The conspiracy
King Alcott took a deep breath, trying to break free of the terrible stress that plagued his being. He, along with Shadow, had questioned 7 kitchen workers. Alcott was tired and frustrated at the same time. Nothing until then had come out of them. The king knew how intimidating he was, so a simple look from him would be capable of frightening the bravest. That, and his ability to see through people. So long, and no results. Alcott was losing patience, and all he wanted at this point was to go into the arms of his beloved Amberjill. But on second thought, just being in her presence would heal the pain he had in his soul from their separation. The king had no one else to blame but himself.
The only thing he could do now is try to fix everything. No, not try, but fix everything. He had no choice but to put everything in its place. His future and that of his queen depend on it.
Rey Alcott was extremely concentrated on trying to solve this big problem, when the door opened, and Shadow entered with another of the cooks. Alcott looked at him suspiciously, he had never seen him, and it’s not like the king knew everyone who worked in his castle, but still. The king thought that there was something about this man that did not feel right. He was another ordinary Mahala citizen, with dark hair, white skin, and green eyes. His height was average. Nothing out of the norm, but it was his look that alerted him that this man was not to be trusted. King Alcott is faithful to his instincts, which told him to be careful around this man.
The cook, seeing the king, hardened his essence, completely taken by surprise. But that moment was enough to be noticed by the king. The cook knelt down and bowed his head, but more than in reverence, to hide his nervousness. “Your Majesty. What, can your humble servant, do to serve you?” Without raising his head, the cook nervously waited for the king to tell him the purpose of this meeting. His forehead was beginning to produce beads of sweat, and his hands did not stop trembling, albeit slightly.
The king, walking towards him, and being a few steps away, said, “What is your name?”
“Archibald, your majesty.”
Alcott nodded his head, saying, “Get up.” Once the cook was done, the king walked over to where the piece of cloth with the plant was on it. He took it and went back to where Archibald was. The cook watched with trepidation as the king opened the cloth that he perfectly recognized, showing him the plant that he used countless times. His Adam’s apple noticeably went from bottom to top, trying to pass the saliva that had got stuck in the middle of his throat. “Do you recognize this?” The king asked him.
Archibald’s stomach turned, not wanting to reveal his secrets for any reason. “No, no, your majesty. I don’t know what that is. I had never seen it in my-my life.”
Alcott’s green eyes darkened. Letting see the fury he was about to unleash. The cook knew that the king would have no mercy on him. Alcott without wasting another second, drew his sword. The noise the steel blade made coming out of its sheath brought the cook to his knees. “No, no, not your majesty. MERCY, MERCY! Do not kill me.” Archibald, with terror in his bowels, begged the king to spare his life. But Alcott put the sword on the cook’s neck, making him face him.
The cook, fixing his terrified eyes on the king, closed them tightly. Thinking that if he didn’t see him, he would eventually disappear. But when he opened them again, the king, across from him, seemed angrier than he already was. “Tell me who paid you to poison my queen. TELL ME!!. Alcott pressed the sword further into the cook’s neck, cutting into his skin.
The cook, trembling, could hardly control his mouth, but in the end, he managed to give it a name. Satisfied for the moment, he removed the sword from Archibald’s neck. The poor bastard was a mess. Tears and sweat covered his neck, and even a nauseating smell began to spread through the room.
The hardened-faced king turned his back on him, and walked over to the table, taking his seat. From there, he said, “You will not lose your life today, since I still have use for you. Take advantage of these more days of life that I am giving you because when I finish with your master, you will fall with him.”
The cook, trembling, faced the king with hope in his eyes. Listening carefully to what the king wanted him to do. “You are going to join your activities in the kitchen, and you will pretend that nothing has happened. When your owner contacts you and gives you instructions, you will come to me immediately. If you fail to complete any of my instructions, I will butcher you in front of my enemies, and put your head on a stick, as an example to all those who want to go against me.”
The cook’s soul returned to his body, upon hearing the king. He was still kneeling, so he put his forehead on the ground. “My king, thank you, thank you, I will not let you down. My life is in your hands. Oh! Great king. Oh! Great king.”
Archibaldo was dismissed with a cold look. The king could barely contain in his being the turbulence that threatened to break his soul and go out to destroy his enemies. Alcott sat in the first chair in his path and closed his eyes. Remembering what this miserable cook revealed to him, his blood boiled again. But he knew that the best thing in these circumstances was to think with a cool head. Emotions only get in the way of success. And success is the only thing the king was looking for. After a few minutes, which seemed more like hours, Alcott opened his eyes, searching for Shadow.
His spy was there the whole time, waiting for instructions. The king exhaled, and said, “Instruct my queen’s servants that they will be the only ones to select and prepare her food. The kitchen utensils and crockery will be exclusively for the use of the queen. No one else will be able to touch them. But be careful not to divulge anything, or make the matter suspicious. Handle this delicately.” The king paused, thinking of something important that was missing. “Oh yes, and keep an eye on that cook, and his master.” The king bared his teeth as he imagined his enemy’s face.
