Tristan paces the length of the room, flexing his arms and stretching his shoulders as he does so. Since his last bout with the Godly Emperor, he has been fed to restore him to his previous state of strength. Perhaps, he ponders, my words hit home? He decides that they hadn't, and so, he continues pace.
"I have to get out of here," he whispers to himself. "I need to get out. Confinement goes agaisnt all the ways I was taught. It defiles my father's teachings. I - I don't think I can stand not seeing the sky above me, the grass beneath me, the light around me..."
Suddenly, the door creaks open. Tristan stops his pacing and sighs. "I'm not going anywhere," he remarks blandly.
"Well, then I suppose I'll have to come in," replies the arrogant tones of the Godly Emperor.
"Go order about some orderlies or something. Leave me be." The door latches shut, and Tristan sinks to his knees. "Please, just go away," he sighs. He no longer has the fight to attack the child every time he sees him. Perhaps the child was right. Perhaps he can be broken. "Like an animal..." he breathes, dropping to sit on the cold, cobbled floor.
"You're one pitiful excuse for a man. Carter said you were bad, but I didn't think you were this bad."
"What do you care? I'm simply an animal. Your slave, oh good master." He can not keep the mocking out of his voice. "No longer can I relish in the gentle breezes that flow off the sea. No longer can I sit and bathe in a sunbeam. No longer can I exercise save by pacing. No longer can I swing my father's sword as if it were an extension of my own arm. No longer..." His voice trails off.
"No longer what?"
"No longer can I fight. When two forces collide, one must give. I, it seems, am the one losing ground. Ask me what you want to know and kill me. I can not handle this any longer." He scrubs at his face with his tired hands.
"You're being ridiculously morbid."
"And you're a royal pain."
"Tristan - that is your name, is it not?"
"It was, given happier times."
"Funny, for it is a sad name. Nonetheless, Tristan, I do not want you dead."
Tristan barks a laugh. He leans back to lay on his back, his knees bent so they are elevated above his body. "Tell me another."
"I'm serious! Look, you're simply a man trying to protect his family's treasure from a greedy child such as I. However, I seek that treasure under noble enough circumstances."
"Or you're even greedier than you are bitter. Why destroy Weldox for something so simple as two swords? We ar - were merchants. Mostly anything can be bought or sold from us."
"You weren't a merchant."
"And I assume Carter told you this?"
"He did."
"That's true enough. I was a messanger, a carpenter, a brother, a father, and a friend."
"You were married? You're so young!"
"Look who's talking, you Highness. No. I was never married, but my father died at an early age, after my mother fell into a false delirium after she bore him twin boys. I had to play father, home-keeper, brother, whatever, for my siblings."
"And my people killed them?"
"Probably. I told them to go somewhere safe, but I'm sure your men were very thorough in their search for them." Tristan knows he is lying, but if it will delay the discovery of Reni and the others, it is worth it. "But that's just water under the bridge."
"Then I suppose that none of your siblings has the sword I seek."
"I suppose not, no. If they do, and they are alive, then my heart rejoices, but I can not locate them for you."
"Piteous, that."
"Truly. I'm sure, had I known you sought my uncle's blade, I would have been able to give it to you, without all this loss of life and happiness you had brought upon my people."
"I am sincerely sorry for that. I thought -"
"If you had thought, sweet, fair Weldox's beautiful walls would still be standing."
The Godly Emperor pauses for a long time. "How would you like to go outside, for a walk, Tristan?"
"I would like it very much, but the desires of a slave and a captive do not rival the wishes of his master and captor."
"Fine. We'll play your game. We're going for a walk. Come."
Tristan rolls to his feet and stretches langoriously. Then, he follows the young boy out of the chamber. Carter is almost immediately escorted into the chamber by a pair of burly soldiers. Taking slight satisfaction in his sudden glimpse of freedom, Tristan follows the Godly Emperor to the courtyard.
The sun beats down in the most glorious beams of warmth and comfort Tristan has felt in a long time. At first, he is blinded by its dazzling brilliance and the change from the dank anals of the castle, but that feeling passes quickly enough. He stretches out and listens, joyously, as the birds twitter away in the treetops. He feels the inescapable pull of a smile twitching at his lips.
"Did the sun shine often at Weldox?" the Godly Emperor asks. Is he really all that curious about Tristan's home?
"Almost dailly. The plants got enough water because of all the canals, and we were right on the edge of a natural harbor. I suppose it would have made sense for it to rain a lot, but oddly enough, it didn't. Almost all the storms we received would blow in from over the land. Very few would rush up from along the coast," Tristan replies, recalling his homeland, its sparkling colonnades onto which azure hues of reflections danced. The beautiful turquoise tiles and mozaics that lined the streets and floors and walls of the city. He will never see any of it again. The thoughts sadden him, but he refuses to let the Godly Emperor take satisfaction in this ideology.
"Why didn't you ever become a merchant?"
"Why did you become an emperor?"
The boy sighs. "I was chosen for the job. I'm the cousin of the last emperor, seven times removed. All the other male relations turned down this job, for they are all happilly content ruling their provinces, so I was selected. It didn't help that I was marked by Glar'oth at birth. That just seemed to seal the deal for me."
Tristan continues to work kinks out of his system as they walk about the courtyard. "This Glar'oth guy... Who is he?"
"Glar'oth is neither man nor woman, spirit nor flesh, old nor young. He, as used in a gender-obscure tendency such as this, is the creator of our world, and he guides it with his all-powerful hand of justice. He values the brave, the just, the righteous, and the wise above all else, but the kind also seem to be taken into his lot in certain circumstances."
"Ah. He sounds an awful lot like someone I met in a half-dream."
"You've met Glar'oth!?" The Godly Emperor is absolutely thrilled with excitement. "You must tell me about him!"
Tristan stops stretching and blinks down at the little boy. "What is there to tell? He's just as you described: a glowy form neither male nor female, old nor young, with a voice that helps discern none of these points."
The boy sighs and kicks the dirt path upon which they walk. "I had a vision by a similar creature, but it was not Glar'oth."
"Oh?"
"The vision, similar to the one you described, told me that the Weldoxians were the epitomies of evil, and that your city must be destroyed. Misguided and young as I am, I thought it to be true. He also told me of the twin swords housed in your city, one of which resides here now. Evidently, they will resurrect the gods when faced against each other in true, brutal combat."
Tristan shakes his head. He suppresses a chuckle. What sort of people are these that believe such nonsensical, unfounded legends? "And what made you change your mind?"
"I had been reflecting the other morning by my open window as always, and a slight breeze kicked up, and it sounded like your voice. Only, instead of lecturing me on the proper ways of a ruler, you were screaming in agony. I closed my eyes, and I saw the anger, the destruction, the wrath, the hate, and all other happenings I created by my little excursion to your homeland. I could not bear it, and I realized that you, unlike any others I've met to date, were honest with me. You told me where you stood, and you challenged me. You hurled me through any and all obstacles set up for a ruler as young as I, and if only for that instant, I appreciated you. Over the next few days, I realized that, being one of the few honest ones I've met, I could love you as a brother. It was a most relieving feeling, realizing that. Nonetheless, I hesitated still, for how could a vision of a god lie to me? Then, last night, this morning, whichever, I had another vision. I was visited by the one you describe, Glar'oth, I do believe, and he told me the errors of my ways and the clouds that had descended upon me by my misguided hatred. I apologize."
"I've no power to forgive you. You've destroyed so many lives, and no matter how repentant you may be, you can never forgive all of them." Tristan resumes stretching out his atrophying muscles in the warm sunlight. "But, for what it's worth, I will gladly look upon you as a brother."
Now it is the Godly Emperor's turn to blink. "So easily? After all the misery and strife I've caused you?" His eyes seem ready to spill over with tears at any moment.
Tristan nods. "So easily. I understand what it's like to be misguided. Carter, for one, had all of Weldox dancing to his tunes by the end of it all. He was the richest merchant, and so, the ruler. It wasn't exactly the best way to choose a ruler, but I found it a bit better than the hereditary system you use here."
Two beads of tears trickle down the Godly Emperor's youthful face and he buries his head in Tristan's chest. "Thank you," he says, hugging Tristan about the middle. "I revoke any and all charges I've made against you. You are not my slave, but my brother, and as such, you will be treated as a guest in my house, and in all the houses of my empire."
Tristan smiles. "I appreciate that action," he says, "but sooner or later, I must depart. I have to see, with my own eyes, the destruction and chaos that is left of my sweet homeland. I must see if my other siblings have survived, and see if I can hear news of my mother. You do understand, don't you, your Highness?"
"Please," the boy replies, backing up and releasing Tristan. "Call me Anaton. You should call me that which a brother would call me, my name."
"Well, then Anaton, what do you do around here for fun?"
"Umm.. well..."
"Do you know swordplay?"
Anaton nods. "I do indeed. Would you care to go for a bout or two?"
"If it can get my old muscles back into shape, I wouldn't dare pass up the chance. Who knows, you could teach me a thing or three." Tristan tips the boy a wink, and Anaton leads him through the sun-washed courtyard to the armory, smiling all the way.
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