to the Chamberlain’s murder, and with any luck, the mad prince would take the fall.

“Come on Gerf, smile! We’re home free! We don’t need to escape the country this time!” Dis said, clapping his friend on the back in a joyful manner. Gerf nodded, not happy, but no longer angry at his friend’s incompetence. “You’re right… but please promise me you won’t be pulling any more practical jokes, ok?” Dis frowned, sighed, and opened his mouth, ready to make a promise both men knew he couldn’t keep before a small sound interrupted him. A small voice was coming down the center river, which caught both the sober men’s attention. Following the flow of the water was a young woman being buoyed upwards with her puffy dress, and singing with her face to the sky. Both Gerf and Dis’s eyes widened and first because of the strange sight, and then even more when they realized who they were looking at.

“Shit! That’s the prince’s girlfriend, isn’t it?” Dis yelled waving his arms about. Gerf solemnly nodded, thinking back to the news he had received about her breakdown after her father’s death. It was clear that she had snapped and was in no position to be in any sort of peril, which made both men look at each other.

“Get her!”

“No, you get her!”

“I’m wearing forty pounds of armor!”

“I can’t get these pants wet, I need them for my date!”

“Seriously! That’s what you’re concerned about!”

“These pants were expensive, take off your armor!”

“No, you take of your pants!”

“I’m not taking off my pants in front of you!”

The two men continued to argue for several minutes, allowing the poor woman to drift past them and out of sight. It was Wallace who brought them back to reality with a heavy fit of coughing, twenty minutes after she had disappeared.

4

“Those pants cost me eighteen silver pieces…” Dis said, his head down in shame. Gerf wanted to slap his friend right then and there, though he couldn’t at the present moment. Both men wore their armor proudly, standing side by side, as they laid the prince’s beloved in the cold earth. “That’s two members of the royal court dead due to your prank.” Gerf hissed, though Dis was too sad to hear him. His date with the chambermaid had gone horribly, and in the end she had poured mead all over his pants, ruining them.

5

“Gentlemen. We are fucked.” Gerf said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them together for warmth, as the three men stood atop of the rampart where the series of events had begun. “Not only have we caused the murder of the chamberlain, we’ve also managed to get his daughter killed. The prince has gone crazy and has been playing with the skull of his poor dead jester, and we’re the ones to blame.” Dis and Wallace were silent, as Dis tried to act like he had something in his eye, and Wallace tried his best to stay standing, leaning on his spear like a makeshift crutch

“We could always try to escape Scotland. We could try to hide out during that war they’re fighting…” muttered Dis, though a sharp glare from Gerf silenced him. None of the men wanted to run away again as this was their most stable job they’ve held in a while, and none of them wanted to end up with their dismembered head in the mud in the case they got caught. The wind had picked up once more, howling as if to shame the men, though each of them had lost all of their dignity long, long ago. Each man knew that the other could reveal their secret at any time, whether it be to a priest, a servant girl, or a bartender. They needed a way to defuse the situation.

“Guys… Do you guys know what water hemlock is?” Wallace said, eyes tired and weary. Both Dis and Gerf looked at him with an inquisitive look, before Gerf said “Well, it’s a poisonous flower… Why do you ask?” Wallace seemingly dozed off for a moment, before snapping awake and saying “I heard the king saying that he was going to poison that meddling kid with it… During that duel we’re going to be guarding at. I think that might be the prince…” Gerf and Dis looked at each other, than back at Wallace, then back at each other in a comical manner.

“If the prince gets killed…” Dis muttered.

“Everyone will forget about the murders, figuring that the case was closed…” Gerf continued.

Each of the men fell silent, knowing they may have just stumbled upon the answer to their problem. It took very little time for them to begin reveling, until Dis thought of a very logical question. “What happens if the nightshade doesn’t kill the prince? We’ll be back to square one…” Gerf went silent once more, nodding his head and adding “True… Nightshade might not be enough to kill him… Wait!” Looking at Wallace with an urgent expression, Gerf said “Wallace! Do you still have that poison from Italy? The one those kids used to poison themselves?” Wallace, with a dopey look in his eye, said “Yeah… I’ve been planning on using it on you two.”

Gerf and Dis’s eyes bulged out at Wallace’s comment, though never man knew how to respond. It was usually hard for them to tell when Wallace was joking or be serious, so both men made a mental note to buy Wallace a drink next time they went to an alehouse. It was Gerf who tried to pull the conversation back in order by saying “Well, anyways… If we can poison the prince’s opponent’s sword, he’ll be sure to die. Right?” Wallace nodded, adding “The king also plans on using a poisoned wine on him, which would be another good choice to toxify.” Dis smiled, happy to have some sort of plan. “Perfect! We’ll poison the sword, and add our poison to the wine. I have a really good feeling about this!”

6

“Oops…” Gerf croaked, looking at the scene before him as he shifted his weight about to vent off some of his anxiety. The throne room was empty, save for three guards who had been tasked with guarding the four corpses that lay within it. Gerf, Dis, and Wallace stood in silence as they stared at the corpse of their king and queen, both poisoned. Nearby, lay the chamberlain’s other child, dead from the same toxin. Finally, slumped upon the throne, was the prince, the very one they had planned on killing. Moments ago, the prince had given the entire kingdom to his best friend, Horatio before passing on. The new king had made a short speech about the princes passing before taking the entire court out of the throne room, unintentionally leaving the trio to stew over their choices. Now, the entire royal family had been wiped out, because of a practical joke.

“Well, this sucks.” Dis said with a shrug, not really sure what to say. Wallace turned to Gerf, who was oddly alright with the situation. Sighing, Gerf said “I’m in hell, aren’t I? My eternal punishment is having to deal with you two, isn’t it?” Dis readied an answer, though Gerf lifted his hand up to stop him. Wallace, grabbing a nearby, un-poisoned goblet, slurped away at the mead within, standing stoically over the queen’s body.

“They’re going to be able to trace this back to us, aren’t they?” Dis said, his solders slumped back in a sorrowful way. Dis really didn’t care if he got an answer or not. The three of them needed to get out of the country as soon as they humanly could. Gerf shook his head and let out a dry laugh, saying “Maybe that’s why the old king wanted to use nightshade… Then at least they would know what they were dealing with. By the way Wallace, what poison did we even use?” Wallace, had already finished three goblets of mead, and was moving for his fourth, managed to say “It’s called Locaine. Really nasty stuff.”

Gerf nodded, and looked back to Dis who had begun to loot whatever was in the dead king’s pockets. Gerf followed suit, asking “So, what was that about Scotland, Dis? Do you really think we might able to hide out there?” Dis nodded, saying “Yeah, I hear some sort of war is going on, so we should be able to slip in during the confusion.” Gerf sighed, knowing that Dis was right in that regard. The three of them needed to be gone by sun down, since the new king was probably more competent than his predecessors and didn’t need to deal with the family squabble that had taken place.

A few minutes past, with the three men grabbing whatever they could off of the bodies and stuffing their faces with cold chicken. With their pockets and mouths full, Dis began to lead the group out of the castle, saying “Let’s try not to cause any trouble in Scotland, ok?” Gerf smiled slyly, glad to see Dis acting semi competent for once. Wallace was taking up the rear of the group, less inebriated than normal, but still a little tipsy. “I vote we dress up as old women, Hell, let’s dress up like witches. People never mess with witches, right?” Wallace said to his friends. The three men quickly made their way from the castle, where they had caused the deaths of six people, and towards Scotland, where they would unintentionally cause a good man to murder his king, his wife to commune with a demon, many murders, and start a war.

The End