[This is a writing I did in response to an ambiance video on YouTube that I was enjoying. You can find the video here.]
The Castle’s Library
It’s a dark, rainy night and I find myself in the castles’ library. The fireplace is adding an inspiring glow to the books on the shelf and the stone walls. I was to be at my simple home in the country by now but was asked by the king personally to stay. His specific words were to stay as long as I liked, but he was ordering a servant to put my horse back in the common stables when he did so. Suffice it to say, I got the impression that I was expected to stay a while. This library is most assuredly one of my most coveted rooms in all the castle. It’s a simple enough room but grand in all it’s written glory. To find a king that collects such fine books is most surely a rare sight indeed.
A man who I believe to be a visiting dignitary is writing his letters just behind me on a desk in the corner. I would feel obligated to move if not for the simple fact that I was here first! His mad bouts of scribbling are sure to drive any sensible person mad, but at the same time any sensible person will keel their mouth shut of such matters. What s pleasure it is to be able to sit and silently write about such misfortunes. Perhaps the important gentleman will find his way to one of the many other rooms of the castle and I can go back to writing in peace.
Peace is a funny word even in this tranquil setting. Just outside the ground is being pounded endlessly by sheets of heavy rain. Even the fireplace is bound to existence by violent means, devouring everything that cross into it’s stoney domain. And yet these natural violences combine with refined art and collections of sophisticated prose to creat an atmosphere of such ambiance that it has attracted, perhaps, the only two people awake in the whole castle!
Balance is a fickle thing. One carelessly misplaced strip of material and the fire would surely take the opportunity to crawl from it’s designated hearth. One stray lightning bolt on an over-dry plot of wheat and the town would be set ablaze by the fireplace’s larger cousin. I have witnessed many a time the king having to entreat himself to understanding the fickle nature of balance. Those that say the king is a greedy fellow are certainly correct, however they have no idea the burdens that lay upon his shoulders and his deep want to do good by his people. He is one of the few of us who is both able and allowed to indulge his carnal urges in food, drink, money, and intimate relations and he takes full advantage. But not so that his people go wanting.
Sure, they want. I hear their murmurings throughout every pub, farm, and shop from the center of town to the farthest placed home out in the kings countryside. But they want the treasures of fools. The king protects them, keeps them fed, and they’ve never known overtaxing a day in their life and yet still they gripe and moan. Such is the nature of humanity. Just like the destructive side of fire they won’t know to stop their campaign of devouring until they’ve eaten everything but their own mouths.
With these thoughts I do believe I will retire to my sleeping chamber. I grow weary of the insane scribbling just behind me.
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