King Astopheles walked alongside Stelios on one of his routine morning walks. To think that he was well beyond sixty. Soon it would be up to Maxwell to claim his throne. Words could not express his anticipation for that day. The day when he would give up his throne and return to the Academy and continue researching. Seems like such a long time ago now. Reading all the great classics such as The River of Nishandra, which tells the story of the city of Nishandra being consumed by its own citizens as they all kill each other, and the streets are filled with so much blood that they drown the city itself and now there is a river where the city used to be. It was a great allegory involving the use of psychology, ethics, and geography. Or perhaps The Usurper where Okam kills his father and mother, rapes his sister, and forces his subjects to engage in various sexual acts. It involved the study of power dynamics, and sexual studies. There was also The Fall of Magdros where King Magdros commits suicide in order to find true happiness. That one was always his favorite. After all only a dead man experience true happiness.

“Ah sir don’t forget you have to sign off on the new child policy.” Said Stelios waking him up from his daydream.

“Right... Ah remind me which one was it again?”

Stelios sighed. “The one where we up the testing standards sir.”

“Right. How many failures?”

“Thirty two sir. Relax we’ve already gotten rid of them.”

“That’s certainly lower than last time.”

“Yes well Maxwell suggested we add Qassem to the required reading list.”

“Qassem? Qassem?” Astopheles pondered from where he remembered that name. Then it came to him Memories of Ugerna, From Pasterix to Wenmar, The Sickness of Life. “Ah yes I remember now... Has it really been that long?”

“Yes it has sir. Part of getting old sir.”

Astopheles chuckled. “Word of advice Stelios avoid getting old.”

“I’ll try sir.”

As he and his aide walked along the edge of the city looking at the surrounding mountains in every direction he noticed a boy looking outwards. The boy turned and met his eyes. He smiled weakly and coughed a bit. His face seemed familiar somehow.

“Stelios do I know him?”

“He was the outsider who paid for the doctors.”

“Ah yes that’s right.” Astopheles saw Hekate keeping an eye on him from afar.

“It’s not everyday I get to meet royalty.” Said the boy.

“It’s pretty common around here. I like coming out for air. Helps me think.”

“About the good old days?”

Astopheles smiled. “Yeah, but that is a long time ago.”

“I don’t know about that for some people their best years are still ahead of them.”

“I suppose that is true. How goes your treatment?”

“At this point there is nothing your doctors can do for me. I... I’m already dead.” The boy smiled at that last phrase.

“They say only a dead man can experience true happiness after all.”

“Polaph, Fall of Magdros right?”

“You know it?” Astopheles asked.

“Life is a sickness and death is the only cure.”

“Magdros when he kills his pregnant wife.”

“It’s one of my favorites, but not my number one.”

“And which one is that?”

The boy smiled. “I can’t quite remember the name of it.”

“Then tell me about it. Perhaps I’ve read it.”

“Oh I doubt it, but very well then. This is the story of a boy, a question, a door, and a room.”

Astopheles thought of all the books that he read containing any of the following descriptions. None came to mind that did. “I can’t seem to recollect any books detailing such a narrative.”

“It’s fine.” The boy then chuckled. “I doubt with the way it was supposed to be written that it would have been popular anyways.”

“Supposed to be?” Astopheles thought. He did not know then if it meant that the book had been written. Or perhaps it was, but was ultimately scrapped.

“In any case the boy goes through many trials and tribulations. Along the way he makes various friends, and makes some really dangerous enemies. He obtains power beyond any imagination. The kind of power that could save worlds or destroy them. However, for the boy that is not enough. He wants to share his strengty, but there is a price for such things.”

“If power is shared people who should not have such power either abuse it or are too stupid to use it.”

“Precisely just like the democratic experiment in Ulammar.”

“The price you mentioned what was it?” Asked Astopheles.

The boy paused for a moment and hummed thinking about how to respond to the king’s question. “Have you ever read Art Beyond Life by Chenisetz?”

“His dissertation regarding the meaning and value of life. In the end he concludes that life itself has no intrinsic value, and therefore man becomes a critic to nature’s art. They gleam meaning from nature.”

“I would go so far as to say that they extrapolate more than just ‘meaning’ from nature. For why does the biologist study the creatures of Eris if not to understand their functions?”

“The book Khemmelian by Design by Windar where he argues that Khemmel made all lesser beings imperfect and limited compared to him out of vanity. However, when Windar writes one cannot take away that he writes more like an art critic than a biologist.” Retorted the boy.

“Truly, now then what does any of this have to do with our conversation?”

“Quite simple my king ever met an artist that could handle criticism?”

“I have not, but Khemmel is dead. He remains dead. And Gaeric killed him. There is no artist to whine about. The critic killed the artist.”

“And so the critic became the artist. All hail King Gaeric! As they say. In some ways it’s poetic. A person who fails to become an artist becomes a critic.”

Astopheles raised a brow. “Except that Gaeric made no works of art. Nothing on the scale of Khemmel.”

The boy let out a coy smile. “Corrax and by extension the Sovereigns...” The boy turned to meet Hekate’s gaze from afar. “They too are works of art. Many generals would argue that there is an art to war. By replacing the Divines Gaeric made fallible mortals into works of art.”

“So it is a power play. Gaeric has taken over the discourse and put herself in charge.”

“Power does not exist in a vacuum my king, but in relations between individuals and groups of people. As long as there are two power will always be manifested in some way. When Gaeric killed the Divines that was the critic exerting her power over the artist.”

“That’s all well and good, but what does this have to do with the story of the boy sharing power?”

“Now, now all in good time my king now that we have established the relations of power and nature we must now figure out strength.”

“Strength?” Asked Astopheles.

“Indeed. Strength exists in two forms natural and unnatural. Natural strength comes from within. Like a warrior trains their skill in combat they subject themselves to all manner of training to improve their craft. Unnatural strength comes from without. Like an old man using any and all forms of aphrodisiacs to find some motivation.”

“And what of leaders then? Is their strength not unnatural since they depend on others?”

“On the one hand their charisma inspires others, and so a strength that is natural to them is used. However, because they rely on others it is unnatural.”

“A paradox.”

“Hardly.” The boy retorted. “Sacrifice. Pain. Suffering. The charismatic leader will see many of their friends die in order to accomplish their goals. Charisma blends both natural and unnatural strengths together. Thus it is here that I shall continue the story of the boy. The strength that he wished to share with his friends came at a terrible price.”

“Did he kill his friends?” Asked Astopheles.

The boy smiled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves my king. The door that leads inside the room asks but a simple question.”

“That being?”

“What would you do to get yourself in there? What would you sacrifice? For many people the price is hardly the same as is the answer.”

“So what was it? What did he do?”

“He... Killed his friends, wife, and daughter. Save for one.”

“Why spare the one?”

“In order to have everything you must be willing to sacrifice everything. As to why he spared the one... Well... The room reveals something truly magnificent.”

“That being?”

“You.” The boy then coughed again. He inspected the palm of his hand and saw blood. He sighed. “For now I must take my leave.”

“Perhaps another time then?”

The boy smiled. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Sir we have to meet with Maxwell.” Added Stelios.

“Of course let’s go.”

Hekate saw the boy approach him. “You know who I’am?”

“Orsinius. You were made Sovereign Knight Hekate.”

“Do not play games with me.”

The boy smiled then his face changed. The boy raised a finger and the nail grew into a sharp blade. He cut his face down the middle revealing the single eye.

“You! Why?”

“This way is more fun.”