Part III, Ch. V
Leto’s Palace
Letople, Zathalon
Leto’s Palace
Letople, Zathalon
“Imagine the state of one's mind if they were to recall its details. All those months cocooned and then the onslaught of this ugly world. Lights and noise and strangeness. It's no wonder we scream with terror at our birth.” ― Melina Marchetta, Quintana of Charyn
For what it was worth, most of the people in attendance were excited. The Emperor should have been, but alas, he was not. He was nervous more than anything…he could feel the anxiety gnawing at his chest, chewing on his insides and tying knots in his heart. My heart…do I still have one? Ever since his wife Lara had told him that Sophia had perished during a coup attempt in Ghish, he felt…hollow. How could success feel so much like defeat? he thought as he wandered from his chambers into the palace, where his party was waiting for him. In spite of his depression, he had to focus on the task at hand…the celebration of the fast approaching birth of the heir…
For what it was worth, most of the people in attendance were excited. The Emperor should have been, but alas, he was not. He was nervous more than anything…he could feel the anxiety gnawing at his chest, chewing on his insides and tying knots in his heart. My heart…do I still have one? Ever since his wife Lara had told him that Sophia had perished during a coup attempt in Ghish, he felt…hollow. How could success feel so much like defeat? he thought as he wandered from his chambers into the palace, where his party was waiting for him. In spite of his depression, he had to focus on the task at hand…the celebration of the fast approaching birth of the heir…
Defeated, ill treated,
A spirit torn apart.
Betrayed, waylaid,
The shredding of a heart.
Forlorn, still born,
Hopes for a future bright.
Unfed, half dead,
Strangled by fears too tight.
Unmourned, scorned,
The innocent are crushed.
Still green, unseen,
Under rugs are brushed.
Ill used, abused,
Cast down into despair.
Reach up, reach out,
Look up and I'll be there.
Support, self taught,
Together we are strong.
A team, no seam,
Try to right a wrong.
I'll be there, I care,
I'll try with all my power.
We two, me and you,
Are growing future's flower.
A spirit torn apart.
Betrayed, waylaid,
The shredding of a heart.
Forlorn, still born,
Hopes for a future bright.
Unfed, half dead,
Strangled by fears too tight.
Unmourned, scorned,
The innocent are crushed.
Still green, unseen,
Under rugs are brushed.
Ill used, abused,
Cast down into despair.
Reach up, reach out,
Look up and I'll be there.
Support, self taught,
Together we are strong.
A team, no seam,
Try to right a wrong.
I'll be there, I care,
I'll try with all my power.
We two, me and you,
Are growing future's flower.
Indeed, he could still feel something. Emperor Nathan of Ghant, Emperor of Zathalon, could feel the weight of his crown as he strode the length of the hallway with his loyal guards and retainers in tow. Good, loyal men like Atticus Voor, Barrin Errauts of Arrautsa, Fendulias of Gaemar, Kukavanger Vangalish, Lord Commander Hemlock of the Zinpalak, and even the likes of Gorm the Cleaver…huge, savage and fierce, tough as nails and loyal to the bone. There was also Rodrigo Viesu the Priest of the Sunshard Church, Captain Joseph Marlow of the Imperial Guard and even Nathan’s half-brother the young Charles Kindaro Jr.
The hallways were brightly lit, both by the myriad number of lamps along the walls and the great golden chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. The large Victorian style windows occupying the opposite wall allowed the fading evening light to shine through as well, painting the hallways in a luminous glow that reflected off of the smooth, shiny surfaces. The richly colored paints on the walls and ceiling, the patterned marble tile floor and the columns just outside the windows that stood monolithic in spite of the sun that beat down upon them. It was all so grand…all so appropriate for the occasion.
There was excitement in the air…an energy…a presence. It was one that the Emperor had never felt before. Whenever he just closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he could feel a buzzing sensation in his chest, like something great was about to begin. An exuberant thrill of creation…of creating something new, and giving life to something great…the idea that he was going to be doing something no one else had ever done.
Yet he knew he wasn’t the first…and that he wouldn’t be the last. That he wouldn’t be the first to be a father, of an heir for that matter, or the creator of an empire, albeit a reunited one centuries dead. It still made him feel special all the same. Try to focus on that instead of the anxiety. He would be better for it he realized…not to be so pessimistic about something to be optimistic about.
Nathan stopped in front of a tall mirror standing solitary in the hallway, to look himself over. The man he saw was a man he had a hard time recognizing at first. He observed a somber faced, pale fleshed man with fair lightly freckled skin, and short reddish brown hair laying atop his head. His blue-grey eyes looked sullen as they started out, back at himself, and belied the golden, jewel encrusted crown upon his head and the regal nature of his garb. His ornate doublet was a rich blue, orange and white, with a blue cape that flowed like a waterfall down behind his shoulders past his back, stopping just above the floor.
The hallways were brightly lit, both by the myriad number of lamps along the walls and the great golden chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. The large Victorian style windows occupying the opposite wall allowed the fading evening light to shine through as well, painting the hallways in a luminous glow that reflected off of the smooth, shiny surfaces. The richly colored paints on the walls and ceiling, the patterned marble tile floor and the columns just outside the windows that stood monolithic in spite of the sun that beat down upon them. It was all so grand…all so appropriate for the occasion.
There was excitement in the air…an energy…a presence. It was one that the Emperor had never felt before. Whenever he just closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he could feel a buzzing sensation in his chest, like something great was about to begin. An exuberant thrill of creation…of creating something new, and giving life to something great…the idea that he was going to be doing something no one else had ever done.
Yet he knew he wasn’t the first…and that he wouldn’t be the last. That he wouldn’t be the first to be a father, of an heir for that matter, or the creator of an empire, albeit a reunited one centuries dead. It still made him feel special all the same. Try to focus on that instead of the anxiety. He would be better for it he realized…not to be so pessimistic about something to be optimistic about.
Nathan stopped in front of a tall mirror standing solitary in the hallway, to look himself over. The man he saw was a man he had a hard time recognizing at first. He observed a somber faced, pale fleshed man with fair lightly freckled skin, and short reddish brown hair laying atop his head. His blue-grey eyes looked sullen as they started out, back at himself, and belied the golden, jewel encrusted crown upon his head and the regal nature of his garb. His ornate doublet was a rich blue, orange and white, with a blue cape that flowed like a waterfall down behind his shoulders past his back, stopping just above the floor.
Mirror, Mirror lie to me,
Show me what I want to see.
Where we can fix what has been broken,
A world where cruel words are left unspoken.
Where no-one ever becomes ill,
A world where she loves me still.
Now show me what I should see,
what has become reality.
Life which balances everything,
people may hurt, while others sing.
Open my eyes to everything around,
let me see both pain and beautiful sound.
There may be a wall around my heart,
but it is so I cannot be torn apart.
I want once again to let myself feel,
I want a world where pain is not real.
I wish wrong always lost to right,
but now set me free to live my life.
Show me what I want to see.
Where we can fix what has been broken,
A world where cruel words are left unspoken.
Where no-one ever becomes ill,
A world where she loves me still.
Now show me what I should see,
what has become reality.
Life which balances everything,
people may hurt, while others sing.
Open my eyes to everything around,
let me see both pain and beautiful sound.
There may be a wall around my heart,
but it is so I cannot be torn apart.
I want once again to let myself feel,
I want a world where pain is not real.
I wish wrong always lost to right,
but now set me free to live my life.
It could never be that easy though…no, it never is. Nathan continued to stare at the mirror until he saw past his reflection, into whatever depths lay beyond. He didn’t like what he sensed. Confusion, fear, doubts…insecurities that haunted him, addled him even. As he usually did, he tried to swallow it, put it at the back of his mind and lock it away before throwing away the key…
Nathan adjusted his crown, before turning around to face his companions. “Just making sure everything’s in order before we enter the reception hall. I don’t want a thousand people to look at me and think, ‘he doesn’t look regal at all!’ Impressions are everything you know, and I don’t want to give a bad one.”
Lord Voor clasped the Emperor on both shoulders and smiled. “The impression you wish to give will coincide with the one you yourself give off. If you feel good, others will feel good about you. Just remember to smile, keep your back straight and your chin up. Then you will appear as the Emperor you wish to be seen as.” With that, Atticus put a hand on Nathan’s back, and gestured down the hall with the other.
With a nod of his head, Nathan acquiesced, and continued walking, with his entourage in tow. “What exactly is the significance of a Baby Shower, anyway?” Granted, Nathan knew what they were, but not necessarily why they were construed to be such lofty events of import. Apparently, it was important enough for people of import to travel from throughout the Empire of Zathalon to attend.
It was the hefty Barrin of Arrautsa that answered the question. “Basically your Grace, it’s an event where loved ones, family and friends get to spend time with the prospective parents…the mother especially. The guests bring gifts and impart supportive wishes and advice and generally make sure that the parents to be realize that their baby is highly anticipated. In such circles of high society as this, they are often held to celebrate the impending birth of an heir, which is the case here.”
Hence, the irony of our plot. “I trust our plans are in order then?” the Emperor inquired generally to his party.
“…Indeed they are, your Grace,” Fendulias of Gaemar grinned widely, showing a gap between his two front teeth. “Everything will go quite smoothly, rest assured.”
What a relief. Closer to the reception hall, the hallways grew wider, and far more elaborate. They sprawled out, featuring detailed tapestries, suits of armor, weapons upon racks, large paintings and delicate artifacts set upon narrow tables running the length of the walls. All the while, the waning light of day signaled the deepening dusk, as a myriad of colors filled the sky and colored the light that beat down through the glass, playing tricks of light upon the floor and the walls.
“…I’ve heard reports that enemy vessels are harrying the coasts to the north,” Nathan said with a concerned tone. “Selena’s return to Heilanor has emboldened the southrons, and Constantine is competent enough to lead them and keep them organized. No doubt he has reached out to potential allies in order to spur them against us. If these reports are true, then they are forcing our hands and calling our bluff,” he said, referring to Lara’s threats of mutually assured destruction by weapons of mass destruction…which she did possess. Nathan, unlike the others, knew his wife to be cavalier enough to seriously consider using them.
Kukavanger snorted and even chuckled a bit, before shaking his head and explaining, “I wouldn’t worry about them if I were you, your Grace. Let them harry the shores all they want. Why, when I was but a wee lad, my grandfather used to tell me stories about the Kanpotar that would come raiding…they would always stay close to shore, and wouldn’t come too far inland away from their ships. In Izotza, the Ghantar of old were clever. When they caught wind of raiders coming, they would leave their coastal towns and go deep inland and hide. Sure, the raiders would get some things, but not much, since the villagers would take their most valuable possessions and take them with them when they left. Sometimes the raiders would go inland in search of the villagers, but when they did that, some of the villagers would then go to the ships and burn them as they sat idle and poorly guarded. Then the raiders were stranded with a local population that wanted them dead.”
“The lesson of the story is that the kanpotar would be wise not to press their luck inland, especially up north. That’s your base of power, where the people most fervently believe in the restored empire and your…God. Resistance would be high, and more trouble than what it’d be worth methinks. Like I said, don’t worry about them if it’s true…we’ll take care of them soon enough,” Kukavanger smiled.
“What we need to do,” Atticus pointed out, “is to gain legitimacy. We need to prove to these would be enemies that this government is functional and respects basic rights and adheres to the expectations of how a state should operate. We may need to make peace with Heilanor in order to achieve that, rather than try to conquer it outright. That’s a public relations battle we can never win…not now.”
Zara couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I thought the whole point of this war was to restore the lost empire of Zathalon from its fractured successor states. If there’s still one part remaining that isn’t in the Empire, that the Empire isn’t reborn, now is it? All of these followers of yours…they share that dream. If you settle and appear complacent, they will grow restless. Than you may quickly find yourself in the same position your ancestors did, where the Empire is being pulled apart from within, because everyone is moving in different directions.”
“…That,” Barrin began, “and so long as Constantine and Selena linger on the continent, there will always be a threat to your legitimacy. You will be seen as an usurper by many, including those in the international community over which they hold sway. If you let them hang around, they will eventually harass you, and possibly overthrow you and take what you have gained.”
They are right, Nathan realized. By now he was already too far gone. He had a hard time believing that all would be forgiven if he relinquished himself from his station…people held grudges and weren’t like to forgive and forget. No, he would bear the consequences of his actions in Zathalon for the rest of his life, if he wasn’t arrested or executed first. At the same time, Lara was growing mad with power and lusting for more, and had to be stopped before any serious damage could be wrought by her hand. “…Uncle Albert could help, couldn’t he?”
Hemlock of all people knew Albert well enough to comment. The two had spent many, many years at court together. “Your Uncle’s mind has been poisoned by sycophants…he will do nothing to risk his own position, even if it means salvaging your own. He will be more of an obstacle than an ally at this point, and his creatures will be loathe to abandon their positions of power in Ghish when you return. I fear they will work to perpetuate the conflict, if only to keep you here and extend their time there.”
“…How did these worms manage to infest my seat?” Nathan spoke angrily out of frustration at the possibility of having to reassert his position in Ghant by force. “I’m tired of these vermin, my lords…everywhere I look, everywhere I turn. This was supposed to be about history, about the triumph of righteousness in the face of overwhelming corruption. Yet, all it seems to do is just beget more corruption. Dare I say, then, that what’s the point of cutting the head off a snake, if simply another snake shall emerge to take it’s place? A man could spend all of time cutting the heads off of snakes!”
Rodrigo nodded, and sagely declared that “One cannot eradicate evil any more than light can eradicate the dark…one can merely compensate for it in the end, and learn to contain it. Rather than cut the head off the snake, trap it and keep it ensnared. Learn to contain and adapt to their existence, while also being true to your faith. For that will ultimately be what delivers you and the outcome that you seek, your Grace. True faith in the one true God, that has seen you through this far and will see you the rest of the way, if you believe.”
“I believe,” the Emperor told him with a smile as he made his approach to the tall oaken doors leading into the reception hall. He could already hear the commotion emanating from within the chamber. The guards standing outside the entrance to the reception hall acknowledged their Emperor’s approach, and bowed to him before pushing the doors open. The sight of the reception hall inspired awe in the Emperor, the likes of which he hand not felt in some time.
The reception hall had been restored. It radiated a golden sheen off of the walls while the evening light shined down through the large glass domed roof. The ceiling surrounding the dome was painted with imagery of religious significance, mainly dancing angels in flight wielding trumpets and horns. The room itself was a cavernous rectangular chamber with two levels. The upper level wrapped around the length of the reception hall and overlooked the main floor below. Tall golden columns supported the over level like colonnades, while on the upper floor, there were smaller columns that rose into arches connecting to the ceiling.
The upper level connected to a gallery where musicians played life music on their lutes, violins and various other instruments, while guards patrolled the upper level and the periphery of the lower. Along the edges of the reception hall were great long tables covered in lavish tablecloths of blue and orange and white, with a myriad assortment of dishes and drinks from one end to another. There were tables beyond count where patrons sat, feasting and drinking on the palace wares, while others mingled in small clusters all around.
At the far end of the hall was a large table for presents in front of an elevated dais for the imperial couple, already piled high with wrapped gifts of various shapes and sizes. Some were so large and heavy that they had to be placed on the floor beside or underneath of it. Due to the sheer volume of gifts, it wasn’t practical to open them all that night. Rather, it had been decided that it would be done some time after the event, handled by palace staff and an inventory list presented to Lara when it was convenient. Without a doubt, this child will be spoiled, the Emperor thought with a smile as he made his way into the room, in search of Lara, no doubt eager for the evening to get going.
Nathan found her not too long after beginning his search, standing tall and proud with a swollen belly near the center of the room surrounded by guests. Her blue satin cape was patterned in orange thread, with several roaring lions featured prominently upon it. Underneath the cape was a great blue and white satin gown that dragged behind her across the patterned marble tile floor.
The royal steward led the Emperor and his companions in. “All hail His Grace, Nathan of the House Gentry, the First of his Name, Emperor of Zathalon and Ghant,” he sang out. That got everyone’s attention, Nathan thought as people turned to look at him from all around, the Empress included. She nodded slightly and stretched out her arms to embrace her husband in a formal display of affection.
“The Emperor has arrived,” Lara proclaimed with a smile. Her teeth were white and mostly straight, and her face stretched wide when she smiled. “Over two thousand people present, all here for the same occasion…isn’t it marvelous?” she asked him as she reached out for an embrace.
“It certainly is,” he replied as he hugged her back, mindful of her swollen tummy. Nathan observed the usual suspects not far away from Lara…those being Generals Sloot, Zotwel and Gogh, Admirals Pole and Zutwenk, Prime Minister Martina Tangerine, Princess Sula, Ghantish Emissary Ion Lorus and Lord Lendel Uros, newly appointed Ghantish Liaison to the Court of Letople, compliments of Uncle Albert.
Zara Thrall looked around the room, and then she put a quick hand on Nathan’s shoulder to get his attention after he stepped away from his wife. “…I am going to get outside, if you don’t mind. I don’t do well in large areas filled with so many people…” something seemed amiss…she was worried about something.
“…Is everything alright, Zara?” Nathan asked her with a hushed voice and a look of concern.
She nodded though, and merely said “…I just need some fresh air.” With her having said that, Nathan nodded, and in haste, Zara turned and walked briskly back towards the towering doors of the reception hall, and out the other end she disappeared. It was that particular display of anxiety that made Nathan’s own anxiety flare up again. He looked up at the sky again through the dome, and saw that night was quick taking over, and a full moon rising. The night seemed especially dark…
Nathan adjusted his crown, before turning around to face his companions. “Just making sure everything’s in order before we enter the reception hall. I don’t want a thousand people to look at me and think, ‘he doesn’t look regal at all!’ Impressions are everything you know, and I don’t want to give a bad one.”
Lord Voor clasped the Emperor on both shoulders and smiled. “The impression you wish to give will coincide with the one you yourself give off. If you feel good, others will feel good about you. Just remember to smile, keep your back straight and your chin up. Then you will appear as the Emperor you wish to be seen as.” With that, Atticus put a hand on Nathan’s back, and gestured down the hall with the other.
With a nod of his head, Nathan acquiesced, and continued walking, with his entourage in tow. “What exactly is the significance of a Baby Shower, anyway?” Granted, Nathan knew what they were, but not necessarily why they were construed to be such lofty events of import. Apparently, it was important enough for people of import to travel from throughout the Empire of Zathalon to attend.
It was the hefty Barrin of Arrautsa that answered the question. “Basically your Grace, it’s an event where loved ones, family and friends get to spend time with the prospective parents…the mother especially. The guests bring gifts and impart supportive wishes and advice and generally make sure that the parents to be realize that their baby is highly anticipated. In such circles of high society as this, they are often held to celebrate the impending birth of an heir, which is the case here.”
Hence, the irony of our plot. “I trust our plans are in order then?” the Emperor inquired generally to his party.
“…Indeed they are, your Grace,” Fendulias of Gaemar grinned widely, showing a gap between his two front teeth. “Everything will go quite smoothly, rest assured.”
What a relief. Closer to the reception hall, the hallways grew wider, and far more elaborate. They sprawled out, featuring detailed tapestries, suits of armor, weapons upon racks, large paintings and delicate artifacts set upon narrow tables running the length of the walls. All the while, the waning light of day signaled the deepening dusk, as a myriad of colors filled the sky and colored the light that beat down through the glass, playing tricks of light upon the floor and the walls.
“…I’ve heard reports that enemy vessels are harrying the coasts to the north,” Nathan said with a concerned tone. “Selena’s return to Heilanor has emboldened the southrons, and Constantine is competent enough to lead them and keep them organized. No doubt he has reached out to potential allies in order to spur them against us. If these reports are true, then they are forcing our hands and calling our bluff,” he said, referring to Lara’s threats of mutually assured destruction by weapons of mass destruction…which she did possess. Nathan, unlike the others, knew his wife to be cavalier enough to seriously consider using them.
Kukavanger snorted and even chuckled a bit, before shaking his head and explaining, “I wouldn’t worry about them if I were you, your Grace. Let them harry the shores all they want. Why, when I was but a wee lad, my grandfather used to tell me stories about the Kanpotar that would come raiding…they would always stay close to shore, and wouldn’t come too far inland away from their ships. In Izotza, the Ghantar of old were clever. When they caught wind of raiders coming, they would leave their coastal towns and go deep inland and hide. Sure, the raiders would get some things, but not much, since the villagers would take their most valuable possessions and take them with them when they left. Sometimes the raiders would go inland in search of the villagers, but when they did that, some of the villagers would then go to the ships and burn them as they sat idle and poorly guarded. Then the raiders were stranded with a local population that wanted them dead.”
“The lesson of the story is that the kanpotar would be wise not to press their luck inland, especially up north. That’s your base of power, where the people most fervently believe in the restored empire and your…God. Resistance would be high, and more trouble than what it’d be worth methinks. Like I said, don’t worry about them if it’s true…we’ll take care of them soon enough,” Kukavanger smiled.
“What we need to do,” Atticus pointed out, “is to gain legitimacy. We need to prove to these would be enemies that this government is functional and respects basic rights and adheres to the expectations of how a state should operate. We may need to make peace with Heilanor in order to achieve that, rather than try to conquer it outright. That’s a public relations battle we can never win…not now.”
Zara couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I thought the whole point of this war was to restore the lost empire of Zathalon from its fractured successor states. If there’s still one part remaining that isn’t in the Empire, that the Empire isn’t reborn, now is it? All of these followers of yours…they share that dream. If you settle and appear complacent, they will grow restless. Than you may quickly find yourself in the same position your ancestors did, where the Empire is being pulled apart from within, because everyone is moving in different directions.”
“…That,” Barrin began, “and so long as Constantine and Selena linger on the continent, there will always be a threat to your legitimacy. You will be seen as an usurper by many, including those in the international community over which they hold sway. If you let them hang around, they will eventually harass you, and possibly overthrow you and take what you have gained.”
They are right, Nathan realized. By now he was already too far gone. He had a hard time believing that all would be forgiven if he relinquished himself from his station…people held grudges and weren’t like to forgive and forget. No, he would bear the consequences of his actions in Zathalon for the rest of his life, if he wasn’t arrested or executed first. At the same time, Lara was growing mad with power and lusting for more, and had to be stopped before any serious damage could be wrought by her hand. “…Uncle Albert could help, couldn’t he?”
Hemlock of all people knew Albert well enough to comment. The two had spent many, many years at court together. “Your Uncle’s mind has been poisoned by sycophants…he will do nothing to risk his own position, even if it means salvaging your own. He will be more of an obstacle than an ally at this point, and his creatures will be loathe to abandon their positions of power in Ghish when you return. I fear they will work to perpetuate the conflict, if only to keep you here and extend their time there.”
“…How did these worms manage to infest my seat?” Nathan spoke angrily out of frustration at the possibility of having to reassert his position in Ghant by force. “I’m tired of these vermin, my lords…everywhere I look, everywhere I turn. This was supposed to be about history, about the triumph of righteousness in the face of overwhelming corruption. Yet, all it seems to do is just beget more corruption. Dare I say, then, that what’s the point of cutting the head off a snake, if simply another snake shall emerge to take it’s place? A man could spend all of time cutting the heads off of snakes!”
Rodrigo nodded, and sagely declared that “One cannot eradicate evil any more than light can eradicate the dark…one can merely compensate for it in the end, and learn to contain it. Rather than cut the head off the snake, trap it and keep it ensnared. Learn to contain and adapt to their existence, while also being true to your faith. For that will ultimately be what delivers you and the outcome that you seek, your Grace. True faith in the one true God, that has seen you through this far and will see you the rest of the way, if you believe.”
“I believe,” the Emperor told him with a smile as he made his approach to the tall oaken doors leading into the reception hall. He could already hear the commotion emanating from within the chamber. The guards standing outside the entrance to the reception hall acknowledged their Emperor’s approach, and bowed to him before pushing the doors open. The sight of the reception hall inspired awe in the Emperor, the likes of which he hand not felt in some time.
The reception hall had been restored. It radiated a golden sheen off of the walls while the evening light shined down through the large glass domed roof. The ceiling surrounding the dome was painted with imagery of religious significance, mainly dancing angels in flight wielding trumpets and horns. The room itself was a cavernous rectangular chamber with two levels. The upper level wrapped around the length of the reception hall and overlooked the main floor below. Tall golden columns supported the over level like colonnades, while on the upper floor, there were smaller columns that rose into arches connecting to the ceiling.
The upper level connected to a gallery where musicians played life music on their lutes, violins and various other instruments, while guards patrolled the upper level and the periphery of the lower. Along the edges of the reception hall were great long tables covered in lavish tablecloths of blue and orange and white, with a myriad assortment of dishes and drinks from one end to another. There were tables beyond count where patrons sat, feasting and drinking on the palace wares, while others mingled in small clusters all around.
At the far end of the hall was a large table for presents in front of an elevated dais for the imperial couple, already piled high with wrapped gifts of various shapes and sizes. Some were so large and heavy that they had to be placed on the floor beside or underneath of it. Due to the sheer volume of gifts, it wasn’t practical to open them all that night. Rather, it had been decided that it would be done some time after the event, handled by palace staff and an inventory list presented to Lara when it was convenient. Without a doubt, this child will be spoiled, the Emperor thought with a smile as he made his way into the room, in search of Lara, no doubt eager for the evening to get going.
Nathan found her not too long after beginning his search, standing tall and proud with a swollen belly near the center of the room surrounded by guests. Her blue satin cape was patterned in orange thread, with several roaring lions featured prominently upon it. Underneath the cape was a great blue and white satin gown that dragged behind her across the patterned marble tile floor.
The royal steward led the Emperor and his companions in. “All hail His Grace, Nathan of the House Gentry, the First of his Name, Emperor of Zathalon and Ghant,” he sang out. That got everyone’s attention, Nathan thought as people turned to look at him from all around, the Empress included. She nodded slightly and stretched out her arms to embrace her husband in a formal display of affection.
“The Emperor has arrived,” Lara proclaimed with a smile. Her teeth were white and mostly straight, and her face stretched wide when she smiled. “Over two thousand people present, all here for the same occasion…isn’t it marvelous?” she asked him as she reached out for an embrace.
“It certainly is,” he replied as he hugged her back, mindful of her swollen tummy. Nathan observed the usual suspects not far away from Lara…those being Generals Sloot, Zotwel and Gogh, Admirals Pole and Zutwenk, Prime Minister Martina Tangerine, Princess Sula, Ghantish Emissary Ion Lorus and Lord Lendel Uros, newly appointed Ghantish Liaison to the Court of Letople, compliments of Uncle Albert.
Zara Thrall looked around the room, and then she put a quick hand on Nathan’s shoulder to get his attention after he stepped away from his wife. “…I am going to get outside, if you don’t mind. I don’t do well in large areas filled with so many people…” something seemed amiss…she was worried about something.
“…Is everything alright, Zara?” Nathan asked her with a hushed voice and a look of concern.
She nodded though, and merely said “…I just need some fresh air.” With her having said that, Nathan nodded, and in haste, Zara turned and walked briskly back towards the towering doors of the reception hall, and out the other end she disappeared. It was that particular display of anxiety that made Nathan’s own anxiety flare up again. He looked up at the sky again through the dome, and saw that night was quick taking over, and a full moon rising. The night seemed especially dark…
A day that was born of the brightest light
Has now shattered like crystals in the sinking dark
Where once the spirit was unfettered and free
Now it weeps painfully in a cage of thorns
Blood is drawn from its tender flesh
And drips slowly down to mark the skin
A tattoo of pain forever remembered
By a ghost that lives within
There is emptiness in this void
A cold and lonely song of existence
A solemn note born from the sheer magnitude of the silence
That it deafens both the heart and mind
In the quiet serenity of utter despair
What is born from the lack of a sense of hope?
A cold determination to steal the future
From the wanton wheel of fate...
Such is the nature of desperation, when caught in an endless cycle of hate...
Has now shattered like crystals in the sinking dark
Where once the spirit was unfettered and free
Now it weeps painfully in a cage of thorns
Blood is drawn from its tender flesh
And drips slowly down to mark the skin
A tattoo of pain forever remembered
By a ghost that lives within
There is emptiness in this void
A cold and lonely song of existence
A solemn note born from the sheer magnitude of the silence
That it deafens both the heart and mind
In the quiet serenity of utter despair
What is born from the lack of a sense of hope?
A cold determination to steal the future
From the wanton wheel of fate...
Such is the nature of desperation, when caught in an endless cycle of hate...
The Emperor had to shake his anxiety…it would do him no good now. “…Perhaps you will walk with me, my love, while my esteemed guests get themselves situated,” he smiled as he offered Lara his hand.
Returning the smile, Lara took it. “Aye…please, come with me to the dais, so we can share a few words with our guests.”
“Yes, of course,” he replied, as it was she, not he that led the way. Lara walked briskly towards the elevated dais, consisting of a wide flat platform on the far edge of the room. Guests said their congratulations as they stepped aside for the Emperor and Empress, while Nathan studied their faces, and those of the people looking on from the upper balcony. Theirs’ were faces of eagerness, of joy and merriment, as though this day was a great day, which it certainly did appear.
Lara arrived at the feet of the dais and climbed the steps to the top, although it was hardly a top as the dais wasn’t that much higher than the surrounding floor. Only two long narrow steps surrounded the dais and separated it from the floor, and she seemed to reach the dais with just one step. She yanked Nathan up there with her, and came to stand before the microphone sitting idly atop a stand.
“Excuse me,” Lara said into the microphone, causing what music was being played from the gallery to cease, and everyone turning to look upon the dais. Nearly two thousand people stopped what they were doing and stared at the Emperor and Empress, waiting her for to say whatever she intended to say next. Nathan stood beside her perfectly still and silent, as he himself waited to see what Lara was going to say.
“I just wanted to take a moment to thank the palace staff for hosting such a wonderful baby shower to welcome our first child, the heir to Zathalon. It means so much to me that all of you were able to come today and celebrate with us. Having a new baby can be really overwhelming, but this event makes me feel so supported and loved. It reminds me of how privileged I am to be Empress of Zathalon, and have an entire empire behind me.”
“There are so many great women here today. I especially admire the mothers in this room. I am glad to have your example as I get ready to give birth to the heir in a few weeks time. It shall be the completion of our vision fulfilled. For as Leto the First once said, there shall be one Empire, united and bound by blood for all time. So let us celebrate! Let us sing and dance and rejoice in this dream being realized once more!”
“Thanks again for coming today and please have fun tonight and all the nights to come!”
The reception hall was drowned out by a thunderous applause, and it was in that moment that Nathan realized the scope of this room. It was literally cavernous, the size of the interior of a leviathan church cathedral. No wonder it made Zara so dizzy, he realized as even he started to feel dizzy just taking it in. Not long after Lara was done speaking, the musicians in the gallery began to play once more, and the dancing took over in greater furor than before Lara spoke from the dais.
Lara made her way down from the dais alone, and Nathan moped after her, only to be greeted by an old, familiar face. “…Ormund Borlidoc, is that you?”
“Indeed, your Grace,” the older man smiled. Once a tall and dignified man who served admirably as Prime Minister, he was now a virtual prisoner, wearing an old suit and with an old, unshaven face of grey hair. “It’s been a long time.”
“…What happened to you?” Nathan asked incredulously. “What did they do to you?”
Ormund put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, and began to walk with him, there near the edge of the reception hall where they might have some privacy. “I came to Letople to negotiate with Prime Minister Tangerine…this was before she betrayed Empress Selena. It was a trap…once I had arrived, Tangerine imprisoned me, and then after Simon Brignac was killed in Loufe, the government fell apart. From what I understand, your uncle assumed imperial power in your absence, and used that power to appoint Maeson Margela as acting Prime Minister for the duration of my term, until elections could be called. Which, given the political situation there, may be some time off…”
“Is that why Martina never let you leave Letople?” Nathan asked, beginning to get a clearer picture of the chain of events. “Did she anticipate this dysfunction arising, which she could then exploit to her benefit?”
“So it stands to be reasoned,” Ormund nodded sadly. “With all due respect, I did advise you that this course of action would lead to the ruin of our nation, and others too. The days are dark and only grow darker…with each passing day Zathalon becomes more fanatical. I fear the worst is still to come.”
Oh, I know that now, Nathan thought of Ormund’s words. I know that now better than any man living. Nathan pulled him aside and spoke softly. “…What if I told you it’s not too late? We could still set things to rights.”
Ormund seemed surprised by that admission…he raised his eyebrows and exhaled deeply. “How would you even go about doing that?”
“…Just wait,” Nathan turned a grin. “You’ll see...” when he started to look around the room once more, he took in the sights of the festivities. People danced to the orchestral performance coming from the gallery, others stood off to the side, talking or cheering on the dancers in their reveling, while others sat at tables and wined and dined on palace wares. Guards stood around the upper balcony and stalked the edges of the reception hall. Great banners and flags rattled from the balcony rails from where they were tied.
“I suppose I will have to take your word for it,” Ormund nodded as he scratched at the grey hair sprouting from his face like a mane. “Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson, and that indeed as you say, it isn’t too late.” Putting a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, he exhaled deeply and added, “I remember many years ago, when your father was Crown Prince, and you were just a boy, maybe three of four, your father fawned over you every chance he got. You were an energetic child, intelligent beyond your years and good-hearted, that much was obvious. But you were also spoilt, prone to melancholy and above all else, rambunctious to the point of inviting negative attention onto yourself. I was just an MP in those days, but I recall all too well. I pointed out to your father that you had the potential to be reckless and wanton. He countered, ‘perhaps at first, until the error of his ways is pointed out to him. Nathan learns fast and never makes the same mistake twice.’ I’d like to think your father was right.”
Nathan nodded along, trying to remember those days. His father died when he was only six, after all, and so his memories were too few. His father was a busy man, devoted to his work and at times remote. Yet, Nathan was his pride and joy, it was often said, and Nathan both admired and looked up to his father as the model man, even if he fell quite far away from imitating him properly. “I certainly hope so, sir. I would certainly hole so.” With that, Nathan bowed and said “excuse me,” before wandering off aimlessly.
Listless was he as he walked around the reception hall…he never felt more alone than when he was surrounded by so many people that he didn’t know. Sure, they looked at him and smiled, bowed and offered congratulations, but these all seemed like hollow gestures made because that was what social expectations dictated. That’s what this all is…a grand show, with the main event still to come...
The Emperor wandered over to the food table, and made a plate of shrimp, lobster tail and calamari. Taking that and some red wine, he headed over to a table nearby and took a seat in one of the party chairs. He considered his position while he ate…Emperor of Zathalon and Ghant…both by blood, but Zathalon was acquired through force. It left him asking himself, was Lara using me all along just to get power?
Such questions could haunt a man, and of late such questions were nagging the Emperor. He had built a great sandcastle, but would it hold up against the tide? For the tide is coming, and I fear it shall all have been for naught. That was why he was so tempted to abdicate and negotiate with Heilanor…it was because he was not all that much of a gambling man. It is better to leave my child with something, than nothing, and live thinking all those men died for nothing. I must give their sacrifices a lasting impact.
Nathan lingered in his seat for some time…how long he wasn’t exactly sure. He was waiting for the time to come when their plan was ready to launch…there would be no turning back once that time came. He finished his seafood and washed it down with wine as he watched the show go on, all the guests enjoying themselves to the music of the orchestra and the pleasure of each other’s company.
“…You having a good time, ya Grace?” Kukavanger said casually as he walked by the table. “Looks like it ta me!”
“Just enjoying the seafood,” the Emperor replied with a grin, fond as he was of Kukavanger. “What are you up to?”
Tugging at the belt on his doublet, he waved a hand and said “trying ta get outta here…I need to take a piss. Not in one o those fancy white bowls but on a damn tree or inda bushes outside, where I can feel da wind blowing on me ass.” It was clear that Kukavanger had been drinking, as was his way, but Nathan made nothing of it. The man can get shitfaced drunk for all I care.
“Go ahead and be my guest,” Nathan told him with a smile as he raised his wine glass to him.
Returning a toothy grin, Kukavanger responded with, “see ya around, yah Grace…be good, and we can talk more when I get back.” As he left to go, Nathan watched him, for a lack of much better to do at the moment. He observed curiously as Kukavanger arrived at the double doors to leave, only to find the guards trying to stop him from leaving. There were some words exchanged and some hand gestures, but eventually Kukavanger pushed his way past them and stormed out down the hall.
…I wonder what that was all about…why would they try to keep him from leaving? Indeed, something seemed off…especially what happened next. “If you would excuse me,” Lara said loudly into a microphone a servant delivered to her near the center of the floor. “I thank you all for coming and for your gifts and well wishes. It has been a pleasure to host you all, but the time has come at last to bid thee a goodnight. Although, knowing the nocturnal nature of our Ghantish comrades, I’d like for them to stick around for some after-hours celebrations, in honor of their heroic deeds and sacrifices in the name of Zathalon.”
During the past few hours that had gone by since Nathan entered the reception hall, many of the Zathalonians had trickled out, but after that announcement, the ones that remained made their way out. My, the time does go by fast. According to the agenda, the baby shower was already at its end, demonstrating that Nathan had been wandering around and sitting down for a few hours in total. That was when Nathan pushed himself up and began to walk around a bit more, finally towards Zara in the center of the room.
After the Zathalonian guests left, all that remained were the Ghantish guests and their many guardsmen, and many of Lara’s soldiers and commanders, generals and admirals included. Many of the Ghantar were unarmed and casually dressed…yet all of the Zathalonians were strapped, it appeared. Good thing Fendulias’s men are armed too, he thought, knowing that the time was drawing hearer to execute his plot.
“Nathan,” Lara said over the microphone gingerly. “Perhaps you would like to say a few words.”
“…I would,” he replied as everyone turned their attention to him. His accomplices knew it was time, and began to draw near to him. Barrin Errauts, Fendulias Calien, Gorm the Cleaver, etc. Kukavanger will be back any minute, he thought, while looking around again as he took the microphone. “It’s been a lot of fun tonight,” Nathan began. “To be surrounded by loyal people, noble and true, who share a vision of peace and prosperity for all...we are truly blessed.” Then he cleared his throat and took a deep breath, while noticing Ormund look on from a distance. “…People of Ghant, people of Zathalon, you have bled, you have died. You have sacrificed so much for the sake of restoring this long lost empire…but I ask you all, here and now…at what cost? What price are we willing to pay to bring this empire back from the dead? Are we willing to sacrifice our honor, our virtues…our righteousness, in order to fulfill that vision? Some of you might be, but me…I am afraid I cannot in good conscious. I’ve seen too many innocent people die, I’ve seen too much bloodshed and dishonor to think it’s a glorious dream anymore. If we are here to celebrate new life, than how can we as good men usher in that new life with hands of death? That’s not what I want to give my child…an empire built on blood, treachery and deceit.”
“You don’t mean that,” Lara replied as many of the remaining guests gasped and began to chatter. “Clearly, your mind has been addled by the tribulations of late. I’ve not realized the extent of the problem, dismissing it for some time, but now I see it as clearly as I see the sky above. You need rest…by all means, relax and enjoy the comforts of the palace, and let me assume the burden that you bear upon your weary shoulders.”
Nathan took a deep breath and exhaled just as deeply. “Would that I could,” he responded grimly. If Lara is so determined to force the issue here and now, then she leaves me no choice. “This has gone on long enough…I fear the end of all this will prove to be the run of us all. Hence, I believe the best course of action would be to abdicate in favor of our child upon their birth, and negotiate a peace with Heilanor, which would result, I hope, in a division of the continent between the two empires. No doubt, they will wish for Lara, Martina, and their commanders to answer for their crimes…namely treason.”
The entire room seemed to gasp at once, and then the room grew so quiet, he could have heard a pin drop. “Liar!” Lara screamed, her face reddening and pointing at Nathan sharply with a look of hatred in her eyes. “You fucking bastard! I should have known you wouldn’t have the guts to see our vision to its end. You are spineless, treacherous worm, and you condemn yourself with your own mouth!” Lara continued to scream. “Men of Zathalon, those who would prove their loyalty to the empire, seize this traitor at once!”
“Men of Ghant, men of Zathalon,” Nathan cried out loud and clear. “Take the Empress-Consort, Prime Minister Tangerine and her commanders into custody. This is the command of your lawful emperor.”
The Lord Commander of the Imperial Guard hesitated as he looked between Lara and Nathan. In the blink of an eye he was surrounded by Ghantish soldiers, some with swords in their hands, others with pistols and rifles. They encroached upon Lara as well, with barrels pointed at her chest.
“It would appear as though your treachery is complete,” Lara said. “Do you think I stand alone, my husband?” All along the upper level, men of Zathalon drew their firearms and pointed them down towards the floor of the reception hall. Sula drew her gun, and others loyal firstly to the Empress drew theirs, nearly all in unison.
“If they move, kill them!” the Empress screamed as she shook tightly clenched fists in the air. “If one of them moves you kill them all, that is my command!”
And so it begins. “You leave me no choice,” Nathan told Lara with a shaky voice while his legs trembled and his hands jittered. He called out to Fendulias of Gaemar, who brought a large number of his men with him to fulfill the plot that they set in motion at the research facility. “My lord, take the Empress and her cohorts into custody. Do them no harm, but escort them to their chambers and keep them there, under heavy guard.”
“Men of Gaemar!” Fendulias shouted as he drew his Arragara steel sword. At least a hundred of his men drew their weapons and surrounded the room.
“I want no bloodshed,” Nathan pleaded passionately with his wife, his face sad and his hands clasped together. “Tell your men to lay down their weapons and yield…nobody needs to get hurt, Lara…please…”
Nathan saw it out of the corner of his eye, and then he heard it. With a single sharp thrust, Fendulias drove his sword through Barrin’s back. Barrin’s blade dropped from stunned fingers as the wet red sword burst through ribs out through his chest...the clattering sound the sword made when it hit the floor seemed like the loudest noise Nathan had ever heard. Barrin groaned and spat blood as he looked down at the blade sticking out of his chest. Without looking, Barrin knew who’s sword it was, and with his dying breath, looked to the full moon shining through the glass dome of the reception hall and muttered, “And so it ends.” He was dead before his body hit the floor.
In that vacuum of frozen time and space, with Fendulias standing over the fallen Barrin of Arrautsa, the former gripping his sword drenched in the blood of the latter, Nathan could only think of one thing, that burned him from the inside out, like the flame of some dragon whelp lurking inside his heart…
Returning the smile, Lara took it. “Aye…please, come with me to the dais, so we can share a few words with our guests.”
“Yes, of course,” he replied, as it was she, not he that led the way. Lara walked briskly towards the elevated dais, consisting of a wide flat platform on the far edge of the room. Guests said their congratulations as they stepped aside for the Emperor and Empress, while Nathan studied their faces, and those of the people looking on from the upper balcony. Theirs’ were faces of eagerness, of joy and merriment, as though this day was a great day, which it certainly did appear.
Lara arrived at the feet of the dais and climbed the steps to the top, although it was hardly a top as the dais wasn’t that much higher than the surrounding floor. Only two long narrow steps surrounded the dais and separated it from the floor, and she seemed to reach the dais with just one step. She yanked Nathan up there with her, and came to stand before the microphone sitting idly atop a stand.
“Excuse me,” Lara said into the microphone, causing what music was being played from the gallery to cease, and everyone turning to look upon the dais. Nearly two thousand people stopped what they were doing and stared at the Emperor and Empress, waiting her for to say whatever she intended to say next. Nathan stood beside her perfectly still and silent, as he himself waited to see what Lara was going to say.
“I just wanted to take a moment to thank the palace staff for hosting such a wonderful baby shower to welcome our first child, the heir to Zathalon. It means so much to me that all of you were able to come today and celebrate with us. Having a new baby can be really overwhelming, but this event makes me feel so supported and loved. It reminds me of how privileged I am to be Empress of Zathalon, and have an entire empire behind me.”
“There are so many great women here today. I especially admire the mothers in this room. I am glad to have your example as I get ready to give birth to the heir in a few weeks time. It shall be the completion of our vision fulfilled. For as Leto the First once said, there shall be one Empire, united and bound by blood for all time. So let us celebrate! Let us sing and dance and rejoice in this dream being realized once more!”
“Thanks again for coming today and please have fun tonight and all the nights to come!”
The reception hall was drowned out by a thunderous applause, and it was in that moment that Nathan realized the scope of this room. It was literally cavernous, the size of the interior of a leviathan church cathedral. No wonder it made Zara so dizzy, he realized as even he started to feel dizzy just taking it in. Not long after Lara was done speaking, the musicians in the gallery began to play once more, and the dancing took over in greater furor than before Lara spoke from the dais.
Lara made her way down from the dais alone, and Nathan moped after her, only to be greeted by an old, familiar face. “…Ormund Borlidoc, is that you?”
“Indeed, your Grace,” the older man smiled. Once a tall and dignified man who served admirably as Prime Minister, he was now a virtual prisoner, wearing an old suit and with an old, unshaven face of grey hair. “It’s been a long time.”
“…What happened to you?” Nathan asked incredulously. “What did they do to you?”
Ormund put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, and began to walk with him, there near the edge of the reception hall where they might have some privacy. “I came to Letople to negotiate with Prime Minister Tangerine…this was before she betrayed Empress Selena. It was a trap…once I had arrived, Tangerine imprisoned me, and then after Simon Brignac was killed in Loufe, the government fell apart. From what I understand, your uncle assumed imperial power in your absence, and used that power to appoint Maeson Margela as acting Prime Minister for the duration of my term, until elections could be called. Which, given the political situation there, may be some time off…”
“Is that why Martina never let you leave Letople?” Nathan asked, beginning to get a clearer picture of the chain of events. “Did she anticipate this dysfunction arising, which she could then exploit to her benefit?”
“So it stands to be reasoned,” Ormund nodded sadly. “With all due respect, I did advise you that this course of action would lead to the ruin of our nation, and others too. The days are dark and only grow darker…with each passing day Zathalon becomes more fanatical. I fear the worst is still to come.”
Oh, I know that now, Nathan thought of Ormund’s words. I know that now better than any man living. Nathan pulled him aside and spoke softly. “…What if I told you it’s not too late? We could still set things to rights.”
Ormund seemed surprised by that admission…he raised his eyebrows and exhaled deeply. “How would you even go about doing that?”
“…Just wait,” Nathan turned a grin. “You’ll see...” when he started to look around the room once more, he took in the sights of the festivities. People danced to the orchestral performance coming from the gallery, others stood off to the side, talking or cheering on the dancers in their reveling, while others sat at tables and wined and dined on palace wares. Guards stood around the upper balcony and stalked the edges of the reception hall. Great banners and flags rattled from the balcony rails from where they were tied.
“I suppose I will have to take your word for it,” Ormund nodded as he scratched at the grey hair sprouting from his face like a mane. “Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson, and that indeed as you say, it isn’t too late.” Putting a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, he exhaled deeply and added, “I remember many years ago, when your father was Crown Prince, and you were just a boy, maybe three of four, your father fawned over you every chance he got. You were an energetic child, intelligent beyond your years and good-hearted, that much was obvious. But you were also spoilt, prone to melancholy and above all else, rambunctious to the point of inviting negative attention onto yourself. I was just an MP in those days, but I recall all too well. I pointed out to your father that you had the potential to be reckless and wanton. He countered, ‘perhaps at first, until the error of his ways is pointed out to him. Nathan learns fast and never makes the same mistake twice.’ I’d like to think your father was right.”
Nathan nodded along, trying to remember those days. His father died when he was only six, after all, and so his memories were too few. His father was a busy man, devoted to his work and at times remote. Yet, Nathan was his pride and joy, it was often said, and Nathan both admired and looked up to his father as the model man, even if he fell quite far away from imitating him properly. “I certainly hope so, sir. I would certainly hole so.” With that, Nathan bowed and said “excuse me,” before wandering off aimlessly.
Listless was he as he walked around the reception hall…he never felt more alone than when he was surrounded by so many people that he didn’t know. Sure, they looked at him and smiled, bowed and offered congratulations, but these all seemed like hollow gestures made because that was what social expectations dictated. That’s what this all is…a grand show, with the main event still to come...
The Emperor wandered over to the food table, and made a plate of shrimp, lobster tail and calamari. Taking that and some red wine, he headed over to a table nearby and took a seat in one of the party chairs. He considered his position while he ate…Emperor of Zathalon and Ghant…both by blood, but Zathalon was acquired through force. It left him asking himself, was Lara using me all along just to get power?
Such questions could haunt a man, and of late such questions were nagging the Emperor. He had built a great sandcastle, but would it hold up against the tide? For the tide is coming, and I fear it shall all have been for naught. That was why he was so tempted to abdicate and negotiate with Heilanor…it was because he was not all that much of a gambling man. It is better to leave my child with something, than nothing, and live thinking all those men died for nothing. I must give their sacrifices a lasting impact.
Nathan lingered in his seat for some time…how long he wasn’t exactly sure. He was waiting for the time to come when their plan was ready to launch…there would be no turning back once that time came. He finished his seafood and washed it down with wine as he watched the show go on, all the guests enjoying themselves to the music of the orchestra and the pleasure of each other’s company.
“…You having a good time, ya Grace?” Kukavanger said casually as he walked by the table. “Looks like it ta me!”
“Just enjoying the seafood,” the Emperor replied with a grin, fond as he was of Kukavanger. “What are you up to?”
Tugging at the belt on his doublet, he waved a hand and said “trying ta get outta here…I need to take a piss. Not in one o those fancy white bowls but on a damn tree or inda bushes outside, where I can feel da wind blowing on me ass.” It was clear that Kukavanger had been drinking, as was his way, but Nathan made nothing of it. The man can get shitfaced drunk for all I care.
“Go ahead and be my guest,” Nathan told him with a smile as he raised his wine glass to him.
Returning a toothy grin, Kukavanger responded with, “see ya around, yah Grace…be good, and we can talk more when I get back.” As he left to go, Nathan watched him, for a lack of much better to do at the moment. He observed curiously as Kukavanger arrived at the double doors to leave, only to find the guards trying to stop him from leaving. There were some words exchanged and some hand gestures, but eventually Kukavanger pushed his way past them and stormed out down the hall.
…I wonder what that was all about…why would they try to keep him from leaving? Indeed, something seemed off…especially what happened next. “If you would excuse me,” Lara said loudly into a microphone a servant delivered to her near the center of the floor. “I thank you all for coming and for your gifts and well wishes. It has been a pleasure to host you all, but the time has come at last to bid thee a goodnight. Although, knowing the nocturnal nature of our Ghantish comrades, I’d like for them to stick around for some after-hours celebrations, in honor of their heroic deeds and sacrifices in the name of Zathalon.”
During the past few hours that had gone by since Nathan entered the reception hall, many of the Zathalonians had trickled out, but after that announcement, the ones that remained made their way out. My, the time does go by fast. According to the agenda, the baby shower was already at its end, demonstrating that Nathan had been wandering around and sitting down for a few hours in total. That was when Nathan pushed himself up and began to walk around a bit more, finally towards Zara in the center of the room.
After the Zathalonian guests left, all that remained were the Ghantish guests and their many guardsmen, and many of Lara’s soldiers and commanders, generals and admirals included. Many of the Ghantar were unarmed and casually dressed…yet all of the Zathalonians were strapped, it appeared. Good thing Fendulias’s men are armed too, he thought, knowing that the time was drawing hearer to execute his plot.
“Nathan,” Lara said over the microphone gingerly. “Perhaps you would like to say a few words.”
“…I would,” he replied as everyone turned their attention to him. His accomplices knew it was time, and began to draw near to him. Barrin Errauts, Fendulias Calien, Gorm the Cleaver, etc. Kukavanger will be back any minute, he thought, while looking around again as he took the microphone. “It’s been a lot of fun tonight,” Nathan began. “To be surrounded by loyal people, noble and true, who share a vision of peace and prosperity for all...we are truly blessed.” Then he cleared his throat and took a deep breath, while noticing Ormund look on from a distance. “…People of Ghant, people of Zathalon, you have bled, you have died. You have sacrificed so much for the sake of restoring this long lost empire…but I ask you all, here and now…at what cost? What price are we willing to pay to bring this empire back from the dead? Are we willing to sacrifice our honor, our virtues…our righteousness, in order to fulfill that vision? Some of you might be, but me…I am afraid I cannot in good conscious. I’ve seen too many innocent people die, I’ve seen too much bloodshed and dishonor to think it’s a glorious dream anymore. If we are here to celebrate new life, than how can we as good men usher in that new life with hands of death? That’s not what I want to give my child…an empire built on blood, treachery and deceit.”
“You don’t mean that,” Lara replied as many of the remaining guests gasped and began to chatter. “Clearly, your mind has been addled by the tribulations of late. I’ve not realized the extent of the problem, dismissing it for some time, but now I see it as clearly as I see the sky above. You need rest…by all means, relax and enjoy the comforts of the palace, and let me assume the burden that you bear upon your weary shoulders.”
Nathan took a deep breath and exhaled just as deeply. “Would that I could,” he responded grimly. If Lara is so determined to force the issue here and now, then she leaves me no choice. “This has gone on long enough…I fear the end of all this will prove to be the run of us all. Hence, I believe the best course of action would be to abdicate in favor of our child upon their birth, and negotiate a peace with Heilanor, which would result, I hope, in a division of the continent between the two empires. No doubt, they will wish for Lara, Martina, and their commanders to answer for their crimes…namely treason.”
The entire room seemed to gasp at once, and then the room grew so quiet, he could have heard a pin drop. “Liar!” Lara screamed, her face reddening and pointing at Nathan sharply with a look of hatred in her eyes. “You fucking bastard! I should have known you wouldn’t have the guts to see our vision to its end. You are spineless, treacherous worm, and you condemn yourself with your own mouth!” Lara continued to scream. “Men of Zathalon, those who would prove their loyalty to the empire, seize this traitor at once!”
“Men of Ghant, men of Zathalon,” Nathan cried out loud and clear. “Take the Empress-Consort, Prime Minister Tangerine and her commanders into custody. This is the command of your lawful emperor.”
The Lord Commander of the Imperial Guard hesitated as he looked between Lara and Nathan. In the blink of an eye he was surrounded by Ghantish soldiers, some with swords in their hands, others with pistols and rifles. They encroached upon Lara as well, with barrels pointed at her chest.
“It would appear as though your treachery is complete,” Lara said. “Do you think I stand alone, my husband?” All along the upper level, men of Zathalon drew their firearms and pointed them down towards the floor of the reception hall. Sula drew her gun, and others loyal firstly to the Empress drew theirs, nearly all in unison.
“If they move, kill them!” the Empress screamed as she shook tightly clenched fists in the air. “If one of them moves you kill them all, that is my command!”
And so it begins. “You leave me no choice,” Nathan told Lara with a shaky voice while his legs trembled and his hands jittered. He called out to Fendulias of Gaemar, who brought a large number of his men with him to fulfill the plot that they set in motion at the research facility. “My lord, take the Empress and her cohorts into custody. Do them no harm, but escort them to their chambers and keep them there, under heavy guard.”
“Men of Gaemar!” Fendulias shouted as he drew his Arragara steel sword. At least a hundred of his men drew their weapons and surrounded the room.
“I want no bloodshed,” Nathan pleaded passionately with his wife, his face sad and his hands clasped together. “Tell your men to lay down their weapons and yield…nobody needs to get hurt, Lara…please…”
Nathan saw it out of the corner of his eye, and then he heard it. With a single sharp thrust, Fendulias drove his sword through Barrin’s back. Barrin’s blade dropped from stunned fingers as the wet red sword burst through ribs out through his chest...the clattering sound the sword made when it hit the floor seemed like the loudest noise Nathan had ever heard. Barrin groaned and spat blood as he looked down at the blade sticking out of his chest. Without looking, Barrin knew who’s sword it was, and with his dying breath, looked to the full moon shining through the glass dome of the reception hall and muttered, “And so it ends.” He was dead before his body hit the floor.
In that vacuum of frozen time and space, with Fendulias standing over the fallen Barrin of Arrautsa, the former gripping his sword drenched in the blood of the latter, Nathan could only think of one thing, that burned him from the inside out, like the flame of some dragon whelp lurking inside his heart…
I wear a scarlet letter
Inside my insidious chest
Adorned so beautifully and heavily
That I can find no rest
I pick up the worn tome,
not knowing that in the pages
is a secret that I never thought
I would discover.
As I read, the past clouds me.
This scarlet letter bounds me yet!
My demons have yet to leave me alone.
They still find reasons to torment my weakened soul.
The screams echo yet again,
and the moon howls long and low.
The blade shines like the night as
dark crimson flows.
Each maroon drop splashes in slow motion;
life giving way to death.
I watch them fall like rain from
these words and this page.
I take my last breaths,
the deed finally being done.
I shake as I remember his eyes on me.
Was all I could say: "Why?"
I close my eyes and let out an
inward scream of near insanity:
Then he said: "You deserved it!"
I was the victim, the martyred-
though I still live.
They will never find this note,
this damning confession.
I will destroy it like they did me-
and let it all go to rest.
Inside my insidious chest
Adorned so beautifully and heavily
That I can find no rest
I pick up the worn tome,
not knowing that in the pages
is a secret that I never thought
I would discover.
As I read, the past clouds me.
This scarlet letter bounds me yet!
My demons have yet to leave me alone.
They still find reasons to torment my weakened soul.
The screams echo yet again,
and the moon howls long and low.
The blade shines like the night as
dark crimson flows.
Each maroon drop splashes in slow motion;
life giving way to death.
I watch them fall like rain from
these words and this page.
I take my last breaths,
the deed finally being done.
I shake as I remember his eyes on me.
Was all I could say: "Why?"
I close my eyes and let out an
inward scream of near insanity:
Then he said: "You deserved it!"
I was the victim, the martyred-
though I still live.
They will never find this note,
this damning confession.
I will destroy it like they did me-
and let it all go to rest.
When Nathan shouted for action, his cries came far too late. One of Barrin’s men shot first, Nathan reckoned, and then the entire reception hall became a storm of raining bullets and the clash of steel upon steel and flesh and bone. The Emperor, still staggering, whirled around as Atticus Voor took him by the shoulders and flung him away as Captain Marlow and Ser Hemlock tried to get him out of the flurry going on around them.
…But there was nowhere to go. The tall double doors of the entrance were closed, and more men seemed to be streaming in from the sides of the room where the balcony staircases were…that much Nathan could see through the chaos. The balcony was lined with men shoulder to shoulder emptying their rifles into the crowd below…the sound was deafening. Screaming bullets mixed with the sounds of screaming men, right in Nathan’s ears. All around him, blood sprayed from where bullets punctured flesh, splattering the Emperor’s fine clothes. Chunks of brain slashed him on the face where the heads of struggling Ghantar were impacted by small arms fire, getting in his nose and eyes.
The sound of the orchestra still playing mixed in with the screams of both men and bullets, playing their melody as though nothing had changed, the noise echoing off the walls as if the marble was playing some erstwhile chaotic tune. The instrumentation concealed Nathan’s scream as something bit into his leg, sending him crashing down towards the hard marble floor. He looked around in horror as he noticed his men getting cut down, old and young alike.
“Help!” he screamed. Nathan saw men toss over tables for cover from the small arms fire, while Gaemarians dove after them with bloody swords in hand. Hemlock and Marlow had Nathan by each arm, and flung him behind one such table. Gorm the Cleaver had his cleaver in hand, nearly half as long as he was tall (he was a solid eight feet), and was surrounded by Gaemarians, charging at him with their blades. “Fuck the lot of you, you traitorous scum,” he cried out as he clove the traitors with his cleaver, cutting them in half, and from shoulder to navel. But there were too many of them, and they plunged their blades into his leather armor, causing him to sink to the ground and scream, “Cursed be traitors, the lot of you be damned,” before he faded from view as Gaemarians hacked him to pieces.
“…We need to get to the dais,” Marlow said to Hemlock as they tried to move through cover along the side of the reception hall, as fighting was all around them. “There’s no where else to go.” Indeed it was true…the double doors were closed, barred from the other side. Many of the younger Ghantar rushed it, pounding on the wood with closed fists, screaming for their mothers or for mercy or for forgiveness as they were hacked at from behind by the countrymen that had betrayed them, and by those on the balcony that mowed them down with their firearms.
Others were on their knees, praying for mercy as they were struck down. “Mercy!” they cried “Quarter!” but there was none to be found for any in that room. …Malibar was right, Nathan realized. All who journey to Zathalon shall be cursed, and shall die. Those words seemed prophetic especially now, as intense pain shot up throughout Nathan’s body as he gripped at his bleeding leg where he got shot. He couldn’t walk on it, and Hemlock resigned himself to carrying Nathan, as Hemlock used to do when Nathan was just a boy.
They moved through fighting Ghantar who huddled around the sides of the reception hall and around the dais, brave men determined to fight to their dying breaths. Hemlock carried Nathan almost halfway to the dais with Marlow following close behind with suppressing fire before Marlow staggered and fell to the ground. Nathan saw him go down as he was slung over Hemlock’s mighty shoulder, and whatever color was in the Emperor’s face was now gone.
…Not Marlow, Nathan began to panic. Please God no, not him! Nathan watched in horror as Marlow smiled to Nathan and said, “…the game is up,” before a pack of bloody Gaemarians converged on him from behind and drove their swords into his back. ...I will kill that fucking traitor, he thought of Fendulias. This slaughter shall be avenged. Behind them, the double doors burst open, and many more armed men in combat gear streamed in. They began to unload their weapons in unison with the Zathalonian soldiers, into the throngs of desperate Ghantar trapped like wild beasts in a hunter’s snares.
There was a swarm of loyal Ghantar at the dais, but before Hemlock could reach them, he suddenly staggered and violently fell over, causing Nathan to awkwardly fall and hit his head on the marble floor. His head now joined his leg in a flare of pain, his head throbbing and his leg burning. He was practically covered head to toe in a sheen of blood, and the floor was just as slick with it. He tried to move but struggled to pull himself forward along the bloody floor.
In an instant it seemed, the fighting caught up to where he was, and the cluster of Ghantar was broken by the charge of Gaemarians bearing steel. The wiz of bullets was raining on them again as well, causing Ghantar to drop all around him like flies, down into the slippery red marble floor. Nathan, although his ears rang and his eyes were blurry and stinging with blood and sweat, could hear the noise loud and clear. Click.
Nathan turned and saw it, and when he did it was clear as day. Lord Lendel Uros stood perfectly still in a sea of men fighting to the death, with a pistol in his hand pointed at Nathan. With a grin on his face, Lendel said “…Any last words, your Grace?”
Struggling through the searing pain, Nathan rose to his feet, putting the weight on his good leg. “If I am to die, it will be on my feet.” That moment of standing, and speaking what probably would be his final words, made him think…it was as though his life flashed before his eyes.
…But there was nowhere to go. The tall double doors of the entrance were closed, and more men seemed to be streaming in from the sides of the room where the balcony staircases were…that much Nathan could see through the chaos. The balcony was lined with men shoulder to shoulder emptying their rifles into the crowd below…the sound was deafening. Screaming bullets mixed with the sounds of screaming men, right in Nathan’s ears. All around him, blood sprayed from where bullets punctured flesh, splattering the Emperor’s fine clothes. Chunks of brain slashed him on the face where the heads of struggling Ghantar were impacted by small arms fire, getting in his nose and eyes.
The sound of the orchestra still playing mixed in with the screams of both men and bullets, playing their melody as though nothing had changed, the noise echoing off the walls as if the marble was playing some erstwhile chaotic tune. The instrumentation concealed Nathan’s scream as something bit into his leg, sending him crashing down towards the hard marble floor. He looked around in horror as he noticed his men getting cut down, old and young alike.
“Help!” he screamed. Nathan saw men toss over tables for cover from the small arms fire, while Gaemarians dove after them with bloody swords in hand. Hemlock and Marlow had Nathan by each arm, and flung him behind one such table. Gorm the Cleaver had his cleaver in hand, nearly half as long as he was tall (he was a solid eight feet), and was surrounded by Gaemarians, charging at him with their blades. “Fuck the lot of you, you traitorous scum,” he cried out as he clove the traitors with his cleaver, cutting them in half, and from shoulder to navel. But there were too many of them, and they plunged their blades into his leather armor, causing him to sink to the ground and scream, “Cursed be traitors, the lot of you be damned,” before he faded from view as Gaemarians hacked him to pieces.
“…We need to get to the dais,” Marlow said to Hemlock as they tried to move through cover along the side of the reception hall, as fighting was all around them. “There’s no where else to go.” Indeed it was true…the double doors were closed, barred from the other side. Many of the younger Ghantar rushed it, pounding on the wood with closed fists, screaming for their mothers or for mercy or for forgiveness as they were hacked at from behind by the countrymen that had betrayed them, and by those on the balcony that mowed them down with their firearms.
Others were on their knees, praying for mercy as they were struck down. “Mercy!” they cried “Quarter!” but there was none to be found for any in that room. …Malibar was right, Nathan realized. All who journey to Zathalon shall be cursed, and shall die. Those words seemed prophetic especially now, as intense pain shot up throughout Nathan’s body as he gripped at his bleeding leg where he got shot. He couldn’t walk on it, and Hemlock resigned himself to carrying Nathan, as Hemlock used to do when Nathan was just a boy.
They moved through fighting Ghantar who huddled around the sides of the reception hall and around the dais, brave men determined to fight to their dying breaths. Hemlock carried Nathan almost halfway to the dais with Marlow following close behind with suppressing fire before Marlow staggered and fell to the ground. Nathan saw him go down as he was slung over Hemlock’s mighty shoulder, and whatever color was in the Emperor’s face was now gone.
…Not Marlow, Nathan began to panic. Please God no, not him! Nathan watched in horror as Marlow smiled to Nathan and said, “…the game is up,” before a pack of bloody Gaemarians converged on him from behind and drove their swords into his back. ...I will kill that fucking traitor, he thought of Fendulias. This slaughter shall be avenged. Behind them, the double doors burst open, and many more armed men in combat gear streamed in. They began to unload their weapons in unison with the Zathalonian soldiers, into the throngs of desperate Ghantar trapped like wild beasts in a hunter’s snares.
There was a swarm of loyal Ghantar at the dais, but before Hemlock could reach them, he suddenly staggered and violently fell over, causing Nathan to awkwardly fall and hit his head on the marble floor. His head now joined his leg in a flare of pain, his head throbbing and his leg burning. He was practically covered head to toe in a sheen of blood, and the floor was just as slick with it. He tried to move but struggled to pull himself forward along the bloody floor.
In an instant it seemed, the fighting caught up to where he was, and the cluster of Ghantar was broken by the charge of Gaemarians bearing steel. The wiz of bullets was raining on them again as well, causing Ghantar to drop all around him like flies, down into the slippery red marble floor. Nathan, although his ears rang and his eyes were blurry and stinging with blood and sweat, could hear the noise loud and clear. Click.
Nathan turned and saw it, and when he did it was clear as day. Lord Lendel Uros stood perfectly still in a sea of men fighting to the death, with a pistol in his hand pointed at Nathan. With a grin on his face, Lendel said “…Any last words, your Grace?”
Struggling through the searing pain, Nathan rose to his feet, putting the weight on his good leg. “If I am to die, it will be on my feet.” That moment of standing, and speaking what probably would be his final words, made him think…it was as though his life flashed before his eyes.
Again and again on my knees
Broken by those who should help me stand
Not sad nor happy in this life
Forgotten
Fallen
And getting up
Again
Again and again
Every time
After every fall
More determined to keep standing
More desperate to avoid another
Fall
Depression doesn’t hurt
It’s beyond limits of sadness
Beyond any other feeling known by man
Why?
Being alive is too hard
There are easier ways around
Why to stand up after fall?
Standing
Stubbornly holding on worthless things
Patiently crying when no one hears
Broken pieces glued together
By what?
Life
Effort testing limits of strength
Buying time to find more will
Forgetting to smile
What did it feel like
For the last time?
And again
Falling
Why do I keep getting up
Only to fall again?
Broken by those who should help me stand
Not sad nor happy in this life
Forgotten
Fallen
And getting up
Again
Again and again
Every time
After every fall
More determined to keep standing
More desperate to avoid another
Fall
Depression doesn’t hurt
It’s beyond limits of sadness
Beyond any other feeling known by man
Why?
Being alive is too hard
There are easier ways around
Why to stand up after fall?
Standing
Stubbornly holding on worthless things
Patiently crying when no one hears
Broken pieces glued together
By what?
Life
Effort testing limits of strength
Buying time to find more will
Forgetting to smile
What did it feel like
For the last time?
And again
Falling
Why do I keep getting up
Only to fall again?
“Good man,” Lendel said with a widening smirk. “Your Uncle Albert sends his regards.” When Lendel pulled the trigger, the screaming bullet came racing out, and a sudden jolt hit Nathan’s body. Though it wasn’t the bullet that hit the Emperor…it was Atticus Voor. Atticus pushed Nathan off from his right side, and the bullet struck him in the chest instead. Nathan and Atticus found themselves both on the floor, while Lendel grunted and stormed towards Nathan with gun in hand, ready to shoot again.
Before Lendel could shoot again however, he lurched forward with his gun dropping from his hand. Hemlock had buried his axe deep in Lendol’s back, causing the latter to fall to the floor as well. Hemlock wasn’t that far away from falling down himself. Nathan’s concern though was for Atticus, who lay bleeding out on the steps of the Dais, breathing hard and turning ghastly white.
“…Lord Voor,” Nathan said in a breaking voice as he struggled to pull his body across the wet floor. “Lord Voor.” By the time Nathan got close enough to him, Atticus appeared faint. All the same, he reached out a hand and took Nathan’s in it, two bloody hands locked together.
“…I don’t take bullets for just anyone,” Atticus stammered out, his breaths growing uneasy. “This is it, you know…but it’s ok, Nathan. It was worth it.”
It was finally in this moment that the Emperor began to cry, the wet tears streaming down his face as they mixed with the patina of blood and sweat coating his body. “…No…you can’t die…don’t, please.”
“…Sometimes we don’t have a choice,” Lord Voor told him. “Sometimes we do…and we have to live with them either way. Mine have haunted me…now I can be free.” With his other hand, Atticus grabbed Nathan by his collar, although the grip was quite meek. “…tell your mother that I’m sorry…for everything. You will see her again…you are a survivor.”
Nathan wept, and buried his face in Atticus’s chest. “No, tell her yourself…”
Atticus’s eyes began to grow faint. “Too late for that…too late for a lot of things…I love you, my…s…” with that, Atticus Voor was dead, and it seemed as though as he died, the room began to grow quieter. The music at last stopped playing, and the bullets stopped screeching…although the sounds of dying men still filled the room. Even still, under that full moon, sons picked up the swords of their fallen fathers only to be cut down themselves by blade and bullet, while elsewhere men wept over their dead sons, or rose to avenge them, only to be butchered like cattle. This is hell…I am in hell…
“Who would have thought, the mighty Emperor of Zathalon and Ghant cries like a little girl,” a husky foreign voice sounded in the distance. Nathan looked up from Atticus’s corpse, and saw that the room was painted red with blood, bodies laying dead everywhere, while Zathalonians, Gaemarians and Rhodeseans crowded around the balconies and the floor. “General Sarel Kruger…at your service,” he chuckled in his squeaky clean uniform with a patch on his eye and a cigar in his mouth.
“…Thank you General,” Lara applauded from not far away. Her gown was covered in blood as well, though she smiled brightly as she gave a shallow curtsey. “You’ve delivered half of your promise…and the other half?”
“The other half as promised,” Kruger grinned as he raised a hand. Half a dozen Rhodeseans in urban camouflage brought forth none other than Prince Michael of Dakmoor, beaten and battered and cuffed. They brought him before Lara and kicked him in the back of the knees, causing him to drop to the ground in front of her. “The White Roses’s little brother…all the leverage you will need against those pesky Ghantar.”
“Good, and as promised, here is your reward.” Lara stepped aside as her men hauled off Michael, and then Lara’s men cleared the way. Rodrigo Viseu, Nathan’s young half-brother Charles and Ormund Borlidoc were on their knees watching as Hemlock was surrounded by Zathalonians taunting him...the giant, proud Jendebasa knight flailed, battered and bruised, his axe taken from him by the crowds of soldiers.
Kruger stood still and looked at him, as a circle formed around him and Hemlock. “Hemlock, Lord Commander of the Zinpalak,” Kruger called out with a sharp voice and a pointed finger. “Do you remember me?” the Rhodesean general began to remove his cap and his jacket before handing them off to his men.
Hemlock though, only shook his head. “Should I know it? You look just like any other Rhodesean maggot I’ve come across.”
“…Is that so?” Through the blood, sweat and tears that clouded Nathan’s sight, he watched from his position on the steps of the dais, the circle to his left and right so he could watch. Kruger removed his eyepatch, revealing the hideous hole where his eye should have been. “You took my eye, many years ago. Now I have returned to claim my revenge, Hemlock. For I am General Sarel Kruger, and I will not be denied that which belongs to me.” With that, he drew a bowie knife from his belt, and approached Hemlock with it in hand.
Hemlock was kicked in the back by the crowd and prodded forward, with nothing but his bare hands. That’s all he needs, the Emperor thought, hoping beyond all hopes that Hemlock wouldn’t die too. He was wounded though, staggering around as he met eyes with Kruger, who brandished his bowie knife. With a quick step, Kruger reached out and tried to slash at Hemlock’s chest.
Perhaps knowing he wasn’t going to prevail in this particular situation, Hemlock dodged the slash and tacked Kruger, sending them both crashing down onto the slick marble floor. There was a loud thud, and then the two men proceeded to grapple at each other on the floor. While Hemlock was the larger and more powerful of the two, he was hurt, while Kruger didn’t have a scratch on him. The surrounding circle of onlookers cheered and hollered as the two men struggled against each other, covered in blood and with a bowie knife between them.
They rolled around together for a few moments, before Kruger managed to get Hemlock pinned underneath him. That was when Nathan noticed the bowie knife sticking out of Hemlock’s chest. No, the Emperor thought as he lay in the blood crying. No… Kruger laughed as he looked down at the dying man that took his eye. “You see now, stupid Ghantar? You tried to kill me, you took my eye…and now the tables have turned. Now you will die by my hand. What do you think about that?”
The old knight lay on his back, coughing up blood and breathing irregularly. Then his bloody mouth twisted into a smirk, and he began laughing. “What’s so funny, you Ghantish piece of shit?”
“…You are a proud man, General Kruger,” Hemlock spat out. “But pride comes before the fall.” With that, Hemlock grabbed Kruger by the back of the head, and shoved his face down. Hemlock’s other hand was waiting with thumb pointed up. Before Kruger could react, Hemlock’s thumb was in his one good eye. Kruger’s subsequent shriek seemed to shock his fellow Rhodeseans.
“You mother fucker,” Kruger yelled as he covered his face with both hands. “I’m blind, you asshole, I’m blind!” Kruger staggered towards the edge of the circle, and lashed out with flailing hands. “Give me a gun now, you cocksuckers, give me one!” Once one soldier did, Kruger grasped it and began shooting it down into the floor recklessly. The first few missed, but eventually one hit Hemlock in the chest. A few moments after that, Kruger was restrained by his men and escorted away. Nathan watched in horror as Hemlock turned his head towards him, and grinned one last time before dying.
Lara let out a throaty laugh. “Be careful what you wish for, General,” she said as she stepped forward. Her sister Sula, the Prime Minister and others were standing nearby. “Even in death, you Ghantar find ways to be poetic. It amazes me, truly. You had a good thing going for you, Nathan…you really did. Yet you just had to fuck it up…and now everyone you care about is dead…well, almost everyone,” she laughed, taking a few steps closer.
“If I may, dear husband, I'd like to share with you an epiphany I had very recently. I came to the conclusion that the better part of the human race is little more than vermin…especially your race of men. They breed, go forth and multiply, and profane the one true god and life an existence of heresy and debauchery. Hardly more than a virus…a plague upon this earth, and I’d like to fancy myself the redeemer. Why settle for just Zathalon…when the entire world is at our fingertips? You were useful for a time…you served your purpose…but the fact is I don’t need you or your filthy countrymen any longer.” Lara turned to her sister and with a raised fist said, “bring me the vial, Sula. It is time.”
“…But it’s not ready yet,” Martina countered. “It is not safe for human contact…we don’t know what kind of effect it shall have…”
“Nonsense,” Lara snapped, as Sula brought her the vial of pink liquid. Lara snatched it, and held it up in her hand. “Behold the future of humanity…behold the beginning of our glorious revolution. Bear witness to evolution!”
…I have to try. Nathan got up to his knees, painful as it was, and clasped his hands together. Still crying, he pleaded, “Don’t, Lara…don’t become evil…there is good in you, good in what you want to do. Your mind has been corrupted by sycophants…Fendulias!” he cried out. “You betrayed me, when you swore you were my friend. How could you do this to me? I honored you as my friend…and yet you would turn your back on me…for what?”
“…Because you are weak,” Fendulias said softly. “Because you are the past, and this is the future. The future belongs to the strong. Lara is strength…she has the vision to reshape our world. The power that she has access to is unlike anything I have ever seen.”
Lara looked between them and shrugged. “It is the privilege of the strong to rule over the weak, and so I shall, Nathan of Ghant. So I shall.” Having said that, Lara opened the vial and threw it back down her gullet before casting the drained vial away, causing it to shatter upon the floor with a sharp noise that carried across the room. Afterward she gripped her face, and shuddered. “Give me my sword,” she commanded with an unsteady voice.
One of her soldiers brought forth her Arragara steel sword, and then Lara took it with both hands. “Let this be a message to all who would oppose me…they will find nothing but death.” She wheeled around with sword in hand and pointed it at the back of Ormund Borlidoc’s head.
“…Such madness,” was all he had time to say before Lara decapitated him with one swing of her sword, causing his head to roll in the blood on the floor and his body crashing down after. …Damn this woman to nine hells, Nathan looked down and cried, still on his knees. She has truly gone mad…God have mercy upon us all.
Lara looked at Nathan as she walked towards him. “Now, as for you dear…you still have something I want…something I need. Tis high time I take it from you and bring this little show of ours to an end. Though before I do, I feel as though I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that your precious little White Rose is still alive…but that will change, soon enough. I have special plans for Ghant, and for her if I get my hands on her. Too bad for you, you won’t live to see it.”
The Emperor gasped as he let her words soak in, and for the first time in a long time, he smiled genuinely, for Sophia was still alive after all, only the knowledge of that was kept from him. Still, he looked at the bloody floor, and then up for a moment. Indeed the room was painted red, while distorted figures of the dead lay strewn about, while demonic looking men with bloody swords and guns stood around watching him. Further up, he saw the glass dome in the roof and the full moon shining its somber light down upon it all…
Before Lendel could shoot again however, he lurched forward with his gun dropping from his hand. Hemlock had buried his axe deep in Lendol’s back, causing the latter to fall to the floor as well. Hemlock wasn’t that far away from falling down himself. Nathan’s concern though was for Atticus, who lay bleeding out on the steps of the Dais, breathing hard and turning ghastly white.
“…Lord Voor,” Nathan said in a breaking voice as he struggled to pull his body across the wet floor. “Lord Voor.” By the time Nathan got close enough to him, Atticus appeared faint. All the same, he reached out a hand and took Nathan’s in it, two bloody hands locked together.
“…I don’t take bullets for just anyone,” Atticus stammered out, his breaths growing uneasy. “This is it, you know…but it’s ok, Nathan. It was worth it.”
It was finally in this moment that the Emperor began to cry, the wet tears streaming down his face as they mixed with the patina of blood and sweat coating his body. “…No…you can’t die…don’t, please.”
“…Sometimes we don’t have a choice,” Lord Voor told him. “Sometimes we do…and we have to live with them either way. Mine have haunted me…now I can be free.” With his other hand, Atticus grabbed Nathan by his collar, although the grip was quite meek. “…tell your mother that I’m sorry…for everything. You will see her again…you are a survivor.”
Nathan wept, and buried his face in Atticus’s chest. “No, tell her yourself…”
Atticus’s eyes began to grow faint. “Too late for that…too late for a lot of things…I love you, my…s…” with that, Atticus Voor was dead, and it seemed as though as he died, the room began to grow quieter. The music at last stopped playing, and the bullets stopped screeching…although the sounds of dying men still filled the room. Even still, under that full moon, sons picked up the swords of their fallen fathers only to be cut down themselves by blade and bullet, while elsewhere men wept over their dead sons, or rose to avenge them, only to be butchered like cattle. This is hell…I am in hell…
“Who would have thought, the mighty Emperor of Zathalon and Ghant cries like a little girl,” a husky foreign voice sounded in the distance. Nathan looked up from Atticus’s corpse, and saw that the room was painted red with blood, bodies laying dead everywhere, while Zathalonians, Gaemarians and Rhodeseans crowded around the balconies and the floor. “General Sarel Kruger…at your service,” he chuckled in his squeaky clean uniform with a patch on his eye and a cigar in his mouth.
“…Thank you General,” Lara applauded from not far away. Her gown was covered in blood as well, though she smiled brightly as she gave a shallow curtsey. “You’ve delivered half of your promise…and the other half?”
“The other half as promised,” Kruger grinned as he raised a hand. Half a dozen Rhodeseans in urban camouflage brought forth none other than Prince Michael of Dakmoor, beaten and battered and cuffed. They brought him before Lara and kicked him in the back of the knees, causing him to drop to the ground in front of her. “The White Roses’s little brother…all the leverage you will need against those pesky Ghantar.”
“Good, and as promised, here is your reward.” Lara stepped aside as her men hauled off Michael, and then Lara’s men cleared the way. Rodrigo Viseu, Nathan’s young half-brother Charles and Ormund Borlidoc were on their knees watching as Hemlock was surrounded by Zathalonians taunting him...the giant, proud Jendebasa knight flailed, battered and bruised, his axe taken from him by the crowds of soldiers.
Kruger stood still and looked at him, as a circle formed around him and Hemlock. “Hemlock, Lord Commander of the Zinpalak,” Kruger called out with a sharp voice and a pointed finger. “Do you remember me?” the Rhodesean general began to remove his cap and his jacket before handing them off to his men.
Hemlock though, only shook his head. “Should I know it? You look just like any other Rhodesean maggot I’ve come across.”
“…Is that so?” Through the blood, sweat and tears that clouded Nathan’s sight, he watched from his position on the steps of the dais, the circle to his left and right so he could watch. Kruger removed his eyepatch, revealing the hideous hole where his eye should have been. “You took my eye, many years ago. Now I have returned to claim my revenge, Hemlock. For I am General Sarel Kruger, and I will not be denied that which belongs to me.” With that, he drew a bowie knife from his belt, and approached Hemlock with it in hand.
Hemlock was kicked in the back by the crowd and prodded forward, with nothing but his bare hands. That’s all he needs, the Emperor thought, hoping beyond all hopes that Hemlock wouldn’t die too. He was wounded though, staggering around as he met eyes with Kruger, who brandished his bowie knife. With a quick step, Kruger reached out and tried to slash at Hemlock’s chest.
Perhaps knowing he wasn’t going to prevail in this particular situation, Hemlock dodged the slash and tacked Kruger, sending them both crashing down onto the slick marble floor. There was a loud thud, and then the two men proceeded to grapple at each other on the floor. While Hemlock was the larger and more powerful of the two, he was hurt, while Kruger didn’t have a scratch on him. The surrounding circle of onlookers cheered and hollered as the two men struggled against each other, covered in blood and with a bowie knife between them.
They rolled around together for a few moments, before Kruger managed to get Hemlock pinned underneath him. That was when Nathan noticed the bowie knife sticking out of Hemlock’s chest. No, the Emperor thought as he lay in the blood crying. No… Kruger laughed as he looked down at the dying man that took his eye. “You see now, stupid Ghantar? You tried to kill me, you took my eye…and now the tables have turned. Now you will die by my hand. What do you think about that?”
The old knight lay on his back, coughing up blood and breathing irregularly. Then his bloody mouth twisted into a smirk, and he began laughing. “What’s so funny, you Ghantish piece of shit?”
“…You are a proud man, General Kruger,” Hemlock spat out. “But pride comes before the fall.” With that, Hemlock grabbed Kruger by the back of the head, and shoved his face down. Hemlock’s other hand was waiting with thumb pointed up. Before Kruger could react, Hemlock’s thumb was in his one good eye. Kruger’s subsequent shriek seemed to shock his fellow Rhodeseans.
“You mother fucker,” Kruger yelled as he covered his face with both hands. “I’m blind, you asshole, I’m blind!” Kruger staggered towards the edge of the circle, and lashed out with flailing hands. “Give me a gun now, you cocksuckers, give me one!” Once one soldier did, Kruger grasped it and began shooting it down into the floor recklessly. The first few missed, but eventually one hit Hemlock in the chest. A few moments after that, Kruger was restrained by his men and escorted away. Nathan watched in horror as Hemlock turned his head towards him, and grinned one last time before dying.
Lara let out a throaty laugh. “Be careful what you wish for, General,” she said as she stepped forward. Her sister Sula, the Prime Minister and others were standing nearby. “Even in death, you Ghantar find ways to be poetic. It amazes me, truly. You had a good thing going for you, Nathan…you really did. Yet you just had to fuck it up…and now everyone you care about is dead…well, almost everyone,” she laughed, taking a few steps closer.
“If I may, dear husband, I'd like to share with you an epiphany I had very recently. I came to the conclusion that the better part of the human race is little more than vermin…especially your race of men. They breed, go forth and multiply, and profane the one true god and life an existence of heresy and debauchery. Hardly more than a virus…a plague upon this earth, and I’d like to fancy myself the redeemer. Why settle for just Zathalon…when the entire world is at our fingertips? You were useful for a time…you served your purpose…but the fact is I don’t need you or your filthy countrymen any longer.” Lara turned to her sister and with a raised fist said, “bring me the vial, Sula. It is time.”
“…But it’s not ready yet,” Martina countered. “It is not safe for human contact…we don’t know what kind of effect it shall have…”
“Nonsense,” Lara snapped, as Sula brought her the vial of pink liquid. Lara snatched it, and held it up in her hand. “Behold the future of humanity…behold the beginning of our glorious revolution. Bear witness to evolution!”
…I have to try. Nathan got up to his knees, painful as it was, and clasped his hands together. Still crying, he pleaded, “Don’t, Lara…don’t become evil…there is good in you, good in what you want to do. Your mind has been corrupted by sycophants…Fendulias!” he cried out. “You betrayed me, when you swore you were my friend. How could you do this to me? I honored you as my friend…and yet you would turn your back on me…for what?”
“…Because you are weak,” Fendulias said softly. “Because you are the past, and this is the future. The future belongs to the strong. Lara is strength…she has the vision to reshape our world. The power that she has access to is unlike anything I have ever seen.”
Lara looked between them and shrugged. “It is the privilege of the strong to rule over the weak, and so I shall, Nathan of Ghant. So I shall.” Having said that, Lara opened the vial and threw it back down her gullet before casting the drained vial away, causing it to shatter upon the floor with a sharp noise that carried across the room. Afterward she gripped her face, and shuddered. “Give me my sword,” she commanded with an unsteady voice.
One of her soldiers brought forth her Arragara steel sword, and then Lara took it with both hands. “Let this be a message to all who would oppose me…they will find nothing but death.” She wheeled around with sword in hand and pointed it at the back of Ormund Borlidoc’s head.
“…Such madness,” was all he had time to say before Lara decapitated him with one swing of her sword, causing his head to roll in the blood on the floor and his body crashing down after. …Damn this woman to nine hells, Nathan looked down and cried, still on his knees. She has truly gone mad…God have mercy upon us all.
Lara looked at Nathan as she walked towards him. “Now, as for you dear…you still have something I want…something I need. Tis high time I take it from you and bring this little show of ours to an end. Though before I do, I feel as though I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that your precious little White Rose is still alive…but that will change, soon enough. I have special plans for Ghant, and for her if I get my hands on her. Too bad for you, you won’t live to see it.”
The Emperor gasped as he let her words soak in, and for the first time in a long time, he smiled genuinely, for Sophia was still alive after all, only the knowledge of that was kept from him. Still, he looked at the bloody floor, and then up for a moment. Indeed the room was painted red, while distorted figures of the dead lay strewn about, while demonic looking men with bloody swords and guns stood around watching him. Further up, he saw the glass dome in the roof and the full moon shining its somber light down upon it all…
This night studded with stars
Crystal tears the angels cry
Everyone is hurting with me alive
I am not with you
Everything I touched is
Streaked with blood
Thoughts of concealed swords
In my sea of darkness
Nothing is alright
It hurts to never see
All my demons
That cry within
I am not with you
Sketch after sketch using lines of pain
Every dream I dream is the same
This night, flooded with darkness
Lost am I and lonely
Undeserving am I
A wilting flower in my hand
Fingers stuck to thorns
A white rose, red with blood
I am not with you
Playing with shadow men
My only friends in this
Sweet hell that never ends
This night ablaze with flame
Come to me
I cannot wait
I am torn, hurting, lying in pools
Of blood on the floor
I am not with you
I have never known
That which tears me apart
Flowers die
All is gone
All have lied
Nothing is right
All I do is hurt you
I am not with you
This night, reeking of death
Swords do the angels cry
All my hurt will soon be gone.
Crystal tears the angels cry
Everyone is hurting with me alive
I am not with you
Everything I touched is
Streaked with blood
Thoughts of concealed swords
In my sea of darkness
Nothing is alright
It hurts to never see
All my demons
That cry within
I am not with you
Sketch after sketch using lines of pain
Every dream I dream is the same
This night, flooded with darkness
Lost am I and lonely
Undeserving am I
A wilting flower in my hand
Fingers stuck to thorns
A white rose, red with blood
I am not with you
Playing with shadow men
My only friends in this
Sweet hell that never ends
This night ablaze with flame
Come to me
I cannot wait
I am torn, hurting, lying in pools
Of blood on the floor
I am not with you
I have never known
That which tears me apart
Flowers die
All is gone
All have lied
Nothing is right
All I do is hurt you
I am not with you
This night, reeking of death
Swords do the angels cry
All my hurt will soon be gone.
Realizing that Lara was standing on the dais behind him, Nathan grinned, feeling some strange madness sweep over him. I would die a thousand deaths, if it would mean that Sophia could live but one. Watch over her, Gods of Ghant. Keep her safe, and give her the strength she will need to prevail. He kept his eyes forward, and slowly outstretched his arms, as if to embrace the moon high above. Then he started to laugh. “…So it is, that we all shall reap our Patu.”
Lara’s sword took him in the back of the head.
Lara’s sword took him in the back of the head.
The Emperor fell forward, face down into the floor, causing Leto’s Crown to come rolling off of his head, streaking through the blood. After a few seconds, it came to a stop, rolling gently down until it rested on the floor, while blood trickled down off of the gems. The sound it made when it settled still echoed throughout the hall, while everyone stood in silence and stared.
Lara handed off her sword, and then with two hands reached down and plucked the bloody crown from the floor. With both hands she raised it high into the air, and then lowered it onto her own head. Trails of blood ran down her face and through her hair, and she began to laugh manically as she clinched her fists. “Bow,” she yelled. “Bow before your rightful sovereign!”
Most people took a knee, but Fendulias stood still. “I want what I was promised,” he said pointedly. “I want Ghant.”
“And Ghant you shall have, Fendulias,” Lara said as she spread the blood around her face and licked it off of the ends of her fingers. “Bow before me, and you shall have that and more.”
Fendulias inclined his head, and finally took a knee, prompting his men to do the same. Once all were on bended knee, Lara giggled in her giddiness and said “and to think, I began as a Princess, became an Empress, and then a God. The God-Empress of Zathalon! All shall tremble before my might…for I shall be master of the universe…of time and space.”
She turned to Charles and Rodrigo. “Take the boy away…I mean to use him as leverage. As for you, priest,” she grabbed Rodrigo by the chin. “You shall serve me as ably as you served Nathan…is that understood?”
“…Yes, your Majesty,” Rodrigo replied sadly. “That I shall.”
“Good, now let us begin our preparations,” Lara commanded from the dais. “We shall destroy all of our enemies, starting with Heilanor. I will break them…all of them. Selena, Constantine…and who stand in my way. The world will be mine…all mine!” the room erupted in a chorus then…all hail the Empress! All hail the Empress! All hail the Empress of Zathalon!
Lara handed off her sword, and then with two hands reached down and plucked the bloody crown from the floor. With both hands she raised it high into the air, and then lowered it onto her own head. Trails of blood ran down her face and through her hair, and she began to laugh manically as she clinched her fists. “Bow,” she yelled. “Bow before your rightful sovereign!”
Most people took a knee, but Fendulias stood still. “I want what I was promised,” he said pointedly. “I want Ghant.”
“And Ghant you shall have, Fendulias,” Lara said as she spread the blood around her face and licked it off of the ends of her fingers. “Bow before me, and you shall have that and more.”
Fendulias inclined his head, and finally took a knee, prompting his men to do the same. Once all were on bended knee, Lara giggled in her giddiness and said “and to think, I began as a Princess, became an Empress, and then a God. The God-Empress of Zathalon! All shall tremble before my might…for I shall be master of the universe…of time and space.”
She turned to Charles and Rodrigo. “Take the boy away…I mean to use him as leverage. As for you, priest,” she grabbed Rodrigo by the chin. “You shall serve me as ably as you served Nathan…is that understood?”
“…Yes, your Majesty,” Rodrigo replied sadly. “That I shall.”
“Good, now let us begin our preparations,” Lara commanded from the dais. “We shall destroy all of our enemies, starting with Heilanor. I will break them…all of them. Selena, Constantine…and who stand in my way. The world will be mine…all mine!” the room erupted in a chorus then…all hail the Empress! All hail the Empress! All hail the Empress of Zathalon!
