The ornate double doors swung open with a faint creak, and the king stepped into the room, his imposing figure cutting through the dimly lit chamber.
Poll, seated casually at the center of the room, raised his glass of milk with a disarmingly relaxed grin.
"Welcome, Your Majesty. I've been looking forward to our conversation."
The king paused just inside the doorway,
Poll's words were light, almost playful, but the undercurrent of confidence in his tone was unmistakable. He met the king's sharp gaze head-on, his posture betraying no deference.
This wasn't the stance of a subject addressing his monarch—it was the stance of a man who saw himself as an equal. Maybe even more than that.
A flicker of something—amusement? Caution? —glimmered in the king's gaze. He moved toward the seat across from Poll with deliberate steps, his royal attire rustling softly with each movement. "You wear confidence like a crown. Perhaps too well."
Poll smirked, leaning back comfortably.
"What can I say? It suits me."
The king's lips twitched—a flicker of amusement—but he quickly masked it with his usual guarded demeanor. Lowering himself into the chair, he fixed Poll with a sharp, penetrating gaze.
"You're an interesting one, Poll Nigahtvale. Always stirring the pot. So tell me—what exactly where you hoping to achieve earlier?"
Poll met the king's gaze, undeterred. He took another sip of his milk, setting the glass down deliberately before responding.
"Well, Your Majesty,"
"Merely to offer a fresh perspective," he said, his smile widening just a touch.
"Boldness is often misunderstood, but it's the spice of progress, wouldn't you agree?"
The king leaned back slightly.
"Boldness… Or arrogance?"
"Perhaps a bit of both. But isn't that the price of ambition? If you don't take risks, you might as well resign yourself to being invisible.
Danger is subjective. Isn't that the very essence of leadership? To navigate risks others fear?"
His voice carried an undertone of challenge, daring the king to dispute him.
The king's lips twitched, the hint of a smile barely breaking his mask of composure, His rich robes swayed as he leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "Milk, was it? Bold choice for a meeting with the crown."
Poll swirling the glass in his hand as though it were the finest wine. "Milk is simple, Your Majesty. Honest. And unlike wine, it doesn't dull the senses. A perfect drink for someone who needs to stay sharp."
"And do you consider yourself sharp?"
"Sharp enough to notice when others aren't being honest with themselves."
The king tilted his head, studying Poll with a mix of amusement and caution. "You speak as though you've lived through more than your years should allow. Tell me, boy—what's truly on your mind? I want to know exactly what you're after."
Poll's smile widened, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. Perfect. He's taking the bait.
"Very well, Your Majesty," he said, his tone almost conspiratorial. "Tell me—out of the twelve people in that council room earlier, how many do you actually trust?"
The question hung in the air, cutting through the room's ambiance like a knife.
The king's expression remained composed, but a flicker of unease betrayed him.
Should I tell him the truth, Why I feel like he is playing some kind of mind game or he is spy, Well, maybe this is normal, even higher novel hesitate to talk like this in Front of me. So, when a kid talks to you like that...! So, this is normal….
"Trust...? Perhaps two or three, on a good day."
Poll nodded as though he'd expected the answer. "And yet, you entrust them with the kingdom's most critical decisions. Tribal disputes. Tax reforms. Military strategy.
Tell me, Your Majesty, do you honestly believe they execute your orders with your best interests at heart?"
The king gave a small, almost bitter smile. "You see quite a bit for a boy your age. But yes, you're right—they don't always follow orders exactly. They have… their own interests."
Poll's eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and determination. "But why? You're the king, after all—the highest authority in the kingdom."
"How could they disobey you?"
Nice, using words like trying to provoke me
The king's lips pressed into a thin line. "Because power is never absolute, Poll. Being king doesn't mean I can act without consequence. Politics is a web of alliances, favors, and debts. You can't rule without them."
Poll's expression turned thoughtful, though his eyes gleamed with something darker. "Perhaps. But have you ever wondered… if there's another way?
Poll leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as his aura began to intensify (mana amplification), filling the room with a subtle, unspoken power "You know, Your Majesty, what you really need is someone who can maintain control in the realm of politics."
For a sec king surprise and shock by the environment but intrigued despite himself. "Control, you say. And what exactly do you mean by that?"
Poll smiled faintly, leaning back. "They're playing the game of politics, maneuvering pieces on a board that benefits them first, the kingdom second—or not at all." He reached into his pocket and drew out a single playing card, spinning it between his fingers. "What you need is someone outside that game. Someone who can see the board without being a piece on it."
Poll let the card slip from his fingers, oops…! sending it spinning across the table. It landed face-up: the ace of spades ♤.
"Tell me, Your Majesty," Poll said, a small smile playing on his lips, "why does the ace hold more authority than the king in a deck of cards?"
Kings expiration turn mix of amusement and curiosity. He picked up the card, turning it over in his hand.
He studied it for a moment before answering,
"May be because the ace represents a powerful fragment or divinity. It's a symbol of singularity, of concentrated power. In some ways, it's a god among the other cards or just I thing."
"Precisely." Poll's smile widened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
"But that also means the church, which claims to hold the closest connection to divinity, ends up wielding more authority than the crown itself."
The king's eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of recognition dawning in his gaze. "Of course not," he replied, almost defensively. "They may worship God, but they aren't gods themselves."
Poll's smile grew as he nodded. "Exactly, Your Majesty. in the wrong hands, even the ace can be discarded, replaced, or forgotten. The question is—who's holding the deck?"
The king's gaze lingered on the card, the weight of Poll's words settling over him like a heavy cloak. The boy's logic was razor-sharp, cutting through the layers of courtly pretense with brutal efficiency. And yet, there was something unsettling about the way Poll spoke—as though he wasn't merely offering advice, but issuing a veiled threat.
"You're quite the philosopher," the king remarked, his tone carefully neutral. "But philosophy doesn't govern kingdoms, Poll. Men do. And men are… flawed."
Poll's smile grew faintly darker. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Your Majesty.
Philosophy does govern kingdoms. It's just that most men are too blind to see it.
The principles, the ideologies, the beliefs—they're the true rulers. Men are just their vessels."
The king's eyes flickered, then glanced back at card. There is something unnerving in this boy's composure—a subtle, unshakable confidence that seemed to stretch far beyond his years. he isn't just clever. He is dangerous. And yet, I can't say he is wrong.
But then something came in king's mind, He smile.
"You speak boldly," the king said at last. "But boldness is not the same as wisdom. If you're suggesting I trust you over my council, you'll need to prove you're worth the gamble."
Poll chuckled, rising from his seat. "Oh, Your Majesty, I'm not asking for trust. Not yet. Trust is earned, not given. All I ask is… consideration." He moved toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. "For now, I'll leave you to ponder the ace. I have more milk to fetch, after all."
The king's gaze followed him, "Milk, is it?" he asked dryly. "And here I thought you were drinking courage."
Poll glanced back, his grin wicked. "Who says it isn't both.
I will be back in soon promised" he slipping out of the air still felt charged, heavy with the echoes of Poll's words and the lingering traces of his mana. The king turned the ace card over again, his mind racing.
"They may worship God," the king murmured to himself, "but they aren't gods themselves." The line echoed in his mind, each repetition peeling back another layer of meaning.
For the first time in years, the king felt a spark of something he hadn't experienced in far too long: unease. And, buried beneath it, a flicker of excitement.
Nice move, Poll Nightvale!!
***