by Jake Bible
“Video?” Alexis asked. “Can that be done?”
“It may be possible,” Stolt said. “But the station’s internal system is ancient and hasn’t been used since your fourteenth great grandfather, uh, what was it called? Broadcast. Yes, since he broadcast his daughter’s wedding to the entire station.”
“Why did we not fix it sooner, cousin?” Alexis asked, his voice faded and far away. “A wonder of magic in small boxes. The world turned miniature and black and white.”
“It is an unreliable technology,” Stolt said. “A war of epic proportions was almost started because of the Grand Miscommunication between Thraen and Haelm. After that it was decided that we only communicate with other stations sparingly. Messengers and hard copies are more reliable within the station anyway.”
“I knew that,” Alexis snapped. “Do not school me like some child, Cousin! I am not some child!”
Alexis pressed harder against his belly and abruptly sat down in the neatly manicured scrim grass.
“Your highness!” Stolt exclaimed.
“Never mind about me,” Alexis snarled. “Go see to it that I can talk to my family. Do that now, Stolt. A moment’s hesitation may be too late.”
“Yes, sire.” Stolt bowed as he backed away. “I will fetch you when the preparations are complete.”
Alexis gave him a weak smile and waved his hand, dismissing the steward.
Stolt hurried from the garden, a sly smile on his face.
* * *
The small screen in front of Alexis flickered madly, static lines shooting across Esther’s grainy face.
“I haven’t been allowed to leave this room for days, Father,” Esther said, her eyes unsure of where to look. She kept flitting between staring directly into the camera or looking down at the screen that was provided to her as well. “They’ve given me Alexis to care for, but other than that I haven’t seen another soul. Except for the tech that came in to set this contraption up, my door hasn’t opened since Mother took ill and they rushed me and the baby here.”
“They are feeding you, yes?” Alexis asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The poor video quality gave him a migraine and he struggled to focus on the flickering light. “I know proper food stores have been sent up to the royal floors. They have been ordered to make sure you want for nothing.”
“They slide in food and drink through a hatch at the bottom of the door,” Esther replied. She looked about the small room she was in. “What was this place? A jail cell? Where am I?”
“The third spire. It was originally a jail for Master Gordon,” Alexis replied. “The one that went mad and killed his mistress and all but one of his heirs. He was held there until he passed.”
Esther stared directly into the camera, her eyes wide and angry.
“You have put me in a haunted room?” she snapped. “My baby brother and I need all of Helios’s help and you have them stick us in the Demon King’s cell?”
“Esther!” Alexis hissed. “We never use that word! Kings do not exist any longer. We are masters and mistresses, nothing more.”
“Same thing,” Esther replied.
“It is not the same—”
“It is so!” Esther shouted. “Changing the name does not change the reality! A master is a king, pure and simple! The name ‘master’ was only used after democracy failed. It was a compromise on the surface. Know who you are, Father. Master in name, but king in power.”
Alexis sighed and ran his hands down his face.
“I do not feel any power at this moment, my sweet girl,” he replied, all anger and frustration gone. “Helios is taking all of it, piece by piece.”
“Don’t say such things,” Esther responded. “The strength of the station is drawn from you. You cannot lose hope. If you do then all will and what will Station Aelon be then? Nothing.” She leaned in close to the camera and her face distorted into a round blob of flesh. “I believe in you, Father. You will make it through this.”
“Not if you die,” Alexis whispered. “To lose my first...I can’t…”
“You can,” Esther insisted. “You can and you will! Stay strong and know one day you will see your family again.”
There was a knock at the door and Esther turned.
“Who is it?” Alexis asked, hearing the faint voices that spoke to his daughter off screen. “Esther? What are they saying?”
The young woman tried to keep her composure, but the agony on her face betrayed her true emotions.
“Esther…?” Alexis asked as he heard his infant son start to wail. Esther stood up and left the picture as she fetched her baby brother. “Esther? Esther! What has happened?”
The minoress returned with baby Alexis in her arms and tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Mother…” was all she said.
Alexis pushed himself away from the small video screen and jumped to his feet. A deep rage filled his belly and he felt his wound burn with a hot agony that would have crushed any other man. But not Master of Station Aelon, Alexis the First. No, that man embraced the agony as his new direction in life.
If pain was all Helios wanted for him as master then pain was what he would become.
“Father?” Esther cried out. “Father, I can’t see you. Are you there, Father?”
Baby Alexis started to whine then full on screech as he picked up on the grief and hurt his sister felt.
“Father!” Esther shouted. “Please don’t leave us, Father! Please!”
* * *
The council sat around the long table, their eyes darting to the portraits of past masters that lined the great hall’s walls, interspersed with the faded tapestries depicting triumphs of reigns long since past.
Then all eyes turned to Alexis as he sat at the end of the table, his face turned up to look at the murals painted onto the ceiling.
“We should have those restored,” he said. “Return some life to the art of former reigns. History is important.”
The council waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, Steward Stolt, seated directly to the master’s right, cleared his throat.
“I believe the first order of business should be in welcoming Steward Veschy to the council,” Stolt announced. “As well as Steward Alote. Their input is welcomed during these harsh and trying times.”
“I am grateful for the honor,” Steward Alote nodded. “And thankful the same was not extended to Steward Thierri, as his kind is not worthy to be in the presence of the master.”
“Petty, petty shaowshit,” Alexis said calmly. “So filled with it that I can see it leaking from your eyes like the blood that leaked from my late wife’s and children’s.”
The table froze, silent and wary as the master stood up from his chair, the pain of the effort plain on his face.
“Do you think now is when we should air our rivalries, Steward Alote?” Alexis asked. “While my grief is thick like Vape fog? Are your words supposed to be ones of comfort while I digest the deepest sorrow any father or husband could possibly endure? Those are the words you so carefully chose to speak?”
“I am sorry for any disrespect, your highness.” Alote bowed. “It was inconsiderate of me to—”
“Come here, Melco,” Alexis ordered. “Stand before me so I can see your true nature.”
The steward looked about the long table, but did not find a single ally ready to come to his defense. He slowly stood and made his way down the table to the master.
“Kneel,” Alexis ordered.
“Yes, sire.” Alote nodded as he took a knee.
“Do you feel superior now, Malco?” Alexis asked, almost spitting out the steward’s first name like it was a hair stuck on the end of his tongue. “Is this the honor you deserve, but Steward Thierri doesn’t?”
“Again, I am sorry for—”
“Answer my fucking question!” Alexis roared as his hand whipped down and gripped the steward by the throat. With a strength none of the council thought the master still possessed, Alexis lifted
the man up to meet him eye to eye. “Do you feel honored now?”
There was a slight chuckle from the far corner of the great hall and Alexis looked over quickly then smiled as he saw who it was.
“Corbin, what shall I do?” Alexis asked the former head of the royal guard who sat bent over in a wheelchair. “Should I crush his windpipe so he only croaks like a swamp mucker? Or should I kill him outright?”
“Piss on him,” Corbin slurred, his voice thick with a several days old gelberry wine drunk. “Or have a good squat and shit in his mouth.” The man slapped about his lap for another flask of wine, but came up empty. “Where’s my fucking drink?”
“Where’s his fucking drink?” Alexis echoed, tossing Steward Alote aside with a flick of his wrist. He pointed at one of the servants that stood by the wall. “Get that man a drink! He is a station hero and will always, always, be taken care of!”
“My gratitudes, sire,” Corbin said and attempted to bow, but only managed to half fall out of his wheelchair. “Oh, Helios, I pissed my trousers.”
Alexis burst out laughing and slapped at his thighs as he sat back down and Alote hurried back to his seat. “Corbin! You are the only breath of fresh air in this hall! Never leave me, good sir! I treasure you almost as much as I treasure Aelon!”
“I’ll promise never to leave you, sire, if you could have one of these worthless fucks fetch me some dry trousers,” Corbin replied, hiccupping bile. “Otherwise I will be forced to leave in order to properly dress myself. A man should never be in the presence of greatness with urine in his trousers.”
“Never wiser words have been said,” Alexis agreed and snapped his fingers. Several servants hurried from the hall, eager to fetch new trousers and take their leave from the sad scene.
“Could I steer us back to station business, your highness?” Stolt asked. “We should speak of the crown’s succession…”
Alexis slowly turned his head to face the steward, his royal eyes drilling into the man.
“Alexis will take the crown once I am gone,” Alexis replied. “What is there to speak of?”
“Yes, of course, sire, but since the royal floor is still under quarantine…?” The steward left the question hanging, hoping the master would see the significance himself. When Alexis only stared, Stolt cleared his throat and continued. “If baby Alexis were to perish then there must be a second heir in place for when you pass.”
“My son will not perish,” Alexis said. “He is protected by the arms of his sister, the Minoress Esther Teirmont. She will not let her brother die.”
“Sire, but Minoress Esther has been stricken as well,” Stolt replied.
“As I was when I was young,” Alexis said. “Yet I survived. It can be done, steward.”
“Of course, sire. But my worry is that the physicians have tried to remove minor Alexis from their chambers, yet the minoress refuses to give them the baby. She will infect the poor lad. Then who shall take the crown?”
“Esther will,” Alexis said and there were more than a few involuntary gasps from the council. The master smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does that insult your sensibilities?”
“Your highness must know that is not possible,” Stolt said. “A woman cannot hold the crown because she must bear children. Who would rule the station while she is pregnant or nursing an infant? A mistress cannot go to war when she is in a delicate way. That just cannot happen.”
“Yes, yes, you are correct,” Alexis said. “Which is why we will not speak of succession ever again, am I clear? My son will live. He will rule once I am gone.”
“May that be many years from now,” Alote responded.
“Oh, shut up, man!” Alexis said. “Your sycophancy is worse than your idiotic ego.”
“Yes, sire,” Alote nodded.
“I said to shut up!” Alexis yelled as he picked up a glass and hurled it at the man.
It struck the steward square between the eyes and knocked him from the table. The council stood as one and peered over at the man.
“Did I kill him?” Alexis asked.
“I am fine, sire,” Alote replied as he gripped the table’s edge and clumsily pulled himself back into his chair. Blood poured from a gash on his forehead. “But I may ask to be excused to make myself presentable.”
“Sit and bleed, man,” Alexis responded. “Braver men than you have done so. Right, Corbin?” A loud snore was his response. “He’d agree with me if he wasn’t busy being so brave.”
“Sire—”
“Oh, cram it up your Vape hole!” Alexis yelled. “No more about the succession! I want to know what is being done about Langley! Tell me you are close to finding that lowdecker bastard!”
“Diggory has all of his men scouring the lower decks,” Stolt said. “He assures me the rebel will be found shortly.”
“He assures you?” Alexis laughed. “Oh, well, if a lowdecker assures you then everything must be nothing but happy pillows and wet muffins!”
Corbin snorted in his sleep and then let loose with a long, wet fart.
“Exactly!” Alexis cheered. The smile on his face slowly faded. “I want Langley taken alive. I want him taken within the week. Crush the lower decks and leave them bleeding, if that’s what it takes. The rebel will be kneeling before me in seven days or you will, Cousin Stolt. Understood?”
“Yes, sire,” Stolt nodded. “I will add my own men to the search immediately.”
“Your men haven’t been party to the manhunt?” Alexis asked.
“Not all, your highness, which is my mistake,” Stolt said. “A mistake that will be remedied as soon as I leave this hall.”
“Then leave,” Alexis said. “All of you. I call this meeting adjourned.”
No one argued and no one dallied. The master was soon left alone, except for a smattering of servants and the flatulent Corbin.
* * *
The door blew inward, just missing Langley as he slept curled up on the sacks of flour piled in the corner of the storeroom. The former rebel leader tried to jump to his feet, but several fists, as well as feet and clubs, kept him down. Despite the ferocity of the attack, the man took the beating without uttering a single cry.
“Back off, back off!” Diggory ordered as he shoved them out of the way. “Let me see the traitor!”
The men parted so Diggory could look down on the bleeding man that had once been his ally. He shook his head as he hooked a toe underneath Langley’s body and turned him over.
“Ah, look at that,” he sighed. “You’ve almost killed the man. You best pray to Helios that he lives long enough to be brought before the master.”
“As should you, Diggory,” Stolt said as he shoved men out of the way and entered the cramped storeroom. “You were the one tasked to find Langley. It will be your head on the end of a pike if the man perishes before Master Alexis can order his execution.”
“You forget that my position is equal to yours now, Stolt,” Diggory grinned. “Do not speak to me as if I am below you.”
“Yes, well, you are below me,” Stolt replied, matching Diggory’s grin. “As a lowdecker you will always be below me. Never think otherwise.”
“Are you two going to swordfight with your cocks all day or take me to the surface?” Langley mumbled through broken teeth. “I’d much rather die than listen to you two twats.”
“Then die you shall,” Stolt said. “Get him up to the surface immediately. He has an execution to make.”
* * *
“Your highness?” a man asked as he carefully walked into the great hall. “The work is complete, sire. The entire station will be able to watch the traitor’s execution as you requested.”
Alexis lifted his head from the long table as a string of gelberry colored drool dripped from his lip. He tried to focus on the man then gave up and laid his head back down.
“What’s your name?” Alexis slurred.
“Lead Tech Jin Webley, sire,” the man replied as he bowed. He glanced at the servants along the walls, but
none returned his gaze. “I oversaw the work myself, your highness. If there are any problems then I take full responsibility.”
Alexis rousted himself once more and leaned back into his chair. The stench of stale liquor and spoiled food filled the great hall, but the lead tech made sure not to show he noticed as the master drunkenly studied him.
“It’s a rare thing these days for any man to claim full responsibility,” Alexis sighed. “You are either a man of great foolishness or a man of great honor. Which is it?”
“I would have to plead the former, sire,” Webley replied. “For no man could be of great honor when in your presence. To say so would be an affront to the crown.”
Alexis laughed and clapped his hands together. “Well said, sir! Well said! Someone bring this man a glass and let him share drink with me!”
“I thank you, your highness, but I do not drink,” Webley said cautiously. “My constitution does not agree with spirits in any form. My body would rebel instantly and I would embarrass myself in front of you.”
“Oh? Is that so?” Alexis asked as he motioned for his own glass to be refilled. “Do spirits loosen your inhibitions? Make you dance like a whore wanting the credits dangled before her?”
“No, sire, it is my stomach,” Webley replied. “I, well, uh, get sick.”
“Sick?” Alexis snorted. “I know what sick is. I know all too well.”
The lead tech did not respond, but stood there, waiting for his dismissal.
“Come, Womberly!” Alexis announced as he stood up. “Show me how this ‘broadcast’ will work!”
Webley did not correct the master as he snapped his fingers and two young men wheeled in a stack of electronic equipment topped by a large video screen. A third young man followed closely behind with a bulky square camera bolted to a tripod he had slung over his shoulder. The men, including Webley, quickly set up the equipment then stood to the side.