The imperial city of Valzhemir was imposing, with towering minarets, ornate palaces and indomitable fortresses. It was the pride of the citizens and all past rulers. Common men and royalty who visited were awe-struck, never wanting to leave the place.
Only King Bryanzim IV knew of the secret whispers and conspiracies lurking within these imposing structures.
They are capable of killing me!
I know what they can easily do. I also know how to get out of it.
He summoned Alriac, his closest aide one day and explained the reason for his sleepless nights.
“Noble Alriac, summon the physician to my chamber immediately.”
Alriac bowed low and left. He never questioned the King.
The next day, Yele, the royal physician, stood before the king in anticipation.
“Yele, mark my words!” the king boomed, sparing the habitual greetings, “I know there are traitors in Valzhemir. Their secrets lie hidden within the walls of this palace. I am not bothered in the least about the other kingdoms who plot wars against Valzhemir”, he continued haughtily , “They will be reduced to ashes if they raise a weapon against us. Not a single soul will be spared by my army. Not a needle has entered this city without scrutiny.”
Yele waited with bated breath for him to continue.
“So, I want you to create the strongest poison which I can use to get rid of the whispering wolves in my kingdom. A little task done secretively to wipe out the distrustful snakes.” Bryanzim gritted his teeth in suppressed anger and maybe, fear.
“O King! Shed this fear. Why would anyone wish to kill you? There’s no one as noble and righteous as you in the royalty. You are mistaken, O braveheart!”
“ Do as I say, Yele,” boomed Bryanzim, “I must never die. And that is in your hands. Or else….”
Yele left, bowing low, till he was out of the chamber. The king’s vanity unsettled him, but he never showed it. He knew that a soft knife could never pierce the icy demeanour of the king.
“Let’s exercise caution,” he told the team of toxicologists. “The fears of the king are unfounded. But he will never understand. Let not the innocent die. ”
“But Sir, one cannot predict what the outcome of this will be. How can we put an end to the superstitions and fears of the king? Families will be orphaned, anarchy will prevail and the evil will outnumber the good if someone doesn’t knock sense into King Bryanzim. Will you not intercede, Sir Yele?” The courtiers were at their wits end.
Yele was a storehouse of ancient knowledge. Sharp-witted yet cautious, he used the pearls in his repository only when common reasoning and logic failed. His ancestors had served the rulers of Valzhemir for centuries.
Ah! The eccentricities of the King were getting worse. The poison had to be made. There was no choice.
****
A new poison was developed in secret—a substance derived from an ancient alchemical text, thought to be lost to time. The toxicologists tested it on the laboratory species and testified it was lethal enough, to please the King. It was kept in tiny vials and Yele was notified of the successful experiment.
A few days later, Yele held a meeting with his three trusted aides in one of the secret, dimly-lit pathways in Fort Tukhamb.
“O great sir! Everyone will be in deep trouble if you break this news to the King. Why don’t we make a milder version, some toxic substance that isn’t lethal on the person it is administered to?” spoke one of the ministers.
“Yes, Yele,” the royal treasurer, who had been a silent spectator all along, said, “ How long can we bear these atrocities? The King is out of his mind. The dignity, respect and fame commanded by his ancestors is all lost. His mind is already poisoned and his deep mistrust can kill us all. We must find a way to outwit him.”
Yele looked at him. His face burnt along with the fires that lit the pathway.
Yele finally broke the glass of silence in a way that shattered the very existence of the other three.
“If we can’t control him, we must kill him.”
“How?” the three whispered in unison.
“I think we have the answer right in front of us,” Yele grinned, as he produced the vial of deadly poison.
They looked at each other in disbelief. Yele had spoken their mind. But was it really he? The most trusted aide of Bryanzim IV?
Yele’s words were like the sparks that flew unrestricted.
“It is better than the mad King creating a realm of ruin. My logic is to do away with an insecure, faithless ruler and his preposterous ideologies.”
“I am a bit apprehensive. Guess the legacy of trust still binds me,” one of them said tearfully.
Yele held his hand. “That’s the same for me too, perhaps greater. But I know Bryanzim. This is the only way to save the kingdom. Then we can have fair elections for the next heir.”
He walked away without waiting for an answer.
*****
A ceremonial banquet was held, a month later, to celebrate the birthday of the King. Bryanzim sat in the grand hall after meeting his well-wishers and addressing the commoners. A day full of revelry had passed.
The feast was meant only for the family and the royal ministers.
“Hear!Hear! Today we will have the ceremonial wine in honour of Yele who has succeeded in the task I gave him. I am now indestructible.” Bryanzim high-pitched laughter echoed along with the applause that rose from the table.
The red goblet of wine was served to the king and the ministers.
King Bryanzim drank it heartily. He remained unharmed.
Yele stared in disbelief.
Was the vial not used?
He drinks from the goblet. Within moments, his face contorts in pain and he collapses- DEAD.
Bryanzim asks calmly, “Was that meant for me?” (1000 words including title)
*******
Glossary: This story is based on Mithridatism. Mithridatism is the practice of protecting oneself against a poison by gradually self-administering non-lethal amounts. The word is derived from Mithridates VI, the king of Pontus, who so feared being poisoned that he regularly ingested small doses, aiming to develop immunity.(Not included in the word count)
For Artoonsinn Rug Pull- Writing event -March