Chapter 13 -Stirring

Gregor woke up early despite his inability to fall asleep quickly last night. It was worse because he had wanted to sleep in, but now he was stuck groaning in bed and wishing that he could doze off. He tried covering his head with his pillow, but that only made it hard to breathe. After a few minutes, he gave up on trying to go back to the land of dreams, he just lay in bed. Today was going to be dedicated to getting though more of the journal. Already he felt as though he was getting faster at reading Kurjen. The lettering and grammatical structure was quite similar to Belnar, except there were added accents and some of letters were pronounced differently. He was lucky that the Tyrant’s handwriting had been so precise. He did not of let any extra ink seep into the page either, proving he was no novice when it came to scribing. Where had he learned that though? Perhaps he had learned in Orid-narr, but failed to mention it. Gregor yawned and slowly rose out of his bed.

Although he was not planning on leaving his rooms for the day, he walked to the mirror and admired his musculature as he changed into more formal clothing. While he lacked a shirt, he ran through some of the fencing forms, watching the way the different muscles moved under his skin. Fascinating. From fencing forms he moved to simply trying to flex each muscle and watch as the shape changed. Of course, he had seen illustrations of the different muscles and knew some basics of how they worked in relation to joints, but seeing it on himself was another matter entirely. He was a fine specimen. Maybe he could benefit from more scars like Jerand, and if he were taller his presence would likely command more attention, but he did fine as is.

Lost in his reflection and self-admiration, Gregor was still undressed when Thery knocked on his door and called from the other side of the reinforced wood, “Breakfast your grace.”

Gregor opened the door and his steward, looking sharp as ever, brought in a lavish feast. Delicious dishes one after the next were laid out on the large table in Gregor’s room, and when the table was hidden from view by the copious amounts of sustenance delivered, Thery turned and asked delicately, “would you like anything else your grace?”

The emperor-to-be did not reply immediately, stupefied by the amount and variety of food that had been brought. After a moment he realized his state of undress, not that it mattered. He got over his surprise and responded to his steward, “Thery, this is far too much. What possessed you to bring me more than what my family would eat when we are together? Regardless, take it back to the kitchen, or eat it amongst yourselves. Leave me… let’s see…”

“Leave me this, the spiced sausages, these, the eggs, the bread, and the peppers. Also, the juice.” Gregor said while indicating the different foods. He had wanted to take more, to try a bit of every single one, but he had done that before. It was not an efficient way to eat, nor was it enjoyable. He preferred a decent amount of three or four dishes, that way he would not have to change his palate too much as he ate.

The servants were slower in leaving than they had been in bringing the food. Several tried to get a good look at Gregor while they picked up the dishes and brought them out. Thery noticed and hurried them along. It was not unusual for people, including the emperor, to be seen naked in the baths or shirtless while fencing, but seeing emperor’s young son in a similar state while in the intimacy of his rooms was a different story. He sighed, it was his fault for bringing so much up to the rooms. Even so, Thery had been concerned that Gregor might not have been feeling well when he decided to shut himself away for a day, and health is best granted through the stomach, leading Thery to reason that the prince should eat a variety of hearty foods. But he blew it.

Once the servants had all left the room, he stood there waiting for another order, but Gregor only sat down at the table and began to eat. The prince had not bothered to dress fully, and the door had not been closed either.

“your grace, should I have a bath drawn for you in your rooms?” Thery offered.

Gregor stopped for a moment to consider it, but he shook his head and continued to eat. He dismissed his steward, ordering him to close the door as he left, and telling him to collect the dishes in an hour.

The time passed quickly for Gregor, but significantly slower for Thery who now had nothing else to do. The man was as punctual as ever, and an hour later he was opening the door with a cohort of servants to clean up. Gregor was dressed this time and staring out of the window while his bed was made, and the table was cleared. A notebook was left open next to him, but the pages were blank.

Once the room was cleaned, Thery was dismissed again, and he left with a quiet reluctance.

Gregor let his shoulders sag as Thery close the door, cursing the necessity for maintaining a “noble demeanor” as many an individual had tutored in the past. Bringing his hands up, he wiped his face and rolled his neck. Apprehensively, Gregor eyed the door and tempted any sound to reach his ears. When the footsteps faded down the hall, he slumped into his chair.

While he rested, Gregor closed his eyes and embraced darkness. Thery had not been wrong that the emperor’s son was acting out of sorts, but he was not ill. The young man just had other things he wanted to do. Like rest. And read.

But that could wait. Gregor shifted in his seat, moving his weight from his right to his left, leaning against the armrest did not work, he tried throwing his leg over it, but that just made the opposing armrest dig into his back. I should get Thery to have a more comfortable chair made. Or perhaps couches like the ones that were in grandpa’s room. Or why don’t I just have them brought over to my room? Yes, that is definitely the best choice.

In a flurry, he swung his feet until they reached the ground and grabbed the armrests of the chair, using them to propel himself out of the horrific seat. It had served him well over the years, but Gregor was convinced the shape of the wood and cushion had morphed to accommodate his buttocks at all the time he had spent sitting in it. Gelas had written about becoming intimately acquainted with the cage that held him captive, why, this chair was much the same in that regard. Ok, it was not, but that was how Gregor looked at it.

Huffing, Gregor walked to the door and opened it, looking for Thery, but he frowned when he saw the empty hallway. Where had the man gone? No matter. He could suffer the chair for another day as he continued to learn of the Tyrant’s beginnings.

Making sure the door was locked, Gregor pulled out the book and sat in the familiar chair, putting his feet up on the table and a cushion under his heel to protect it from the hard table. The cushion had once been overly stuffed, but now the middle had sunken in from repeated use.

With clammy hands and a foot that slowly rocked from side to side, Gregor continued to read.

--

Imagine if rats had the capability to do more than thieve. If by some anomaly they manifested the knowledge and physical prowess to create. Then, sitting in the wilderness, close enough to a river yet far enough to avoid the crocodiles that swam there, these rats decide to construct a city. That was Chereba. One of the three largest cities in the entire Queendom.

As the cart carried us into the suffocating confines of the city, my companions stiffened at the sight of the towering buildings. Each was erected more carelessly than the last. Had they not sprouted so close to one another and lent each other the strength that comes from being bundled together, I would have feared for their collapse.

It was with wide wandering eyes that I gazed upon the seemingly rickety construction. The cart itself meandered through the streets, as though uncertain of where to go, but unlike the many paths that diverged, the one we were riding through remained at a minimum width. Two and a half carts wide if I had to guess. There was not a shred of green hidden among the drab building made of wood, stone, and clay. Citizens shooed pesky birds off clotheslines that stretched between second and third story windows.

My companions who had tensed up earlier, now shrunk into the cage as their eyes darted from side to side and head swiveled just as fast. Pulling with my arms, I shifted my numb legs until I was kneeling, then I pushed off of my knee to rise so that my senses could feast on the novelty surrounding me. I lightly lay a hand on the bars to steady myself as the cart trudged along, and like a curious cat I began to inspect Chereba.

The buildings were not the only case of shoddy craftsmanship. From the roads to the wall that had surrounded the city and the subsequent walls within, the gutters, the laundry that dried above the alleyways, the carts, the stay cats, the people and their broken dreams -all of it reeked of haste, greed, and hostility.

For the most part, my nose proved to be right. As the cart wound its way through the crowded streets, rotten vegetables were pelted towards us. Those too weak to use their arms, hurled insults instead. While it was not unexpected for criminals to receive such a warm passionate welcome, the sheer quantity of produce thrown out way was terrifying. And utterly impressive. Why the hate? I could not help but wonder.

I suppose it should not have been so mystifying. This was a city of rats, of delinquents like I had been, but tamed. We were simply a target to be carried around so that they may vent their frustrations on individuals that deserved it.

Pitiful. Is that what humanity was reduced to when crowded in tightly knit masses? Forget the orderly ants, sheep commanded more dignity than the inhabitants of Chereba. Now they resorted to attacking others. Had their mothers never shown them compassion?

But despite my chiding words and my dismay at the unruly city, a harsh smile tore at my face and taunted the rest. I was far from home now, with no one to disappoint and everything to prove. It was a city of people like me? Ha. Laughable. There was no one like me. I was Gelas son of Gintars the Sailor and Katarina the Steel Maiden. The rats in Chereba thought they knew trouble?

The guardsman escorting us turned back then and began to poke at me, but I paid them no heed. Intently I stared down the crowds. It only riled them up, and more projectiles began to assault the small party I was with. I barely noticed the other two prisoners in the cart with me, but they had crammed themselves into the corner of the cage, as far from me as they could manage.

“MURDERER!”

“RAPIST!”

“CRIMINAL!”

“THIEF!”

“MONSTER!”

Accusations were flung, but none of them truly hit home, and it dawned on me that they were ignorant as could be. They knew nothing of who I was. My smile stretched unnaturally wide. As I reached out of the cage to gently pluck an apple thrown at me by a young child, I pondered, was this freedom?

Winking at the child, I sunk my teeth into the soft, bruised fruit. Despite the fire that had erupted within me, I settled onto the floor of the cage and closed my eyes, patiently waiting until we reached out destination.

-

Gregor tore himself away from the pages and reluctantly hid the book away. With what relish the man described his own ferocity. Shaking his head, Gregor rose. He stretched his limbs with a trembling yawn and decided to summon Thery for some refreshments. He had enough experience to know when his reading habits prevented him from basic needs. Was it lunch time yet? Not quite. Until then, Gregor shuddered, he had time to visit the privy. Striding down the hall, he turned a corner, then another towards the more secluded room. It could barely be called that. The tiny closet stank to high heaven. Gregor rushed in and out in the span of a single breath.

No matter how many flowers were crushed, and scented candles were lit, the smell always hit Gregor’s nose harder than a bag of bricks. The only thing worse than the privy was the chamber pot. He refused to use it, especially for anything more than urine. The whole practice was barbaric, and Gregor vowed to one day implement a cleaner and less disgusting option. Even if he had to invent it himself.

While he ambled back to his room, he dried his soapy hands on his shirt and pants. What did others have to do whenever nature called? It was not an honest question on his part, but a dismayed wondering. He had been uncomfortable away for the lack of sewage flushing in many cities. He even had to deal with them when touring the empire. Letalona was not much better, but at least the crown provided public restrooms which were flushed with water pumped from the ocean. It kept the streets cleaner than many places. Shivers crawled down his back as he recollected The Tyrant’s description of Chereba. He found his own thoughts reflecting the tyrant’s words, is that what humanity was reduced to when crowded in tightly knit masses?

Praying that it was not the case, Gregor turned the hall and jumped in his skin. A small host of servants, along with Thery, were quietly waiting for Gregor around the corner. Clearing his throat, he straightened his face and regained his composure before they turned to him. “Thery, just who I was going to call. How do you always manage to read my mind?”

“Your grace, we were just about to leave after we knocked and there was no response.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I returned when I did.”

Gregor unlocked and swung open the door, grateful he had hidden the journal before he left. The servants swept in and out of the room leaving behind the prince’s lunch. Having taken his que from breakfast, Thery arranged for the lunch to be simple. Gregor nodded to his steward as he walked past, and smoothly sat down. With mild restraint, Gregor tucked into his food and as Thery was turning to leave, Gregor began to mumble around a mouthful of beef.

“Pardon me your highness?”

Swallowing with an audible gulp, he tried once more, “Have some refreshments brought, lets say… half an hour after the table is cleared. Only some juices and nuts, nothing else is needed.”

Bowing, Thery slinked out of the room. Normally, the prince would ask for little and take care of things himself. On most days he would be a hasty wind that swept from one side of the palace to the other. He was not usually so sedentary. What was it with the prince today? Well, Thery considered him to be strange on the average day, but this was especially out of sorts. Gregor spent his time studying in different environments and enjoyed moving about. So, what was distracting him?

It was probably women. Or a book. It was hard to tell with Gregor. The boy had the same amount of infatuation with both. No that’s not true, Thery had not seen Gregor’s perceptive eyes giving any women the look in a while. And he was alone in his room. So he probably lost his nose between pages of parchment instead. A sigh escaped from his chest and Thery moped his way back to the kitchens.

Oblivious as ever, Gregor continued to munch away at his food. Even after the table was cleaned and Thery brought refreshments, he failed to notice the concern oozing from his steward. But he had his refreshments, and his stomach was full. Sparing a second, he glanced at the door, trying to remember if he had locked it. When he was certain that no one would be able to enter, he hunkered down into his bed with the black book in hand and continued to read.