Forsaken - Chapter 1 (version 2)

The Hall lay asleep in heavy silence. Its thick stone pillars, like impassible and muted witnesses of forgotten days, guarded the peace of an old man resting in his royal velvet chair. A scarlet mantle covered his weary body and his head rested peacefully in his palm, buried under the golden burden of his crown. The king's forehead was slightly frowned and the quick and short movements underneath his eyelids betrayed inner and ancient struggles. To the left of the throne, on a pile of round pillows thrown on the floor, a shadowy silhouette of a slim woman awaited coiled onto itself. A dark green mantle hid her body and a few coppery locks escaped its hood, blending with the golden steams of the dress.

Commotion at the hall entrance and the sharp sound of swords being drawn jerked the old man awake from his reverie.
"What's going on there?" he rose swiftly from his throne and roared to the men who dared break his restless sleep.
The two guards at the door had crossed their pikes, forbidding a distrustful figure to pass. More soldiers were summoned by the guards alert and were surrounding a hunched man wrapped into a long and heavy dark cloak, pointing their swords at him. One of the guardsmen shot a quick look at his mate, made sure the intruder was well confined into the spiked enclosure and ran to the king. A few steps away from the stone royal stairs, he bowed and kneeled meekly and reported in a murmured voice. 
"My Lord, that beggar says he wants to speak to Your Highness. Says he possesses something of great value to Your Majesty. He is lying, of course." His head still bowed, he crept his knees a few inches back on the granite floor, and waited for his master's reply.
"A beggar?" the king growled in disgust. "Take him away!" he ordered the guard and headed back to his throne to resume his gloomy hibernation.
The turmoil at the front doors subsided. The guard went back at the entrance to fulfill the order and the King laid himself back on his throne, trying to forget such meaningless disturbing episode. His peace was rapidly cut short by a ghostly voice, a low level growl rather whispered than shouted.
"King Yorath!" The voice resonated through the large hall, its vibes bounced back from the pillars and surrounded the king in their death-like embrace. Cold sweat drops formed on his forehead and the sound of that name made him feel like an invisible rake was being dragged on his spine. There were but a handful of people that knew him by that name and only one person whom he allowed to call him this way. But they were all dead, he had made sure of that. And she... it couldn't be her, she was dead too!
King and guards witnessed in motionless trance, one struck by flashbacks of a horrible past and the others mesmerized by thin and barely perceptible vapors flowing from the beggar's cane. They saw the ragged hunchback straighten into a robust man, throw his tattered coat off of his shoulders; he pushed away the puppet-like guards, clearing his way through their barrier and started heading towards the throne. He had his face bowed and covered by his hood and had it not been for the visible translucent hand holding his staff, one would have certainly taken him for a ghost, one of Death's personal messengers. 
His pace was steady, and as he approached the king his staff hitting the floor echoed into a threatening rhythm that startled the gracious Lady sitting near the throne's legs.
"My Lord!" she shrieked, standing up from her makeshift bed and scurried behind the throne, peeping her frightened eyes at the stranger.
The man stopped. His magical clouds were slowly evaporating, allowing the guards behind him to come out of the shock. They started gathering around the man with their swords out, but obediently stepped back as the king himself descended the stairs and signaled them to back off. The stranger bowed his head more and kneeled in a knight-like style, waiting for the king to approach him.
"Speak!" the king ordered, stopping out of reach of the man, his hand clutched on the hilt.
"My Lord..." he began, with a slight tremble in his husky voice "I have come to pay my tribute." 
The king frowned and approached the stranger more, his boldness fostered by the man's new and submissive attitude. The beautiful blonde woman too stepped out of her freezing fear at the sight of the now kneeled threat and came closer to the king.
"A lying treacherous rascal, My Lord" she whispered into the king's ear, making her voice carry to the waiting stranger. Her alluring wavy movements and her gorgeous silhouette gave nothing away of the spiteful and harpy looks she was snarling at the man. 
"We don't need goods from such a scoundrel. Have him taken away, my love." she poured more venomous whispers into the king's ears, slipping her hand under his arm. That move proved to not be to the king's delight and he suddenly turned towards her and grabbed her arm.
"I have told you so many times to mind your own business, Raisa!" he grumbled at her, his fiery eyes sending another wave of fear into the poor woman's veins. "You leave me no choice"
"I beg you Milord, forgive me, I am such a fool. You know I'm not like the others." she starting pleading at the king's feet, to no avail.
"Guard! Remove this woman from my sight!" he ordered and brutally pushed her away.
Two men moved forward from the group that tried to imprison the stranger and each grabbed the distraught woman from one arm. As if she couldn't believe that was happening to her, she let herself completely at their will and they dragged her to one of the darkest corners of the hall, behind the thick columns and into oblivion from her master's grace. 
"Speak, now!" the king commended once more, drawing out his sword and raising the stranger's chin with its tip. 
An ivory perfect face came into the king's sight as the stranger's hood fell on his back. Thin violet lips and nearly transparent gold like eyes slightly shaded by a few black locks, no trace of smile or fear, no emotion transpiring through that creature's look. He stared the king right into his face and slowly slid his hand inside the coat.
"I have brought you the Book Of Lives, King Yorath" he said and handed the king a small book the color of copper, cross tied with a black thick rope.