Returning

King Geoffery sat on his throne, tapping his fingers against the arm of his seat, waiting impatiently for his advisor to arrive. The castle was preparing for war, with invading forces on the march coming from the East, estimated to arrive within the next three days. While the generals were giving their men final orders, and castle servants were preparing food for the soldier's and royals to last for several days during potential trade blockages, Geoffery was coming down to one of his most difficult duties as a king. The decision of what to tell the people, and how soon.

He desperately needed the help of his advisor, Willam. He had found Willam in the streets, masterfully working them and both leading some people while manipulating others. He understood the thoughts and desires of the people, and how to use those both to his own needs and the needs of those around him. Geoffery lacked that capacity, but he could see it plain as day in the man's face at every waking moment. Without hesitation he had hired the man as his personal advisor, swiftly booting out Willam's predecessor without a second thought or regret.

But Willam was late, which was unlike him. Fifteen minutes after he was supposed to arrive, Geoffery heard the creak of the door to his throne room opening, and he watched as Willam shuffled in quickly. "I am sorry, your highness," Willam called out as he rushed to the throne. "Things are becoming quite packed in this castle, and there is much going on in the hallways. It took much longer than anticipated to arrive."

Geoffery eyed his assistant, thinking and not saying a word. He knew Willam well. This was very unlike him. He would have planned well in advance for what would be occurring at such times, and he would not have had any difficulty arriving at the throne room. There was either something very unwell rushing amongst the people, or...

Geoffery slowly rose from his throne, keeping his eyes glued on his assistant. "Your highness?" Willam asked, his eyes quickly showing concern. "What's wrong? I know I am late, but please, I would beg you for forgiveness."

The sword was out of the king's sheath and into Willam's chest in the blink of an eye. The advisor's eyes widened and faded to white, and his king did not pull his own eyes away for a moment. His pupil's faded away, draining out of him like the blood from his wound, but the blood quickly turned black.

It rose like smoke from the wound in Willam's body, and it was only then that Geoffery turned away from the eyes of his friend. The smoke billowed out into the air before taking the shape of a man. It towered over the king, staring down at him, but Geoffery was not one to be so easily frightened.

"You will fall, old King Geoffery," the smoke spoke clearly.

"We shall see about that."