Epistem- Rise of the Slave King's Heir

by Jani Griot

  She had never seen Ochloc angrier than when he had sent almost everyone, all Honorborn and slave alike, to the edges of his home. All save one. Yes, everyone had gone, but he’d not ushered her away. Her chosen position left the king visibly unsettled. She had often heard the princess claim that Almarine was a favored slave amongst her father’s property, but she’d not believed it until then.

  She would have smiled at the confused faces of Honorborn men and women being rushed past a slave throwing a tantrum, but this was the day her son had died. The day her hope for the future of her people died.

  The king scoffed. He held in his hand a powerful object. He stared down at it as he walked in frantic circles. To anyone else he would seem calm, measured, though perhaps a bit annoyed. Almarine knew differently. His emotions ran deeper than mere annoyance this day.

  “I must wonder, in moments such as this, if my father is still playing his games.” Ochloc spoke as though he were thinking aloud, but the softness of his words told her otherwise. He was speaking to himself, yes. But also to her. To her, to himself, to all the gods that ever were and would be.

  “He isn’t truly dead as long as this crown exists,” continued the man, speaking secrets to a woman who once respected him. And she’d done so even when the entirety of the world knew him as treacherous and vile by his very nature. She chose to cherish the protection granted her by a man who belittled her. Even though she would soon hold his last secret, knowing enough to cripple the man wouldn’t be enough for her. She determined that she would tell the world everything she knew, even if those were the last words she would speak.

  “They think… I’ve told the world my father was buried beneath his workshop in Sand Mountain, but if they knew the truth of his resting place or the power of his lexicon, I believe even more would be at our doorstep with threats,” spoke the man, still staring at the relic he held. Almarine had only seen the item in her youth. Except, she recalled that it was filled with a far brighter light. She remembered it only because she had seen it floating above the head of the former king of the sands.

  “Hmm. I have the slightest edge over my enemies due to my father’s crown, but that power, strong as it is, won’t last forever. I’ll either kill my rivals and die at the next challenge my kingdom faces, or I will idle too long and allow my enemies to unite and rise. To bring me down,” said the king with a lengthy exhale.

  “Losing that boy wasn’t worth sending him out for a potential windfall, but Vola always knew where to find the flowers for my father. I often felt as if they both knew something I didn’t. And… I just hoped…” the king trailed off sighing as he came to a stop in front of Almarine. He was in front of her in that moment, but her gaze was still set far beyond the king. She wondered if the man knew she could see right through him, and that such sight didn’t require even a glimpse in his direction.

  He bent slightly at the waist. She could feel his eyes boring into hers. He didn’t know. He saw her as he wanted to. To him, she was a defenseless slave with no mind to do him harm.

  “I chose to kill my childhood friend, Lady Silence. And that choice has haunted me ever since I had him dragged through the sands into the gallows.” He paused. There was a far-off look in his eye. She didn’t have to look at him to see that. She could feel it. It was in his voice, his posture, the pacing of his breath.

  “But his death, it was… less of a risk than his growing power,” explained the king.

  Almarine, in that moment, chose for the first time to be truly mindless. But that choice of mindlessness failed her. She chose not to think of Vola. But she did think of him. Her mind and soul were flooded with him. Visions of her unrequited love for the father of her now dead child, the pain of feeling like she was nothing, the light that emerged when she gave birth to Ark; all these things were not mindless. Neither could she be.

  The king’s father had chosen her when she was just a girl to watch over the young heir to the throne. She was chosen for such a lofty task because she was intelligent and had an affinity for the aspects of univers that directly correlated to light and life force. But she was condemned to silence. To her, it seemed a fair trade. It would be better to be kept safe, even under the watch of a madman, than to be beaten daily in the streets of the keep. To give her a will to live, a reason to drive her. She was young and in want of a better life. Something she’d never dared to dream of.

  Almarine’s importance in Vassilious changed early on, however. She had caught a traitor spying on a conversation between the then-king and Ochloc. She had wordlessly alerted the king to this, pointing to the culprit from the shadows. Pointing would soon become her only true method of communication, and she excelled at it. The Sandmaker was so impressed with her dedication to him, Almarine received a promotion of sorts.

  Trained to be the quiet warning measure to the king against any threats, she was never far from his side. She had never failed either king in her appointed duties, and had eventually grown into a role of leadership, guiding and wordlessly instructing most of the slaves in the keep, pointing to indicate what needed done.

  Now, the king unburdened himself of the few things he’d stressed over in his current situation. Even if he were paying attention, he wouldn’t have known that someone was approaching them. That that someone had stopped just outside the room.

  Almarine had little control over her gifts as most of the slaves who tapped into their sleeping talents did. After meeting Vola, everything had changed in her small world, and the magics she learned developed over time. She started off as all those who were taught to harness and use their magic did, by learning the power of words, the power of arcana. But she evolved her use of univers rapidly, as she evolved all her skill sets, and soon she was able to detect the presence of a person, and also pinpoint the identity of that person, far before she could see them.

  The king stared once more at the item in his palm, and Almarine tried to shake the thoughts of Vola from her mind, to bring herself back to the present. Where once again, someone was spying on the king’s conversation. She knew almost immediately that it was her son, Aemillious, standing just out of view.

  Typically, she wouldn’t allow such treachery, but her sight extended far beyond vision, far beyond immediate perceptions and appearances. She knew the boy shared his father’s thirst for patricide, but no longer cared. If Aemillious wanted his father dead; she would not put forth a single boundary to hinder his path.

  “I may have made a mistake in killing my friend, and again when I used his son for my current objectives, but unused tools will rust as you saw today,” stated the king, placing as much value on her son’s life as the training instruments used by his soldiers.

  “If it weren’t for the boy’s earlier victory, I would not be able to return our lands to the kind of stability seen during my father’s reign. But now, even without the boy, we may have a chance to prosper once more.” The king was beginning to rant.

  “Ezra will be able to compete in the Sea Sun Games on my behalf. If she can obtain a piece of trinity that doesn’t conflict with the two pieces of the trinity I’ve already obtained, I may be able to move beyond the limitations of mortals.” Ochloc set the crown of his father in the air, just above his head, allowing it to float there.

  Almarine’s eyes jolted toward the king as the room slowly grew brighter. It was as if the sun itself was rising within the room. She both tried and wanted to look away but couldn’t, as power soaked the room with volatile energies.

  The crown shook above his head, lowering momentarily, only to rise up again. The distortion around the crown indicated that there was a conflict between the man trying to harness the energy and the source of the energy itself. This, Almarine came to understand, meant that the king was not the rightful wielder of the crown’s power.

  “I will be the first born from the sands to reach the highest realm, and even my father will not be able to stop me from reclaiming our family’s mantle of power.”

  Almarine sto
od staring at the lines of Ochloc’s face, wondering if it was truly only her love for Vola that broke the man before her. The malice in his features was as endless as the rage that perpetually churned and built in her chest.

  “Father?” The word came from over Almarine’s shoulder. Aemillious’s voice was smooth and deep as he made himself known. Ochloc slid the crown into the folds of his tabard, turning to face his son. The boy entered the room and Almarine could imagine the young man’s face as he spoke. A near identical reflection of the king in his youth, stood next to his father, forcing a concern she knew was false. She had always been able to touch the minds of her sons, and Aemillious was far worse at hiding his emotions than his younger brother had been even though Ark was never trained to restrain himself.

  “What is it?” asked the king, noticeably reddening. Aemillious’s eyes flicked between the two as Almarine turned around. Disgust rose to fill the young man’s visage as he ventured farther into the space, but the look was fleeting, and vanished so quickly, Almarine almost believed it hadn’t been there it at all.

  “The merchant, Carter, wants to discuss matters of both currency and court with you. I did my best to fill in in your absence, but we have come to a point in which my decisions no longer carry any weight.”

  The king took in a deep breath, likely readying to lecture his son, but instead, Ochloc closed his mouth and nodded.

  Mother and son shared a look, almost as if both knew they were related and had done this enough times to lose count, as any true family would. Their mirrored confusion made the two uncomfortable enough to immediately look away, leaving the king standing in an even more powerful silence formed by years of his own destructive habits.

  “Have you seen the Sky Prince since our slaves died?” the king asked his son. The younger man responded affirmatively. The king nodded once more in Aemillious’s direction and headed for the wing of his home that held the richest man in the realm. The only man powerful enough to threaten his kingdom with pure resource and might alone.

  Almarine watched as father and son receded from her direct view, leaving her with her thoughts. Leaving her to contemplate. Leaving her with the secrets of the sands. Leaving her with a drive to watch her master’s life come to an end; a desire further fueled by his final words. Words she should not even be able to comprehend.

  The king clapped his son on the back. “We may have lost the most valuable weapon in all the lands this day, but we still have coin to make, trades to tend to. And, when it comes to Carter, perhaps it’s time to arrange a marriage.”

  The Pleasure of Revenge

  The prince and his father exited the kitchen and entered a corridor that opened into the small hallway just before the manor’s library. Aemillious’ father put out his hand stopping his son’s stride just before the room’s entryway. The prince glanced toward the man seated in the middle of the king’s favorite room, before turning his back to him to expand Ochloc’s privacy. If only his father knew just how much he sold that same privacy for. Would he still try and bond with Aemillious through the expanding separation of their connection? Would Aemillious be alive?

  “We must make as much as possible, or we may lose the chance to host the Sea Sun Games.” Ochloc paused and looked Aemillious over. “Now, both you and your sister may be strong, but the pair of you are far too inexperienced with the outside world for me to feel confident in your victory in foreign lands.”

  Aemillious could not help but feel his father’s comments were directed at him, rather than his both himself and Ezra. He forced his rising anger down with the entirety of his being, giving a simple nod before his father turned away from him, entering the library.

  The king was powerful, yes, but he did not have eyes in the back of his head, nor would his vanity allow him to plant them there if it were possible. He would never see the face his son wore like a dagger pointed at his back.

  “How is it possible that I am only now meeting the supposed king of the merchants?” asked Ochloc as he strode into the room. The merchant lifted his head to look toward the Honorborn as they entered, his hood leaving only his broadening, dry, wrinkled, and chapped smile visible.

  “Because the supposed king of slaves needs no support selling his wares, or so your seneschal and many other delegates have told my own over the cycles,” said the merchant. The king pursed his lips before nodding once and gesturing for Aemillious to sit.

  “I mean no disrespect, Sir Carter. My kingdom was vastly changed after my father was killed, and there may not have been slaves during his reign, but there were slaves before his time, and there are slaves once more. In both situations—before and after my father, I mean—one thing remained the same,” the king said, joviality bleeding through his words.

  Carter’s smile deepened and he looked between the father and son. “I assume you're alluding to the seclusion of your slaves from the rest of the realm. The reason for which you’ve claimed your slaves are superior, even though they lack education of any sort?” asked the merchant in just as playful a tone as the king had exerted. Both father and son nodded and Aemillious was surprised when Carter did as well.

  “My best come from these lands. I will admit that. I can also admit that having a blank slate to work with has long been beneficial when buying your….” The man trailed off momentarily as if lost in thought. Father and son shared a confused glance but were both used to eccentric individuals in the court. Which made ignoring the man’s odd actions simple and effortless.

  “Goods, but not being able to use your kingdom’s centralized location to transport wares to the rest of the realm has far too long been a hindrance in my operations, so—” started Carter but the king took the man’s subtle pause in stride and interjected. Not wanting the man to lose his train of thought once more. That is what the prince assumed his father was attempting. His father probably thought the man to be an idiot, not knowing the man was speaking to hundreds of others all at once during that very meeting.

  “You would like to make the keep a trading hub, and trade in all three of the realm’s most powerful kingdoms, completing your trinity of trade?” asked the king.

  The man sat silently, letting the king’s question hang in the air almost as if it were never asked. Aemillious looked at the man through his true sight and forced his mouth shut.

  The inverted spectrum forced Aemillious to squint as the univers being cast out by Carter was near blinding. Thousands of strands of arcana flowed around the man’s head like a lion’s mane. Each individual strand a silent conversation being had mentally across potentially unimaginable distances. Aemillious could feel the nature of the merchant’s abilities and now knew that not belittling this man was sound logic.

  “Is that not what you want?” asked the king. Carter only looked toward Aemillious and cocked his head to the side, before completely ignoring the king’s question.

  You aren’t the only individual with their eyes wide open, child, said the merchant king as Aemillious watched the man crack his eyelids slightly. Aemillious was forced to close his eyes. His head throbbed and he turned down his awareness of all the energies of univers, rubbing his eyes vigorously as he did so.

  When Aemillious looked up once more, all natural colors had returned to normal, but things had shifted slightly. He waited for either man to speak, allowing his elders to require what they may, rather than giving any unnecessary information from his own hand of cards.

  “What you don’t seem to understand is that there are things of far higher value in your kingdom than just slaves, and even those you undervalue, such as those ruse boys.” The man stopped speaking for yet another long while before he grunted dismissively. Both king and prince nearly jumped at the sound. “Bah!” Carter barked at the king. “What is the real ruse? That they aren’t boys or is it that they aren’t old blooded?” the merchant asked.

  His hood shuffled. Aemillious assumed the man’s gaze swiveled between him and his father. A gaze he no longer wanted settled upon hi
m. He wasn’t even entirely sure if he knew what the man was and was almost excited to ask his aunt what she knew of the merchant king of the realm. It wasn’t until Carter spoke again that Aemillious realized he wasn’t the only one stunned to silence by the man’s words.

  “I find it quite the coincidence that all ruse boys are trained only in your kingdom. Even more of a coincidence that you cut their hair the way you do, and it took me a while to see them for what they were but,” he waved his right hand across his chest. “As an old man, it sometimes takes me a longer time to remember old things,” explained Carter.

  “The old bloods never did cut their hair, did they? As it further connected them to univers. I know this may sound ridiculous but, I have a memory from the first time I was sold. I remember that an old blooded woman had to have her hair shaved off. Men holding the scales of a dragon used them as razors, chipping away at her hair. It took nearly all the hair on her head to be shaved before her body was weak enough for the executioner’s hooks to puncture her skin. Can you believe that?” asked the man, but he directed the question at no one. It was as though he’d long since known the answer.

  “That’s beside the point. I wonder… what you were thinking when you let a natural born loose on the world?” asked Carter, now facing the king. Ochloc looked away from the man and toward Aemillious.

  Aemillious stared back at his father, taking in his long hair, which was a trait that only men in his family seemed permitted to maintain, regardless of the trends of neighboring royalty. Men wore short hair nearly everywhere else in the realm. Aemillious couldn’t help but touch his own long strands as he contemplated.