Sovereignty

Fantasy Flash Fiction that has a much deeper symbolic meaning. Can you guess what it is?

The King paced his balcony before dawn, conferencing with his closest advisers about the dire situation they faced.  The siege of the city had progressed poorly.   There were simply too many invaders.  

According to his generals, the horde of dark forces would overrun the city walls today.  His soldiers would be forced to retreat into the city, many of them would fall.  By noon today, there would be fighting in the streets.

The invaders were numerous, fierce warriors, mobile, trained in martial arts.  They moved fast, hit hard and used numbers to their advantage.

The King’s armorer begged him to wear his armor.  

“T’will give you the best chance ta survive!” He shouted, “And if you survive you call kill more of ta basterds!”

The weapons master, however, had a cool, collected manner, confident in the King’s abilities; He was confident in the fighting and tactical abilities he had trained into the King until he had forged the king himself into a deadly weapon of war.  He simply smiled wryly at the King who already knew what he thought, but asked him anyway.  

“You’re the King, you know best, my lord, I trust your decision.”

He knows we can kill more of them without the heavy armor.  Perhaps, though unlikely, we can even win.   We have to use our martial training to move faster than they do. Our armor will trap us with burdens of our own making and the invaders will swarm each of us until we are all dead and the city will fall to darkness.  Our only chance at life is to trust in our own strengths.

The King turned around, thinking, and walked over the railing of the balcony.   His castle was built on a high cliff overlooking the ocean to the east.  

The sea raged, mirroring the King’s inner turmoil. Forty foot tall waves of deep purple water crashed against the cliffs below.  And the sun had just peeked up over the vast watery horizon, creating beautiful patterns of intense color across the sky, which was splotched with menacing dark storm clouds.  

A storm approached, and the sunrise intensified the colors of the sky, which contrasted vividly with the dark, brooding water.  The tops of the waves glistened with a sparkling, almost spiritual light that opened his heart with an intensity he had rarely felt.

He looked longingly to the east and the endless possibilities and danger that lurked over the eastern horizon.

He felt as if he had stepped into a living piece of art, a place of magic and fantasy, though he knew not what had changed.  How he longed to escape to the adventure and terror of that ocean!

He turned around and smiled at his men and said, “Come, look at the sunrise and the water with me. Feel the salty breeze on your faces!  Notice how the colors of nature will saturate your heart with the love and goodness of God’s color infused morning painting!”

His men looked at him, confused, but, obeying their King, they  each turned to stare toward the east.

As he watched his men….his friends, he saw the seriousness, and then the realization in their eyes. They all nodded.  

No words were exchanged but, by silent consensus, they decided the obvious — no armor.  

They would be vulnerable. Many of them, perhaps all of them, would not see today’s sunset, making the sunrise all the sweeter.  Each man had decided to trust his unique fighting abilities to move fast and silently, rather than to burden themselves with forged protection.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, each man turned, one-by-one, to face the King, and smiled.

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