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araitsume · 4 years ago

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The Acts of the Apostles, pp. 103-111: Chapter (11) The Gospel in Samaria

This chapter is based on Acts 8.

After the death of Stephen there arose against the believers in Jerusalem a persecution so relentless that “they were all scattered abroad throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria.” Saul “made havoc of the church, entering into every house, and haling men and women committed them to prison.” Of his zeal in this cruel work he said at a later date: “I verily thought with myself, that I ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth. Which thing I also did in Jerusalem: and many of the saints did I shut up in prison.... And I punished them oft in every synagogue, and compelled them to blaspheme; and being exceedingly mad against them, I persecuted them even unto strange cities.” That Stephen was not the only one who suffered death may be seen from Saul's own words, “And when they were put to death, I gave my voice against them.” Acts 26:9-11.

At this time of peril Nicodemus came forward in fearless avowal of his faith in the crucified Saviour. Nicodemus was a member of the Sanhedrin and with others had been stirred by the teaching of Jesus. As he had witnessed Christ's wonderful works, the conviction had fastened itself upon his mind that this was the Sent of God. Too proud openly to acknowledge himself in sympathy with the Galilean Teacher, he had sought a secret interview. In this interview Jesus had unfolded to him the plan of salvation and His mission to the world, yet still Nicodemus had hesitated. He hid the truth in his heart, and for three years there was little apparent fruit. But while Nicodemus had not publicly acknowledged Christ, he had in the Sanhedrin council repeatedly thwarted the schemes of the priests to destroy Him. When at last Christ had been lifted up on the cross, Nicodemus remembered the words that He had spoken to him in the night interview on the Mount of Olives, “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up” (John 3:14); and he saw in Jesus the world's Redeemer.

With Joseph of Arimathea, Nicodemus had borne the expense of the burial of Jesus. The disciples had been afraid to show themselves openly as Christ's followers, but Nicodemus and Joseph had come boldly to their aid. The help of these rich and honored men was greatly needed in that hour of darkness. They had been able to do for their dead Master what it would have been impossible for the poor disciples to do; and their wealth and influence had protected them, in a great measure, from the malice of the priests and rulers.

Now, when the Jews were trying to destroy the infant church, Nicodemus came forward in its defense. No longer cautious and questioning, he encouraged the faith of the disciples and used his wealth in helping to sustain the church at Jerusalem and in advancing the work of the gospel. Those who in other days had paid him reverence, now scorned and persecuted him, and he became poor in this world's goods; yet he faltered not in the defense of his faith.

The persecution that came upon the church in Jerusalem resulted in giving a great impetus to the work of the gospel. Success had attended the ministry of the word in that place, and there was danger that the disciples would linger there too long, unmindful of the Saviour's commission to go to all the world. Forgetting that strength to resist evil is best gained by aggressive service, they began to think that they had no work so important as that of shielding the church in Jerusalem from the attacks of the enemy. Instead of educating the new converts to carry the gospel to those who had not heard it, they were in danger of taking a course that would lead all to be satisfied with what had been accomplished. To scatter His representatives abroad, where they could work for others, God permitted persecution to come upon them. Driven from Jerusalem, the believers “went everywhere preaching the word.”

Among those to whom the Saviour had given the commission, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations” (Matthew 28:19), were many from the humbler walks of life—men and women who had learned to love their Lord and who had determined to follow His example of unselfish service. To these lowly ones, as well as to the disciples who had been with the Saviour during His earthly ministry, had been given a precious trust. They were to carry to the world the glad tidings of salvation through Christ.

When they were scattered by persecution they went forth filled with missionary zeal. They realized the responsibility of their mission. They knew that they held in their hands the bread of life for a famishing world; and they were constrained by the love of Christ to break this bread to all who were in need. The Lord wrought through them. Wherever they went, the sick were healed and the poor had the gospel preached unto them.

Philip, one of the seven deacons, was among those driven from Jerusalem. He “went down to the city of Samaria, and preached Christ unto them. And the people with one accord gave heed unto those things which Philip spake, hearing and seeing the miracles which he did. For unclean spirits ... came out of many that were possessed with them: and many taken with palsies, and that were lame, were healed. And there was great joy in that city.”

Christ's message to the Samaritan woman with whom He had talked at Jacob's well had borne fruit. After listening to His words, the woman had gone to the men of the city, saying, “Come, see a man, which told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ?” They went with her, heard Jesus, and believed on Him. Anxious to hear more, they begged Him to remain. For two days He stayed with them, “and many more believed because of His own word.” John 4:29, 41.

And when His disciples were driven from Jerusalem, some found in Samaria a safe asylum. The Samaritans welcomed these messengers of the gospel, and the Jewish converts gathered a precious harvest from among those who had once been their bitterest enemies.

Philip's work in Samaria was marked with great success, and, thus encouraged, he sent to Jerusalem for help. The apostles now perceived more fully the meaning of the words of Christ, “Ye shall be witnesses unto Me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth.” Acts 1:8.

While Philip was still in Samaria, he was directed by a heavenly messenger to “go toward the south unto the way that goeth down from Jerusalem unto Gaza.... And he arose and went.” He did not question the call, nor did he hesitate to obey; for he had learned the lesson of conformity to God's will.

“And, behold, a man of Ethiopia, a eunuch of great authority under Candace queen of the Ethiopians, who had the charge of all her treasure, and had come to Jerusalem for to worship, was returning, and sitting in his chariot read Esaias the prophet.” This Ethiopian was a man of good standing and of wide influence. God saw that when converted he would give others the light he had received and would exert a strong influence in favor of the gospel. Angels of God were attending this seeker for light, and he was being drawn to the Saviour. By the ministration of the Holy Spirit the Lord brought him into touch with one who could lead him to the light.

Philip was directed to go to the Ethiopian and explain to him the prophecy that he was reading. “Go near,” the Spirit said, “and join thyself to this chariot.” As Philip drew near, he asked the eunuch, “Understandest thou what thou readest? And he said, How can I, except some man should guide me? And he desired Philip that he would come up and sit with him.” The scripture that he was reading was the prophecy of Isaiah relating to Christ: “He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; and like a lamb dumb before his shearer, so opened He not His mouth: in His humiliation His judgment was taken away: and who shall declare His generation? for His life is taken from the earth.”

“Of whom speaketh the prophet this?” the eunuch asked, “of himself, or of some other man?” Then Philip opened to him the great truth of redemption. Beginning at the same scripture, he “preached unto him Jesus.”

The man's heart thrilled with interest as the Scriptures were explained to him; and when the disciple had finished, he was ready to accept the light given. He did not make his high worldly position an excuse for refusing the gospel. “As they went on their way, they came unto a certain water: and the eunuch said, See, here is water; what doth hinder me to be baptized? And Philip said, If thou believest with all thine heart, thou mayest. And he answered and said, I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God. And he commanded the chariot to stand still: and they went down both into the water, both Philip and the eunuch; and he baptized him.

“And when they were come up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord caught away Philip, that the eunuch saw him no more: and he went on his way rejoicing. But Philip was found at Azotus: and passing through he preached in all the cities, till he came to Caesarea.”

This Ethiopian represented a large class who need to be taught by such missionaries as Philip—men who will hear the voice of God and go where He sends them. There are many who are reading the Scriptures who cannot understand their true import. All over the world men and women are looking wistfully to heaven. Prayers and tears and inquiries go up from souls longing for light, for grace, for the Holy Spirit. Many are on the verge of the kingdom, waiting only to be gathered in.

An angel guided Philip to the one who was seeking for light and who was ready to receive the gospel, and today angels will guide the footsteps of those workers who will allow the Holy Spirit to sanctify their tongues and refine and ennoble their hearts. The angel sent to Philip could himself have done the work for the Ethiopian, but this is not God's way of working. It is His plan that men are to work for their fellow men.

In the trust given to the first disciples, believers in every age have shared. Everyone who has received the gospel has been given sacred truth to impart to the world. God's faithful people have always been aggressive missionaries, consecrating their resources to the honor of His name and wisely using their talents in His service.

The unselfish labor of Christians in the past should be to us an object lesson and an inspiration. The members of God's church are to be zealous of good works, separating from worldly ambition and walking in the footsteps of Him who went about doing good. With hearts filled with sympathy and compassion, they are to minister to those in need of help, bringing to sinners a knowledge of the Saviour's love. Such work calls for laborious effort, but it brings a rich reward. Those who engage in it with sincerity of purpose will see souls won to the Saviour, for the influence that attends the practical carrying out of the divine commission is irresistible.

Not upon the ordained minister only rests the responsibility of going forth to fulfill this commission. Everyone who has received Christ is called to work for the salvation of his fellow men. “The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come.” Revelation 22:17. The charge to give this invitation includes the entire church. Everyone who has heard the invitation is to echo the message from hill and valley, saying, “Come.”

It is fatal mistake to suppose that the work of soul-saving depends alone upon the ministry. The humble, consecrated believer upon whom the Master of the vineyard places a burden for souls is to be given encouragement by the men upon whom the Lord has laid larger responsibilities. Those who stand as leaders in the church of God are to realize that the Saviour's commission is given to all who believe in His name. God will send forth into His vineyard many who have not been dedicated to the ministry by the laying on of hands.

Hundreds, yea, thousands, who have heard the message of salvation are still idlers in the market place, when they might be engaged in some line of active service. To these Christ is saying, “Why stand ye here all the day idle?” and He adds, “Go ye also into the vineyard.” Matthew 20:6, 7. Why is it that many more do not respond to the call? Is it because they think themselves excused in that they do not stand in the pulpit? Let them understand that there is a large work to be done outside the pulpit by thousands of consecrated lay members.

Long has God waited for the spirit of service to take possession of the whole church so that everyone shall be working for Him according to his ability. When the members of the church of God do their appointed work in the needy fields at home and abroad, in fulfillment of the gospel commission, the whole world will soon be warned and the Lord Jesus will return to this earth with power and great glory. “This gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world for a witness unto all nations; and then shall the end come.” Matthew 24:14.

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incomplete-nano-stash · 5 years ago

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2019 NaNo: Nightfall in Litigia, Chapter 1

“Are you certain of that information?” Queen Guerrania’s voice showed barely a quiver as she asked the question, but the concerned tone set everyone on edge, for if the once-fearless Queen of Technasia was afraid, then they all should be.

“We had a confirmation just this morning,” the respondent, a colonel of the royal guards, intoned. “Six companies of troops approaching from the east, flying Litigian colors.”

“Six!” Princess Jayne Monger, the Princess of Strength, exclaimed, startling the nearby Princess of Life, Hanna Umbriel. “We don’t have nearly enough conscripted to confront that kind of force.”

Queen Guerrania placed her chin in her hand, lost in thought. “The wise general worries not about her numbers or lack of same, but does more to compensate and fights smarter. A blunt instrument is no match for a fine sword.”

Princesses Jayne and Hanna exchanged confused looks. “Your Majesty?”

Queen Guerrania looked up at the remnants of her vaunted Princess Corps. “Reviewing strategy. An ancestor of mine thought about this very problem.” She turned to the colonel. “Take twelve patrols, set up equidistant checkpoints to maintain observation of the enemy. If you can locate a commander or figure out some sort of officers, attempt to make contact. Warn them … cordially.”

The colonel bowed deeply. “It will be done, Your Majesty.” He crisply turned on his heel and strode aggressively toward the door, only to nearly be bowled over when the doors burst inward.

“Ramia!” Princess Hanna stood quickly and rushed over to her sister’s side, hugging her while she guided the Princess of Law to her rightful seat at the table. “My God, what’s happened to you?” Thaylen Halder, the fugitive lesser prince of Technasia’s bitter rival LItigia, followed close behind, looking equally as ragged to those assembled in the room as Princess Ramia Tensay did. They both had not bothered with changing their garb, nor trying to clean up from their long journey. An attendant quickly rushed to Princess Ramia’s side and offered her a goblet, which she gratefully took and swigged nearly the entire contents.

Queen Guerrania’s face tried to maintain decorum, but she did raise a nonplussed eyebrow. “Princess Ramia, welcome back.”

Princess Ramia slammed down the goblet on the table, cracking the vessel slightly. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I have news from the Darklands.”

“As we have news from home,” the Queen responded. “But please, continue.”

Princess Ramia motioned for Thaylen to approach the table. He slung down a knapsack, pulling out a jar of dark fluid. Princess Ramia turned toward her sister. “Hanna, does this look familiar?”

Princess Hanna sucked in a quick breath. “That’s our formula. The Decade Plague cure that Giana developed with me.”

Thaylen smiled slightly. “It’s actually an improved version, Your Highness, one which will completely cure the plague.”

Princess Jayne’s face took an expression of relief; perhaps her accidental exposure to the Plague would not be a death sentence, after all. “Thank you Jesus.”

“Point is, though, in addition to this we found out the angle for the Darklands Assassins.” Princess Ramia looked around the table, realizing there was an absence. “Hey, where’s Anyia?”

“I’m afraid that your news might combine with ours here,” Queen Guerrania darkly pronounced at the mention of Anyia Po, the Princess of Literacy. “Princess Anyia was involved in an overthrow attempt. She was arrested, and sadly has died in custody.” Princess Hanna’s features darkened. She hoped Princess Ramia could not pick up on her mood as the Queen continued. “We now have a large force of Litigian regulars approaching our borders. They want a war.”

Princess Ramia cleared her throat. “I don’t think they do. It might be a retaliatory force.”

“Retaliatory?” Queen Guerrania was genuinely surprised. “For what?”

Thaylen smirked. “The bloodlust of Litigia knows no bounds. While there were assassins being sent here targeting you, Your Majesty, there were others sent to target the Litigian Council of Lords. Specifically the Lords, though, not my father.”

Princess Jayne cleared her throat. “Wouldn’t happen to involve Vriant Poe, would it?”

Princess Ramia now felt the urge of surprise. “What do you mean?”

Queen Guerrania pushed the large book … Princess Anyia’s history … toward Princess Ramia. “He’s Anyia’s cousin. They apparently had a plot afoot to unify the two nations.”

Princess Ramia started breathing heavily. “God … this is bad, then. I just agreed to let Tuck go to Litigia with Lord Moethran. Things are going to get very dangerous very fast for her.”

“I need to see your authorization.”

The disinterested sentry standing watch outside the wrought metal gate looked more bored than insistent as he presented the order to the two poncho-clad women standing before him. The rain was certainly not helping his mood any. With a light giggle, one of the women brought out a sheaf of paperwork, hand-written with official seals. The guard flipped through it with as much contempt as he could.

“Hmf … domestic servants, huh? What do you … oh, wait, never mind, you can’t answer that anyway.” He shoved the paperwork back into the lead woman’s arms. “Go ahead and get started. Lord Vengor expects to take residence within the week.”

A less light giggle came from the woman as she stuffed the paperwork back into her poncho, leading her companion into the compound as the gates opened up. Just as quickly, though, the gates closed with a loud clang.

Although the place was bustling with activity, everything was under the watchful eyes of guards, stationed at every corner and atop every wall. The rain felt even more oppressive to the disguised Technasian woman as she followed Firnian Moethran, former Lord of the holding, through the muddy central square toward the residence. She bit her tongue at the urge to talk, knowing that it would give them both away if she did.

Firnian, for her part, fought the urge to scream. Majer Vengor? That pedophile? She seethed, maintaining her silence as both she and her companion crossed the threshold of the door. Inside, a warm, welcoming fire was roaring in the centrally-located fireplace, numerous maids rushing back and forth cleaning multiple surfaces and items within the home.

An older woman approached the two newcomers with a very strong, swift stride. She motioned with her hands, a shorthand all the domestic workers of Litigia used to communicate without triggering the gigglers, collars that all Litigian women wore which restricted their speech to meaningless giggling. Firnian waved back, reaching back into her poncho and producing a small sigil.

The Technasian looked on, bewildered, until the elder’s face shone recognition and relief. She quickly motioned to follow her. Firnian quickly fell in line behind the older woman, with the princess in tow. After entering and traversing a long, dark hallway, the three women reached a large bedchamber, ornately decorated with gilded appliques and fixtures.

The older woman reached her hand up to her giggler, finding a knob and turning it. “Milord Firnian, thank God you’ve made it home!” The older woman tightly embraced Firnian, who let her hood drop. “It must be torture for you to wear the giggler.”

Firnian chuckled. “Not so much when it’s fake.”

The older woman’s eyes widened. “How is this possible? You had no access to your special labs.”

Firnian motioned to her companion, who flipped down her own poncho hood. “Thanks to our new friend here. Tuck, this is Lucinda Breech, she has been the House of Moethran’s head of household since even before my father’s time. Lucinda, may I present to you Imogen Inperia, Technasia’s Princess of Technology.”

Tuck blushed at the introduction. “Please, ma’am, call me Tuck.”

Lucinda curtsied. “My word, visiting royalty! This is a privilege.”

Firnian waved off the curtsy and urged Lucinda to stand back up. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve gotten really chummy in the last month or so. I need to know why in the fuck my holdings are being given to that pervert Vengor.”

Lucinda’s eyes darkened. “I’m afraid that King Guent liquidated your holdings, milord. He announced the redistribution of all properties belonging to traitors to the homeland, starting with all of yours going to the Church. In particular, Lord Vengor laid claim to your home, while selling the rest of your land holdings to other wealthy families, with the profits going to the Church.”

Firnian looked fit to explode. She found a convenient silver jewelry box and flung it across the room, where it shattered a mirror. “Goddamn it! Vengor has no rights to this land! I will not allow that cocksucker to invade my home and diddle choirboys on my bed!” She delivered a swift kick to the vanity that now no longer had a mirror, screaming in impotent rage.

Tuck, however, approached Lucinda. “Has there been any word about the other Lords? How many are left?”

Lucinda scoffed. “There’s still four loyal to the King, if that’s what you’re asking. After he banished milord, after Lord Jair’s murder, and after Lord Qine’s untimely demise, he installed Brestian Laith, Killin Frove, and milord’s current target Majer Vengor as the new Council of Lords.”

Tuck and Firnian exchanged looks. “Wait, you only said Lord Jair was murdered?” Tuck finally asked.

“Indeed. Lord Qine died of natural causes, according to the King, though there are rumors that those ‘natural’ causes might’ve been sped along by Guent getting impatient and too pissed off.” Lucinda shrugged. “We’ll never know the true story though, since Guent also ordered Qine’s body to be cremated immediately. Something about a plague?”

Firnian seethed as she removed her poncho. “Plague my ass. I’ve seen plague with my own two eyes. Guent did something there.” She reached for a nearby scroll and rolled it out, a blank scroll. With a pen from the wrecked vanity, she started scrawling on the page. Names, mainly, and while she wrote them out she kept a running commentary for Tuck’s benefit. “Okay, so we have Laith, Frove, and … barf … Vengor as the new Lords, supplanting Jair, Qine, and me.”

Tuck stroked her chin as Firnian’s list became two columns, one with the living Lords on the left and one with the dead and banished Lords on the right. In the center, she wrote down two names, Halder and Poe.

“So let’s see, the only two left from the old guard are King Asshole and Vriant Poe. Hmm.” She looked up at Lucinda. “Do you see any pattern here? Any logic to what Guent is trying to do?”

Lucinda looked over the lists carefully. Tuck quietly came up to Firnian’s side. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, how does one become a Litigian Lord?”

“Oh, it’s not so mysterious,” Lucinda piped up as she pored over the lists. “The Lords are picked by the King based on which elements of the economy he feels are most important. See, look here. The old King, Turgen, he was a big believer in infrastructure and foreign tourism being keys to advancing the economy, and so he put certain Lords in charge based on their usefulness and wealth. Lord Jair, for instance, was a hospitality baron. Lord Qine, he specialized in shipbuilding.”

Firnian smiled gently. Tuck noticed it. “What is your House’s industry?” the princess finally asked.

Firnian chuckled. “Cars. Isn’t that a kick in the ass? The King thought we’d need a transportation breakthrough, and it would come by way of cars. Dead technology that nearly killed us all.”

Tuck pulled her collar. “Do I want to know what Lord Poe’s industry is?”

“Weapons,” Lucinda and Firnian recited in unison. Tuck nodded knowingly, returning to the scroll.

“This makes no sense, though,” Firnian finally let out. “Yeah, Guent is big on defense and warmongering, so he’s going to have Poe the weaponeer at hand, but what about the others? Laith runs factory farms. Frove is another car guy, so that maybe makes sense, they want him in place of me. Vengor, though? He’s a money man for the fucking Church.”

Tuck cleared her throat. “Is there a chance that Guent may be preparing to wage what he thinks is a holy war?”

Both Lucinda and Firnian gave blank looks at Tuck, before Firnian slapped her hand on her own forehead. “Goddamn it, you’re right. Guent’s the kind of sanctimonious prick who would think he’s God’s gift to warfare, of course he thinks any fight he picks is going to be a holy war.”

“Or maybe …” Lucinda stroked her own chin. “Maybe he’s going to sell it as a holy war, and brought in Laith and Vengor to justify it?”

“Of course all of this is moot if the assassins strike,” Tuck reminded Firnian. “We’re supposed to be looking for the assassins and whoever made the contract.”

Lucinda pursed her lips quietly. Sensing the awkwardness in the room, Firnian turned to her head of household. “Is there something you’ve left out, Luce?”

Lucinda swallowed hard. “Milord, King Guent has already ordered his forces to march on Technasia as a retaliation for the attack on Lord Jair.”

Firnian placed a hand on her temple. “Just great.” She sighed and turned to Tuck, pain shining in her eyes. “We need to get to the bottom of this now, for the sake of both of our kingdoms.”

The monarch slammed his feet into the cold stone of the castle floor with each aggressive step he took, each footfall jarring his entire body, shooting pain through his knees. No matter, he had a cushy throne awaiting him in his audience chambers, so he continued to stomp down the passageway. Far too hesitantly, a page boy approached him.

“Your Majesty, I have news.” The page boy knelt quickly, bracing himself for a blow. The stomping feet stopped short of putting a knee in the child’s face.

“Well?” The king’s voice was impatient.

“Your Majesty … I …” Now the page boy was rattled and upset. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his senses back. “Sire, your brother and Lord Moethran have disappeared from Technasia.”

A low growl developed in the pit of King Guent Halder’s stomach. “Disappeared? Any ideas how?”

The servant furiously shook his head negatively. “Our forces approaching the border did not see them at all. We only know about this from monitoring Technasian missives.”

The king went ahead and kicked the page boy anyway. It had been his first impulse, but resisting until he heard the news was increasingly difficult. “Have the council of lords summoned. We will decide what to do about the traitors together.”

The page boy rubbed his head, stinging from the king’s blow. “It will be done, Your Majesty.” He scrambled to his feet and ran down the passageway, away from the king. Watching the peasant made Guent smirk in a self-satisfied way. Good, they should fear me, they should properly fear and respect my power.

A few hard steps later, the king was turning into his royal audience chamber, the plush cushioned throne awaiting him. To his utter delight, everyone present in the room shot to their feet, not wishing to arouse his ire. At the head of the room, by the throne, another page puffed out his chest. “All rise in the presence of His Royal Majesty, Lord Protector of the Realm of Litigia, King Guent!”

All of the people in the room stood in respect to their monarch. He was vaguely aware of the tightness in his pants as he crossed the room, turning to face the assemblage. “Bow before your ruler!”

The entire room hit their knees nearly in unison, a sight which never got old for the young king. He flamboyantly flipped his coat above his buttocks and squatted down to take his seat, the rest of the room still genuflecting obediently. He cleared his throat to the page, who looked up, then stood up.

“Those with petitions before the Royal Throne of Litigia, come forth and plead your case before your King.”

Guent snapped his fingers. “Make it quick, too, I haven’t got all day.”

A peasant man nervously approached the throne, dropping down to one knee. He bowed his head humbly. “My liege, Your Majesty, I come before you with a most humble and desperate request. My family is ill, every one but myself afflicted with a rare disease.”

Guent slumped in the throne, his face resting on one raised hand, elbow on the arm of the chair. “So? What does that have to do with me?”

“Your Majesty, I ask for leniency on the cost of medical care for my family. We are destitute, our income is meagre and our abode not nearly as fine as this beautiful palace.” The man shuddered. “Please grant us this boon, Your Majesty.”

Guent leaned forward. “What is your profession?”

The man looked up with slight confusion. “I am a laborer on the holdings of Lord Moethran, Your Majesty.”

The mention of the insolent woman, the one who dared to assert her equality with the others on the council, immediately snapped Guent out of his boredom. He snarled as he stood up. “Then you serve a traitor to the throne, and are therefore a traitor to your nation. Your boon is denied.” Guent clapped his hands. “Guards! Remove this man and place him in irons.”

“No! Please, mercy my lord!” Tears streaked down the peasant man’s cheeks, even as he was roughly lifted to his feet by the guards. “My family …”

“Your sons are hereby ordered conscripted into the Litigian Imperial Army.”

The peasant man shook his head desperately. “I have no sons, Your Majesty …”

A dark, lustful tone flashed across Guent’s face. “Your daughters then. They are hereby ordered conscripted to the palace. We will train them in the place of a woman in this realm.” The king’s face creased with a sinister smile, despite the sobs and wails of the peasant being dragged out of the room. Guent sat back in the throne, an expression of satisfaction on his face.

“Your Majesty, was that necessary?” The page’s voice quivered. “He was no threat to you.”

Guent glared at the page. “Do you want something similar?” The page frantically shook his head. “Then shut the hell up. I am your King. My judgment is law. Don’t ever forget that.”

The page bowed deeply. “I apologize, Your Majesty. Next petitioner!”

Another peasant man approached the throne. Guent wrung his hands with anticipation. To be frank, he didn’t know why his father thought the job was so hard, it was a dream for Guent because he could do whatever he wanted, and no one corrected him.

He enjoyed being his own little god.

#nanowrimo #incomplete nano 2019 #nightfall on Litigia #chapter one

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