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Good King Laexor Malefic boarded the Royal Aerial Mech with a grimness tainting his heart. The mech was massive, the largest of its kind. Painted in his favorite hue of sapphire, boasting two massive virtuuce cannon turrets and dragon fire-repellent armor, it was indeed a masterpiece of human ingenuity. The fuselage was tall with rounded sides, the cockpit large and bulbous in the front, allowing the mech operator a full view of the skies, and the rear was fitted with an enormous engine. The wingspan was double the length of the mech and folded vertically when the craft was not in use. Though he admired the ship, the grimness of Laexor’s heart could not be nullified. The Virtuusian ambassador had returned, and the three-century-long peace that had been cherished between the people of Atlantis and the Beasts of Rhea was deteriorating quickly. Queen Myra believed if Laexor could not find a way to quell the demands of the Virtuusians, the dispute between the two peoples would lead to all-out war.
But King Laexor wasn’t concerned. His mechs were ready.
Nurtia stands with us, as I stand with her.
Laexor fingered his intricately carved hourglass pendant that hung from his neck, cut from the largest of sapphires. It symbolized Nurtia, goddess of Death, time, and fate. King Laexor was close with the shapeless goddess, a goddess that filled mortals with dread, though he knew her to be loving. His immaculate sword pommel was encrusted with gleaming sapphires, the gemstone chosen to represent Nurtia.
A large man greeted him inside the Royal Aerial Mech, a man he knew well. Cory Rockhart was tall, as tall as Queen Myra, a full head taller than Laexor. He was hated and fancied by women, drawing them in with his cold yet glowing eyes, close-cut and carefully shaped beard, short spiked hair, furious jawline, and the body of a warrior. His was a body shaped to entice and ensnare the fairer sex. He was hated because he tended to love and leave, to use women to fulfill his desires and leave theirs unfulfilled. But his flaws aside, the man was the best Aerial Mech pilot the world had ever seen.
His voice was low, more growl than voice. The man had a terrible smoking habit, which left his voice torn and scarred. Which was also a lure to the women he preyed upon. He pounded a closed fist against his gray flight suit, right next to his dagger pendant that was always around his neck, bending at the waist into a low bow. “King Laexor, the Phoenix is ready for flight.”
King Laexor stopped in front of the man, “This is well, Commander Rockhart. We must depart for Atlantis immediately. Ambassador Traelic has arrived... somewhat unexpectedly, at the Eternal Tower.”
Cory folded his arms and leaned against the fuselage, fury on his face. “The Beasts of Rhea respect no one. They treat us like we are lesser creatures than they.”
King Laexor took his seat next to a small girl. He smiled at her, but she avoided his gaze, shy of the good King. He returned his gaze to the offended pilot, wishing to be done with the complaining and to get on their way. “Rockhart, be that as it may, you are to pilot my craft, not lecture me on how the Virtuusians lack basic manners.”
His nostril twitched, and his jaw clenched, but the muscular man pounded his chest and bowed again. “Yes, my liege.” Laexor watched him go with a steady gaze, not wary in the least. Rockhart was a brute but was loyal to a fault. Shortly after, the craft rumbled to life, the skyward pointing wings lowered to flying position, and the massive engines screamed as the Royal Aerial Mech took to the sky.
Laexor turned back to the small girl, still avoiding his gaze. “You must not be frightened, my dear. I mean you no ill will.”
The short brown-haired girl wore a small cap with a flower adorning it, her hair straight at her sides. She glanced at him, briefly making eye contact before looking back out her window. She spoke then, soft as a whisper. “The Black Maw flies like we do. He will return to end us all.”
The Black Maw was a rogue dragon, fearsome, a creature of myths. Laexor knew the creature existed and how formidable it was, and the beast haunted his dreams whenever the creature could. Visions of his brother Linus burning from the blast of dragon fire that sent him to the Halls of Nurtia before his time. He shook the dread from his heart. “The Black Maw? No, the creature has not been seen in half a decade. You needn’t worry, my dear.” He began fishing for a sucker he kept on his person for such instances. It never dawned on him that the only person who should be flying in the Royal Aerial Mech, or RAM, was either himself, his boy Raktor, or his beloved Queen Myra. The small girl would not have been permitted. Finally, he found the sucker and turned to offer it to her.
When she saw the sucker, she smiled, like he had offered her a pony. Like the sucker was the grandest of gifts, a one-of-a-kind. Her joyous face lit the large sitting area, her eyes filled with tears, then she took the sucker from him.
Then, in a flash of blue, she was gone.
Yet another spirit that only he could see. Blessed by another visitor from the Halls of Nurtia. Laexor sighed and looked forward, finding the stewardess, a young and petite woman with a pretty face, staring at him, but not only at him. She also stared at the sword hanging from his hip, uneasiness glinting in her eyes.
She was staring at Atlantis’ beloved yet mad King, who had been talking to seemingly no one. A man who leans in death’s doorway, caressing a shapeless goddess. A man who can see and speak with those who have gone before.
It was at this point that his stomach cramped, delivering excruciating pain throughout his core. He expected this. The stomach cramps always came after a visit from one who went before. He also knew that his chamber pot would be filled with wine-dark liquid later.
His mind wobbled, teetering on the brink between this world and the next. Many spirits came into view, some he recognized, some he didn’t, then would fade away, leaving just the stewardess. Then, the spirits would return as his mind faltered. He gripped his hourglass pendant, grunting from nausea and pain, squeezing the small carved sapphire until he felt a sting and the wetness of blood in his grip, and slowly, his being and mind balanced.
He was glad that he was able to become lucid once more. It didn’t always happen that way, leaving him dazed and confused for entire days following a visit. He opened his hand, scarred from similar experiences spanning many years, and watched the blood slowly pool into his palm. He focused on his breathing, relaxing his body, calming his tortured core muscles. The symptoms of his closeness to Nurtia, the supernatural, were only pleasant until his visitor decided to leave him. Then, the tolls of the visit wracked his body with pain and anguish. But he was grateful to have met the young lady, as it was very possible that her loved ones never got to speak to her in this world again.
It was an honor, young one. Go thee well.
The rest of the flight was brief, and Laexor spent the time pondering on the Ambassador. Before he knew it, the beautiful and lively city of Atlantis stretched out beneath them, with The Eternal Tower at the center of it all. It was a tower like no other, crafted with the mechanical exactness of the first and only automated construction mechs. Each stone was cut identically and laid perfectly, all with the construction mechs invented by the great architect and inventor Almenz Zael. The exactness gave the tower a queer feel. Almenz had destroyed the construction mechs and the coinciding blueprints soon after the tower’s completion to protect the exclusivity of that uniqueness. Nothing in the known universe could compare to its exact construction.
The Eternal Tower had been notified of the Royal Aerial Mech’s arrival, and the spire had already been opened to allow them to land on the utmost floor without delay. The stewardess, rigid with fear the entire flight, breathed a sigh of relief as Laexor exited, which pained him. He viewed himself as an honorable and good king and gave all he was able to his people. But they still feared him. They feared him because he was mad, and he was mad because of his soul’s close proximity to the world of the dead, described in the Scrolls of the Gods as the Halls of Nurtia.
Of course, none of the doctors believed his explanation, and it did not matter to Laexor. They thought him to be suffering from a disease called porphyria. But he knew better than they. The symptoms were similar, but the cause was not a disease of the flesh. This affliction—or blessing, depending on how you viewed the world—prevented him from fulfilling his one dream: to be loved by his people. Instead of love and praise, he got reactions like the stewardess, even when his gifts allowed him to resolve mysteries and solve problems otherwise insurmountable.
Can’t a man be loved and feared?
#
He got his answer as his incredibly tall, beloved, and beautiful wife of five years rushed to greet him, to embrace him, to stoop down and kiss him. Queen Myra was a mighty woman, a full head taller than Laexor, slightly hunched due to her stature. Her eyes of gold bore into his of ice blue. Her black hair framed her face and hung loose at her sides, her intoxicating white and toothy smile, her thin pink lips framing her white teeth perfectly.
She sighed and tousled his black hair, then spoke with her airy and articulate voice, a sound that Laexor cherished with what of his heart was not already given to Nurtia. “Laexor, your hair is in need of taming.”
Laexor leaned in and kissed her again, “That’s the way I like it, woman,” he pulled her waist firmly against his, “It is the best way to get you close enough to grab!”
Queen Myra flushed pink, “Oh, the gods save us. You always know how to embarrass me, my king.”
From behind came the sound of Cory Rockhart clearing his throat, blocked into the RAM by Laexor and Myra’s public display of devotion. “My Liege, Ambassador Traelic awaits you. The overzealous queen can have her time with you after the meeting.”
Queen Myra scowled at Cory, “This is of no concern to you, Rockhart. The virtuous women of the tavern can survive without your coin until I am finished with my king.” She kissed Laexor again, long and slow. Laexor felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he fell deeper into the affections of Myra.
Cory scowled and did nothing.
She was the one to finally pull away, “Come, my king.” She winked at him and curtsied low.
Her submissiveness was always tantalizing to King Laexor, as he knew that it was all for his benefit. He knew that it was in jest, as she was, in reality, a woman strong enough to stand on her own. Laexor thought her flirtations were most welcome. She was his, and he was hers. He was proud of his wife, and her affections were marvelous.
She arose from her curtsy, noting how his eyes had grown a deeper blue. She knew very well what the King fancied and was more than happy to yield to his needs. Queen Myra further examined her king, with his messy black hair, clean-shaven face, and deceptively basic leather tunic and well-fitting trousers.
That cursed hourglass around his neck.
But what she queued in on was the light sheen of sweat that graced his hairline and his neck and the blood that had scabbed upon his hand.
He has had another one of his spells.
She was very glad he had recovered on his own, as she often lost her temper when her efforts to console him didn’t affect the dazed man. She was not the most patient of wives, nor the most loving and caring, nor the most nurturing of mothers. When his spells came, as they often did after dealing justice to criminals, it was best for him to weather the symptoms alone. During those times, she would retreat to a garden to admire the life there as her husband dealt with his admiration of death.
She grasped her king’s blood-encrusted hand and pulled him to the stairs, leaving the paperwork to be completed by that goram Cory Rockhart.
If I have to hear another story about one of his female conquests weeping in the streets, I will have the man beheaded!
She was not a fan of Commander Rockhart and incessantly requested her husband select another pilot for the RAM.
A good, respectable king should be in good, respectable company.
The long and shallow stairs allowed an easy descent for her, while Laexor tended to stumble, as his stride was not nearly as long as hers. She looked back over her shoulder at her husband, not breaking stride. “Sorry about the rush, my king, but we must beat Traelic to the Great Hall. It is not fitting for the King to yield the floor to a mere ambassador.”
King Laexor grunted, more sweat gracing his forehead. The pace was rapid, but he was very much enjoying himself. His eyes traveled from his wife’s feet, along her long legs, her shapely hips, tight waist, slightly hunched shoulders, and shiny black hair. The purple gown, her preferred color, hugged her figure in all the right places. He desired her and secretly hoped to have a private moment with her when the Ambassador had said his piece and left.
Perhaps two private moments. Laexor smiled to himself. I am the King, after all.
They reached the ground level, a foyer filled with armed guards and two massive and ornate doors, then continued down the stairs below the ground. The Great Hall, in an attempt to control entry, to protect the King from rogue magical beasts, and to protect the secrets of The Crown, had been constructed several stories underground. Laexor, stumbling on yet another step, wondered if Myra enjoyed embarrassing him in front of his subjects.
I will have to interrogate her later.
Finally, the pair reached the large wooden double doors of the Great Hall. The crown emblem was carved deeply into the ancient hardwood, divided evenly between the double doors. The usher pushed the doors open for them, and then Myra abruptly stopped and practically threw the King out in front of her and into the Great Hall. He could hear her chuckle to herself behind him as he stumbled in unattractively. He turned back to frown at her, only to discover that she had regained her grace and entered with the power of her station. He couldn’t help but smile at her cunning. She was a fantastic creature, and he was proud to know her, even if she liked to embarrass him from time to time.
#
The announcer bellowed, “Good King Laexor Malefic, presiding.” After showing Laexor to his seat at the center of the crescent table, he announced Queen Myra and guided her to her place on the right side of the King. The High Council, ten in total, one from each of the ten Great Cities, were already seated. They muttered amongst themselves and did not bother Laexor or Myra. The Queen slid her chair closer to Laexor’s, resting her left hand on the top of his leg. She occasionally ran the tips of her manicured nails up and down his thigh absentmindedly.
Or, what King Laexor assumed was absentmindedly.
Queen Myra was actually deep in thought concerning Ambassador Traelic, the combative elf who had created this great divide between their people and the Beasts of Rhea, or the Virtuusians. She knew what he wanted and would demand again: the return of the coastal lands to the Virtuusians. If Laexor conceded to their demands, the port cities of Ankara and Patara, two of the most wealthy and populated Great Cities, would be vacated, and the families there relocated. Humankind would lose access to fishing and the farmlands there, most likely permanently. This, of course, was unacceptable.
This was, in fact, the third visit from the elf, who, if this visit were similar to the other two, would cite the history of how humans, when we had first landed at Virtice, had nothing. That the goodness of the Virtuusians allowed the humans to stay and had graciously gifted us the right to live on the land; then, he would sling insults, following up his boasting with the Virtuusian philosophy that all land belonged to no one, that it was the responsibility of all to care for it. Then, the threats of war would begin. She sighed loudly, stressed over the encounter.
Her loving husband, ever in tune with her emotions, leaned over and whispered, “It will all be alright, Myra. No need to stress this much over a single elf.”
She forced a smile, “I know, you have the situation under control.”
But she truly believed that he didn’t have the situation under control. He had fumbled through the last two meetings with the Ambassador, and had not controlled the conversation or the discourse from the ten High Councilmen. Myra knew that if she did not interject and interrupt the same pattern of conversation, no discussion would be had, and war could surely follow. But, at the same time, she could not make the King appear weak.
The rumors are hard enough to combat.
She did not believe the King was in his right mind. Laexor denied the doctor’s diagnosis of porphyria, and to confront him about this yielded only anger and derision between him and Myra. She was tired of fighting him over it and was convinced that the madness had gripped him so firmly that she could never convince him that he was actually sick. So she had decided years ago that damage control would be the only logical recourse, so to say something that weakened the King’s image even further would only create more work for her. More rumors to quell, more dirty whispers to silence.
At last, the little elf arrived, wearing riding leathers, accompanied by his unicorn companion. The unicorn hovered in the doorway, as usual, refusing to enter. The elf, Traelic, entered, disdain on his orange-tinted face, his pointed ears held flat against his head like an annoyed cat. While the humans and the Virtuusians were at peace, they did not think highly of one another.
Traelic stood before the High Councilmen, king, and Queen, saying nothing. Finally, Laexor waved his bloodied hand, gesturing the elf to begin his petition. Still, the elf said nothing. The High Council muttered one to another, their low voices making the situation even more awkward. Finally, Laexor spoke, breaking the silence. His voice was level, annoyingly so. “Traelic, speak your piece or leave. We do not have time to sit here staring at one another.”
The elf cocked an eyebrow, “I have spoken, Laexor. I am here awaiting your answer. Surely, a high human such as yourself can understand that.”
Laexor didn’t react as Myra thought he should, with indignation and rage at the creature who disrespected him openly in front of his subjects. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, fingering the cursed hourglass around his neck. “You wish to hear that we will vacate our cities and surrender the coast to you? A coast that is ours by right?”
“The land belongs to no one, foolish human.”
Laexor bore his ice-blue eyes into the fiendish elf. “You’re wrong, Traelic. It was a fair trade. We agreed to rid the land of rogue dragons, using the might of our inventions, and in return, we could settle the coast.”
“Settling does not mean owning.”
Laexor smoothed out one of his eyebrows. “Your people are not barred from the coast. It is you who chooses to stay away.”
Traelic grimaced, “We cannot be expected to live in the same vicinity as humans. Your kind would disrupt our way of life.”
“My brother Linus, the Halls grace him, gave his life hunting and slaying the beasts you nor Rhea could control. We have held up our end of the deal.”
The elf’s skin darkened to an angry red, the orange hue fading as fury and bloodlust crested the creature’s face. “You dare speak the goddess’ name? Your kind are heretical and disgusting brutes that have caused nothing but trouble for our blessed peoples.”
Laexor waved the Ambassador away, “Be gone, Traelic. The answer is no.”
The elf remained red, and he spoke with a quiet fury. “It is war, then.”
“Yes, yes. I suppose it is.” Laexor waved the elf away again, who did not move.
Queen Myra had seen enough of the bickering. She had seen enough of the little creature who dared to challenge their king. To threaten them, three times now, with war and bloodshed. She stood slowly, towering over the runt of a creature, and dug her nails into the wood of the table. “How can you speak of war with so little caring? We do not wish for war. We only wish to maintain what is ours. Why do you come as a guest into our Great City and threaten us so?”
As if he had just recognized her presence, Traelic looked the Queen up and down. “The goddess Rhea, holy one of harvest and fortune, grows tired of humans in her land. Her subjects grow tired of you as well. You have traded for our land. You have pushed further and further from where you were to stay. Now you are at Pillar’s door. This cannot be allowed.”
Laexor stood then as well and rested his hand on Myra’s arm in an attempt to calm her. “This is folly, Myra. The Virtuusians have no hope of winning a war against us.”
Myra was sure that she didn’t want to test his theory. She knew this magic that the Virtuusians wielded was a force to be reckoned with. It was not fully understood, though its power, held within canisters, powered their mechs and weaponry.
She shook off the King’s hand, “But there will be massive death on both sides of this war! Traelic, do not do this. Let us practice diplomacy, not warmongering. We have enjoyed years and years of peace with your kind and do not wish for war.”
Traelic pointed a little finger, his long fingernail visibly dirty and unclean, directly at the King. He completely disregarded the Queen’s pleas for peace, as the elf was eager to regain the land they traded away by conquest. “You may have the might of metal Laexor, but you lack the cunning to triumph against us. Mark my words, human. Blood will drench your cities of stone.”
Laexor shouted, his stoic calm broken by the threats from the Ambassador, “Be gone, elf! That yearning deep within you? Pay no heed. The lands are ours by trade. We will never relinquish them to you!”
Then, the elf smiled, his eyes glowing with blood lust. “So be it, human.” Then, he turned and left, his unicorn mount following close behind him, pink flame flickering from the four-legged creature’s eyes.
Laexor collapsed into his chair, weak from the conflict. He muttered over his shoulder then, though no one was there. “Leave me. You were of little help.” Then, he clenched his stomach, buckling forward in pain. He reached for his hourglass, breathing heavily, but Myra grabbed his hand first, wincing in pain as the King squeezed her hand with his full might.
Myra helped her poor husband to his feet, allowing him to lean on her shoulder as he stumbled towards the doorway with her. Some High Councilmen hollered after them. “What of the settlers? They finally move. They are ready to establish another Great City.”
the King grunted, then answered, “Give them... ah! All that we can. Help them... help them...” Then, he could not speak from the pain and folded forward and wretched on the floor.
Myra barked orders then, assertively taking control of the room. “Send me Gem Shavek, head of Mech Deployment, and send for the doctors to heal Laexor.” She nearly slipped in the vomit as she stumbled forward, the usher finally helping her with the King’s dead weight. “And for the Mother, someone clean this mess up!”