Credulone and Malentendu
ZD Writing Competition: Round 35
Theme: Free Write
It wasn’t long until King Credulone received word. His squires scuttled about the court, trying to make sense of the news. The king quickly sent his most trusted advisor out into town, to dredge up any basis for these rumors. Three days later, he returned with ill news. It was just as he’d feared.
Demon Lord Malentendu issued a declaration to the Kingdom of Debielen; in thirty days, she will hold a Festival of Death. The king could scarcely imagine the implications of such a thing. His loyal retainers assured him it would be a bloodbath of unknowable measure. The lords and nobles, their tunics all in a twist, demanded that Credulone mobility the entire country’s military might and put an end to Malentendu once and for all.
Credulone felt he had to agree. The Demon Lord had gone too far this time. No Festival of Death would be held within his borders. He had to protect the people. And so, the king gathered up every trooper and foot soldier he could find. He even went so far as to send candidates to finally pull that sword from the stone. He bulked up the city’s fortifications, sparing no expense on cannons that could fire two cannonballs at once.
In thirty days’ time, Debielen was a different country. Nigh impregnable, socially isolated, and very dismal and dour. Everyone knew the Festival of Death was coming soon. They could feel it in the air. They hoped their valiant king could fend the threat off, just as he’d fended off the threat of the bear that wandered a little too close to town. There was nothing a king like that couldn’t do.
And then, Demon Lord Malentendu descended upon the town. Her violet visage draped in smoke and robes hovered over the streets as she fell from the sky. The air turned cold where she hovered, and the people ran in fear to their defenders. King Credulone signaled to start the attack.
The cannons that could fire two cannonballs at once were aimed, and they immediately exploded upon firing, because of course they did. The man that pulled the sword from the stone charged forward to meet the Demon Lord in battle, but tripped and snapped his blade in two. The soldiers were too busy complaining about how the cold made their metal armor burn their skin to fight. Malentendu waltzed right up to the castle with ease, looking rather confused by everything happening around her.
“My, my, King Credulone, this is a rather odd welcoming ceremony you’re throwing. I can’t quite tell what the theme is supposed to be.” she said, floating parallel to the dismayed ruler.
Credulone, staring across at the Demon Lord from the safety of his balcony and wall of twenty soldiers, hesitated to respond. After some shivering, he mustered what little nerves he had and spoke up.
“Foul fiend! Why should we be welcoming you? After that declaration you made!” he bellowed. “The only death at this festival shall be yours!”
Malentendu looked taken aback. “Oh? You aren’t happy? I thought your kingdom would be really into the whole thing...”
“What nonsense is this! Why would we be happy that you planned to come here and kill us all? We’ve all been shaking like leaves this past month!” the king cried. “... Except for me, of course.”
“Kill you all? Who told you I’d do a thing like that?” Malentendu said incredulously. “I announced a Festival of Death, since you don’t have one in your kingdom. I could easily make it happen here with my powers, so I thought you’d be happy. It’s a wonderful thing, really.”
“What’s so wonderful about you slaughtering us all with your powers?!” Credulone asked.
“Huh? I don’t understand what you... Oh. Oh, wait a minute.” Malentendu looked as though a light had gone off in her head. “You don’t actually know what a Festival of Death is, do you? Here, let me show you.”
“Wait! Stop, fiend!” Credulone wailed.
The king shrunk himself behind the body of a very unlucky soldier, who began to feel as though he weren’t getting paid enough for this job. Meanwhile, the Demon Lord raised her arms up toward the sky, and a purple haze began flowing from her fingertips. The citizens cried out in terror, many holding each other for what they were sure would be the last time.
The air became even more chilly than before. The sky turned dark, as if the night sky had been painted above the peoples’ heads. Then, all at once, figures began appearing from beneath the ground. One by one, the smoke materialized their ethereal forms into fleshy bodies.
Zombies! So this was the Festival of Death. Surely the Kingdom of Debielen would meet its end at the hands of the undead. Everyone prepared themselves for the worst, shutting their eyes tight, expecting the end.
But the end never came. Instead, the zombies waited very patiently for their peers to look them in the eye. And when the townsfolk started to do just that, they realized that these zombies didn’t mean them any harm. In fact, these zombies were very recognizable. Yes... these zombies were none other than their deceased loved ones!
As soon as this realization swept over the kingdom, the entire mood changed in an instant. Terror was replaced by joy as many tearful reunions were held. King Credulone looked upon his subjects with a mix of confusion and relief.
“A Festival of Death is all about celebrating the lives of our long-passed family and friends. I can use my powers to bring them back for a day, and everyone celebrates together! A wonderful thing, yes?” Malentendu explained.
“... Yes. Quite.” Credulone said quietly. “Far better than what I thought you were going to do.”
His majesty eyed his lords and retainers rather sharply, each of them tugging at their collars and trying not to make eye contact. Credulone stepped out from behind his meat shield and stood next to Malentendu at the balcony. Gazing down at his people, taking in the joy on their faces, he came to feel like this festival was a good thing to have.
“Next time, perhaps you should send me a letter before you do something big.” King Credulone said.
“Next time, perhaps you should send me a letter before you listen to your retainers.” Demon Lord Malentendu laughed.
At the very least, the merry-making zombies and townsfolk down below all felt they could agree on one thing...
Debielen was surely the worst country to have to die in.
