image courtesy of Evgeni Dinev/FreeDigitalPhotos.net
The conqueror rose from his seat at the council table. Of the six lords seated, four were likely to
become his supporters, one his enemy, and one would bide his time. It was always like that, and easily dealt with.
He strode from the chamber followed by his young courtesan. She’d knelt silently, patiently, head lowered at his side throughout the council session. He had spoken passionately: He and his warriors had conquered the small kingdom, all the armies of knights and archers not by superior numbers but by greater discipline and organisation. He would teach his new subjects this. He would raise their kingdom, his kingdom, to a place among the empires of the world. Their ambitions had been paltry and he would show them that what they’d considered the ceiling of achievement was what he would consider merely the floor to stride upon.
And he had won them over, four new loyal provinces each with their own levies of knights and men at arms. The others would fall in line, or they would fall.
He opened the door to his tower room and held it for his courtesan who skipped nimbly ahead of him, gorgeous and scantily dressed, his little piece of fluff, of happiness, of distraction. And who would begrudge him that?
He closed the door then crossed to the bed, and stood motionless. The young woman kissed him on the cheek and then caressed the back of his neck. Finding the access panel she slid it open and removed the batteries that powered this most sophisticated of androids and then slipped them into the charger unit in the generator beneath her bed.
Nobody would dare enter the chamber before dawn, which meant she had plenty of time to catch up with her reading.
(In response to prompts from:
Light and Shade Challenge - Sometimes glass glitters more than diamonds because it has more to prove.- Terry Pratchett
Studio30 Plus : Fluff of happinessWrite on Edge: “Are you really sure that a floor can’t also be a ceiling?” ― M.C. Escher)