In the dark dungeons of the palace, underground, where sunlight never reached and the sll of life never penetrated, Pablo's n found the forr king.
The place was damp, with water droplets falling from the decaying ceiling. The sll was foul, musty, like the sll of slow death. And on the ground, sitting in his corner, was a man who no longer looked like a king.
Baldog.
He was an old man, his face wrinkled like old paper, emaciated as if hunger had consud his flesh and bones. He was of dium height, but he was completely bent. His short gray hair was dirty, and his small gray beard had not been shaved for months. He wore tattered, torn clothes, barely covering his thin body.
On his feet were worn brown shoes. His clothes were so dirty that their original color no longer showed.
And on his head was an ushanka hat with yellow trim on the ears. The hat was the only thing that remained relatively clean. Perhaps it was a mory from his days of glory.
When Pablo's guards opened the cell door, Baldog raised his eyes. His eyes were sunken, dark, but within them was a spark that had not yet died. A spark of life. A spark of hope.
"Who... who are you?" he whispered in a hoarse voice, barely audible.
"Friends." said one of the guards. "Co with us. Your suffering is over."
They helped him stand. His body trembled. His legs could barely carry him. They kept supporting him until he regained his balance.
They took him out of the dungeon. From underground. Into the light.
Baldog closed his eyes as the sunlight touched his face for the first ti in years. He sighed. He almost cried.
But he did not cry. He was still a king.
---
Baldog was taken to the throne room. It was not as he rembered it. The furniture was overturned, the curtains torn, the floors covered in dust. But the throne was still there.
On the throne, no one was sitting. Standing beside it was a young man. A young man of fifteen or sixteen. He wore simple clothes, but his eyes were different.
"Seat him." said Pablo.
They sat Baldog on a nearby chair. His body trembled. He looked around in confusion.
"Where am I? What is happening? Who are you?"
Pablo did not reply imdiately. He let Baldog absorb the place. Then he began to speak.
"Bekori's rule is over. The revolutionaries have won. The south is free. And the capital is now under our control."
Baldog's eyes widened. He could not believe it. "Bekori... is dead?"
"I killed him myself."
Baldog was silent for a mont. Then his eyes began to water. He did not cry. Just his eyes watered.
"After all these years... after everything he did to and the kingdom... he is dead."
"Yes. And now, I have an offer for you."
Baldog looked at Pablo. "What do you want?"
"I want you to return as king of Sorbet."
Baldog was shocked. "What? I... I am old. I am weak. I cannot—"
"You will. I will be with you. I will not leave you alone. I will provide you with help. All I ask is that you trust ."
"Why are you doing this? Who are you and what do you want?"
Pablo smiled. "I will have so conditions, but do not worry. My conditions will not harm anyone. That is all you need to know for now."
Baldog was silent. He was thinking. He was trembling. He was afraid. But he knew he had no other choice.
"Alright." he whispered. "I will do it."
He extended his trembling hand. Pablo shook it.
It was the beginning of a new era.
---
After the agreent, Pablo ordered his n to take care of Baldog.
They took him to the palace baths. They filled the tub with warm water. They helped him remove his tattered clothes.
His body was very thin, emaciated, bones protruding from under the skin. There were old scars on his back. Traces of whipping from years of imprisonnt.
Baldog sat in the warm water for the first ti in years. He sighed with relief. He closed his eyes for a mont.
The servants began to wash him. They washed his dirty gray hair. They washed his beard. They washed his thin body.
When they finished, they dressed him in new clothes. They were simple but clean. A white shirt, dark pants, and a blue feathered cloak. They put new brown shoes on his feet.
Then they brought the hat. The ushanka hat with yellow trim on the ears. It was the only thing he insisted on keeping. They cleaned it and gave it to him.
He put on the hat. He looked in the mirror.
He was not as he had been years ago. But he was better than he had been hours earlier.
He looked like a king again.
---
In the capital's public square, thousands of people gathered.
They were not only the revolutionaries. They were all the residents of the capital. n, won, and children. They cheered, applauded, cried. They raised the new Sorbet flags.
On a temporary wooden platform, Pablo stood at the back. And in front of him stood Baldog.
Baldog wore his new clothes. He was still thin, but his eyes shone. He looked at the crowds with unbelieving eyes.
"Our king has returned! Baldog has returned!"
"Long live Sorbet!"
"Long live the revolution! Long live freedom!"
Pablo gestured for Baldog to step forward.
Baldog stepped forward. He raised his trembling hand. His voice was weak, but clear.
"My great people... I have returned."
Everyone was silent for a mont. Then the square erupted with chants.
"Baldog! Baldog! Baldog!"
They shouted his na. They raised their hands. They cried with joy.
"I will not fail you again. I will serve you until my last day. I will make Sorbet as it once was: a land of love and peace."
The people cried. Baldog cried too. He cried because he could not believe this day would co.
At the back, Pablo watched. He did not applaud. Did not cheer. He just smiled. He knew this was only the beginning.
---
In the middle of the crowd, Kuma stood.
His massive body stood out among the people. He looked at the celebration with tearful eyes. He smiled. A wide, sincere smile that had not appeared on his face for years.
He saw the poor dancing. He saw the elderly crying with joy. He saw children playing as they raised Sorbet's flags.
They were happy.
For the first ti in years, the poor were truly happy.
Kuma rembered the small church in the south. He rembered the elderly who ca to him groaning in pain. He rembered the patients who died because they could not find dicine. He rembered the farrs who worked in the fields from dawn to dusk without pay.
And now, all of them were dancing.
"Baldog! Baldog! Baldog!"
Kuma looked at the platform. He saw Pablo at the back, out of sight. He stood quietly, not wanting to appear. Not wanting glory. Not wanting fa.
Kuma knew that Pablo was the one who did all this. He was the one who planned. He was the one who fought. He was the one who risked his life.
"Pablo..." Kuma whispered to himself.
He did not say it aloud. He only thought it.
"Thank you."
It was one word. But it carried everything. All the gratitude. All the respect. All the admiration.
Kuma continued watching the celebration. He smiled. His eyes watered. He was happy. Not only because the poor were happy. Because he had found soone worthy of admiration.
Kuma knew the road was still long. But he also knew that Pablo would be there.
And that was enough.
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