THE KING WANTS TO SEE YOU: PART THREE

The peasant left the castle and headed back to his life which was disintegrating before his eyes.

A roar pierced his heart as he saw a blood-red dragon descend from the sky. From his mouth, a wave of fire consumed all it touched. 

The peasant ran towards his house, but minutes before he could reach it he saw that it too was engulfed in flames. He dropped to his knees in despair. His eyes filled with tears as he saw his livelihood in the fire. 

He cried there into the night. 

The next morning came and the peasant walked toward what once used to be his home. He tried to make sense of the chaos but he couldn’t. He gathered whatever he could that was unravaged. Pieces of wood, some rope, and a blanket miraculously escaped the death that came for them the night before. 

The peasant began to make a tent of the ruins when he heard a sound. 

KNOCK KNOCK. 

The King’s messenger. 

“What is it?” The peasant asks holding back anger. 

“The king wants to see you.”

“I’m busy. Tell him I’ll come back to see him once I have fixed my house.” 

“As you wish sir.” The messenger leaves. 

Two months go by. The king's messenger comes every day to ask if he would take a break and join the King in his court. Every day the peasant turned down the invitation. “I will come when I am finished working.” 

One day the peasant finishes rebuilding a house.

It took many days of cutting down trees and binding them together. But he was very pleased with his hard work. 

KNOCK KNOCK. 

The peasant walks over to his new door. 

“Hello, sir. The king wants to see you.”

The peasant smiles, he has missed the King. It has been a while since he last spoke with him. 

“Tell him I will be with him shortly.” 

The messenger nodded his head and walked away. 

“I am here to see the King.” The peasant announces at the castle doors. 

Inside he sees the king. Not nearly as happy as He once was. “You came.” 

The King walks over to embrace the peasant. “It’s been too long my lord. I’m sorry, but I’ve been too busy rebuilding what the dragon destroyed.” 

“I know.” The King replies. “Yet you know the dragon returns don’t you?” 

The peasant panics. “What?!”

“I’ve allowed the dragon to return yet again. He is on his way now. Even the dragon must answer to the King.” 

The peasant steps back from the king. “You mean you’re the reason the dragon destroyed my home? You allowed it to take so many lives in the town?” 

With no joy on his face, the King responds. “Yes.” 

“How could you? Why would you allow such evil?” 

“I want my subjects to be with me. They must depend on me and rely on me. These past months not one of my subjects came to me for help. Not one! I must show them in whom they must place their trust and hope. I can’t let them believe they can thrive apart from me in this life.” 

The dragon’s roar pierces the air once again. 

The peasant runs to the castle wall and gazes out as the dragon destroys what efforts man had made apart from their king. 

Tears fall down his face as he sees his hut engulfed in flames yet again. 

The peasant rushes back into the throne room. The king stands in the middle of the floor, tears flowing from his eyes. “My king! I don’t understand this. You must call off the dragon. You say you control it. Take it out of the sky. Do not abandon your people! Do not condemn them for not coming to you! Do something!” 

“I am doing the kindest thing I can do for them. Showing them their desperate need for a savior.”

“But…” 

“You may not understand this now, but you will soon enough.” The King walked past him towards his throne.

The peasant’s anger towards the king burned like an ember. 

“If you’re willing to kill all those people maybe you should go sacrifice yourself!” He found himself screaming. “Go out there and die with your people!”

“Not one person has died out there that didn’t want to die in the first place! They had been given opportunities and chances to live in my righteous protection. They turned it down and received their fiery reward. The ones I know will return to my kingdom my hands have protected. Go into the village and see for yourself. You do not dare talk to me as you just did. Does a portion of clay speak back to the potter due to his disinterest in his design and use? You forget your place, my son.”

The peasant is speechless. He walks towards the exit not saying a word. 

The road back to his pile of rubble is a long one. After all his hard work he now stares at a pile of ash yet again. His anger towards the king percolates. 

His eyes fixate on the town in the distance and the smoke that emulates from it. 

The words of the king ring in his mind. ‘Go to the village and see for yourself.’ 

The peasant begins walking, and his hatred towards the king grows with every step toward his organized chaos.   

He enters the town and before his eyes stand a multitude of people. All of them were covered in soot, but many of them were unharmed. 

A man is crafting a wagon off to the left side of the street and the peasant walks up to him. “How many died in this last attack?” 

The man turns to face him. “I’d say about 30 or so. But they were the ones who refused to go to the King’s shelter. So good riddance to those fools aye?” 

“The King’s shelter?” 

The man points to a building that is still standing in the middle of the town. It’s in pristine condition and glistens in the sun. A fireproof shelter made for those who want to live.

The peasant couldn’t help but regret his last conversation with The King. His words came back into his mind and began to torment him. 

How could I say what I did to My King?

“Will you be joining us then?” The man asked the peasant. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Some of us have had enough of this life apart from the King. Meeting in his shelter for every dragon attack has its benefits, fire insurance you could say, but He invites us into His castle every day. We think it's about time we take Him up on that offer and perhaps ask if we could stay with Him.” 

The peasant nods his head. Choking back the tears forming in his eyes. Hopefully, the King will have mercy on me and what I’ve said to Him. 

“How can I help?”

A string of people and handmade wagons walk the long path to the castle. 

They come up to the large wooden doors, and the peasant goes and knocks.

KNOCK KNOCK. 

“We would like to see the King.” 

The doors open wide as the villagers enter the castle. 

The peasant drops everything he was carrying and heads straight for the throne room.

He didn’t care about how he looked. 

He didn’t mind the timing of the day. 

He knew one thing and one thing only.  

He wanted to see The King. 

The End.