You begin to notice figures of people both walking and riding on horseback across the verdant land, and horse-drawn carriages on the dusty roads drawing up dust clouds behind them as they grow nearer and nearer to the fortress. You smile and begin the descent back down, making for the entrance to meet and greet everyone as they arrive.
You have spoken to the members as they have arrived, making polite conversation. But despite the news that they are sharing, you are secretly scanning the room for a particular figure. But it is too busy. Too many people hustling and bustling and you give up. He will be made known soon enough. You join the stream of people and enter the great hall where everyone is taking their ascribed places at the long table. You are nowhere important. Just near the end with everyone else of little consequence. Near the top of the table is GRP, the current leader. Around GRP are those who have served the longest, those with most to contribute and him who takes the minutes.
Looking up and down the table, most of the faces are familiar, there are some new ones. New recruits. But out of all the faces, one of them lifts out, steals the focus. He is sitting just a couple of spaces down the row from your own seat. You watch him. He catches your eye and he smiles, a little nervously. You look away. The GRP rises and everyone sits up a little straighter in anticipation of his opening words. “We shall commence the meeting after the society song,” he announces. Everyone stands and begins to sing in unison.
This world is cast in gloom,
Sits in the hand of impending doom.
Roaring clouds of death and pain
Approach, approach across the dying plain.
We need to fix this land,
Pull it out of the toxic quicksand.
We need to save this world
Before further evil is unfurled.
We hear the kingdom’s bells a-ringing!
We know to gather, our news we’re bringing.
The fate of all rests upon our story,
Us revolutionaries will find our glory!
For this reason, to stop this blight,
We, the Crowners of the Light,
Will save the world. This will be our crowning glory!
As everyone else sits down, the GRP remains standing. “Prior to any item on the agenda, I shall hand over to one of our newest recruits. Over to you, Reeder.” GRP sits down and you stand up.
“Good afternoon, Crowners. I find it a great privilege and, indeed, a pleasure to be welcomed so warmly by you all and I look forward to continuing work with you. However, I must inform you that within my short time here, I have uncovered a mole.” You pause for effect as everyone around the table gasp and shift uneasily in their chairs. “Through a series of letters, I have learned much about a rival group called the Keepers of the Crowns whose aim is to undo all our hard work. This information came to me by one of its three members, who is here with us today.” Everyone around the table looks at each other suspiciously. You look to GRP, who is listening with intrigue, stroking his chiseled chin. “I have the letters exchanged between the two of us with me here.”
From your satchel, you withdraw the letters and hold them up for all to see. “A few choice phrases for you,” you say, thumbing through the paper leaves. “ ‘Very early on in the history of the Crowns, a secret society was created. They called themselves “Crowners of the Light”, which makes me personally feel sick; they could not be any less stereotypical of a secret society.’”. There are noises of disgruntled Crowners from around the table. You go on: “ ‘They open with a ridiculously cringeworthy song.’” The sound of disgust grows in its volume and intensity. “ ‘I have infiltrated the Crowners of the Light for seven years now, enough time to be trusted and be fully made aware of their ultimate plans.’ The letter is signed: Sam,” you conclude, placing the wad of letters on the table before you.
Heads turn to the man who smiled at you just minutes before. But there is no smile on his face now. Just sheer embarrassment. He looks at you. You stare back, coldly. Sam stands up, his head now bowed. “Thank you, Reeder,” GRP says, gravely. You nod your head respectfully and sit down. “Your contribution is much appreciated. As for you, Sam, have you anything to say for yourself?” Sam shook his head slowly. “You have violated the code of the Crowners of the Light, and betrayed the very essence of our being. The pain for your crime is death. Do you understand?”
“I do,” Sam says, strangely strongly.
“Reeder,” GRP says. You rise. “Would you do the honours?”
“I beg your pardon.”
Somebody passes you a broadsword.
“Reeder, kill him,” GRP ordered.
You step out from the table, as does Sam, resigned to his fate. You stand before each other, staring. You stab Sam. He winces and staggers back, falling to the ground. You watch Sam die by your hand. “Thank you, Reeder. You have done good."
The bell strikes one.
