Whitney Writes…

“I won’t hear of it!” Ralof roared. “He’s a boy, Ulfric! A boy!!” He rounded on his former friend, “MY boy!! And you would have him what? Thrown out of the palace?!”

“If he’ll go willingly, yes,” Ulfric said firmly. “The nobles will settle for banishment. If he, or those around him,” he added carefully, “choose to fight the decision, we are prepared for an execution.” Ralof paled at the thought of his ten-year-old son being beheaded. “No one wants it to come to that, Ralof,” Ulfric added gently, remembering the time that they had been friends. Good friends. “If he listens to reason, no blood need be shed. He can go off into the night, live a life of his choosing.”

“And he must go alone?” Ralof asked, incredulously.

“He’s ten, Ralof; I’m not a monster, he can take one servant with him.” Ulfric held his friend’s gaze. “But it cannot be you.” He shook his head to Ralof’s rising argument. “It cannot be anyone in the palace with renowned fighting prowess. On that we are firm.”

Ralof scowled. “And what about the moot?” he asked. “I suppose I shall be barred from that as well?”

“Obviously,” Ulfric agreed.

“And who is the new candidate for king?”

“That I shall not tell you,” Ufric said, “the nobles do not want you plotting and scheming. But do not worry, my friend, it is one of yours.”

“And regent?”

“No,” Ulfric said simply. “This is too massive of a move, Ralof, I’ve already told you too much. Now go, spend time with Rolund I, by this time tomorrow, we will have a new king, and he shall be gone.”

Inktober 2024, Prompt #28: JUMBO🧡🖤👻🎃