by Troy Snyder
As he started penning down some ideas on a separate sheet Gabriella walked in carrying a tray. It was nothing ornate like the silver trays the older leaders used, those had been melted down as well for the people, it was a simple platter of wood. On top rested a clay jug of what he hoped was something stronger than just water and several wooden bowls. The smell reached him before she did, it smelled of fresh cooked meat heavily seasoned and it made his mouth water in anticipation. It was only now he realized he had not eaten the entire day, he was famished and it was probably the cause of the dreadful headache.
Gabriella set the tray down on his desk trying to avoid spilling of the contents and the papers at the same time. “I brought you food daddy. Potan said you hadn’t eaten all day so I thought I would bring you something.”
Quetzalcoatl gave the child a genuine smile. “Thank you, child, that was very sweet of you.” His voice seemed strained; he had been yelling a lot at the oafs under his command. I should probably ease back on them, he thought to himself. More so for his sore throat than any sympathy
Gabriella had come around to his right side and was looked over his shoulder trying to read the papers. The writing flowed in beautiful curved shapes never a straight line being shown. She squinted her eyes trying to gauge what they said, though she had taken lessons from some tutors since she had arrived, the language had not stuck. In the end she let out a puff of air, she hated to fail.
“Trouble with reading lessons?” he jested giving her another smile and he looked sidelong at her.
She crossed her arms and held up her chin in haughtiness. “No, I just didn’t want to read it.”
“It says, ‘My daughter is a little brat and needs to get back to her lessons.’ That’s what it says.”
“Nu uh, you big liar!”
They both shared a laugh. Though he was living like a peasant when he should be living like a god, he felt nowhere near upset when Gabriella was around. The royals eyed her with disgust and hate, and he knew they disliked him strongly for adopting her, but he did not care. They knew also, if they were to lay a hand on the child their punishment would be more severe than a simple sacrifice atop the palace pyramid.
Their laughter was broken by Potan entering the room. He had a serious look on his face, the one he got when he was thoroughly annoyed. When he spoke his voice only confirmed it. “The nobles wish to speak to you my lord.” Though he was born from the noble families he held only ill will toward them for the way they acted toward Quetzalcoatl. After the incident in the hallway, Mikar and Potan had been his most loyal supporters.
Quetzalcoatl waved his hand in a beckoning gesture and Potan went to allow the nobles entrance. He scooped up one of the bowls on the wooden platter and a copper spoon and began sipping away at the broth.
Nobles entered in a train of flowing silks and embroidery. Quetzalcoatl’s eyes traveled over their wonderfully crafted clothes and boots with disgust. Quetzalcoatl, ruler and god, wore a simple off-white tunic with soft brown leather pants and boots of soft leather stuffed with wool and the toe capped with the black metal obsidium. The nobles fancy clothes disgusted him, while his people suffered they still lived the high life, he would remedy that he decided.
Fanning out into a semi-circle the royals all eyed Quetzalcoatl, who now was leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk sipping his soup straight from the bowl loudly. They all eyed him with antipathy. Quetzalcoatl smiled inwardly, he was getting under their skin, good he thought.
They sat in silence for several minutes. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and Quetzalcoatl sipping his soup loudly. Finally feeling at the end of his tether the royal in the middle, an ancient one with a long wispy hair reaching his waist, reached his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. The proper protocol was to wait to be addressed, and the ancient one knew Quetzalcoatl was only making them wait simply because he could, a mind game.
“I’m sorry,” Quetzalcoatl said in mock innocence, “Did you want something?” Gabriella turned away to smile at the irritated look on the nobles’ faces.
The ancient one cleared his throat again. “Yes, my lord,” he added the last part acidly.
“I do hope this is not about the gold being stripped off your palaces. I told you, it is for the good of the people and I will brook no argument on it.”
“No, my lord, however, recently soldiers have been coming by our palaces asking for gold and silver donations from our private collections.”
“I gave them the order to, what of it?”
All the nobles were taken aback. The ancient one, obviously the one who commanded the most respect and loyalty of the others, collected himself and began to speak again. “My lord, do you intend to strip us of everything we own? So we live like mere underlings?”
Gabriella knew that he would strike a chord in Quetzalcoatl triggering his anger. She rested her tiny hand on his shoulder and he glanced at her and realized he almost went over the edge and snapped at them.
“I gave the order to ask for donations for the people. Look around this room,” They all did and looked at the bare room with nothing but the desk and chair with a roaring fire on the far side. “I am ruler and god of this planet, yet I have given up near everything for the betterment of my people. Why should you, as my underlings, be any different? You have a place as royals, therefore a duty to the people.”
“We are the elevated class, surly we are entitled to live in luxury.”
“Not if it means are people suffer for it. If all our people die, who are we to rule over?”
“I agree my lord and I understand the need to boost the economy with the gold from the outside of our palaces. That will be fine, but I do not believe we should give up our fineries and live in squalor like common nobodies. Your family started as common soldiers, I cannot expect you to understand.” As soon as the words were out he regretted them.
Gabriella’s face went pale as she heard the words. She looked toward her adopted father for any signs of his pure rage he had shown several times, but she was surprised to find none. He was only smiling.
“Potan,” Quetzalcoatl said snapping the soldier to attention. “You were born a noble and then sent to the guard for being only part of a branch family. Which of these families do you belong to?”
Potan stepped forward and walked behind the dark green noble on the far side. He was dressed in a fine silken robe of deep purple and embroidered with gold along the edgings. “This is the leader of the head family my lord.”
“I see, and how do you feel about the head family Potan? I want your honest answer. You have no reason to worry for speaking the truth.”
Potan took a moment unsure how to answer, but he knew if he spoke dishonest Quetzalcoatl’s punishment would be more severe than what the nobles could manage. He took a deep breath. “My honest opinion my lord? All the nobles are weak. There was a time when the nobles were respected, not only for their service to the people of the planet, but their loyalty to the ruler. I wish I had been born then, not into this den of cowards.”
Every noble began to glare menacingly at Potan. His heart began to pound and he could feel the heat radiating off his face as his nerves took him over. A knot formed in his stomach and he began to wonder if he had said too much. But Quetzalcoatl’s response dashed his fears and set him at ease.
“Thank you for your honesty Potan,” He said.
“Such insolent thought my lord. Surely you must punish him,” The ancient one cut in.
Quetzalcoatl sneered his devilish smile, “I think not, in fact I think I will reward him. For he is correct. The noble houses have fallen into disgrace. As of this moment hence, all noble leaders must serve in the military and earn their ranks with no preferential treatment. Additionally, Potan will be the noble’s instructor. If he says you fail, or if you attempt bribery, or in any way try to influence his decision you will automatically fail and your entire houses will be dismissed as nobles, stripped of all lands and holdin
gs. And on a final note if you do not join the ranks you will be stripped of the title as head of the noble house and it will be given to the next in line until one does. If none of you join I will cast you out of the noble houses and out of the capitol itself. My decision is final.”
The nobles stared in horror at what they had just heard. All looked to the ancient one, but he just stood stock still, his features like stone. His eyes met Quetzalcoatl’s, challenging his stare, but in the end his resolves waned and he dropped his gaze.
“I am old, my lord. Long have I lived in the luxuries afforded to me by my family, I will serve. However, I ask that we be allowed to keep our private collections unless the individual house head decides to donate it.”
Bringing his hand up to his chin Quetzalcoatl stroked it thoughtfully contemplating the request. “Very well,” He said. “But I expect no less from you even at your age.”
With that the nobles bowed and left the chamber leaving Potan behind with Quetzalcoatl and Gabriella. Potan looked concerned and his mind heavy with thought.
“Is something wrong Potan?” Quetzalcoatl asked.
“While I agree with your decision my lord, I do not think the nobles will listen to me or even take the training seriously.”
“Then beat them.”
Potan looked stunned at the words. “My lord, they are my superiors regardless of my feelings toward them.”
“No, you are their superiors now. You will train them as soldiers and treat them as such. They will refer to you as sir; if they do not it will be considered insubordination and you will beat it out of them. If they attempt retaliation you bring it to me and I will beat them, much worse than you ever could.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“One final thing,” He said holding out a paper and Potan moved the grab it, “My ideas for our current troop predicament.”
Potan took a moment to read of the parchment. “They are all good ideas my lord.”
“Don’t give me that, Potan. Which do you feel would be the most effective?”
This was the second time in such a short span Quetzalcoatl had asked for an honest opinion from someone far beneath him Potan thought. The trust that he was being shown filled him with pride. “Well sir, I believe the offer of food, shelter and pay will bring people flocking to volunteer, although training will be an issue. As you know we have few troops and not many instructors. It could take years to be at full strength.”
“I agree, that is why we must start now. We will go with this plan. I want you to inform Mikar, he is to lead the efforts for the main army recruitment and training while you have the nobles. That is all Potan, you are dismissed.”
With a bow Potan left the chamber and went about his duties in preparing for the huge burden he had just been shouldered with. He felt pride that he had been given such a task, but also felt a sense of fear that the nobles would attempt to retaliate even with Quetzalcoatl backing him. It would be many years before he felt safe enough to walk the streets without someone at his side.
Chapter 18:
Odin stared out the large window of the flight deck. The Craxi ship Valhalla was point directly at the new arrival. Though the Broushin, or dwarves, were smaller people, they build on a grand scale. Odin sometimes wondered how they managed to travel around their ships and cities without being thoroughly exhausted.
The Broushin ship began to head straight for them. It was a sleek oval vessel with two wings protruding straight down from the underbelly then turning at a sharp angle leading toward the thrusters. The front where the flight deck lay was pinched into looking almost like the bridge of a nose with two large missile tubes in the front making the ship look even more like a giant flying nose to Odin. All along the ship shone with a bright silver layer with a name in Broushin printed on the side, Harbinger.
Realizing the entire crew of the command deck was looking toward him Odin snapped back to reality. The Broushin ship would attack, he knew and he needed to do something about it.
“Quickly send the Broushin vessel a request for an armistice and the opening of a channel for talks. And please, use ‘Broushin’ and not ‘Dwarf’ we do not wish to offend them.” All on the deck seemed confused by the request instead of the usual insult flinging and then attack but did as they were ordered.
From the hangar of the pirate vessel Alexander looked on as the Broushin ship closed in, hoping that Odin would have the sense to ask for peace instead of threats. All the other transport ships had taken off and headed back toward the Craxi main ship leaving Alexander’s in place as Antonio backed his tank on board.
The flight back was a lot easier than before without the exploding shells flying all around them. Odin must have sent a message to the Broushin vessel as they had yet to fire or send ships.
Back on-board Valhalla, Alexander and the rest of the demon boys made their way to the flight deck where Odin had called for them. When they reached the doors to the deck the guards outside the door only admitted Alexander. As he entered Odin greeted him with a wave of his hand gesturing him to approach. He sat in an ornate silver chair trimmed in gold. The back of the chair rose up behind him and in the top was set a giant ruby.
On the armrests where Odin’s hands would go were to clear spheres, much like crystal balls. Odin’s voice snapped Alexander out of the curiosity and stringing thoughts. “We have a temporary armistice with the Broushin vessel. With this being your idea, I thought you should be here. We opened a line of direct communication with them, but they have yet to open theirs.”
“Give it time, I suppose they’re caught off guard by the sudden proposal for ceasefire instead of giant bearded guys charging at them.”
Odin still had not gotten used to the way Alexander and the other humans talked to him so bluntly. Alexander may be part of the Craxi now, but he still was completely human in regards to the way he acted. It was a pleasant change he thought, something he would like to see more out of his people, to see him as more of a friendly man than an imposing figure who was unapproachable.
“Sir,” A large bright yellow Craxi called from his seat. “The Broushin request a boarding party in light of us suggesting the cease fire. They ask to show you’re true to your word and to come to their ship.”
“Respond to them kindly refusing, however, inform them we will welcome a boarding party from them. They may bring along an entire transport of troops if they wish and our hangar will be cleared of all troops to show sincerity.” Odin’s voice was calm and collected as he replied.
It took only a moment for the message to send. Broushin command, however, took their time replying. Minutes ticked by as the crew on the deck of the ship waited with bated breath all expected the talks to break down and end in a bloody, glorious battle. Their thoughts were quickly amended when the yellow Craxi stood up saying the Broushin had accepted their proposal.
The hangar had been cleared of all troops and equipment, which was a simple task of setting it on the lowering platforms and letting them collapse back into the ship. It appeared larger than ever with the emptiness and all noises echoed off the walls. Aside from the black marks left from the tanks rounds the entire place nearly shined with cleanliness.
Two desks faced one another in the middle of the hangar awaiting the arrival of the Broushin transport vessel. Once again Trent and Antonio were asked to wait outside with the others while Alexander, Hugin, Munin, and Odin sat in the hangar putting themselves at great risk. For all knew that if talk went south and the fighting did begin, it would be the four of them against near one hundred Broushin warriors.
Odin took his place on one of the chairs placed behind a desk. Hugin and Munin stood behind him on either side. Alexander had borrowed Antonio’s brace to remain in stealth off to the side.
It was not long before the Broushin vessel came into view. It was a sleek triangular shape with circular corners. The rear dipped inwards twice forming a W shape and below each dip was an engine producing energy for propulsion. It was made reflecti
ve silver the Broushin seemed the enjoy and like other things it was nearly one and a half times the size of a Craxi transport, which was quite large in itself.
Unlike human planes Alexander thought, these ships running on energy were virtually silent as they glided through the air. It landed with three struts protruding from the bottom and the engines folded up into compartments in the rear. A bay door opened forming a ramp downward and bathed the area in light, if not for the mask of the suit it would be blinding.
A small armored figure appeared from the light and made its way down the ramp. With a quick look around, it seemed satisfied and ran back up.
After some moments several more armored figures came down, unlike the other one these were grandly decorated. Alexander had seen dwarves before on earth, but these seemed more, important was the only word he could think of. Their armor was golden but seemed like it could take a hit and they all carried golden shields shaped like kites with a green dragon emblazoned on them. Blue lines of energy formed, obviously reinforcing the armor, but whereas others seemed random, these seemed to be placed at key points, mainly the joints.
There were only eight of them and they formed two rows with one on each side of the ramp. A solo figure made his way down the ramp, short like the others and built the same with a barrel chest and huge arms, but he maintained a fluid grace as he walked. His beard was expertly groomed; unlike the scraggly mess of most of the other dwarves, come to think of it, Craxi as well.
His armor was also gold with the blue lines, but his had the dragon imprinted on his chest, only visible when he swayed and his beard followed. The layered armored seemed even more expertly crafted and he wore it like it was a part of him. A green piece of fabric connected to his belt, when he stopped moving it would cover his legs, but head remained uncovered and his face looked quite young and full of life, but the signs of rule had begun to take their toll as slight lines under his eyes.