“Happy birthday to His Majesty…”
The loud voices of politicians. Peasants. Craftsmen. Citizens. Filling the streets.
“Happy birthday to you.”
The dark-haired man whispered the last line along with the masses as he flipped his brass watch in his hands, watching the Capital building from the shadows. He caught the thing in his hand and turned it over to gaze with abysmal orbs at the time. A smile tugged on the corner of his lips.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
His watch struck three; celebration time. The man looked up, grinning now. His onyx eyes fell upon the Capital building once again, just in time to witness it burst into a shower of fiery orange tongues and glass shards. Chunks of cement and metal rained from the sky, landing loudly in the streets, littering the city. The air filled with a chorus of noise immediately, a mix of cries and screams, but laughter and cheers as well.
The man turned and walked down the alley. He uttered a single, whispered sentence.
“Long live the king.”