8 Cairo - The Gulag Part 2 (2/2)

As stupid as I was, I stepped onto the rusty looking mineshaft elevator and pulled the lever to go up. At first, the elevator didn't budge, but after a few painful noises, it started it's journey upward.

I took this time to unwrap my shirt, placing it back on my beaten body for some sort of protection I thought it gave. Instead, it just uncovered my healed scar and made me look like I was ready to kill anyone standing in my way. Which intern was a good thing, because I was ready to kill anyone in my way.

I arrived in a weird, closet-like room on the first floor of the king's castle. The room was dark, and hidden from anyone unwanted ever trying to find it. I opened a shallow wooden door, seeing a shelf filled with used garden equipment and other useless tools blocking my way.

I pushed the shelf over, making a disturbing noise against the tile floor below me. After searching around for a bit, I found a rigid machete, so I took it as a souvenir for the time being.

I went through another door, and soon enough, I was standing on the main floor inside the castle walls. Trying my best to stay hidden against the giant walls beside me, I shuffled through endless rooms and corridors like I was a snake in the grass.

A few guards would block my way every now and then, so I made a cut on my arm for every guard I encountered, continuing my ascent through the castle walls.

By the time I finally found an exit, my hands were covered in cuts and gashes, and my body was covered in blood that wasn't my own. I looked like a hyena that just finished it's breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was a complete mess.

I encountered some of the king's slaves on my way up, but I left them be, thinking it wasn't worth another senseless scar. I passed plenty of private kitchens, baths, and secret wardrobes only the highest-ranking officials had access too.

Whether it was a good thing or not, I found out what that brown liquid soup was made of - Cockroaches, carrots, and boiled water. A perfect combination of protein, carbohydrates, and minimal dietary fat.

After cleaning myself and changing my dirt-covered shirt into a more suitable outfit, I politely asked the slaves where I could find the man in charge. They gave the right direction, and I promised their freedom in return.

They walked behind me up the royal stairs, acting as my personal slaves so no one dared to bat an eye. I kept the machete firmly planted on their necks just in case anyone questioned why a thirteen-year-old boy had four slaves following him.

When I arrived at the king's doors, the guards gave me two more scars on my arms, and I entered freely.

The number of guards and wardens surrounding the king exceeded my expectations, but my eyes stayed locked onto the bastard sitting on the throne.

I decided this would be an exception for putting scars on myself, so I slowly began my approach.

”There you are,” I said, plainly.

The king didn't even bother to look at my presence as he instantly made a shooing gesture with his hand, prompting the royal guards to take care of me. Surprisingly, these ones actually knew how to fight, but it's very unfortunate they met me at my current state. As for I had a weapon in my hands.

Not one guard even landed a single hit on me, but the bastard on the thrown didn't look impressed in the slightest. Despite him only having two wardens remaining, he looked as confident as ever.

One of the wardens was the one in the general's hat, and the other held a brilliant looking katana holstered to his waist. It had a black leather grip, and the blade seemed sharp enough to cut through a fully grown pine tree.

I didn't realize it back then, but if I would have fought them, I would have died.

Fortunately, the walls around the king's throne burst into a flame of explosions, and the wardens were unlucky enough to be blasted outside of the king's chamber.

I never found out what those explosions were, but from the look of it, it looked as if they were on my side. After being blasted against one of the walls, I ignored the lingering pain in my legs and made my way through the rubble to the thrown.

The king was crying and weeping to be helped as he laid lodged against a giant boulder above him. However, he never even dared to look at me while crying for god's mercy.

”You want help?” I questioned him as the sounds of his cries poured through my ears, ”Go and find Cairo, he'll gladly help you.” I tightened the grip around my machete, cutting his hands right off like pieces of freshly baked pie.

He screamed, and yelled, and cried. Cried as if he'd just gotten his toys taken away. It was a coward's cry, not the cry of a king.

I wrapped a piece of my royal clothing around my face and left through one of the holes made by the explosion.

If I were to go back, I would have killed him. After knowing what he'd become after I left, I wouldn't hesitate as to even…

…

I sighed, ”Perhaps that's enough for now… I'll leave the rest of the story for another day.”

I didn't even realize how lost I've gotten in my own words that Rina was already fast asleep atop my shoulder. Her tears remained wet, and her face was as still as the moon.

I think that was the perfect way to describe it. The moon moves faster than anything I've ever seen, but it's still. Still like it hasn't moved in over a century.

That's what I saw in Rina. She slept peacefully, quietly, motionless. Yet her heart beat loud, and her sorrow moved swiftly through the droplets on her cheeks.

The candlestick had finally came to it's undermining end. The light remaining in the bar vanished, and the ever so changing moonlight twinkled through the windows.

I gently placed her in my arms and carried her upstairs. I didn't know where her room was, nor did I care to look for it, so I placed her in my bed, trying my best not to wake Mooks from his peaceful slumber.

After dragging myself down the stairs, I sat down in my usual spot by the end of the table. ”Thank you, Rina,” I whispered, and fell asleep on the countertop.