From above, the wicked shall receive their just reward
Kronk shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes were somber, despite the joy around him. Spring had once been his favorite time of year. He’d loved to watch the leaves on the trees sprout, and then to watch the fruit bud and ripen. Kronk sighed, remembering a time when his heart was light, and wondering if it could be that way again. One day perhaps, already their tree was growing. It had survived despite the fire that had ravaged it. That, at least, was something to celebrate.
Perhaps, soon, there would be more reasons to celebrate. Kronk cast his eyes about, scanning for the face that could quench his curiosity. There was one thing Kronk yearned for more than peace, more than joy, and that was for purpose. Only the truly deaf could have missed the quiet, yet growing, rumblings of war. There was an anticipation in there air, they were on the precipice of a cliff or in the eye of a storm. Soon, it had to be soon.
Kronk found Magnus and inclined his head in a greeting. It felt like a long time since he had spoken to the general. They were, perhaps, overdue for a chat. Or, more likely, Kronk just couldn’t handle radio silence. Waiting, it would seem, was not his strong suit. It situations like this, it was often said that no news was good news. Kronk did not prescribe to that kind of thinking. There was always news, you just had to know where to find it.
“Magnus.” Kronk said with his nod, his voice as serious as his eyes. Perhaps, when this was all over, when he had fulfilled his purpose and found his peace, he would also become less of a stick in the mud.
“How do you find our kingdom?” This, at least, was said with a little smile, a little twinkling of humor. He was asking a rather broad question, but the net he cast was intentionally large.
Kronk
