Princeps

The stomping and neighing of horses followed by the clanging of wheels woke him up. Rushing to the balcony he concluded he won’t see a thing, so he decided to put on clothes and sit at the writing table. His mind tried shaping his teacher, playing guessing games. Young or old, patient or commanding and spewing threats, intimate and courteous or a cold-blooded, low-born vagabond with sullied mouth. The extremes of teacher’s prospective personality traits were see-sawing in his mind steering away from a balanced middle ground. Such don’t exist among the vile bosses of the pit or sainted mas that raised him. The rat hails from a world of black and white. The wait lasted for quite a while. The air slowly took on the characteristic swelter of early afternoon, denying Atef of his reward for the strenuous waiting focused on the door. Hunger was besieging him for some time now, so he tried to ward it off with water and apples which were never in short supply.

He was day-dreaming for quite some time when the gentle everyday noises of nature lost ground to the clumping of feet. He stirred up in the chair and assumed the position as Togrin had shown him. A short click of the lock followed up with an energetic entrance of a middle-aged man startled the boy. The man gave away the impression of slowly sliding from peak strength to frailty of old age. Tall and nobly fat, he commanded the space dressed in a rich garb that Atef has never seen before. His deep green vest was glimmering silverly in the light from all the vine shaped threads crawling towards the middle of it. The coat of arms attracted the boy’s attention the most, swarming his head with all sorts of questions. The crest of a golden lion who holds scales in his extended paw perfectly balancing stacks of wheat on one plate and metal bars on the other looked wondrously odd for any kind of teacher.

- You find something out of place? – asked the teacher in a business-like manner observing the boy with keen interest.

- Nothing – Atef started off with an undertone of fear – are you master, my teacher?

- He is – Togrin approved suddenly coming into the chamber tardily. - Atef, bow to Everard, your teacher. Come on, just as I showed you.

The boy made a sad excuse for a bow, legs too far apart and right arm waving clumsily around while his left was dangling rather than being properly placed at the small of his back. Everard let out a crude smile, enthused by the simplicity of the boy.

- Straighten up Atef. Togrin told me a lot about you. He claims you to be smart and curious. Imaginative as well. Also that, with a little incentive, such wonderful stories flow out of your head and that you already know all the brightest constellations in the sky. Seems to me that it will not be troublesome at all to prepare you for what awaits you at Jarat. You know what awaits you there, right?

The boy wondered for a while wanting to give the right answer and not immediately disperse the praise he received moments ago. – Freedom? – he concluded curiously.

- Bravo! You warrant what Togrin said. Exactly. Freedom. I suppose Togrin told you the story about Emperor Melen?

- He did, teacher Everard – Atef responded immediately, paying respect to the title as he would with any person of authority he came across in his brief life.

- The more appropriate word will be tutor from now on – said Everard acknowledging the respect paid to his stature. – Perfect then! You know why you’re here. Before we commence, I need to set certain rules. You must be obedient and work hard on your education. You must obey the virtues that the Empire set upon us and swear fealty to the Omolog council. And above all, you must never lie to me. If I catch you lying, the pit, as Togrin informed me you call it, will be the place where you spend the rest of your days. Is this understood!?

Atef nodded obediently understanding the ruleset riddled with high-talk, only in the capacity that the time of lethargy is done. He likened it to the time underground when he was expected to find a new ore vein, or not return until he does.

- Let us not dally then and start with the first lesson immediately, the day is getting old already. It would be shame to waste it. Everard pointed at the chair in which Atef sat, signaling to Togrin to bring another and attend to his other duties.

- Even eternity wouldn’t bring satisfaction to a hesitant man. Have you heard that saying before Atef? – the teacher started off his lesson as soon as they were left alone by sharing wisdom.

- Nah. But I always know what to do. Poke around for the shine of some crystal or metal in the dark, or help my mas who took me in, or …

- I believe you – Everard interjected his rambling – but let us get back to the lesson. This saying has a deeper meaning, conveyed message. Have you ever heard of something having a conveyed message?

- Sure! Same as when my boss swears at me and tells me to repeat it to other lazy bastards and adds on top that we rather get to work or he’ll get the whip.

Another short, though raspy smile slipped from Everard’s lips.

- Not quite like that, though it would be hilarious if someone was to tell me this in Valeriana.

- And what is Valeriana?

- A bathhouse, don’t interrupt – the teacher reprimanded the boy for his zealous curiosity. – Conveyed meaning offers lessons. It prompts us to think about supposed great truths and learn what the world is really like. You need to be smart to understand them or have someone around who will reveal their truth to you. The one I told you, you see, teaches that someone indecisive will never be satisfied with the decision they made, if they even made it, no matter whether they had all the time in the world. That’s why they will be deciding forever. Do you understand that?

The boy stopped for a moment trying to remember if he was ever in a similar situation. The hopelessness of life underground which deadened all senses and exhausting work never left him with any time to think, except just before he would fall asleep. The only thing that mattered then was that he survived another wretched, useless and cruel day. Wandering hesitantly the natural crevasses of the tunnels, shaped by unknown forces long ago, while thinking or day-dreaming could spell certain death. Where he grew up there is no place for such follies. Maybe some boys similar to him, free and far away could do such a thing?

- I do – Atef responded decisively, curious to see what this lesson will ultimately lead to.

- The stories teach us Atef, and the one I am about to tell you relates to the saying I just shared with you and the history of our great Empire. It was the turning point, not so distant in the past, and yet all encompassing. Everything changed because of it and the world tumbled upside down. Atef’s eyes screamed he wanted to hear, to understand this odd new surface world.

- Our former Emperor, Raimund, was a hesitant man just as the saying goes. He hesitated in forming alliances, he hesitated in displaying might or heeding to advice. His father on the other hand… that was a different man. Turelian was warmongering and cunning in his youth. He left behind a lot of new land, good land, for Raimund to rule over. But he lost the respect of nobility, clergy and merchants quickly with his hesitancy. Dukes, counts, earls, even lowly barons started making decisions outside of the Emperor’s will and the Omolog council attuned their ears to money and offered alliances, punishment and forgiveness for the right price.

- Next to our Empire there is a pompous and ghastly kingdom whose customs are next to barbarous. Rethia is its name, and the taut peace we had with them was the consequence of trade, with the very same metal and crystal that your mine provides Atef. Do you feel important now? Your laboring and suffering underground prevents a new slaughter above.

- Its king, Goriad, envied our power and wealth. His treasuries did not overflow with riches, trade did not prosper, and Turelian stripped him of many allies whose lands he took, their names dispersed by wind into nothingness, never to be remembered. All of that worried Goriad … no, it is better to say gnawed him from the inside. He felt as sort of a slave to our Empire. See, Atef? Even as a king you can be a slave. Especially if an enormous, mountain-like beast sleeps right beside you, and you have no idea whether it is going to wake up hungry to bite off a piece of meat or devour you. That’s why you pet and scratch it for its comfortable slumber and hope that it will enjoy it so much that it never wakes up hungry. All of that causes fear. Fear leads to mistrust, mistrust to wariness or paranoia, followed by malevolence and hatred and in the very end plotting, illusions and collusions. Whichever gods Goriad prayed to, they listened.

Everard made a short pause and inhaled with significance in the act of getting ready to divulge the source of all evil that befell the Empire and changed countless destinies.

Priorat Silas died – he paused emphasizing the importance of the event although to Atef the name and the fact the person was dead meant nothing. He saw enough death, so his stare did not give away any understanding to the significance of this particular one.

Priorat Silas ruled Besria, and Besria… Besria is worth bleeding for. Atef’s pupils spread suddenly, he wanted to hear more about Besria, what makes it valuable.

- Although Raimund was a hesitant fool, he knew he should hold the area with the largest commercial port in the known world, Belgard, the Crimson worm. Any ruler would guard such city with jealousy, and Silas Postroian, the eleventh in Postroians’ line which ruled Besrian lands since remembrance was first etched into clay tablets, was a loyal subject who guarded Belgard for Raimund. Turelian incorporated it into the Empire through conquest, you know.

- Have you ever guarded anything with jealousy Atef? – Everard’s unexpected question suddenly took mastery of the conversation.

- One string of beads, with all them praying runes, all that I had from my ma’. And now I don’t even have that – responded Atef to the stunningly unrelated question, his pupils revealing hesitantly one of his most grievous secrets.

- Nothing more than a simple string of beads? – Everard continued inquisitively examining the boy as if he was a sinner who buried his burden deep within the soul.

- Just tha’- he responded simply.

- And some sort of a secret, one privy only to you, something you saw in the mine. Something some boss told you never to speak of under threat of death, if you were to bark it out in the pit?

- No – he responded worryingly. – Master… tutor Everard, what canna a rat like me deep below know that a tutor above here didn’t see or hear?

Everard shrugged his shoulders agreeingly after short pondering.

- Where was I?

- At Belgard, the Crimson worm. And why do they call it the Crimson worm?

- After the river Atef. The river Kaon, the biggest in the Empire, is red in summer. What is more relevant to our story than the naming conventions was the problem of inheritance which rattled through the court. In vain though … Everard continued his lecture navigating Atef through the web of blood and interest ties embroiled in intrigue, discoveries and emerging alliances. All of that groundwork culminated in the discovery that Silas was slain. His widow grabbed power with the intent to siphon the Besrian riches to Rethia and Untar, with which she became very close, in exchange for freedom from the Empire.

Atef felt the whole lecture about nobility’s relationships tiring so he tried turning the names and vivid descriptions of nobles into faces placing them mentally on a tapestry hanging on the opposite wall to the painting of the noble in the perfectly clean hunting gear. He drew connecting lines between them, grouped them into factions in different corners of the tapestry often-times having to move an individual who was simply, everywhere. These men would promise the world to anyone and in the end, either stand on the winning or losing side ultimately decided by their capability to estimate the odds. The fact that Silas died in an excruciating manner finally sparked Atef’s attention after a long-winded fact-spewing tirade on various factions’ sets and subsets.

- All of that ended with the War of the Tricolors, the biggest conflict this world has ever seen. Unfortunately, our Empire was defeated, Besria and other territories lost, becoming marionets of Rethia and Untar, our borders redrawn and unfavorable trade terms imposed instead of those we once had. The Omolog council, that pitiful, limp hand guided from beyond is now our master in this troubled time while what’s left from the imperial family is nowhere to be found. It is told that they took what they could and ran south guided by unfavorable sea-winds while Raimund rots on Hoplon fields. Total defeat. Now you see how easily the world can turn upside down, just as yours did?

- I see – he lied picturing everything he had just heard as just another fairytale, similar to those told underground. Atef’s world was incomparable, insignificant to Everard’s story. For him Raimund and Goriad’s vying for power was similar to that of Zigo and Darek. Zigo, an old and established overseer, was building his position for years handling a better portion of the mine where he enjoyed being the master of life and death. However, his governance was the epitome of pragmatism. As long as the slaves were meeting the quota, there was enough food to go around and the occasional punishment was light enough so that the healing of whip marks and other bruises was a matter of days rather than months. There weren’t many who would dare express their ambition or malcontent in the poorly lit side-tunnels enshrined with wooden beams.

Darek, on the other hand had all the qualities of a future master, grubby ambition engulfed with aggression and the capability to cunningly tame the two while waiting for the right opportunity. He started off small, an insignificant slave driver in an irrelevant side tunnel of the hive carved under the mountain range known colloquially as the Three Saintes. The passage of time bore opportunities which finally culminated in a mesh of love towards a slave woman, gambling debts and alcoholism imbuing a single person with a dagger in his hand. After that night, Darek became the master of life and death, and who stood with him when time was right is taken care of. At least until ambition finds its newest champion.

- Who knows, maybe he is one of the reasons why I still breathe – zipped through the boy’s consciousness while he was searching for further touchpoints with Everard’s story which would mold tissue on his skeletal understanding of this world “above”. The game as well as the bid were the same, the boardgame much more complex, and the ultimate prize incomprehensible from the rat’s point of view. The world compared to a couple of hundred souls carving their lifeblood into stone, seeking its gifts only with hope that, as a reward, they will leave their bones there later and in peace rather than earlier and through violence.

- Today’s lesson is over – the tutor startled Atef jumping out of his chair looking equally gigantic in the room as he was when he first entered it. – I will send someone to bring you food, so that you can have a big meal. Tomorrow, we move on to more important lessons.

- Thanks tutor. Thanks for everything, I hope I wouldda show my time here is worth it and that I wouldda be the best learner in the whole world! The best one that ever was in the Empire, Rethia, Untar, even Besria!

Everard smiled one last time and just before leaving, he gazed with importance at Atef. The boy thought he saw deep brooding behind those eyes, a kind that prequels making a big decision which would mean success or ruin. Everard wished him a good night and left the room. The lock clicked just as it always does.