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Sons of the Flaming Throne 2 – Ch. 10 | KT OLLA

NOW Adonijah was done with the study of the Third Heir’s parchment. It had taken him many nights to untie knotted things, understand the game and be ready to fight.

And now that he was done, nothing would stop him.

Yes, it was still winter cold on this quiet day dawning with fog. The Fourth Prince sat at his study table and scrabbled through choices.

He was about to stall on the thoughts on where to begin – where to start to launch his great revolution. Then something struck his mind as he found another way.

Indeed, the Fourth One knew from the master scroll that his first step was to win Israel’s hearts… as Absalom spent years at the city gate doing.

But no, Adonijah wasn’t the man to cherish patience. Particularly if there was another way.

And since the day he seized that precious scroll, he’d found no reason to stall. For he’d got in his grasp all he needed to rule.

And so he spoke to himself: ‘I cannot wait four years kissing hands and listening to people cry like the Third One did.

‘No, people will crown the heir King when he’s got an impressive stand! But they’ll praise—and only praise the one they like!

‘Yes, they will only crown glory, not dirt!’

With that, Adonijah stood and paced about. He was sure he’d got close, close enough to be King within months.

He was set to win each heartbeat for himself, but not the parchment’s way. Not the long Absalom’s route.

But still, like the furious Third, the man was ready to buy himself an entourage, with gilded chariots to go before him.

He would tour through Jerusalem and its environs, like Absalom. He would do that by riding a great fleet of horses.

‘I go on to the next move on the masterplan,’ he growled. ‘I shall buy myself the King’s honour by the funds allotted me as prince.

‘I shall fetch myself a company of fifty soldiers, and chariots to fight my cause…

‘Then all flesh shall know they cannot break me. For they shall not make this King!’

Right then Adonijah broke forth in a big shout. He knew he’d hit gold; so he ran to the doors, flung the thing open and rushed outside.

It was the courtyard behind the house he fled to. So he kept running in a maze, leaping up and down in a wild frenzy.

And even the cold lost its power on him.

But that man called Wind had got no mind of his to own. So with much effort he did make himself look fearsome.

He’d magnify his deeds, amplify his words, and bloat. He’d pout and roar and stampede because he was lacking.

He seemed so lacking to lead; so till he got the parchment, he couldn’t stay still. And when he found that power, nobody mattered more.

Now he was the Fourth Heir, the Wind the Fire caused.

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