Seduction of a King
Chapter 2
Zuma's POV
I couldn't receive any medical attention yesterday evening. I'm not allowed exit of the Lookout unless granted permission to do so by the King. And so, I retreated to my room for the night, hobbling down there, since every time I wanted to walk my side would shoot a painful bullet through me. It ached. It made moving awkward. But now, I'm up and going at it again... this time, to see the royal blacksmith. He's on a couple floors above our rooms. That means I must ascend the spiral staircase, my injuries included. Right now, I stand before the open entry way to the center cylinder facing my greatest obstacle at the current moment. Oh, man, what if I don't make it? What if I fall? If I do, will anyone notice or find me? I just don't know! But I need to do this! Somehow.
The stairs seem like a daunting task, but I need to reach the blacksmith. Taking it one paw at a time, my body moves in slow motion to ease the pain that emanates from my body with any sudden movement. I cringe with every stair climbed, but I keep moving, and those two floors now feel like five thousand at the pace I'm going. Eventually, though, I reach my destination, but it definitely did a number on my energy.
The cool thing about the Lookout is that every floor is in a circular pattern, so even the blacksmith's shop is shaped in such a manner. When I enter the blacksmith's shop, I'm greeted by Rocky, in a tarnished black apron and wearing green protective goggles. He had on black leather booties to protect his paws, too. The look he gives me when I come in is not of one seeing an old acquaintance yet again, though. He had been working on a sword, and he immediately drops his task and hobbles over to me, shifting off the stool he uses for balance when doing his job. The pup only has three legs after the incident, after all. It's his back right hind leg, a growth deformity, leaving the mix unable to do most activities. As I stare at the bandage he has wrapped around the missing limb, he furrows his brows at me and backs away slightly. "You alright, Zuma?"
To this day, I don't know how he was born with such a strange condition. "Yeah, I just need some west is all. Don't wowwy about it, dude." I flash him a smile, though forced and strained. My body still aches me immensely.
The mix returns to his anvil, and beginning to lift the sword up again to continue his work, he asks, "What brings you over here this morning?"
I fidget with my scabbard to clip it off my armor. Then, once it finally detaches, the sword drops to the ground, and I pick it up with my teeth before bringing it to him. "Hewe you go," I say through clenched teeth.
Rocky, without moving from his standing position, handles my sword with care as he places it below the other sword he had been working on. He hums, peering at the weapon as if it were a specimen under a microscope. The mix glides his paw over the blade, splattered with dark rust stains; its sheen is dull and barely living. "This sword... is unsalvageable. R.I.P. Dead. Know what I mean?"
Does he think I'm some sort of idiot? Of course I do. "Yeah, dude, I undewstand."
"Clearly you don't, because it looks like you've been using it a lot and for a while, so... basically, I'm saying you need a new sword. Why are you even still using this blade?"
I purse my lips, staring at the worn down blade. "I had no choice. It was the only one left in twaining. I wasn't weally enthusiastic about the whole thing, so I had evewyone pick befowe me, since I would be the least useful and wanted the best of the best to have the bettew weapons."
Rocky glazes his eyes over me, humming, thinking. "So, then, how long have you been in the Royal Guard, Zuma?"
"Five months. I had been with my fathew for five months pwiow befowe being sent off to twaining to become one of the Woyal Guawds."
The mix now looks off into the distance, placing his front paw under his muzzle while leaning over the anvil. "I see. In any case, we gotta get you a new blade, Zuma!" A huge grin blows up on his face as he twists his attention back to me. "So, what would you like in a weapon? Any specifications?"
He sure seems enthusiastic. Too bad I'm not as into it as he is. "I mean, I nevew weally wanted the blade anyway..." Looking away now, I laugh to myself. As I watch for his reaction, he tilts his head, and I regain my composure and abruptly cough. "A lightweight one, please. Small daggew. That old one is tough to hold with my teeth."
He chuckled before picking up my rusty sword. "Oh~? You're into the teeth fighting stance?Cool~! Anyway, to prove my point..." He shifts his body away from the anvil, and then takes my sword and lifts it up high above his head, nearly losing his balance. "I'll demonstrate..." he says with strain in his throat, "just how weak this sword is!" With brute force, he swings it down against the ground, and there's a loud clang!. Metallic sparks fly as the sword shatters into pieces. He drops the severed handle and continues, "As you can see, had you actually used that sword, it wouldn't have lasted long at all. So," he stares me straight in the eyes, a sudden gleam in them, a sort of passion, "do you want a new sword now, Zuma?"
Speechless, I nod my head several times.
"Come back in a bit to give it a try." The mix smiles at me, swiveling his body back around to resume working on his other sword for a different client. I take this opportunity to leave. "Thanks, Wocky," I say before exiting. Now... with that out of the way, I should probably rest up for a bit.
I'm going to need to be at full strength to do what I'm going to do today.
Skye's POV
The sand feels coarse and grainy on my paws. King Chase sent me on another fetch quest. This time, after my observations, I believe Cap'n Turbot, our main source for fish in Adventure Bay, is somehow messing with his weekly quota. I don't know how, but I'm about to find out. Busting these guys is fun, because they've clearly been disregarding the King's wishes, and for that, they must be punished.
I see the Cap'n working on his boat, the Flounder, buffing out the outer surface for a little spruce up. It's important to keep it clean. He's our best fisherman around, but lately, he hasn't been, and that's why I'm here. Walking up to him at the docks, his boat is near the wooden pier, and I nearly scare him when I say, rather blunt, "Cap'n Turbot."
He had been on a step stool to reach the dirt and grime up high, and as he heard my voice, the man nearly fell backward, but held his composure just enough to stay on two feet. He turns around, squinting at me and then gasping, and rubs his blue square-framed glasses for clarity. "My, well if it isn't the slick, slippery Skye? What can I do for you today? Can I interest you in some squid jerky?" He points to a bucket filled to the brim with rubbery purple tentacles.
I am unable to hold my face back with disgust. "Eh, uh, no, thank you. I have urgent business to discuss with you."
Cap'n Turbot stops his task with the rag and places it down, his attention now fully grasped by me. He purses his lips and tucks his thumbs into his yellow overall straps. "Alright, what sort of boisterous business do you have for me?"
I smile at him as I recite, "The King summons you to his Throne room for questioning, you have been suspected of a crime. I implore you to see His Majesty right away, as this is an urgent matter to discuss. Failure to comply will result in extra punishment if proven guilty."
The man, like the sea in the winter, freezes. His jaw is left slightly agape as my words whir around in his brain. "Understood, ma'am. I'll go right this instant." Being careful as to not lose his footing, the Cap'n jumps off the stool and tails me, while I lead us off the pier and onto the beach. The walk back feels longer and more awkward with another person following me, and not to mention, I wonder where Zuma is? The King had told me before I left that he had business to attend to, but what kind of business? And that was quite a while ago, since the clear blue sky shows the sun to be in the position for early afternoon. I exited the Throne room to do my observations this morning. It's at least been a few hours. Well, no use worrying about that now, I have to make sure this criminal doesn't run. I check behind me, and Cap'n Turbot, with his head bowed and kicking the sand rather harshly with his feet as he walked, is still there. I scoff to myself; at least I know he ain't going anywhere but the Throne room.
Cap'n Turbot was a good criminal for me all the way there. Now in front of the large double doors, I approach to knock, allowing the King the pleasure of knowing my presence. Apparently, I didn't need to, because immediately as I head up to the door, I overhear shouting. Fearing the King's life is in danger, I barge in, my heart beating with shivers running down my spine to boot. I'm sure Cap'n Turbot is obedient enough to follow me inside and not to runaway, but even if he does, that's not my top priority right now. The King's safety comes first.
Zuma. The King. Bickering. That's all I process in this scene. Actually, it's mostly the lab doing the yelling: he seems furious. His posture is rigid, him standing right in front of the King's throne, too close, in my opinion, and his tail is raised and firm.
"You'we telling me... all this time... that's what you've been doing to the people you suspect have disobeyed you?!" What is Zuma talking about? My breath hitches as I listen further.
"I may do whatever I wish to criminals, who have threatened the lives of many in Adventure Bay."
The lab scoffs and begins to pace in short distances in front of the throne. "Oh, weally? Was with-holding bwead fow the nobles and youw soldiews, that should be fow the peasants that awe stawving out thewe, weally such a cwime, Chase?"
King Chase grunts and darts his head away. Then he growls before saying, "I have to protect our kingdom. The more military power we have the safer we are. And soldiers need food."
I admit, even I was getting furious at the King's words at this point. Zuma halts his pacing and glares at the ground, his teeth baring. "We don't need this much militawy powew. I assume we'we on good tewms with Foggybottom, which is awe only potential enemy, and not to mention, we have nobody else to wowwy about fow dozens of nautical miles. The peasants won't stand fow this much longer, the mowe you push the mowe they may pull."
He laughs long and hard. "You seriously think they're going to pull? What are they going to pull? They're weak, starving, have hardly no other resources and other commodities. You're telling me they can pull something off against my well-fed, professionally trained, soldiers?! Don't make me laugh."
The lab pounds his paw against the ground. His breathing is heavy. With his eyes glued to the floor, the pup is silent. I glance beside me for a moment, and I see Cap'n Turbot completely enamored at the scene before him. Looks like he did follow me inside. Good to hear.
"You know..." The king steps down from his throne, standing tall before the downtrodden pup with a wild grin. "I should have you executed for what you did. But... I can't have another enemy on my hands, nor do I want to skip out on an opportunity to make some extra gold. So... I think I'll just have to settle with this." He trots over to the left side of his throne, and grabs a scepter with his teeth, the golden rod is adorned with a red ruby on the top.
Zuma eyes him with intensity as he does this, bringing it back over and standing in front of the lab once more now on his hind paws. He takes it out of his mouth and holds it in one paw. "You know what this is for?" The King asks.
There's a dull glaze in his eyes as he looks up toward the shepherd. "Yes..."
"It's what's going to beat you till you can't move anymore. Understand? Don't resist till I'm done. Or else..." he twists the top a bit and yanks back, revealing a makeshift dagger hidden within the scepter attached to the ruby knob.
I'd imagine the sheer amount of fear going through the lab's body right now. As if to petrify the lab, the King waves it in front of the lab's face in a daunting manner, and then places it back. "Now do you know the difference between you and I?" Chase towers above Zuma on his hind legs, smirking because he knows the lab isn't able to efficiently do that to the King's level. Gripping above the ruby knob, Chase raises the scepter over his head, and I watch as the lab closes his eyes tight, scrunching up his face in preparation for the pain he's about to experience. The King swings it downward and slams the rod on the lab's head; the sound of metal hitting bone echoes. And yet, Zuma still stands, no yelps, no more flinching, eyes still closed. Next, Chase, with a flat expression, takes the rod and sweeps it underneath the lab's two front paws, effectively lowering his top half to the ground. He then walks behind Zuma and... oh no, I know what he's going to do next.
That grin is back again on the King's face, except it has a different connotation. It's one of... lust? No... desire? I don't know. He raises the scepter again and whacks it against the lab's ass. Now this, this, results in a loud yip from Zuma, and it eggs Chase on with yet another smack to the bottom. More complaints from Zuma. But this time, the King waits a moment, allowing that stinging sensation to sink into the lab's flesh. He lowers down and aims the rod level to Zuma's asshole. Am I really going to let this continue? It inches closer to his pink pucker, and soon the cold metal presses up against it, and the lab shivers in response.
Don't let this continue...
He shoves it in without warning, resulting in a painful shriek from the lab. It pierces my ears, and I look at Cap'n Turbot, he's covering his ears and shutting his eyes. I can't let this continue. As much as Zuma annoys me, he doesn't deserve this... nor does Cap'n Turbot. Springing into action, my paws scratch against stone as I race toward the King. The shepherd yanks his head around and notices me, takes out the scepter really quick, and then draws his dagger. Standing on two hind legs, he already has an advantage over me, but I can't let this go on any longer. My paws propel me forward, and I watch as the King takes a defensive stance, so I need to make this count. He's probably thinking I'm going to aim for his legs, so... I'll jump when he least expects it!
As I draw near, time feeling slowed down, just as I thought, he swoops in for my legs. I jump, but he ducks as I do this, and I overshoot. He takes this opportunity to push back up, shoving me out of the way and onto my back. My breath is taken out from underneath me. I watch as he takes this blade next to Zuma, his paw now on the lab's backside to hold him still. He leans downward, almost breathing on Zuma's fur, and drags the dagger across the lab's skin. I spring back up onto my feet as fast as I can, my breathing now somewhat returned, and dash at the King. By the time I reach him, he had already sliced a line through almost half of the lab's back, Zuma's face retorting with groans escaping his muzzle. I use all my weight to tackle the King down, knocking his weapons out of his perilous paws, and I hear one last yelp from the lab when the King lands onto the stone floor. Zuma tries to move with his injuries, but all he can manage is to tremble and fall back to his original lying position.
Getting off the King, I move over to protect Zuma as Chase picks himself up. Now on all fours again, his dagger and scepter out of reach, the King attempts to saunter over to the lab again, but I growl. He pauses for a moment. "Hmph. Guards!" he yells. A german shepherd, a bear, and two wolves rush in on two legs. "Take Cap'n Turbot to the dungeon, he's already guilty if he's been brought here, and don't forget this young lady, too. She's got a hot date with the dungeon, as well." Chase smirks. I eye Zuma for a second: he hasn't moved, eyes shut tight, his body limp. One of the wolves and the bear grab me, and the other wolf guard snags Cap'n Turbot. I don't put up any fight. The King glances over to Zuma. "Take this pathetic mutt to the infirmary to get patched up, I need him in better shape if I want to make his Father happy."
"Yes Sire." The last guard, the german shepherd, grabs the lab and hauls him over his shoulder. He then takes him out of the room, and then the two guards lug Cap'n Turbot and I away. My heart picks up the pace as the sudden realization dawns on me: I don't know what's going to happen to me. I overheard Zuma that something bad happened to Mr. Porter, but I have no idea what. The mere thought sends shivers down my spine, and I outstretch my front paws, my nails scratching against the stone. It makes a jittery screeching sound, unpleasant to any ear. I don't want this. I don't deserve this. I did a good thing. I am being punished for a good deed! How dare he!
As my body slides through the wooden double doors after Cap'n Turbot, I can't help but have one thing on my mind:
What exactly did Zuma see down there?
