[P] — cask of amontillado

[Raum]

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

 

The Villain King.
 
Raum has so many names: the Ghost King (once the Ghost of Denocte), the Crow King, the Traitor King… so many he had begun to lose count. Every paintbrush that tarnished him with a new name was another numbing layer. No longer did he feel anything – if, one might argue, he ever felt anything at all to begin with.
 
The small village the guard’s procession weaves through aches with hunger and need.  At its heart strides a stallion silver as the moon with eyes of brightest blue. He does not smile, he barely even looks at the crowds that howl and hiss and press in upon him. Those cheering are few, those crying out in want are many. But the silver stallion does not flinch. He walks slow, each step carefully placed, practiced and artful.
 
But it is no dance of a Crow.
 
Within the crowd another stallion moves. Oh he is white, as pure as winter’s first snowfall. He moves like a dancer, a god, an angel. But few notice him, not when they turn their sights on the silver king to beg or heckle him. The white stallion weaves slowly, slowly, he keeps pace, slipping between the crowd like a shadow. The silver king at the heart of the procession spots him, turns that blue gaze upon him, just for a fleeting moment, before he turns his attention back to the parade.
 
A child drops their sweets at the feet of the white stallion. He pauses stoops to pick it up, offers it back to the foal and murmurs lightly, “Don’t lose it. Eat it all up, heaven knows what resources the king will ban next.” He smiles a summer smile, warm, soft, and slips into the shadows. Bodies jostle him, pushing forward, snarling and weeping. They want him back in Denocte – not that Denocte would ever have him…
 
In the corner of his eye there is a flash of granite and gold. The figure disappears into a quiet side street. The white stallion casts a gaze to the parade before he slips between the crowds and down the narrow alley. Away and away, out and out to the quiet edges of the village, to the corners where those hid who did not want to draw the attention of the King.
 
Slowly the stallion steps up to where the stranger rests his body of shadow and sunlight. The white man drinks him in and offers softly, like quicksilver, “Tired of the parade?” Understanding blooms across his face, for he too is weary of the procession. It was a display of power but a chance too to gauge the feelings of the people. It was also an opportunity for a king to step, concealed amidst his people, to watch, to listen, to study. With a deftly feigned, bored sigh Raum asks softly, “Have you found anything else of interest to do instead?” He hears the distant sounds of the parade moving on and the doppelganger king at its heart. It paid to have shape-shifting magic, to transform himself into anyone he chose.

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@Erasmus - sneaky sneaky undercover Raum. Don't worry, he will reveal himself <3