The King almost lost his head that day. A soldier threw himself into the blow instead. He walked back to his tent carrying the soldier’s bloodied armor. The enemy forces had withdrawn beyond the narrow mountain pass. More blood would be spilled.
He placed the armor in the praying corner and muttered, "Your death will not be in vain."
All he wanted was to curl up beneath a bed and disappear. Instead, he sat at the center table of the crowded communal tent, looking every inch the king. It was...