After dashing through the pavilion, which had reminded me again of how horribly out of shape I honestly am, we walked thru the doors into a large rotunda. The inside of this rotunda was at least 4 times the size of the one at the university of Virginia. Though that one is nice, this one was covered with more art than the Metropolitan Museum of Art back home. As soon as we entered there was a man, sitting behind a desk. He looked like a debt collector, with his fountain pen, large open book he was scribbling in, and the look on his face as he wrote down information. More than likely the town accountant or something, or the person dealing with collection of taxes for whoever the king was. Maybe it was this Ratu guy.
Passing through another company of people standing in line waiting to see the debt collector, or whatever that guy was, all of them were holding either baskets of food, clothing, water, something that was apparently meant as a form of payment for something. Of course once we passed through their eyes seemed to magically shift from the debt collector straight to me. Go figure, could it be anymore obvious that I\’m a stranger here?
Up ahead in front of everyone was what seemed like a throne room. \”Come, we see Ratu.\” She had said, \”Who is this Ratu?\” I had questioned, and once again she had ignored me. The throne room seemed just as encompassing as the rotunda, and just as decorated. If not anything else, this place sure as hell loves its artwork. Out of nowhere loud trumpets sounded, it was starting to really feel like something out of a movie, but this time it was just a loud rattle, nothing serious. It was obvious this Ratu guy was going to make a grandiose entrance.
Nobody bowed or anything when a big, muscular man dressed in a purple tunic had entered the room through what appeared like a secret entrance off to the left. He was accompanied by at least a dozen well armed soldiers, all of them with spears at the ready, shields slung behind their back, and duel swords attached to their hips, and their armor was almost as artistic as the room was. He looked like a Roman emperor or something, like he was God. Everyone was paying him attention, respect, and he seemed to bask in his glory. \”This is Ratu\” she said, \”he leads us.\”
\”Who are you?\” I puzzled again, but once more she disregarded me. I was embarking to wonder if she brought me here as a sacrifice or something, than Ratu spoke. \”Who is the stranger brought by Tara?\” His voice appeared very lovely to the ears really, and now I could see why everyone considers him their king, he had all the king like qualities I remember reading about in children\’s books. \”He fell from the sky in the woods, just like you did my Fuehrer.\” That word, oh how familiar it sounded, but where did I hear it from? \”Bring him before me.\” Tara had walked behind me and started to push me towards the throne.
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