Chapter Ten: A Boy From Before

Coin District, Averynce, Melcania

Emperor Alric was in a mood less than favorable. High within the reaches of the Imperial palace, aggressively pacing the length of his chambers. Dressed in semi royal attire, black silk pants and shirt, embroidered with gold, the monarch debated just forgetting everything and taking a bath, he did not feel like going out, going out meant interacting with people. The very thought of all those simpering, bowing fools, which had once brought him deep satisfaction, now sickened him. Corvus stood by the door, dressed in his usual black, with the green sash around his waist, booklet held, as always, against his chest. He watched the emperor pace back and forth with amused interest, the Geargandian analyzing the man’s manic state.

“I don’t see why I have to go down there, amongst all those… insufferable flatterers.” He stopped pacing, looking at Corvus with the look of a stubborn child hiding behind the façade of Imperial authority. “I am the Emperor, the most powerful man in this or any land, need I be bound to such things as social formalities?” Corvus, guile as ever, simply smiled, addressing him with a voice of honey and silk.

“My Emperor, these gatherings are not for your benefit.” Alric raised his eyebrows, waiting. Corvus gave a short bow, putting his hands out to the side. “For surely you are already the wisest and noblest man in the Realm.” He stood back up. “But, as you have already surmised, the same can not be said for everyone in this nation, it’s your duty as Emperor to walk among the lesser creatures from time to time, so that they might glean something of value from your radiance.” Alric smiled, reminded once again of why he kept Corvus around.

Fine, I’ll make an appearance, but I’m going like this, I’m not putting on 30 extra pounds of royal attire to listen to the complaints of merchants and farmhands.” Corvus gave another bow.

“By your will, my Emperor, that is within your right. But do wear the circlet, people need to be reminded their place from time to time.” Alric eyed the Geargandian, never liking to be told what to do.

“As long as you remember yours.” He placed the circlet on his head and made his way toward the elevator, followed by Corvus and a handful of guards.

…

Alric sat upon his throne, bored with no effort to hide it, resting his head upon his hand as he listened absently to the people before him. But it was not his throne, not really. The actual imperial throne was high above, in the palace, this one, however grand, was merely for public appearances, heavens knows you could not have riff raff scurrying about the palace. The mock throne Room was spacious, grandiose, and safely placed at ground level.

The man kneeling before him was dressed in simple, plain attire, and he gripped a worn, wide brimmed hat against his chest. The farmer had been droning on for over 5 minutes, nearly putting the emperor to sleep. Alric groaned, sitting up.

“Can you get to whatever point you have? I have little interest in stories and elaborate hem hawing.” The man paused, faltering under the cold, penetrating gaze of the emperor.

“Well, you see, M’lord.”

“Emperor.”

“…My Emperor, apologies. We had a number of Imperial soldiers come through our town south of here, they caused a lot of damage to our houses, my farm was practically trampled, and they made off with the blacksmith and his family, now I don’t have anyone to make new horseshoes so I can get my fields back right.” Alric checked his fingernails with distracted disinterest

“I don’t see how this is a concern of mine, what exactly are you asking me to do?” Again, the farmer faltered, not wanting to overstep.

“Well, you see, my Emperor, no horseshoes means I don’t have horses to plow new seed, the town relies on my farm for almost half of the winter food stock. If you would give us some money so I can have some shipped, and maybe a little to pay for damages?” Alric rolled his eyes.

“Is that all? You wasted my time with these prolonged explanations when all you wanted was money?” Alric tossed a small black bag which landed heavily in front of the man with the sound of coins. The farmer hesitantly picked up the bag, gasping when he looked inside to see the gleam of gold. “Now, leave, take your payment and leave my sight.” Alric waved the man away, disgruntled by the line behind him that was not getting any shorter. He eyed the next dirt stained individual, an old woman in a dirty with straw hair and unappealing features. “Approach.” The woman came and stood in front of him.

“My Emperor, I…”

“It’s customary to kneel, do you not see where you are?” The woman gazed tentatively around the spacious room, briefly observing marble columns, golden ornaments, and imperial banners. She shuffled her feet timidly, not meeting his gaze.

“My knees don’t work too well.” Alric sighed impatiently.

“Very well, continue.” He leaned back, resting his head on his hand again.

“My name is Margaret. I’ve always been a simple woman; I’ve never cared much for kings or politics.” She gripped the sides of her shawl. “When the empire annexed our lands, I did not think much of it, nothing changed cept new taxes. But now…” She paused, stifling tears, and took a shuddering breath, trying to compose herself. “They’ve destroyed everything, men from your army came in force and destroyed our town, my home…” Tears spilled over her cheeks. “There’s nothing left.” Alric adjusted himself in his seat.

“The soldiers of the Imperial Army are under orders to locate people of special… interest, and I trust them to make judgements as they see fit. Now if you need help relocating, I’m sure there’s room for another vagabond in the surrounding towns. Be gone.” Margaret stood there in shock, not knowing how to react to such apathy. She lowered her head.

“You’re a monster.” She said the words quietly, but Alric was a man of sharp eyes, and even sharper ears. His indolent disinterest melted, revealing a man of wrath, a man who would not be disrespected. He lowered his gaze upon the woman, his eyes piercing her like icy spears.

“What was that?” Margaret stayed silent, biting her lip as she fought off more tears. Alric stood up, towering over her with imperial dominance. “What. Did. You. Say?” She started to tremble, the water flowing freely from her eyes now.

“Nothing, my Emperor, I didn’t say anything.” Alric looked down upon the frightened woman, prepared to deliver his rage, but then he saw her eyes. Eyes filled with resentment, with hate, eyes that caused him to waver. He looked out at the crowd, and saw the same eyes, every farmer, baker, and seamstress looking at him like he was a… monster… He sat back down, defeated.

“Take them away.” He said quietly, covering his face with his hand. The guards hesitated.

“My Emperor?” Alric exploded, gesturing wildly.

“Get them out of here! All of them! I command it! Do it! Do it Now!” The guards went out and began shoving people out of the room, ignoring cries of protest, beating back the more resistant ones with coshes. Alric sat silent, his head in his hands as he listened to the chaos.

…

The hour was late, and the air was cool in the city of Averynce, and while the city fell further into sleep, the Tower stood tall, awake, and vigilant. High within its depths over a thousand feet up in the imperial palace, so far away from the sleeping city it was almost a world in and of itself, 2 men were in the passions of lovemaking.

The spacious chamber glowed dimly in the light of a hundred low burning candles, their flames flickering in a low breeze that blew gently through the balcony doors, bringing with it the breaths of Winter. Neither of them noticed the chill, each man rapt with the other, becoming one in a way only found through intimacy, their bodies melding into a single being.

The rhythmic motions, the gentle thrusts, the shuddering gasps and sighs and cries to gods echoing from every caressing touch, every lingering kiss. Black hair, long and curled, falling down from the man above, the man underneath clenching silk sheets, eyes closed, softly moaning into bedspread.

A moment passes, the tempo increases, the song nearly over. Another kiss, another touch. And then it was finished, passion dissipating into the air like smoke, as one became two once more and the men separated, falling onto the sheets next to each other, breathing heavily.

“Third time this week, I must be doing something right.” Said Rorick, smiling coyly. Alric brushed his hair out of his face, taking a second to catch his breath. He frowned.

“Maybe one of these times I won’t have to pay for it.” Rorick just laughed, tracing his finger on Alric’s chest.

“It’s not like you don’t have the money.” He looked absently at the invisible circle he was drawing, silently musing. Alric brushed his hand off, sitting up in the bed.

“Yes, I know, it’s just been a horrid week.” He sighed. “I just feel as though the only reason people come around at all is because they’re afraid of me, or because I pay them.”

“Or in my case, both.” Rorick chuckled, Alric gave him a tired look, but still managed a smile.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” He reached down and playfully stroked Rorick’s penis, his mind heavy with the events of the day. Rorick frowned, recognizing the monarch’s grief.

“Well, it can’t be easy being the Emperor. Having so much land and people to worry about. And then there’s all this controversy over the military seizures going on in the South.” He looked at Alric hesitantly. “Forgive me if I overstep… but why burn your own lands? What could you gain from it?” Alric’s expression shifted, his face becoming hard.

“It’s complicated, I know that our measures have been… extreme.” He paused, staring at the flickering candles. He refocused, looking back at Rorick. “but believe me when I say that what I do, I do for the good of Melcania.” Rorick shook his head.

“I don’t understand what abducting blacksmiths and farmers has to do with helping the empire.” Alric got off the bed and walked out to the balcony, the air was cold, but he did not mind, a true son of the Northlands.

“It’s not who they are, but what they are. Melcania’s power comes from our control of the Lightning Crystals, we can’t have people who threaten our position.”

“But how do th-”

“Do not forget your place, I have already let my affections for you cause me to overspeak.” Alric could hear the soft patter of footsteps, and suddenly there were hands at his sides, moving over his stomach. The touch was warm against the chill, Alric could already feel himself relaxing.

“Sorry for all my questions.” Rorick breathed, kissing Alric’s shoulder, his neck, moving along a line. “I’ve always been a curious boy.” The hands moved in opposite directions, one moving up, caressing his chest, the other migrating down. Alric gasped, Rorick kissed the side of his chin. He grinned. “Looks like someone’s ready to go again.” Alric released a shuddering breath, his eyes closed as he focused on the boy’s touch.

“Just shut up and get back on the bed.”

…

Black hair… blue eyes… skin like pearls… a smile… a kiss…

Alric awoke with a start, his body sheened in sweat as he gazed frantically about the room, breathing heavily as he tried to gather himself. He was in his chambers, this was his bed, who was sleeping next to him again? Rorick, yes, Rorick. Not the boy from the dream, not the boy from before… He needed a drink.

Alric got out of bed and walked to the glass cabinet across the room, opening it to reveal a collection of wine bottles, all of exquisite taste and quality. He poured himself an appropriate amount for the circumstance, and then added a bit more. He took a long, deep drink, letting the strong Southern vintage wash away the bad memories… why was he thinking about him now?

Alric looked at Rorick, sleeping soundly on the bed. Why did this boy remind him so much of him? He took another sip, walking out to the balcony. The chill blew through him, into his bones, he welcomed it, the heat shafts always kept things too warm in the tower anyway. The miles of hollow passages painstakingly laid in to the walls and floors, designed to carry warm air from the furnaces up and through the superstructure. But he did not have time to think about architecture.

Gazing out over the city that stretched as far as the eye could see, looking down upon the empire that was his to rule, he could not help but feel like a god, a god standing over ants that scurried so far beneath him. He took another drink, and walked back inside.

The wine was already muddling his thoughts, precisely why he chose the strong vintage. Alric placed the empty glass down on the nightstand, getting back into bed. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander over mundane thoughts, and fell back to sleep.

…

Lady Polisa waited just outside the perimeter wall of the Tower Keep, next to the river that flowed under the walls and cut through the city north to south. It was as good a location as any, the babbling waters providing a sound shield.

A guard walked lazily past, Polisa instinctively pulled her hood down further on her head. There was no reason to be paranoid, no one could tell it was her under the heavy, albeit uncomfortable, cloak, and even if they did, they had no reason to suspect her of anything. She was just uneasy, what she was doing was tantamount to treason, and she rather liked her neck the way it was… Gods, where was Rorick? A dark figure came across the bridge from the Tower Keep, walking until there was less than five feet between them, and then stopping by the water. Rorick pulled his hood back, against her previous instructions, but she was not going to fuss about it now.

“Sorry I’m late, Emperor’s been having a restless night.” He said quietly. Polisa nodded absently.

“Yes, yes, quite alright. Now let’s speak quickly and be gone.” She looked over her shoulder, feeling eyes on her. “I don’t want to be here any longer than I need to be.” Rorick looked about the seemingly empty streets, silently agreeing. He looked back at Polisa.

“Something big is going on with the Southern campaign.” He whispered in hushed tones. “The Emperor wouldn’t go into detail, but it seems like it has something to do with the people they’re taking.” Polisa’s eyes lit up, her interest piqued.

“Why? What’s so special about them?” Rorick just shrugged, the best answer he had.

“I don’t know, but the way he was talking it sounded like he believed the future of the empire hinged on finding them.” Polisa looked up at the tower, an impossibly large monolith that pierced the clouds like a giant sword. She stroked her chin, silently musing to herself. She looked at Rorick smiling.

“This is good news, good news indeed. We can definitely work with this information. Well done Rorick.” Rorick gave a bow.

“Pleased to be of service, my Lady.” Polisa gave him a harsh look.

“Oh, do stand up, formalities can wait, we mustn’t allow anyone to know of your service to me.” Rorick stood up hastily, blushing at his error.

“Sorry, my Lady.” She took on a softer expression, ever grateful to have such a loyal servant, a good friend, although she would not openly admit it.

“We should part ways, will you have trouble getting back into the tower?” Rorick just smirked.

“I come and go so much from there, the guards don’t even pay attention to me anymore, it’s like I’ve got a key from the Emperor himself.” Polisa nodded, thinking to herself.

“Good, good, then you hurry back before he wakes and suspects anything. I’ll be off as well.” Rorick kicked a pebble into the river, then started walking back across the bridge. Polisa pulled her hood down and made her way back to her manor, making sure to take a winding path.

High within the reaches of the Tower Keep, a man stood watching. He was too far away to hear anything, and the distance made it difficult to see clearly, not to mention the darkness. That was of little consequence, however, as he had already gathered all of the information necessary. The directions they came and went, the hour at which they met, the number of times he had seen them meet over the last month, not to mention the familiar face of the boy who left his hood down, coming into the light as he crossed the bridge… The man smiled, putting the puzzle together in his mind, oh how he loved puzzles. He made a note in a small booklet, and walked back inside.