by Pirateaba
For a second Trey thought Orthenon would explode. His face flushed, but the steward strode off. After a minute the horsemen rode back towards the city. Flos grinned and turned to Trey.
“My apologies, Trey. I did not mean to interrupt you. I am sure Orthenon did not mean to either.”
Trey glanced at the steward as he hurried back over out of the corner of his eye.
“No…problem.”
“Indeed. Now, that is a curious set of titles you mentioned. Jesus of Nazareth. That is a good name for a leader. But Son of God? The gods are dead. Ah, but in your world…no. It still sounds arrogant beyond belief to my ears.”
“Well, he was. I mean, it’s a religion…”
Orthenon joined the group of people staring at Trey. Tongue tied into knots and heart pounding out of his chest, Trey tried to explain gods to a group of people who kept saying the same thing.
“The gods are dead.”
“That is a fact. But not in Trey’s world. This is fascinating. So this god of yours…what did he do?”
“All kinds of stuff. God stuff. You know, creating the world and so on…”
Trey was treated to a blank look magnified a hundredfold. He realized no one besides Teres knew what he was talking about.
So for the next three hours Trey essentially narrated a good portion of the Old Testament of the bible as he remembered it. He hadn’t exactly read it end to end, but Teres whispered in his ears—she was far too shy to speak up in front of everyone—and he told the story.
In front of a crowd of thousands. Trey didn’t know how much of the city had followed Flos out, but when he looked over his shoulders—
He did so now and saw a procession of people filling the road, stretching back as far as the eye could see. Every face was turned in his direction, and people were repeating what Flos had said, what he had said to the people behind them—
Trey swiveled his head forwards so he wouldn’t pass out. But Flos just kept walking with him, asking questions.
“So this god made your world.”
“Allegedly. Some people think he didn’t. Others say it was a different god—but in this religion he created the world, and his chosen people—”
“Who?”
“Hebrews.”
Teres volunteered that. Which led to a very confused explanation of the chosen people, and how they become slaves in Egypt, then been freed by the prophet Moses. Somehow, he found himself telling Flos about how they had marched around the walls of Jericho for seven days and seven nights, much to the King’s urbane amusement.
“And then they fell down, just like that? Would that Drevish could hear that!”
He laughed and the people behind him stirred. Trey chanced another glimpse and saw people laughing as well, or just smiling to see their King laugh once more.
“But that is a fascinating story! And rather similar to the tale of Gandhi, is it not?”
“No?”
“It was nonviolent. And it gives me an ever better idea…”
Flos caught everyone staring at him and coughed. He smiled at Trey.
“There are similarities.”
“Well…afterwards the army invaded Jericho and killed everyone. Men, women, and children.”
“Ah, a practical god. And a cruel one. Or is it his prophet that ordered it? No—I am confused. I apologize, Trey, but perhaps you had better explain the aspect of god to me at a later date. I confess, I do not fully understand that issue.”
Flos sighed. He stared around, acknowledging for the first time that this was not exactly a peaceful setting. There was a hum in the air, people talking, walking, laughing—and there were thousands of them.
Trey glanced at Orthenon. The steward had walked with his King, listening to Trey speak. But he kept staring at his King, and Trey felt like everyone had the same question in their minds. So he asked it. Trey was surprised to find that much courage in him, but he had just (poorly) narrated a good chunk of the bible to an audience of thousands and a King.
“Um…my King?”
“I thought I told you to call me Flos.”
Mars’ jaw dropped. Trey felt cold sweat on his neck as everyone—except for Gazi for some reason—stared at him.
“S-sorry. Uh, Flos, how far are we walking?”
“A good ways. I believe…well, we should get to our destination in two more hours.”
“Two more hours?”
Trey stared at Flos incredulously. But at his words Orthenon’s brows shot together. He stared behind him, and then with a curse called out. A group of armed soldiers rushed over—on foot—and he led them back down the procession at speed.
Flos grinned.
“It took him long enough to figure it out.”
Trey stared blankly at him, as did Mars. But Maresar glanced at Gazi and the half-Gazer returned the look in a way that told Trey that those two had figured out…whatever Orthenon was figuring out.
But now Trey’s attention was ahead. He spotted a village as they walked past. It came up quickly, but what was amazing to Trey was the reaction. At first, he saw people running back and forth. They probably thought an army was coming their way, and the people that had joined Flos were an army in themselves. But when they saw their King, they rushed towards him.
“Ah, we’ve come to places where my name has not spread. I am sorry Trey, but you may wish to stand back.”
Flos kept walking, and met the tide of people that rushed out of houses and ran towards him. They had tears in their eyes, some of them. He met them as he walked, touching them, speaking to them. But the words he spoke to them were the same mysterious statement and offer.
“I am walking. Would you care to join me?”
Soon, the procession behind Flos had swelled by over a hundred people. And that was not the only time. Soon, Trey found himself spotting other groups of people, heading towards them at speed. Other villages in their vicinity had seen the army and Flos.
“It’s been happening all this time. Haven’t you noticed?”
Teres pointed out another group of a hundred people streaming into the procession, hugging people they recognized, flocking to their King. And bringing food. [Farmers] came with wagons hauling all kinds of food, and people rushed to come back with food to feed the huge procession.
Trey didn’t understand what was happening. But from the smile on Flos’ face, everything was happening the way the King intended it. And part of the puzzle fell into place when Orthenon came racing back to the head of the considerably longer line of people, looking fit to kill someone.
“You’re using your damn Skill!”
He shouted at Flos, causing a localized hush. Flos only grinned in reply.
“Join us, Orthenon. I take it you had to run to catch up?”
Orthenon didn’t look too tired, but some of the armed soldiers looked positively exhausted. Trey stared at Flos. The King sighed.
“I suppose I should explain. Orthenon is correct, and Gazi presumably noticed it the instant we left the city. I am using a Skill on you all.”
“What sort of Skill?”
Trey couldn’t feel anything different about himself. Flos’ eyes twinkled, and it was Orthenon who snapped a reply.
“[Rapid March]. It is a Skill that [Generals] and other leaders have. It allows an army to move twice as fast on the road. And he’s been using it since we left Reim!”
“Indeed. And thanks to the pace I’ve set, we’ve moved a bit faster than normal. Now Trey, we’ve been marching for around four hours by my count. Think about that and understand why Orthenon is so upset.”
Flos grinned at his irate steward. Trey was uncomprehending, until Teres did the math for him.
“You mean we’ve already gone over forty kilometers by now?”
“I don’t know what a kilometer is, but we’ve travelled over thirty miles by now.”
After a bit of calculaton with Teres, Trey’s face went pale. He couldn’t imagine going that far—and at a walking speed no
less! Flos laughed at his expression.
“It is a powerful Skill. One that allowed me to conquer this continent without growing old. I apologize for not telling you Orthenon, but we are just walking.”
“No we’re not.”
Orthenon’s face was grim as he touched the sword at his belt. Trey stared at him uneasily.
“Where are we going?”
“If I am correct, we are no more than thirty minutes away from the city of Rast.”
The steward glared at Flos, and the King casually looked in the other direction. Trey exchanged a horrified glance with Teres.
“Are we going to attack—”
“No one is attacking. I am walking.”
“To what end?”
Orthenon asked sharply. Flos didn’t reply. The steward glared, but didn’t speak, probably realizing it was futile. But Trey saw the armed soldiers he’d brought with him slowly spreading out around Flos. He began to grow very worried, but Flos’ face and posture was as relaxed as could be.
And then they were there. Trey stared at the city that had grown larger the longer they’d walked. It had been just a smudge on the horizon, growing larger with every minute. And now…
The city of Rast lay before them. The walls were tall, made of stone; the watch towers all manned. Already Trey could see people rushing to and fro on the battlements and horns blaring. But Flos did not appear concerned.
“My King?”
Orthenon looked uncharacteristically worried. He glanced at the huge line of people, clearly wishing Flos was behind more bodies.
“Should we form up those gathered here?”
Flos looked at Orthenon in surprise, but with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Form up? We aren’t leading an army, Orthenon. I am simply going for a walk.”
The steward’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“I see. And are you planning to walk through the gates?”
“I note they are closed. No, I am not welcome here, remember? I do not exist, or so the [Mayor] has said.”
“I wonder what he says now.”
Mars stared at the wall, eying a line of people standing up there. They were holding bows. Trey stared at them as well, and wondered what would happen if they fired. But it was now Flos choose to speak. He faced his vassals.
“They will not attack us.”
“Who?”
The question came from Trey before he could stop it. Flos raised his eyebrows.
“The defenders of Rast. I see them, Orthenon. I am not blind. They are armed, and they would no doubt defend their city should we attempt to storm the gates, siege the walls, or do anything so foolish. But I doubt they wish to die, so they will not fire the first shot.”
Trey looked around. The army—and it was an army, no matter what Flos said—of people was now thousands strong. Men, women, and children were gathered together. If the archers on the wall fired they would kill hundreds. Trey’s heart lurched at the thought. But he was also certain that if they fired, the archers on the walls would be dead as the people literally overwhelmed them with sheer numbers.
And the people on the walls knew that too. There was an army here, even if it was an army of noncombatants, big enough to take the entire city. That was why a messenger raced out of the gates, waving a white flag. He came asking for Flos’ demands, and got a very strange, but predictable response.
“I am simply walking.”
The messenger was a pale-faced young man on horseback who stared at Mars, Gazi, Orthenon, and especially Flos as if he were staring at ghosts or monsters.
“But you are—”
“I am going for a walk.”
Flos said it calmly, looking the young man in the eye as his mount shied away from the vast number of people. Flos waved a hand at his followers.
“I am simply walking. These people have chosen to join me. Tell your [Mayor] that I do not intend to enter the city unless invited. You have a King’s word on it. I would swear that in blood if it were not so inconvenient. Tell him we will not attack without being provoked. Make that clear to him.”
“I—I shall.”
The young man raced back into the city. Trey saw the people on the walls reacting. They lowered their bows slightly, but they kept watching. Every eye was on Flos now, and everyone was waiting. He claimed to be walking, but the King of Destruction had to be lying. Surely he was going to attack or…
Flos turned. His eyes found Trey. For some reason, Trey had expected that too. Flos walked over to him, and bent slightly.
“Do you know what I am going to do, Trey?”
“Walk?”
It was a stupid response, but Flos laughed.
“Yes, but what else?”
“I have no idea.”
Trey thought there was something niggling at his brain, but he couldn’t put the pieces together. Something about today. About Rast, about the hungry people…it was no good. The current situation was far to distracting.
Flos grinned.
“What if I gave you a hint? One hint, Trey.”
“Okay.”
The King leaned down and whispered to Trey.
“I had intended it another way, but your story about that god of Hebrews gave me an idea. But I rather think that what can be done in seven days I can do in seven hours.”
Trey stared at him. And then his eyes widened.
“You don’t—”
“My people!”
Flos strode away from Trey, practically laughing with delight. He raised his hands and they cheered him. The people on the walls watched, probably terrified out of their minds as thousands of voices shouted Flos’ names. Already Trey could see people, other people, gathered at the closed portcullis. Civilians, not soldiers, peering to see. They had to know an army was at their gates, but not why. They were desperate to know, fearful, yes, but curious. And that was what Flos wanted.
“What is he doing?”
Teres seized Trey’s arm, but Orthenon took her place. The steward’s face was focused, and his hand was gripping his sword’s hilt.
“Trey, is our King planning to attack?”
“No, no, he’s not! He’s planning to march!”
“On the city?”
“No—he’s—”
Flos’ voice answered everything. The King pointed towards the city and bows raised. But he wasn’t pointing at the city.
“Around the walls! Let us march! Come!”
He began walking towards the city. Everyone stared, but Trey found himself walking behind Flos, towards the armed defenders. He could feel the tension rising as the horde of people walked towards the walls. The bowmen had arrows nocked and Trey could feel crawling fear all over him.
But no one loosed. The King had said he would not enter, would not attack. If they fired, they would die. That had to be in their thoughts. And Flos had to know they didn’t want to die. But what a gamble to make! The King kept approaching the gates, and then he suddenly turned left.
There was a ripple of surprise as his procession followed him. But now Flos was walking around the walls, following it closely. Trey could see the people on the walls racing to catch up. But that was all Flos was doing. He just walked around the walls of the city, slowly. That was all he was going to do, Trey knew.
He was going to walk and bring the walls down.
It started when Flos turned, mid-stride. He walked backwards, and raised his voice so everyone could hear. He had a massive voice when he cared to use it and Trey, walking just behind him, winced as Flos shouted.
“My people! We have come to Rast, but they will not open their gates for me! The [Mayor] claims that I still lie asleep! But you have seen my face! You know I have woken!”
His voice carried across the crowd, and huge cheers and shouting erupted as he spoke. Trey glanced up and saw, high above, pale faces staring down. Everyone had heard. Flos raised his arms, and the sound grew louder. People were cheering him, shouting for their King. And then he asked the question.
“Flos!”
“The King of Destruction!”
“Flos of Reim!”
Countless voices roared it. But that wasn’t enough. Flos raised his voice. He roared at his subjects, his people.
“What is my name?”
They all screamed the answer at the same time. Every voice, every child, every woman and man. A single word, multiplied thousands of times.
“Flos!”
This time the word split the air. It was thunder, sound given form. Flos raised his hand into the air and the sound was deafening. Flos kept walking, leading his people around the walls. He roared again.
“Who is it that rules these lands?”
“Flos!”
Trey shouted it too, and heard the ringing in his ears, the same word, all around him. It wasn’t just coming from the people with him. Trey heard it from inside the city. People were shouting his name.
“I am the King of Destruction!”
Flos bellowed the words so the people in the city could hear. His voice was louder as he halted and raised both hands up.
“And I have returned!”
Trey heard a loud sound, and then nothing. Something was ringing loudly. He shook his head and saw Teres doing the same next to him.
Slowly, noise came back. But it was thunderous, a beating wave. Flos marched on, and the wild cheering continued. But not for long.
“March! March, my subjects! Call out my name for the world to hear!”
Flos shouted and began to stamp his foot every fourth step. Without needing more than that, every person in the crowd did the same. Soon the sound of their fourth step was like a small earthquake. Then someone began shouting.
“Flos!”
Every fourth step, they shouted his name. And then it really was like the entire world was shaking. Trey found himself doing the same. Every fourth step he landed as hard as he could and the word burst from his lips. He was shaking with wild energy.
“Flos!”
The walls of Rast shook with the sound. Not in actuality, but Trey thought the mortar and stone should have been knocked loose from the sound. He stomped, and shouted. The word was deafening.
“Flos!”