Max walked along what the nobles had for decades called the Outer Wall. This wonder of masonry not only formed the very back of the House of Nobles, but was also the very last wall that overlooked the cliffs of Lone Peak.
The old noble had always appreciated the view from the wall. He had grown up watching majestic sunrises and beautiful sunsets from this very same spot.
In younger days he had been more carefree and simply enjoyed the view for its beauty.
Today, the strain of the day and the heavy burden of leadership his position required of him caused him not to only appreciate the beauty, but also the peacefulness of this moment.
There were no fights on the Outer Wall. No debates took place here. As ruling noble, Max had the authority to ban all political talk on the space.
He was not much of a religious man, choosing to abstain from most ceremonies of death or worship of local gods, but the bricks he now stood on were the closest thing to sacred he knew.
Max stood there feeling every single one of his sixty-three years weighing down on his shoulders. He had taken over leadership of Lone Peak when he was forty and felt like he could conquer the world. It had been his leadership that had kept the country from starving in darker times. His planning and careful provisioning of crops had seen that not one of his citizens starved if they were willing to work.
In those days, he practically floated through Lone Peak, born on the praises of his people.
But seasons change.
Now he felt frail and was constantly bothered by the soreness in his joints. Now there was this cough of his to contend with. For the last three months he'd been feeling under the weather, waking up late in the night and sleeping little whenever he managed to doze off. It was all from bad fits of coughing that would keep him up for hours.
He yearned for a restful night's sleep.
When his cough was not keeping him up, however, thoughts of his opposition were able to fill his restless evenings. There was enough on his mind to keep him up for days. The food stores of Lone Peak were vastly lower than they had been in decades. Last year's harvest had not been what they had expected. Spring was here and the mood was hopeful that a good year of crops was ahead of them.
Max could feel the hope in his people and understood that the other noble houses wanted to capitalize on this general air of good will. Yet he knew all too well that a few bad storms, or a very hot summer, could endanger their country far more than most.
His father had been a farmer, one of the best. By his hard work and determination, they had fed the people of Lone Peak for years on end. Max had remembered years of want and food shortages in his younger life. They were hard times. But the young nobles now knew no such want. They saw only opportunity.
Ships to be built. Towers to be erected. Expeditions to go on.
These were what had made Darrion a kingdom worth celebrating, they claimed. And the old noble was hindering growth because he wasn't sure there was enough grain in the store houses.
They mocked him.
Max's cautious attitude kept them in check, however. Something they disagreed with greatly. Still, he prided himself in looking out for those who would be most affected by a food shortage: the poor, the farmers, the young and the old.
He had been these before and was now getting too old for most menial tasks.
A thought that also kept him up at night.
Another spell of convulsions caught him and Max found himself clutching the edge of the wall covering his mouth, waiting for the infernal coughs to stop. When at last it subsided, a young girl with a tray holding two cups appeared by his side looking concerned.
"Your medicine, my Lord," she said, giving him a small curtsy.
Max took a deep steadying breath and managed a weak smile at her.
Of all the attendants who roamed the halls of the House of Nobles making beds, filling food plates, and keeping the castle running, the small little redheaded child always cheered Max, even on his darkest days.
She didn't smile much, nor did she skip around and make jokes like other children her own age. She seemed more serious than her years would typically allow her. At only twelve, she was in charge of many things her peers wouldn't have been entrusted with.
Like the care of Max's medicine.
She spoke little and when asked questions only responded in short, polite answers. Max found great comfort in her presence, simply for the fact that most of the other servants and people he encountered seemed ready for him to step down from power, retire, or succumb to illness.
As of late, the number of those wishing to watch Max's reign end was growing immensely.
Yet this little girl appeared to have genuine concern for him.
"Thank you, Marie," he said inclining his head to her. "I do sound rather awful, don't I?"
She curtsied again as he took both the small glass cup of a medicine he knew would taste quite terrible, and a larger cup of clear water.
"I hope this new medicine works better than the last," she replied.
"I just hope it tastes better," Max said as he looked down disapprovingly at the small glass of green looking syrup. "Although the last dose actually put me to sleep for an hour. I appreciated the nap."
He made a grimace, then swallowed the medicine in one gulp. It was not, indeed, better tasting. Max grabbed for the glass of water and chased the awful tasting substance down with it.
Gasping for air after drinking the entire glass in quick, successive gulps, Max resurfaced and thought he might rather deal with the coughing than take any more medicine.
"Please tell Sebastian that if he's going to whip up anymore tonics for me to take that he may as well give me a dose to put me to sleep as well. Whatever was in that blue concoction."
Marie curtsied and turned to leave.
He turned to face the sunrise again, but something was wrong. In a sudden wave of dizziness, Max grabbed hold of the side of the wall.
"Marie!" he called out.
A loud clatter told his ears that the young girl had dropped her tray. He felt her arm around him to steady him. She really was a small thing and couldn't handle even his meager weight for long.
"My lord?" she asked as he felt his knees buckling.
"Dizzy," he said, trying to sound reassuring. The servant girl's voice had trembled with fear. "Just dizzy. A chair."
He felt her leading him, small child though she was, to a nearby semi-circle of chairs he had commissioned to be built not two years previous.
His vision was blurry. It was hard for him to see the armrest he knew to belong to a beautifully carved stone chair at the end of the row. He found it more by memory than by sight.
Once he settled himself in the chair, the world began to spin less quickly. He still felt the urge to vomit, however. If it meant turning upside down every time he took a dose of medicine, he'd rather have the cough.
"Are you alright, my lord?" Marie asked as she put her hand on his arm. Shadows told him that she had knelt in front of him. He reached with his other hand to hold onto hers. Her presence steadied him. He felt, even as powerful a man as he was and eldest of nobles, this little girl's touch was comforting and calming.
"Yes," he said as a cold sweat began to overtake him. "Yes I'm fine. Perhaps another glass of water?"
"Of course my lord," she answered. Retreating footsteps told him she had sped off to the nearest fountain to retrieve a drink for him.
Since opening his eyes sent the world spinning, he shut them tight and tried to remember that the chair was indeed stone and anchored to the earth, not a child's spinning top.
Marie's footsteps faded back into the hall as she ran to fetch him his water.
That was what startled him the most then, when he felt himself being raised from the chair and lead away by much stronger hands. These rough actions that did not belong to a servant.
"Who is this?" he asked, opening his eyes and immediately regretting the decision.
The sea out in front of him spun and the sky seemed to be in the place of the waters, as if they had traded places. The arms gripping him were far too strong for them to belong to little Marie.
"Who are you?" Max asked as he felt himself being dragged away from the chairs. "Where you taking me?"
The world was still spinning blindingly fast and with each forced step, Max became even more unstable.
Then he felt the very distinct sensation of being lifted up off the ground. Another fit of coughing overtook him as his legs bumped against the half wall that separated the rear of the House of Nobles and the cliffs below. He also heard a small yell and the clatter of a tray and glass cup to the stone floor.
Now he felt like vomiting, Max opened his eyes to see who it was that was forcing him over the wall. Three things registered inside his head all at once: the fact that he had hit the stone floor instead of being launched over the wall, that his attacker had dropped him to run off, and that Marie was screaming wildly at his side.
Then his vision went dark.