Grays' Matter
The First Steps
Long ago, in the dark ages, there was a small kingdom in the hills called Grays. The town was home to many refugees and others who sought a new system of government. Grays was named after the rebel family that led the escape from the oppressive kingdom of Capital, and their bloodline became royal. In the kingdom of Grays rest a castle, built upon a hillside. Up the castle, ran a limestone staircase. The staircase slightly curved up to a corridor, and the granite steps led to a thick, iron gate. Grays was ruled by King Geoffrey Grays and Queen Genevieve Grays for a few decades. Ten years into their reign, they gave birth to one child, a beautiful daughter they named Giselle. With no council or assembly, the king ruled Grays through his only courtier and gatekeeper, Sir Fawkes. Sir Fawkes was a cunning, sinister looking fellow. He stood at the top of the stairway like a watchdog, eyeing the villagers as they worked and mingled.
Everyday, a group of townspeople would gather around the castle before the steps to greet the royal family. They would appoint a person to speak to the King about the local issues and the concerns that needed to be brought to attention, but no one was allowed up the stairs- that was punishable by death. The King would make an appearance with his Queen and child, and they would listen to the appointed speaker from the top of the staircase. The King would then make the laws accordingly and had Sir Fawkes inform the people as he went back into the luxury of his own castle. This went on for the entirety of the kingdom's existence, with King Geoffrey having adopted this system of government from his mother, the late Queen and first ruler of Grays, Lady Gabriela. They kept this tradition for over 80 years until, one day, the royal family didn’t come out. The townspeople were confused and demanded answers. The appointed speaker was the same elderly man that always spoke, Ron.
"Your Honor, Sir Fawkes. We come before you today, like any day, to be in the presence
of the King. The only thing I inquire today is why the king will not come greet his citizens."
"Good gentles and ladies, gather around," Fawkes hollered, "you may have noted the King's absence in these meetings the past few days. The King is not pleased with the production. He feels as though you are slacking with your efforts and spending too much free time. He does not want you to be comfortable at your own pace."
Then Ron replied, "But sir, we work as hard and as fast as we could throughout the day. Even when the elderly's joints ache, the younglings take their spots to keep the work going. And honestly sir, I ask, what good is working if there is no leisure to work for? Do we work solely for the King's leisure?"
"Silence!" Fawkes roared, Ron had made him furious. "Are you suggesting that the King is lounging and feasting while you peasants work? The King is constantly in and out of Grays' Castle, meeting with diplomats and fighting the savages so they don't take your women and children in the night! And as the King's advisor, I report to the King everything I bare witness to in this kingdom. Are you suggesting that I lie to his Fairness?"
"Sir Fawkes, sadly you are mistaken, for I would never call you a liar," Ron said as he bowed, clutching his aching back, "I just hardly see anything wrong with the way our current production is going. I am, however, shocked that the King leaves so often without us seeing. Surely he would leave from the South end towards the colonies, it is the only known entrance to our kingdom. I don't know how else he could leave."
Fawkes glared at Ron for a moment. He then began to chuckle as he walked slowly and menacingly down the steps. The crowded townspeople were frightened, especially of Fawkes. There was something mysterious about him, like the fact that no one ever really knew why the King trusted him so much, especially since there was no relation. He was cruel with a rude
demeanor. He was also a fairly strong man, who may have been a knight prior to this duty. The people took a step back, but Ron stayed still. As Fawkes reached the middle of the stairway, he stopped and began to raise his voice.
"I am ashamed!" He echoed. "Picking such an ignorant, old man to represent you. The man claims he knows the King's whereabouts. The man thinks himself more knowledgeable than the King's own advisor. I'll have you know, Ron, that there is another side to this castle, and on that side the King strides freely on his stallion whenever he wishes and sails whenever he pleases! Only to be guarded and escorted by the thousands of knights that pledge allegiance to his Highness!" His voice amplified throughout the courtyard, ricocheting off of stone structures. The people began to whisper among themselves; this was the first time any of them had heard of an army. Most of them had been there their whole lives and not once was a single knight mentioned to them, let alone a thousand. Ron thought of this and was immediately confused. He inquired yet again.
"Sir Fawkes, so you are to tell us that if we were to revolt and storm these steps, your army would stop us?"
Fawkes was now smirking, "before you could reach the top." He turned back up the steps and made his way into the corridor, closing the gate behind him. Ron stood there, looking at the gate in disbelief of what he had just witnessed. For the first time, they were not getting a straight answer and he thought something was fishy. Why was Fawkes so defensive? This reminded him of the days when he lived in Capital, before the liberation. He hoped he had made the right choice by choosing to migrate with his wife and grandson. As he pondered, he overheard the people talking amongst themselves.
"I think we should do it, I think we should riot! We don't know if there's an army," a husky,
young man shouted.
A mother with two children chimed in, "and if there is? Should we die to find out?"
"I think she's right, it's better to play it safe and get back to work," said a middle-aged man trying to conclude the discussion.
Someone called out from the back, "work for what? You heard Ron, we work enough as it is!"
Ron felt it was time to pitch in. "No, they are right. We know not of an army. Regardless, these matters are not of our concern, as we serve the Fair King. Come everyone, it is now time to work lest we infuriate the King anymore." He limped away on his wooden cane. Ron was the oldest man in the village, and thought of as the wisest and most experienced. As he was walking back to his home, a young man with curly hair ran up to him. It was his grandson, William.
"Do you need help, grandfather?" William said with a cheesy grin. William's parents had stayed in their hometowns during the migration. William's father withheld important information from the government, and risked death by leaving. Instead, they sent their only child off with his grandparents in search of a new beginning. The boy was now a young man, 23 years old with a lean build. He harvested crops and worked in the town when he was not taking care of his grandmother. William's chiseled features resembled his father's, which made him a sharp looking boy. "What happened at the meeting today?" William said enthusiastically as he pulled open the door for his grandfather.
"The King did not show again today," Ron said with a sigh, "Sir Fawkes says he's mad at the lot. I reckon he's hiding something."
"Hiding what?" William leaned in.
"If I knew then it wouldn’t be hidden, my boy. How are you, dear?" He walked over to
Elizabeth, who struggled to look at him. She looked old and frail, but she still managed to smile and her eyes glistened all the same.
"Getting better everyday," by now she was almost gasping her words. She was not getting better everyday, she had only been getting worse. A few others in the town had caught the same illness and they slowly passed away. It was only a matter of time until she was gone. She coughed aggressively as William scrambled to get her some clean water.
"Rest, grandmother," William said gently as he tucked her in more. He walked over to Ron, "it’s possible that the king is up to something. May I come with you tomorrow?"
Ron thought about it. After all, William did enjoy politics. "Who will look after your grandmother?"
"I'll only come for a little, then I'll come right back before she wakes up,” William begged, he had an eager look in his eye.
"I don't know, William. What if she needs something? What if something happens?" Ron sounded worried, "I just can't risk it." William was disappointed. Without another word, he sulked to his room.
Everyday, a group of townspeople would gather around the castle before the steps to greet the royal family. They would appoint a person to speak to the King about the local issues and the concerns that needed to be brought to attention, but no one was allowed up the stairs- that was punishable by death. The King would make an appearance with his Queen and child, and they would listen to the appointed speaker from the top of the staircase. The King would then make the laws accordingly and had Sir Fawkes inform the people as he went back into the luxury of his own castle. This went on for the entirety of the kingdom's existence, with King Geoffrey having adopted this system of government from his mother, the late Queen and first ruler of Grays, Lady Gabriela. They kept this tradition for over 80 years until, one day, the royal family didn’t come out. The townspeople were confused and demanded answers. The appointed speaker was the same elderly man that always spoke, Ron.
"Your Honor, Sir Fawkes. We come before you today, like any day, to be in the presence
of the King. The only thing I inquire today is why the king will not come greet his citizens."
"Good gentles and ladies, gather around," Fawkes hollered, "you may have noted the King's absence in these meetings the past few days. The King is not pleased with the production. He feels as though you are slacking with your efforts and spending too much free time. He does not want you to be comfortable at your own pace."
Then Ron replied, "But sir, we work as hard and as fast as we could throughout the day. Even when the elderly's joints ache, the younglings take their spots to keep the work going. And honestly sir, I ask, what good is working if there is no leisure to work for? Do we work solely for the King's leisure?"
"Silence!" Fawkes roared, Ron had made him furious. "Are you suggesting that the King is lounging and feasting while you peasants work? The King is constantly in and out of Grays' Castle, meeting with diplomats and fighting the savages so they don't take your women and children in the night! And as the King's advisor, I report to the King everything I bare witness to in this kingdom. Are you suggesting that I lie to his Fairness?"
"Sir Fawkes, sadly you are mistaken, for I would never call you a liar," Ron said as he bowed, clutching his aching back, "I just hardly see anything wrong with the way our current production is going. I am, however, shocked that the King leaves so often without us seeing. Surely he would leave from the South end towards the colonies, it is the only known entrance to our kingdom. I don't know how else he could leave."
Fawkes glared at Ron for a moment. He then began to chuckle as he walked slowly and menacingly down the steps. The crowded townspeople were frightened, especially of Fawkes. There was something mysterious about him, like the fact that no one ever really knew why the King trusted him so much, especially since there was no relation. He was cruel with a rude
demeanor. He was also a fairly strong man, who may have been a knight prior to this duty. The people took a step back, but Ron stayed still. As Fawkes reached the middle of the stairway, he stopped and began to raise his voice.
"I am ashamed!" He echoed. "Picking such an ignorant, old man to represent you. The man claims he knows the King's whereabouts. The man thinks himself more knowledgeable than the King's own advisor. I'll have you know, Ron, that there is another side to this castle, and on that side the King strides freely on his stallion whenever he wishes and sails whenever he pleases! Only to be guarded and escorted by the thousands of knights that pledge allegiance to his Highness!" His voice amplified throughout the courtyard, ricocheting off of stone structures. The people began to whisper among themselves; this was the first time any of them had heard of an army. Most of them had been there their whole lives and not once was a single knight mentioned to them, let alone a thousand. Ron thought of this and was immediately confused. He inquired yet again.
"Sir Fawkes, so you are to tell us that if we were to revolt and storm these steps, your army would stop us?"
Fawkes was now smirking, "before you could reach the top." He turned back up the steps and made his way into the corridor, closing the gate behind him. Ron stood there, looking at the gate in disbelief of what he had just witnessed. For the first time, they were not getting a straight answer and he thought something was fishy. Why was Fawkes so defensive? This reminded him of the days when he lived in Capital, before the liberation. He hoped he had made the right choice by choosing to migrate with his wife and grandson. As he pondered, he overheard the people talking amongst themselves.
"I think we should do it, I think we should riot! We don't know if there's an army," a husky,
young man shouted.
A mother with two children chimed in, "and if there is? Should we die to find out?"
"I think she's right, it's better to play it safe and get back to work," said a middle-aged man trying to conclude the discussion.
Someone called out from the back, "work for what? You heard Ron, we work enough as it is!"
Ron felt it was time to pitch in. "No, they are right. We know not of an army. Regardless, these matters are not of our concern, as we serve the Fair King. Come everyone, it is now time to work lest we infuriate the King anymore." He limped away on his wooden cane. Ron was the oldest man in the village, and thought of as the wisest and most experienced. As he was walking back to his home, a young man with curly hair ran up to him. It was his grandson, William.
"Do you need help, grandfather?" William said with a cheesy grin. William's parents had stayed in their hometowns during the migration. William's father withheld important information from the government, and risked death by leaving. Instead, they sent their only child off with his grandparents in search of a new beginning. The boy was now a young man, 23 years old with a lean build. He harvested crops and worked in the town when he was not taking care of his grandmother. William's chiseled features resembled his father's, which made him a sharp looking boy. "What happened at the meeting today?" William said enthusiastically as he pulled open the door for his grandfather.
"The King did not show again today," Ron said with a sigh, "Sir Fawkes says he's mad at the lot. I reckon he's hiding something."
"Hiding what?" William leaned in.
"If I knew then it wouldn’t be hidden, my boy. How are you, dear?" He walked over to
Elizabeth, who struggled to look at him. She looked old and frail, but she still managed to smile and her eyes glistened all the same.
"Getting better everyday," by now she was almost gasping her words. She was not getting better everyday, she had only been getting worse. A few others in the town had caught the same illness and they slowly passed away. It was only a matter of time until she was gone. She coughed aggressively as William scrambled to get her some clean water.
"Rest, grandmother," William said gently as he tucked her in more. He walked over to Ron, "it’s possible that the king is up to something. May I come with you tomorrow?"
Ron thought about it. After all, William did enjoy politics. "Who will look after your grandmother?"
"I'll only come for a little, then I'll come right back before she wakes up,” William begged, he had an eager look in his eye.
"I don't know, William. What if she needs something? What if something happens?" Ron sounded worried, "I just can't risk it." William was disappointed. Without another word, he sulked to his room.