“Maur Crescendo's bedroom.” I had labeled my bedroom long ago. I was bored and decided to label everything. The only thing I don't label is my mind. There is too much to label inside.

I had been pondering in my doorway for quite a while. Lani was meeting me here and I was teaching her how to fly better at night. It was dangerous with the assassins, but I had the advantage. The rifles could do little against my brazen nature. Hopefully there wasn't another with matching eyes. I'm not the only one.

The Neandelerian woman had left my room an long time ago. Her pace was quiet. Her name Nahlia meant the flower of Neandeleria, as I have studied. It matched what the author wrote, which surpassed what I thought. She was stereotypical, like in the books I read. I borrow many of them permanently from the temple library. I give them to Mona Classidine to read after. She makes me return them once in a while. My secret collection is still left alone.

“Lani is starting at you. It is time to enter the room.”

I head to the far wall of my room and turn off the light. My eyes adjust. I forgot Lani was in the room with me. The lights were staying off, regardless. Lani turns on a small hand light. I bought it for her on our way to pick up her new friend. She wanted a travel companion. I read her diary. Lani interrupts my pacing, with a yawn.

“Why do you have so many books here?”

“I write them, Lani.”

I look at the picture on my dresser. I flip off the cloth covering and look at it. On it was a picture of my family and myself as a baby. They never did like my eyes. They said I was a demon. I used to ask my family for an extra glass of holy water with dinner. It did the trick.

“What do you write?,” asks Lani.

I put my picture down and cover it. I pour some dried spices and special herbs, and put them in the cup. The spiced drugs helped mellow me out. If I added some hot broth to the mixture, all would be well with Maur Crescendo. I glare at Lani and her light. I turn the light back on and let my eyes adjust to the blurriness.

“I write fairy tales. They were supposed to be read by someone.”

My old lover was dead. Luer killed her to spite me. If you pulled up his shirt you would still see the wound I gave him. Ever since my family became a candidate for the throne, his attitude changed. Our gambling fight only sped up the process.

“For who?,” asks Lani curiously. She knew I didn't want to tell her.

I lie on my bed and look at the ceiling. My hands tap around by my sides. It was safer than pacing and blindly knocking someone over. That included myself. I think about my jet-pack. It was in my equipment room on the table with my weaponry. It was ready to go. Desparsa mauled it with his helmet. He had entangled me in the sky and beat it to death. He hoped to release me and let me fall to my doom. I returned the favor, until he flew away cursing me. It didn't work. Lani presses me for an answer.

“Is it your dead lover?.”

I don't answer Lani. I had written all my stories for my special one. She never got to read them. I hoped one day to share them in heaven. For now, they collected dust. There was one I opened occasionally. It was a retarded tale of a man who killed a high priest. He had to save her from the evil doctrines. I answer Lani.

“Never challenge the preacher's doctrine, Lani,” I reply seriously. “You will make him angry and clench his anus.” I enjoyed mocking the high priest and his minions. He was the usual suspect in my writing. His robes brought out the worst in me.

Lani shakes her head and flicks her light in my eyes a few times. She wanted to know and I fairly owed it to her. She had caught me taking a read in her diary. I promised to do her a favor and had bought her Nahlia to be her friend. I bought my slaves for multiple reasons. Unfortunately the high priest got there before me and I didn't buy her friend. Usually, I try to buy the slaves before the high priest does and piss him off. Then, I return them. It's more fun when you're younger and have time to waste. Nahlia still didn't have her friend. It concerned me, but there was little I could do about it. I wanted to stay out of trouble before the arena fight.

“I'll find out on my own,” mumbles Lani. She was frustrated with me.

The lights stop hitting my eyes. I was paying it little attention. The miserable high priest was setting up our fight. I had to present myself at the arena soon. It was important that I cleaned my equipment from our journey. I didn't trust Toah or the others to ready it. I think about my swarm. It was outside the city. If I were part of the Caparan fist, I would be the pinky finger. The masses were already mocking my virility in the streets. They do whatever the high priest tells them. My rivals were also in Capara like me. We were all hiding from each other and buying up assassins. Lani interrupts my thoughts.

“Do you think the pilot will reach Capara?”

“Not soon enough, dear messenger. I believe the high priest intends on joining him.”

“Why would he do that?,” asks Lani.

“Join me in ten minutes, Lani. All questions will be answered atop my mesa.”

I stare in Lani's direction and pick myself up. I cover my eyes and walk out of the room, listening. It was time to get some broth and make sure my mesa was in order. I have many sculptures of colored glass. I collect them from the traders who stop by the outside of my home. The entire front of my estate is a small town in itself. The travelers even venture to the top of my mesa to take a view. From there, you can see the hang-gliders and families at play. I never wanted a family in my youth. It was different, now that I was older. Like all things, it was a gamble. My free time was the wager. The prize was their smiles.

“I'm back in Capara. Land of the masses.”

I didn't exactly like the brainwashed masses. The high priest had his way with them, but I cared enough to wish them free. There were so many minds to be treasured, not controlled. Some things the high priest said were true and I agreed with him. Other times, we loved to harass each other. It was an odd relationship that I enjoyed. Where would I be without him?

I pick up my jet-pack and equip it. I walk through the dark tunnels, until I reach a shaft. I see the exit of night at the top. I ascend to ponder some more.

At the top of my mesa I wait for all the lights to go off. When the night winds blow, the five torches are the only blurs around, save one. It's quite a sight. Even I can admire what I'm blind to. I think about my sculptures. My dead lover liked glass. She gave me an hourglass on a thin chain when we met. I could barely see the sand fall, but I enjoyed the time together. She said a lover's prayer for me when I was younger.

“May you be blessed and loved, Maur Crescendo. When life is harsh, may you be harsher. When life easy, may you never lose your heart. A rose in a desert is worth more than a bouquet of flowers. You are my king, crown or not.”

A small tear forms near my eyes. I was sweating. It stung my eyes like a flying killer.