From above, the wicked shall receive their just reward
Kronk felt a restlessness deep in his belly. Ever since the attack, sleep had been little and far between. A season had passed, and it still wasn’t getting better. Night after night he saw flames, and remembered the moment when they took Fiasko. It had been his first and last sight of the queen, and that didn’t sit well with him.
They should do something.
They had to do something. The Chamber was probably laughing. They’d waltzed in, burned the Gates’ tree, kidnapped the Gates’ queen, and got nothing but a peep in response. Kronk ground his teeth. Something needed to be done. With a sigh, he called for Mast.
Kronk didn’t fancy himself a diplomat. He didn’t fancy himself anything but a solider. But, there are times when even soldiers needed to step out of line. He didn’t think he could sleep with himself otherwise. It was better to try and fail then never try at all. They couldn’t take Fiasko back by force, and Kronk doubted the Chamber would be in an accommodating mood, but perhaps they could at least see her. They could at least see if he was alive. If he could bring back news of her and the little princess, well, it would be something.
The white and chestnut stallion paced before the burned tree like a caged animal. Much of the sweetness that lay close to his bones had been worn away. In it’s place was a ferocity he wasn’t born to. There was a rage he had never felt before. Some days he didn’t know why he cared. He didn’t know why a queen he’d never met mattered. It was on those days that Kronk felt sick to his soul. If he lost his honor, his sense of duty, what would be left?
Kronk
