This post is part three of a series which spun off from what I originally thought would be a standalone post. It's set in the bronze age of my D&D homebrew world.
The previous posts are; Worldbuilding Prompt #955 - Twins and Worldbuilding Prompt #962 - One Twin
I hope you enjoy this latest episode in a tragic tale of rivalry and revenge !
Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio
"Let us drink to the memory of my beloved brother, cruelly torn from us on the day of our father's death six years past !"
King Kallicrates swayed slightly as he raised his wine cup in a slurred toast. Then he sat heavily back into his ornate throne. On smaller thrones to his left and right were his queen, Enkadanna of Elas, and his son Areon.
The boy looked to be about five years old, but had already learned to sit quietly on feast days. The King could be unpredictable after a few cups of strong Kelian wine.
But despite this, people at court described Areon as every inch his father's son. The boy was kicking out silently but viciously at each slave passing with an amphora of wine or tray of food, trying to trip them, with a cruel grin on his face.
Before the guests in his Great Hall could resume their conversations, Kallicrates banged his cup against the arm of his throne to gain their attention once more.
"My friends, as befits this occasion, joyous because it is the anniversary of my coronation but sombre as we remember my brother and father, let us see what gifts my people bring to help me celebrate the memory of my lost twin."
One by one, peasants were bought into the Hall, to deliver up whatever meagre gifts they could produce. Some bought fine linens and rolls of freshly spun wool, even though they themselves were clad in rags. Others gave fattened livestock; pigs, goats, calves and geese. But each of them looked starved and hungry.
Finally, a man was bought in. Filthy and soot-smeared, heavily bearded and wearing a ragged tunic and hooded cloak. He limped slowly towards the royal dais, dragging his left leg behind him. In his arms he carried a rough hemp sack.
"Come on, come on !" Kallicrates cried impatiently. "Any slower and you'll be here just in time for next year's feast. Guards, don't let him too close. He probably stinks, and I don't want his stench polluting my wine."
A pair of guards stopped the man halfway down the hall. One took the sack and placed it on the table reserved for the smaller gifts. The other asked the man his name. He had to ask twice, to hear the mumbled reply.
"Your majesty," the guard announced, "He says he is called Creon the Chalkophoros, and his gift is called the Sword of Justice."
"Ha !" Kallicrates laughed. "Half a man and he carries half my twin's name. He is not even worthy of that. Well, let's see this gift, then."
The guard by the table lifted the sack away, and everyone in the feast hall gasped at what was revealed.
There, on the table, was the most beautiful sword any of them had seen. It was short, as all bronze swords are, but the subtly decorated scabbard was polished bronze instead of the usual tooled leather, and just enough of a hint of blade could be seen to show that it was orichalcum not mere bronze. The magical metal of the gods.
There was a sudden patter of small footsteps as Arion dashed forward. "Mine ! My shiny toy ! Tell them daddy !"
Kallicrates grinned indulgently. "Let the boy play. It's about time he had a real sword to practice with."
Arion grabbed the sword and pulled it free of the scabbard, throwing the intricately worked sheath to the floor as if it had no value. The sword's golden blade glittered in the sun as the boy lifted it high, perfect in it's proportions and workmanship.
Then it's magic revealed itself. It twisted in the prince's hand, turning as if it had a mind of it's own. Before anyone could react, it dragged his hand downward and plunged itself through his heart.
The boy was dead before he crumpled to the marble floor. Blood gushed out, red on the white surface.
Queen Enkadanna screamed in horror, and was joined by everyone else in the hall. Kallicrates roared with grief and wrath.
"Bring me that smith ! I'll rip him to shreds with my bare hands !"
But Creon was gone. He'd made good his escape in the confusion. This was not the revenge he'd planned, but it was the start of vengeance nevertheless.