Chapter One: A Son's Tale
Once upon a time....The wind howled through Mirrahm's narrow back alleys, filling the night air with its mournful cries. Or perhaps, it was the wailing of actual mourners he heard carried on the fierce wind. After all, the beloved Emperor of Mirrah was dying. Outside his window, the storm continued to rage, the rain falling hard and heavy beating down upon the clay roofs of the Inner City and quickly flooding the crooked streets and washing away bits of refuse, but Prince Adronis Evanus IX paid the titan storm little heed. He had long before filtered it into white noise, a barely noticeable annoyance.
It was easy an easy task to filter out the noise when inside his rooms. While they were not as expansive as the emperor's, the heir's suit was by no means tiny. Upon a normal day he had very little need to even leave his suite.
His suite consisted of four separate rooms, a room for entertaining, his bedroom, a private study, and a washroom. Each room had heavy stone walls that were covered in oak panels which were further covered by tapestries depicting various scenes of history that some ancestor of his had no doubt commissioned in hopes that looking upon scenes of battle day in and day out would somehow make their heir a mighty warrior. Lush handwoven carpeting of the deepest raid covered the floors of all but the washroom. The walls of his study were lined in books on all manners of subjects; history, mathematics, ethics, and warfare. The subjects every ruler needed to know. It was a dark room, with no uncovered windows, but enchanted candles burned day and night, keeping the room well lit for reading.
In the other rooms, large windows lined the outside walls, covered with heavy velvet curtains that Adronis kept pulled back. Despite the possible danger he liked his windows to be open, and his room to be filled with the natural light.
His furniture matched the curtains, upholstered in heavy red velvet and made from dark mahoganies. In places they were beginning to look a little faded, both from age and all of the draining light that Adronis let into the room throughout the daylight hours. The prince didn't mind much for unnecessary resplendence in his personal rooms, he was a creature of comfort and therefore preferred the comfortable, worn furniture to newer jewel encrusted pieces that were more for looking at than sitting on.
Adronis lay down his book and stood, walking to a nearby window to get a better look at the storm, not minding the rain that blew in through the open glass. He leaned against the windowsill and looked out at the city that would soon be his. The “Inner City” of Mirram was full of ancient structures that were beginning to lean and crumble, an odd contrast to the Palace at the city's center who's structure was just as sound as the day that it was constructed. The Inner City wrapped around the north side of the Palace and was separated by a large stone wall from the Moaning Quarter, or the slave's quarter, which took up much of the south side. Though he could not see the Moaning Quarter from his vantage point, it was almost a sure thing that the storm had caused far more havoc there than in the Inner City.
It was a week ago now, that the storm blew in suddenly. Ominous clouds rolled in and blocked out the sun as the temperature dropped quickly and very noticeably. Moments after everything had gone dark the heavens opened up and it hadn't stopped raining since. Even more troubling, that very same morning the formerly strong and healthy emperor collapsed during his morning meal with an outrageous fever with no discernible cause. Neither the fever or the storm showed any signs of abating, in fact, both appeared to be getting worse.
It was a warning, the priests cried. A warning from the gods about dark times to come. They cried their ill tidings to anyone within earshot, and it seemed to the young prince that the entire palace had suddenly filled with wailing mourners that created a far more annoying ruckus than the storm ever could. They walked up and down the halls moaning and waving their incense, making a show out of asking the gods to please spare their poor sick ruler all the while dressing in ridiculous black shrouds and wiping ashes on their faces.
While the thick walls of his quarters were good at creating a feeling of solitude and blocking out most extraneous noise, there were some sounds that seemed to make it in no matter how thick the walls, no matter how good the insulation. He couldn't help but chuckle as a particularly loud moan penetrated the solitude of his chambers. Really, were they mourning or copulating?
Soon after his father's collapse the prince retreaded to his rooms to attempt and escape the noise and commotion. He hadn't left since, instead opting to send out for his meals and spend his time reading or watching the storm. The words whispered in the halls spoke of how distraught poor, poor Prince Adronis was, but in reality he had merely wanted a moment of peace. The wailing was giving him quite the headache.
Besides, keeping an appropriately mournful air was quite tiring. The prince and the emperor had never been particularly close. In public they made a show of being a united front, a father and his beloved heir, but in reality they were far from united. His father's beloved heir had been Adronis' elder brother. Sadly, three years ago the original heir had disappeared, and was now considered to be dead, leaving Adronis as the heir. Adronis was almost certain that his father suspected him in having something to do with his brother's disappearance, and of course the old man was right.
So, despite the words of the empire's most respected priests, Adronis could not agree that the storm continuing to rage outside his window was a warning. The young Mirraesh felt instead that it was a cleansing. A cleansing that was long overdue.
The dark haired Mirran turned away from his open window to look a nearby mirror. He was a prime example of his species. Deceptively delicate features with pale skin and long thin strands of pitch black hair. He was small and trim, with the perfect aristocratic bearing. He'd taken more after his mother in looks, something that worked quite well to his advantage. His clothing was immaculate and fit perfectly. The dark coat and vest making his shoulders appear more broad, the silhouette of a ruler. One that could rule the world.
He couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as his mind followed this well known path of thought. It felt like he had been waiting for this day his entire life, the day that he would take up the throne of Mirrah, and eventually all of Nev'nah.
Adronis' first memory was the sudden knowledge that he was meant for something greater than the path that was already before him. Many would be content knowing that someday that the would be the ruler of a great empire, but Adronis couldn't help but lust for more. There was an entire world out there, one that was in a constant state of chaos. As a child he never understood why the four great kingdoms had to exist. The Mirresh were obviously the strongest of the four races, with their affinity for fire, and they already lorded over the hummals. Why were the other three pathetic races of the world counted as their equals? Just because some girl over a thousand years ago had said they were?
His tutors would laugh and ruffle his sable hair when he would question the workings of the world, and answer yes, because some girl had said so, and who were they to question the words of the great seer? Eventually the prince learned to keep such questions to himself, but he didn't forget them, and instead sought to answer them on his own.
Now he was older and if all went to plan, which it would, he would soon be Mirrah's emporer. The rule of the four was fading. Civil war was raging in Anashk, and had been for the past two hundred years. The current ruler of Shavil was a weak minded fool who enjoyed the perks of his station without bothering with the responsibilities. Both kingdoms were ripe for the taking, and the last would break easily under the combined weight of the rest.
He'd been planning this for years, carefully watching the states of the other great kingdoms, and now he was nearly in the position to make it all happen. It was making him practically giddy.
A light knock on his door prevented Adronis from further thoughts on the subject. The prince growled as he stalked to the offending door, “I told you I was not to be disturbed!” He threw the heavy door open with a resounding slam as it bounced back off the wall, startling the already trembling slave on the other side.
“I-I’m sorry, m’lord,” the pale slave stuttered as he stared resolutely at the ground. “B-but your f-father wishes t-t-to see you.”
Adronis snarled and backhanded the boy out of his way. The small hummal slave all but flew across the hallway, hitting the wall before sliding down the floor where he stayed down. Such a pathetic race, hummals. They were so frail. He turned to his own slave, standing unobtrusively in the shadows of Adronis' room. “You know what to do,” he ordered before stepping of the boy, sill laying in the hallway shivering, and began the trek to his father's rooms.
Incense lined the hallways as black cloaked figures shuffled back and forth wailing. The first law Adronis was going to pass would be to outlaw all this wailing nonsense, punishable by immediate execution. Painful execution. By some amount of luck one of the idiots stopped wailing long enough to recognize that the prince was attempting to make his way through the hallway, and began his wailing anew, this time with the poor Prince as its subject. He'd only been out of his room for five minutes and already the migraine was making his eyes blur. The plus side of the situation was people moved out of his way.
The relatively short walk seemed to take an eternity, but Adronis finally stepped through the heavy oak doors that marked the emperor's quarters. The atmosphere inside the room was completely different than the one in the hallways. Here, the mourners were silent, kneeling, offering prayers to the gods, begging them to spare their ruler's life. Physicians surrounded the large bed that dominated the room, doing what they could to break the man's fever even though it was obvious their efforts were in vain.
The prince was largely ignored as he slowly walked to his father's beside, an impassive look on his face. It would not be seemly to show any weakness in this room. The group of physicians parted, making space for Adronis to kneel at his father's bedside. The weak wave of a had from the figure laying in the bed sent the all of the group but one from the room.
Only his father's personal physician, Orion, remained. It was odd to see the doctor look so serious, the man was normally cheerful in a sort of odd way that made one question if he was really all that cheerful at all. He was a man of many secrets, secrets that Adronis had never really cared enough to try and divine. The man had been Adronis' elder brother's best friend, nearly unseperable until the other man's disappearance. He also had the odd distinction of having an appearance that was very similar to those of the royal family, save for his odd amber color eyes. Rumor had it that Orion an illegitimate son of the line, but no one had ever proven it so.
The tall man approached Adronis as the prince looked dispassionately at his father, and placed his hand in what was surely meant to be a comforting gesture on the younger's shoulder. “His time is near,” the doctor sighed. “The poison has moved far too quickly through his system for us to cure.”
The prince looked suitably surprised, “Poison?”
Orion's expression betrayed none of this thoughts as he nodded in affirmative, “I have already tasked the guards to search the palace for any possible leads. It is doubtful, however, that a culprit will be found so long after the poisoning.”
Adronis sighed and turned his attention instead to his father. It was amazing what just a week had done to the man. While the elder hadn't been in the best physical condition before the poisoning, he had been healthy. The skeleton laying in front of him had very little in common with the man his father had once been. He was all sunken eyes and skin hanging off of bones, visible veins and dark bruises everywhere.
The prince gently put his hand to the emperor's sweat-soaked brow then ran it through greasy stringy locks while trying not to make a face at how disgusting it was, ever mindful of Orion's presence behind him. “Father,” he spoke almost hesitantly, playing the part that he had rehearsed so often in his week of solitude. “You have summoned me, and I have come.”
Eyes fluttered open to stare blankly somewhere over Adronis' left shoulder. The young man couldn't remember if blindness was a symptom of the poison that he had chosen, or if it was delirium that caused his father to be unable to focus. A bony hand flailed wildly in his general direction and Adronis quickly captured it with his own, grimacing mentally at the clammy feel of it.
“My son,” the old man rasped with a dry wheeze of a chuckle that reminded Adronis of a cat hacking up a furball, “so beautiful, so cold. So much like your mother who watches me even now, a spector of things to come. How odd it is that at the time of my death you are at my side, whilst you have never had the inclination before.”
'Delirium then,' Adronis thought as he shrugged dismissively, “You have only ever had to call me, father, and I would have come, but you have never called.”
The man chuckled again. “Perhaps it is so. But you are here now,” he paused to cough. It was a terrible dry hacking sound that left the man gasping for breath, “to see me in my greatest moment of weakness.”
He paused once more, trying to recover some of his breath. “I have seen many things as I lie here abed, things that shall come to pass. Things I cannot stop. Whether I see them in dreaming or while awake, I cannot say. You are an odd boy and always have been. Beware the child of the moon, my son. Your destruction lies under the moon.” The grip on Adronis' hand tightened. “You have never heeded me before but heed this.”
Child of the moon, indeed. Adronis nodded, humoring the dying man's delirium. While seers did exist in their world, his father was far from one of them.
“Heed me boy!” the old man wheezed out, going so far as to heave his chest forward to sit up momentarily before collapsing back down again, gasping for air even more audibly than he had been a moment before. “You must...”
“I understand, father,” the prince agreed, and couldn't help but give a sigh of relief as the old man took one more rasping breath, followed by a long exhale, and the death grip slackening. Adronis watched with a small smile as Orion moved forward, first checking for a pulse, then gently closing the dead emperor's eyes.
“He is gone, m'lord. I am sorry for your loss,” the physician rumbled morosely, his face no more expressive than it had been at earlier that evening.
Adronis nodded sharply as he stood, brushing his hands over his pants. “I trust you will have the body prepared for the pyre. I must gather the council at once.”
The taller Mirran gave a nod of his own in return then bowed deeply, acknowledging Adronis as the new ruler of Mirrah, even though it would not be official until the ceremony that would have to wait until after the deceased emporer's funeral. Adronis would just have to be patient a few more days, and then his plans could go fully into effect. He allowed himself a small smile before he braced himself to enter the hall of wailing again.
The sound hit him as if it was a physical thing as he threw open the door with dramatic flair, though at the sight of him the wailing abruptly stopped. All eyes turned to the young prince, who returned the stares evenly. After enjoying the silence for a moment, he turned to the guard stationed outside the emperor's chambers, “Gather the council immediately.” He took another deep breath preparing himself for the wail that was sure to follow. “The emperor is dead.”
He wasn't disappointed. The mournful cry was ear shattering.
~x~x~x~
Three days later the council was gathered. Adronis stood outside the large oak doors waiting to be summoned inside. The doors were carved with images depicting the end of the Great War. In the center framed by the four elements was the First Great Seer, the Child of the Sun, her eyes closed and face raised to the heavens. The soon to be emperor observed her, the one responsible for the way their world was, the one responsible for all the things Adronis wanted to change.
The carving of her was rather beautiful, far too beautiful to be reality. She was dressed in a flowing Mirresh dress, in a style that had been popular in the time the door had been commissioned. It covered her from neck to ankle making her appear more like a priestess than the warrior the histories portrayed her to be.
Adronis' mental image of the girl was far more savage than the carving. According to the surviving histories, she had single-handedly stopped a battle in its tracts. Long dresses had no place in battle.
“Your highness,” a soft, hesitant voice broke him from his pondering. The door had cracked open and a blue robed slave stood before him, head bowed in submission. “The council is ready for you now.”
“Very well, open the doors.” Adronis straightened his jacket and stood up straight as a pair of slaves opened the doors wide, revealing the audience chamber. Fourteen council members sat along the sides of the room, each looking pompous and self-important, as if they really had any say in Adronis' inheritance of the throne. At the end of the hall was the dais, where normally the emperor would be seated, but today it was empty. The throne was flanked on either side by blue robed slaves, waiting passively with their eyes trained on the floor. Standing to the right front of the dais was Orion, dressed in his physician's robes, looking immaculate.
Adronis came to a stop next to Orion and turned around to face the council members. He bowed to then slightly, more of an inclination of the head before addressing them politely. “You have summoned me honorable council?”
An old windbag to his left cleared his throat and stood. “Prince Adronis Evanus XI, you have been summoned to discuss the matter of royal succession. We offer you condolences on the death of your father, highness, but as we are sure you realize, the realm cannot be without a leader.”
“I thank you for your sympathies, honorable council. My father was truly a great man, and he will be sorely missed by myself, his subjects, and I am sure by each of you.” So far, so good. The conversation was going exactly how Adronis imagined it would. “You are correct in the belief of my understanding of the matters of state. It is indeed true that our realm cannot go without a leader, to do such would cause unneeded strife. Despite my age, I believe I am ready to lead out people. I have been trained my entire life by the greatest minds in the world for this very event.”
A slight murmur filled the room as the council members whispered amongst themselves. Adronis knew it was mostly for show, they would not have called him in if they had not already discussed the situation to death, and again, it was not as if they truly had the power to deny him the throne. His brother was missing, presumed dead, which meant Adronis was the heir.
After a moment the original airbag spoke again, “We would not wish to go against your word, M'lord. You are the heir,” he grumbled, echoing Adronis' thoughts, “and as such it is your duty to Mirrah to take your father's place upon the throne, but first there is a matter to be dealt with.”
Well that was unforeseen. “Yes?”
“The manner of your father's death. Physician K'nyte had given his report on the matter, and it seems that the guards he set to investigate the matter were rather successful.”
Ah, there it was then. Show time. Adronis immediately appeared to be shocked. “I had dared not hope that they would find the culprit! Bring the knave before me and let him look me in the eyes and see the pain that he has caused me directly. Let the council pass judgement immediately!”
Orion motioned to the slaves standing passively by the throne. One moved to a hidden door on the left and opened it, allowing two guards to drag a grey robed prisioner inside. It was exactly who Adronis expected it to be, the man he had framed, his own personal slave. Outwardly he appeared to become enraged, stalking across the room to backhand the slave, causing the hummal to jerk in the guards' grasp.
“My own slave!” he yelled grabbing the slave by the collar, jerking him forward and shaking him in time with his words. “My own slave a damn traitor! I trusted you! You've been mine since I was a child!” Adronis was well aware that the councils eyes were watching his every move.
He slipped a hand into his coat pocket and gingerly pulled a cindercloth out. Before anyone could stop him he snapped his fingers to create a spark and his hand was engulfed in flames. The power over fire was the Mirresh's god-given gift. It was a great destructive power, and every time Adronis called upon it, a thrill ran through him.
The flames immediately caught to the slave's robe, and Adronis used his power to make the flame even stronger. The prince watched in satisfaction as the guards dropped the screaming slave. “I want his family located and executed,” he ordered them. “If this one is capable of such treachery, then the entire line may be tainted with his bad blood.” The guards saluted him before exiting from the same hidden door that they had entered.
The slave was still twitching when Adronis turned back to the council. He caught a glimpse of Orion. The physician had an odd type of sly smile on his face that almost made Adronis pause, but in an instant the smile was gone and the man's face was once again the impassive mask that it had been since the emperor's death. Much of the council's collective gae was on the still smoldering body, their faces displaying a gambit of emotions, running between horror and even pride.
Overall their reactions gave Adronis a reason to feel smug. His play was going so perfectly. He cleared his throat calling attention back to himself. “I am sorry that you had to witness that, honorable council, and just after I assured you that I was ready to rule a country.” He let out a long sigh, “I beg of you to forgive my brutality. That my own personal slave would betray the crown, betray me, in such a manner and kill my father filled me with such a rage that I had to choice but to release it.”
“Ah, it is understandable, m'lord,” the head councilman stuttered.
Adronis nodded, “Thank you. Now shall we continue the business that we met for?” He clasped his hands calmly in front of him.
The head councilman gestured to the slaves at the throne again, and this time they opened a different hidden door to the left of the dais. A procession of priests entered the hall, dressed brightly in the colors of the gods that they represented. At the head of the line was Loskel, the high priest of Nim, accompanied by a small boy carrying the Crown of Mirrah. The crown was more than just a symbol of the emperor, but was the actual artifact gifted to the first emperor by the Great Seer.
It was a golden circlet in a leave pattern inlaid with rubies that shone like the fire that the Mirresh wielded. For such a symbol of power, it was an almost delicate piece, much like the Mirresh themselves. Deceptively delicate in appearance. The child that carried it was dressed in the white robes of the Order of the Brotherhood, the organization dedicated to the lives of the seers.
Adronis kneeled as the procession approached, showing respect to those that represented the gods.
“Prince Adronis Evanus XI, by right of succession I mark you the emperor of Mirrah,” Loskel began began kneeling over to brush a kiss upon the Prince's brow. “This station was given to your bloodline by the great seer, who was ordained by the gods. Take now this great responsibility, and bear it well, young prince. You were born for this.”
The young boy moved forward and placed the Crown of Mirrah on Adronis' head.
“May you have the wisdom to lead your people through times both peaceful and not. May you have the compassion to face your lessers and treat them with love. May you have the honor to grant your enemies a fair battle. May you have the love to encompass and unite our entire nation. Serve the gods well Emperor Adronis Evanus XI, and they shall grant you a long successful rule.”
The priest took a step back as Adronis rose back to stand and begin his walk to the throne. The procession parted, and all of the councilmen stood, their heads bowed in reverence to their new leader. Lastly he passed Orion, whose head was also bowed, and his right arm was crossed over his chest in allegiance. Adronis smiled and sat upon the throne. His throne.
“May the gods bless this day,” Loskel concluded.
Phase one of Adronis' plan; complete.
