“It is not for you, sir, to say what his grace may do.” said the little courtier voiced soft enough that words died out before the tapestried walls. He was small, slim as well as short, dark eyed and swarthy, “Silence, obedience, humility, loyalty, respect, these befit you better.”
“By what right will common lecture Lords?”
“Orders, my lord,” smiling.
“How dare you speak me so?” blustered sir Reginald Massey, “by what right say aught to me? Churl, commoner, I will have satisfaction, nay respect due nobility. I’ll see him now, I will not be balked!” so saying he shoved past, armored in steel, silk, privilege.”
A flash of razor sharp steel in spy master Cecil Smythson’s hand drove deep through the heart then came away red.
* * *
“What of Massey?” asked King George.
“As ordered,” answered the small dark man, smiling.
September Flash Challenge: Don’t use any word more than twice in your story
Min WC: 100 words
Max WC: 750 words
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