King Marjanovic sat in his private chambers, located at the top of the highest tower of the castle. From this high-up vantage point, the king could look out each of the room’s four windows in turn and be able to see nearly the full extent of his kingdom. Now taking the opportunity to so look, he smiled and clasped his large hands together at the sight of the sun-dappled hills and fertile fields of his lands.
Boban was interrupted by a tentative voice from behind him. “My king…” He turned around to find his adviser, Kawhi Leonard, standing at the top of the steps. Kawhi had been the only member of former-King Duncan’s royal court to escape the torments of the dungeons, so wise was his counsel. While such vermin as Ginobili and Parker received cruel treatment for their loyalty to the deposed king, Kawhi alone had displayed adequate trustworthiness in submitting fully to Boban’s holy reign.
“Kawhi, there is no need for timidity. I might be ruthless and capricious towards my foes, but you are certainly not counted among those vile ranks.”
Kawhi tilted his head forward in deference. “Thank you, my lord.”
Boban sat down in a richly-cushioned chair designed specially for his large frame. On the table next to him was an empty flagon and a bottle of mulled honeywine. He filled the flagon to the brim and took a large swig, then addressed his adviser. “What is it you wish to tell me?”
“There are reports coming in from the governors, my lord. Unrest in the villages. They resist your rule.”
Boban’s aspect darkened. “I have done nothing to them. Their governors remain unchanged, their tributes have not been raised,” he mused, his anger growing. “They have been treated with lenience in their support of the usurped king, when I could easily have them taken prisoner.”
Kawhi nodded. “You are indeed gracious towards your subjects, my lord. But they do not care about how they themselves are treated, for their lives are consumed by poverty and they have long accepted that poverty as the rightful order of things; they only see how their beloved former king is presently treated, and they do not understand your reasons.”
Taking another swig of his drink, Boban said, “After his long and bitter resistance to my claiming of the throne, Duncan had two options. Leave these lands forever, or remain here and be doomed to the dungeons. He chose his fate.” The flagon was slammed down on the table. “Duncan’s populist policies might have endeared him to the wretched beasts who inhabit these lands, but it weakened the kingdom.” He paused, then asked of his adviser, “Do you know what my win shares were this year?”
“.325 per 48, my lord,” Kawhi answered dutifully, long ago having memorized the number. “Highest in the known world.”
Boban smiled. “Exactly. That alone justifies all my actions.” He placed the bottle and cup on the floor next to his feet, an action which confused Kawhi. “Soon, however, the respect of the populace will be gained in other ways.” He ripped away the purple cloth that was draped over the table to reveal that the table was in fact a cage. Kawhi recoiled when he caught sight of the huddled man inside.
“Do you not recognize him, Kawhi?” Boban asked, inordinately pleased by the caged man’s suffering.
Kawhi took a minute step closer and squinted at the man. Then, his eyes grew wide. “It is Stephen Curry, king of the far west kingdom by the sea.”
“Indeed. His win shares were close to mine, but overthrowing him was effortless. For now, a man named Thompson rules there, but they live in fear of us. It will be easy to make them pay tribute. And now Curry will be put on display in the main hall, so that all visitors to this castle may readily view evidence of my dominance over opposing kingdoms. With Curry so restrained, no challenger could ever hope to amass more win shares than I. Not even you, Kawhi.”
For the first time since his capture, Stephen attempted to say something, but the act of using his vocal chords caused him to cough violently.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Boban mocked. “Let me get you something to drink.” He took the remnants of his honeywine and splashed it on the captive’s face. Stephen spluttered and coughed some more, but his parched tongue feebly searched out drops of the liquid. Finally, Stephen managed to whisper, “Rakeem…Christmas…”
The sound of this name threw Boban into a rage. He leaped to his feet and effortlessly picked up the cage, which he threw at the wall. Stephen moaned in pain as his body cracked against the hard stone walls of the room. When the cage came to rest on its side, he could do no more than cry silently. “Do not say that name again, or your fate will be death,” Boban warned as Kawhi looked on in horror.
Ignoring the trembling man, Boban returned to the window, where he again cast his gaze across all his domain. “You and I, Kawhi. Together, we will rule this land, and restore it to its rightful place as the most powerful kingdom in the world.”