Uprising In Gonjolard (Part 15 - Conclusion) | A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

Part 14

King Hartfelt and his manservant, Sir Gollett, rode hard under the early morning gray skies as dawn broke headed South through the dense forest. His army and a rebellion would soon fight each other for control of the Kingdom. He was certain of victory. The King gave no thought to the Festival of Gonjolard taking place at the citadel, as Prince Gawdawfel was charged with overseeing this task.

Once they reached the thick of the forest, his army lay in wait for the rebels. But his commander who'd been sent ahead returned, declaring they didn't encounter any rebels..

Perplexed, King Hartfelt then received word that the citidel had fallen under attack at the Festival from the desert sands in the West. The rebellion plans were false. Dismayed, he realized the SOB were actually attacking from the East, remembering his order to withdraw and reposition his men. He quickly devised new strategies.

Before King Hartfelt could continue, another realization came upon him as he glimpsed several men tossing off underbrush and rising from the ground. Some lowered themselves from tree branches. He was being attacked on both front.

Instantly, Alphonse came into view charging on his steed toward him. Lord Foucant followed closely, his sword high shouting words of victory for the SOB.

With no time to react, the skirmish began.

As quickly as the rebels appeared, they disappeared. The Forest Base was set up to entrap the King's army, releasing traps at intervals. However, King Hartfelt's only concern was capturing Alphonse.

"Don't allow him to escape," the King shouted, as he and his army pursued Alphonse and Lord Foucant toward the Eastern shore.

Alphonse and Lord Foucant's smiled as they led the King toward the EastRiver Stronghold where SOB from the north and allies from the East across the sea were ready for the final battle.

Sir Colyn Braille. close friend of Lord Foucant, sailing under the banner of the adjacent country of Primholt, east of Gonjoloard, brought giant seafaring soldiers to help defeat the King and his army.

The stage was now set as the King's army and rebellion fighters.

Hundreds of strange-looking soldiers rushed ashore. On second glance, the King's army realized these men were seven-foot tall fearless giants compared to men in the Kingdom of Gonjolard. Still, they fought bravely until they could no longer resist the equally strange weapons and tactics these foreigners levied upon them.

Only two options remained: fight or lay down their weapons. There wasn't anymore fight in them as the gray sky darkened.

In the end, the foreign seafaring soldiers beat them into the blood-stained sand.

Now, Part 15 - CONCLUSION:

For the Sake of the Kingdom

As King Hartfelt rode toward the Eastern shore, his thoughts were full with the last rebellion he'd put down on that same stretch of sand. He'd no doubt he would rise victorious again. How ironic the SOBs would choose this place for their defeat.

However, today, the King held back his steed as he stared in horror witnessing the destruction of his army. Incensed that Alphonse had outmaneuvered him, protecting the Crown was at the center of his thoughts. His one desire was to be the one who kill Alphonse. All the King could see as he searched desperately for him was his sword running him through.

The hope he wished for did not materialize.

Instantly from behind, Alphonse jumped from his horse and ran toward King Hartfelt. One strong pull, and the King came tumbling from his steed.

King Hartfelt stumbled, then righted himself. But not before Alphonse quickly stepped closer. He knew the old man was no match for him as he swung his blade wide. The King could only partially block Alphonse's attack mid air as his reach wasn't high enough to counter.

The King missed. Alphonse need only raise his sword and plunge it deep within King Hartfelt's chest. In that moment and state of mind, no one could prevent him from doing so.

But he didn't.

Grabbing both swords, he pulled the King toward him. Close enough to feel his heartbeat, Alphonse stared into his eyes. Familiar, yet foreign. He watched as a sense of fear crossed the King's face. He pushed him back with much force.

Weary, King Hartfelt fell onto the wet sand. His sword immediately followed. Unable to draw breath, he attempted to crawl away, but collapsed and turned face upward. His eyes dimmed, then released tears.

King Hartfelt conceded silently that his army was defeated. He didn't expect his life would be spared. Closing his eyes, he waited.

Alphonse towered over the broken man who was once the feared King of Gonjolard.

Alphonse didn't know this man lying beneath him. His entire life was filled with rumors of evil deeds this King commanded that now didn't evoke compassion.

Yet pity rose up in him. He spat into the sand.

As he did, a flurry of noise disrupted him. He turned sharply to see Lord Foucant and Sir Colyn Braille arrive on horseback. They'd been busy fighting. Once Colyn's sea warriors defeated the King's army, he directed his first mate to set sail and return to their homeland. He would follow shortly.

Both men dismounted. Not realizing the situation, Lord Foucant drew his bow and aimed at King Hartfelt.

"No!" Alphonse yelled. "He is mine to bear."

Lord Foucant didn't agree and frowned, but lowered his weapon. Both men stared at Alphonse, then glanced down at King Hartfelt who grabbed his stomach and coughed heavily several times. Blood trickled from his mouth. The sky turned darker as if fulfilling a prophesy.

The men watched as Alphonse knelt beside King Hartfelt and tore off a piece of cloth to wipe away the blood.

King Hartfelt peered solemnly at Alphonse. For a long moment he didn't speak. All thought the King was dead. But he drew a deep haggard breath as if willing words to come forth.

"I don't deserve this." the King spoke slowly. "Yet, to die in honor on the battlefield is a privilege. Not on a throne that never was mind to sit."

The remaining rebels gathered around King Hertfelt and listened closely knowing his end was near.

"I was once strong when my wife, your Grandmother, was alive. My strength left me when she left this world. The Kingdom of Gonjolard is her bloodline; not mind. It is through her line you'll inherit. My only regret is that you did not have a chance to meet her. How much like her you look. She would have been proud of you, as I am now. You would not be here this day had it not been for her protection."

"I haven't much time, I fear. There is no one to tell you these things as the citadel has fallen."

"In my bedchambers sits a chronicle. Study it. Learn about your Grandmother's heritage and how her Kingdom was before I fell out of kinship and order and allowed my son to plunge this Kingdom into the pits of hell.".

"Alphonse," he struggled to say, then paused. "I knew nothing of your mother or any harsh treatment that may have befallen her. But I know you are my Grandson. Declare yourself King. Be strong where I was weak. Be of moral fortitude where I was lacking. Change the course of this conflict with compassion. Free the people. If you will promise these things, I shall be able to go to my ancestors and my Queen with a grateful heart."

"Your name is Alphonse, of House Tallonz, the Second of his name, in the Kingdom of Gonjolard."

All who heard King Hartfelt fell silent, witnessing his admissions. Of importance was his order that Alphonse declare himself King. A victorious day for the kingdom.

"Finish this!" Lord Foucant and Sir Colyn shouted.

But Alphonse stood over King Hartfelt looking deeply into his eyes as knowledge of his relationship overwhelmed him. Instead, he again knelt and clutched King Hartfelt's elbow, then gently placed his hand under his head, tilting it up slightly.

"Mine own heart's root," King Hartfelt declared as strongly as he could, staring into the familiar eyes of his Queen. "Take my steed, my sword, and my crest."

Alphonse frowned initially, then bowed his head. Taking a deep breath, his chosen words were released carefully.

"I forgive you. I promise my King and Grandfather that I will accept your signet, but not your Crown. It must be earned. I have not done so. I will start my own legacy, one of peace, goodness, and prosperity. I will, though, inform the people of Gonjolard of your final words."

The rebels shook their heads in disbelief. The Crown was just handed to Alphonse as the new ruler and rightful heir. The rebellion was supposed to take power from the evil King and his son. "What was the purpose of all this?" they whispered.

Suddenly, a sickening pain shot through King Hartfelt's stomach. Too weak to control it, he coughed several lumps of blood. He slumped, then ceased to breath.

Alphonse rose and stared at the King.

"I will not leave King Hartfelt here on this desolate battlefield shore for the creatures to devour. Whatever his faults, as the King of Gonjolard, he deserves better."

Alphonse himself wrapped King Hartfelt in his cloak. He placed the crown upon the King's head, then covered his face. The rebels gently hoisted him onto his steed. He would be taken back to Gonjolard in the manner in which he left, although to be laid to rest with his ancestors.

Alphonse turned to the rebels. "I will not place the King's crown upon my head this day. It is not for me to decide who will be the future leader. No longer will the Crown rule."

The rebels raised their swords to Alphonse. It mattered not how Alphonse felt, he was their new King.

The rebellion was over.

At the end of it all, crimson, brown, yellow, and blue covered what once was a beautiful shoreline. The coast was littered with the bodies of the wounded and dead. Those in the King's army lay in huge piles from one end to the other. They died knowing nothing of Alphonse and his reason for the rebellion.

Some dreading the outcome of defeat, hid or ran back into the forest to safety. Their fates were already sealed as their bodies were discovered pinned against trees with flaming arrows piercing their heads.

The toll on both sides was immense losing good and decent men only following orders for the leaders they believed in. Still, the Kingdom will likely take decades before the families of the fallen soldiers and countrymen recover from their losses.

But Alphonse could not leave yet. He paused as he sat upon his horse, then surveyed the shoreline from north to south, tracing the boundaries of the Kingdom littered with his enemies and friends alike. He shook his head slowly, then raised his tear-stained face to the gloomy sky.

"What have I done?" he cried. "For the sake of the Kingdom I have killed my countrymen who merely obeyed orders. All I ever wanted was for the Crown to treat men as men and women as women, not as property to be bartered, then executed without cause."

The rebels sat quietly savoring this moment. They didn't understand how Alphonse felt, only that they were now free men. What that meant for each of them, they had yet to understand.

Alphonse turned to them and shouted. "Let this day be known forever as The "Battle Of The Broken Crown".

A moment of silence. Then, they rode and marched back toward Gonjolard.

A New Beginning

Ten soldiers were ordered by King Hartfelt to remain in Gonjolard and defend the East wall of the citadel. A costly mistake as they weren't sufficient to overcome the Sons of Bodar led by Owin, together with Lord Toleranz, Vicar Tibost, and the rest of the rebellious villagers and townspeople.

The air which would usually carry the sounds of gaiety from those enjoying the festival was now heavy with the aroma of smoke.

Shouts of "For freedom in the Kingdom!" could be heard as the crowd watched the SOB take control of the citadel with Prince Gawdawfel defeated.

All they could do now was wait for Alphonse to return. Hopefully, victorious.

"Open the East gate," shouted Simon from the balcony. He watched as Alphonse and the SOB's flag of victory stood just beyond the castle wall, then entered.

Vicar Tibost greeted Alphonse with a warm embrace. "Forgive me I beg you. I knew your background. My former Queen charged me with your care. I've watched you grow into a man and felt you were the king Gonjolard deserved."

"Did you not trust in your own instincts that I could be charged with secrecy?" Alphonse's hurt shone through.

"I trust you with my life. However, many people's lives were at stake. But your part in this victory today was pivotal. How we arrived at this point tells of your courage."

Vicar Tibost wanted to add "and your wisdom" as he glanced at King Hartfelt's steed. He expected nothing less.

Alphonse dismounted and stood before the crowd. An eruption of cheers filled the festival while they moved back to allow him room. He looked weary for battle, but spoke with clarity and authority.

"It is with sorrow that I tell you King Hartfelt is dead. Not by my hands, but illness. He will be given a royal burial and laid to rest with his ancestors. His last words to me were of regret for his actions and instructions for the future of the Kingdom. The King bestowed his heritage, which is my heritage, upon me. I listened while he explained himself and acknowledged me as his heir to replace Prince Gawdawfel. The Crown's rule and reign of misuse by himself and his son has come to an end. I accepted his charge and promised to help lead the Kingdom into a period of peace. No more blood will be shed this day."

Alphonse held up his hand. All in attendance stared at the King's signet ring.

He continued. "But before we can move toward peace, we must lay waste and avenge all that has spread disease and hatred throughout our Kingdom."

Alphonse nodded toward Simon who loosened the ropes binding Gawdawfel's hands and feet. With Gawdawfel's status no longer an issue, he and Lauryn dragged the Prince down from the balcony. As he struggled, Lauryn removed the cloth tied around his mouth.

Alphonse stood facing his father, Prince Gawdawfel. Seeing the hatred in Gawdawfel's eyes, Vicar Tibost, Lords Foucant and Toleranz, with Sir Colyn moved in closer to protect Alphonse as the crowd listened with curiosity.

Alphonse possessed no fear.

"How do you answer for the crimes against the Kingdom? As you passed wrongful judgment on all who offended you, the time has come for you to receive judgement for your offense against the people. What say you?"

Gawdawfel merely smirked, spat in Alphonse's direction, then turned and sneered at the crowd.

The crowd erupted, repeatedly chanting, "Step over judgment. We all have suffered at his hands. Do not show him mercy. Kill Him This Moment!"

Although tempted, Alphonse quieted the crowd.

"No. This will not be our way. Gawdawfel wronged many in our Kingdom. I will allow the people who have suffered to issue his fate."

Peasant Raul broke the silence. "Death by Hanging in the desert as feast for the falcons! And any other Lords who swore fealty to him and abused us. They deserve no less."

One by one other villagers and townspeople gleefully echoed their agreement.

"For my parents," shouted Lauryn of the Long Sword;
"For my parents," shouted numerous villagers.

Immediately, an enormous stir in the crowd erupted, then quieted, as peasants tearfully acknowledged their loved ones.

"For Joyn.
For Goce.
For Rowan.
For Rolph.
For Trista.
For Milisent.
For Ellenor.
For Esclara.
For Ernest.
For Barfolf.
For Godrick.
For Percy.

And for Arnaldo, my husband and faithful servant to Gawdawfel for many years whom he beheaded for speaking the truth."

The list of innocent victims continued until Gawdawfel dropped his head. Not in shame for the atrocities he'd committed, but for the acknowledgement that the end of his cruelty in the Kingdom had come to an end.

Lauryn stepped forward. "Allow me, Prince Alphonse, to slit his throat this second and be done with it."

"No. Your hands will not be bloodied," Alphonse retorted quickly.

Sir Colyn's suggestion was met with applause. "Set him adrift upon the water heading away from Gonjolard and allow the creatures of the sea their pleasure."

"That is not the answer. His evil may live on in unexpected ways. Evil does not contain itself to one shore. If he's allowed to live, he will infect others with his evildoing. I'd not wish it to be visited on any other people. I'll not unleash our evil and pray enough good people elsewhere have the fortitude to overcome him."

The crowd fell silent. Simon shouted. "Then let us take care of our own evil and end his reign today." He glanced out over the crowd who erupted again in cheers as he took hold of Gawdawfel and chained him as he would have done in the past. A common peasant criminal to be held in the dungeon awaiting execution.

Alphonse acknowledged the people's decision.

"If this is your wish, good people, then so be it. We must go forward into the next Kingdom. How will we proceed? I introduce Sir Colyn Braille. He answered our call for allies in this fight for freedom. He grew up in Gonjolard's Eastern Rune Village as did Lord Foucant. Sailing under the banner from his new country of Primholt, Colyn traveled far and has numerous suggestions. Any people of Gonjolard will be able to suggest new ways we can move forward. We will work together for a solution. I am not your King. That was the old way. And, I am not your leader, unless you choose me to act as such."

"Alphonse, our Leader, the crowd cheered."

"Then let it be so." Alphonse acknowledged the overwhelming support for his leadership. Turning to Lords Foucant and Toleranz, he declared. "I would be pleased if you two would consent to become my advisors."

They both accepted.

Vicar Tibost smiled. What had stirred in his mind and heart the moment he laid eyes on Alphonse in his blanket with a note from the Queen addressed to him, he'd planned for this day, hoping he'd survive to see it come to pass.

Tibost then officially announced Alphonse's title. "Good people, I present to you as your Leader, Alphonse Tallonz, of House Tallonz, the second of his name and Leader of the Kingdom of Gonjolard.

Alphonse extended his hand to Lauryn. She unbuckled her long sword; threw off her cloak, and walked proudly toward him.

"My people, your Leader's one and only wife, if she will consent!"

Cheers erupted as Lauryn buried Alphonse under a mountain of kisses. He broke away to address the people.

"Let me remind you that today is still FREYJA's Day. Let not two battles and an agreed execution ruin it. Continue on with the Festival of Gonjolard."

^Source

^Source

Welcome back to my freewrite prompt story for this week. The photo that is the subject of the story spoke to me about a young man either on his way or returning from battle.

Describe what you see.
A well-dressed young man is riding a horse with soldiers following alongside. In the background is a castle under dark gray skies.

Describe what you feel.
The young man is a leader as others are following him. He is either going into or returning from a battle. What happened during the battle, I wonder? Let me compose this chapter to discover the details.

Write a story or poem about what you think is going on. I leave with you my story for:

Original PIC1000 Challenge
A Picture is Worth A Thousand Words - 3/22/24

^{Image used with permission of contest owner}