Lycenea

by Rory D Nelson

  “Your grace, this here is Talonius, the elder Statesman, Jasper, a man of law and hard finance and the dignitaries, the Primm Brothers- Akmed, Senegal and Pontilus. They all bow when Felinius mentions their name.

  Aramon nods. “We are well met. Well-intentioned. At least for the remainder of our proceedings, with the condition that such proceedings will not bring further shame to Visi-Gaulia. You ken?”

  “Ai, your Grace,” responds Felinius.

  “I have been privvied by Captain Aramis of your basic intentions. You want to discuss details of some sort of truce or alliance. May I ask something of you?”

  “We reside at your whim, your grace. Free to ask anything of me is right assumed you,” says Felinius.

  “Are you here at the behest of King?”

  Felinius smiles. “No, your grace. We are here at the behest of Herod-Sai.”

  Aramon grows heated, clenching his fists tightly. He rises from his throne in an attempt to intimidate Felinius. His gesture has the opposite effect. Aramon had been sitting on his throne for a long period of time and his leg had fallen asleep; so when he rises, he is as wobbly as a newborn calf.

  To Felinius’ reckoning, he does not appear to be a man of action, but rather a man of inaction who sits on his ass all day, while his minions do his bidding. For a brief second, Felinius flashes Aramon a sardonic gleam. The expression does not go unnoticed by Aramon.

  “You are here at the cockroach who has conspired to eliminate us from the mines of Bastall, which surely should have been won by us? Are you tripe to represent someone so vile as he? What say you?”

  “We are not here to make amends on perceived trespasses but to ensure an equally beneficial relationship for future. Permit me to show you the offer he has presented and perhaps you can hold off judgment. You ken? I know not what had transpired between Jason and Herod-Sai. Capricious men are known to pass judgment prematurely. The powerful and cunning make likely targets. I will not discuss past transgressions, perceived or otherwise.”

  Felinius observes that Aramon is seething. He holds his hands at his side and clenches his fists tightly. He backpedals to ensure the situation does not get out of hand. “I cry pardon, your grace. Please do not hold words to insult. You mistake intent. Permit me to share with you the offer of Herod-Sai.”

  Aramon relaxes his fists, sighs deeply and forces himself to relax. He sits down after several seconds. Felinius lets out a sigh of relief, relieved he had diffused the volatile situation, at least for the time being. His party emits a sigh of their own. At least Felinius could handle himself if the circumstances became deadly.

  “Very well, Felinius-Sai. I shall hear you out, for better or worse. I will consider an offer if it is befitting to us but tread carefully from here on out at the risk of your own peril. You walk on heated brimstone. Do not tempt coiled hind-serpent.”

  Felinius bows. “I cry pardon, your grace, if inexperienced tongue has wounded. I assure you it won’t happen again.”

  “Then bring offer you have traveled so far to present, young Sai.”

  Felinius walks up the several steps to Aramon’s throne and carefully takes out the sheets of parchment paper from his saddlebag. Several of Aramon’s men accompany him. During the heated discussion, they had unclasped the button that held their speed-shooters in their holster, ready to unleash the fire power if necessary. Their hands return to their sides, but they do not move to re-clasp their holsters. Tellenius watches Felinius carefully, unsure of what will transpire.

  He does not believe that Felinius will do something so imprudent as to open fire, but it is not entirely out of the realm of possibilities. Aramon had given him specific orders and if he had given him the signal, he would not hesitate. He would open fire on the dignitaries. The other men do not concern him in the least. In fact, only one carries a weapon and it is a small caliber pea-shooter, the gun of a pube.

  “You may stand at my table, Felinius Sai. Please keep deadly hands where my men may see them and remove your guns.”

  “You would have me in a vulnerable position, unable to defend myself? I am in your domicile and have been respectful, but do not ask such of me. I will never remove my guns.”

  Aramon hands clench up tightly and his face flushes red.

  “You are in my home and these are the rules of my home, as King of this land. You will do as commanded.” He says through clenched teeth.

  Felinius remained as calm as a sleeping newborn and as steadfast as a charging bull. “No.”

  Aramon nods to Tellenius. Not the signal for death, but the signal to subdue him as quickly as possible. Tellenius is well-schooled in the art of submission and is chosen specifically for such attributes. He moves in sync with his subordinate Jeffries. He grabs Felinius by the arm and Jeffries grabs the other arm, but they are much too slow.

  Felinius moves with the speed of a hind-serpent as if he were expecting something. When the men grab on to him, he grabs Tellenius hand with lightning quick ferocity and twists it violently, breaking his wrist bone in several places. At the same time, he grabs Jeffries' wrists and twists it violently and then shifts effortlessly to a crouched position and drives his fist up into his face, smashing his nose to fragments. Less than a second later, he drives his palm up into Tellenius face, driving his nose straight up into his brain, killing him. He flops to the ground like a fish out of water and twitches for several seconds.

  Jeffries emits an earth-shattering scream, which sounds gurgled from the amount of blood he is choking on. One of the guards near Talonius tries to move against him. As the scene is playing out, he reaches for his gun. But as he does, Felinius grabs his own speed-shooter and fires a bullet right through his kneecap, shattering it. Unable to hold his own weight, he drops to the floor, holding his wounded knee and yelling out in excruciating pain.

  Near simultaneously, Felinius pulls his other gun and points it directly at Aramon. Aramis had just pulled his own shooter, but it’s too late. Perhaps he could have gotten off a shot at Felinius, but he could not risk killing the King. The man is lightning fast. “Order your men to holster their weapons! Do so now before my patience wears thin along with my restraint on my trigger finger. Do so now!” He booms.

  In the ensuing chaos, several more armed soldiers had entered into the hall chamber when they heard the sound of a gunshot. Approximately forty men now stand ready in the chamber with their guns pointed in Felinius’ direction.

  “Think you can escape? To kill me and escape with your life?” asks Aramon.

  “It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for me. You wish to test it with your life? Try me. Order your men to holster their weapons now or enjoy the taste of metal slug as it exits brain. Do it!”

  Aramon stares at Felinius hard for several seconds. To Talonius, Jasper and the Primm Brothers, it seems an eternity. Talonius shakes violently and is unable to keep his bowels in check and he wets himself, cursing himself as he does so. He is beyond being embarrassed. He does not expect to exit this castle alive. Several guards point their own shooters at them, though it is unnecessary. They are as helpless as newborn calves in a lion’s den and they know it.

  Jasper is the only one who carries a shooter and while he is proficient with it and could certainly hunt, he is as inexperienced in a gunfight as the rest of his party. He would have been as useless as a cock in a bullfight. He is as petrified as the rest of the group. He couldn’t have reached for it to save his life. He lacks the cool, refined reckless abandon as Felinius- as proven in the last several seconds. They could do nothing about the stalemate. Jasper is not a religious man, but he desperately prays, reiterating a calming prayer from his youth.

  Aramon nods and relents. The man he was to give his signal to is now dead and no matter how enraged he is, he will not risk his own life. He knew that Felinius was dangerous, but he had no idea how dangerous. Aramis had mentioned that he had the aplomb of a seasoned gunfighter, perhaps even one of the Brotherhood. At the time, he had thought the
man was exaggerating, but now he was not so sure. The man had proven his mettle.

  “Men, holster your weapons!” bellows Aramon. They comply. Aramis reluctantly holsters his own weapon.

  “Very well, then gunslinger. I am at your mercy. For the time being. Perhaps I can forgive trespass and we can proceed as if anew. You ken?”

  “It is all I can ask.”

  Aramon looks at his downed man Tellenius and ponders. “But there are trespasses I cannot abide. You ken? You have slain my man Tellenius. Who do you offer for just recompense?”

  “With concession granted may we resume?” asks Felinius calmly.

  “Ai.”

  Felinius holsters his weapon and looks back at his men, contemplating who should go. “Men of law are in such great abundance. Do you ken?”

  “Ai,” responds Aramon. “You speak the truth.”

  In one lightning quick movement, Felinius draws his speed-shooter and fires, finding the back of Senegal’s head. Blood explodes from the exit wound, drenching an unwitting guard who was directly behind him. His body topples over and is still. The guard removes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes away the gore from his face disgustedly. Akmed and Pontilus being in shock and grief-stricken, temporarily forget their fear and go to their downed brother, confirming his death.

  Pontilus glares at Felinius with vicious loathing. Felinius shrugs in response as if to say ‘It had to be someone. Give thanks it was not you.’ To the brothers, he was not just collateral damage, but a beloved family member.

  Felinius turns back to Aramon. There is a brief moment when Aramon felt he could have given a signal to shoot down Felinius; but with Tellenius no longer alive, there left little options. He could have commanded Aramis, but the Sandonista is not one of them, and he would be unwilling to risk his own life and the life of his own men for a reckoning. His heart would not be in it. “Satisfied, your grace?” asks Felinius.

  “Ai. It is a just start. Let us see how negotiations fare before I make further assessment of my disposition. You ken?”

  “Ai. Then let us begin anew.”

  Felinius picks up the parchment paper from the floor and brings it to Aramon’s massive oak table. The table is beautifully lacquered with an impossible redwood finish. Felinius sets the parchment paper on the desk and allows Aramon to peruse it. Aramon relaxes a bit and begins to read it in detail.

  “Your grace, Herod-Sai has conceded a generous portion of his profits from the Bastall Mines in addition to the Northern Territories of the Ballantine Province in exchange for your alliance with the impending coup.”

  Aramon looks up, irritated. “Permit me to read myself.”

  “I cry pardon, your grace. I was merely giving you an overview.”

  “None needed, Felinius Sai. I am quite capable of reading.”

  Felinius nods. “Of course, your grace.”

  Feeling that the volatile situation had safely passed, Aramon grows comfortable enough to sit down and read the alliance proposal. Time seems to drag on mercilessly long while Aramon peruses it. Every few minutes, he glances up at Felinius.

  His expression is inscrutable. He could have been encouraged by what he was reading or steadily growing more agitated. It is anyone’s guess. So he keeps his face deadpan, remains steadfast, never moving from his position, his eyes constantly darting to and from, always ascertaining what his men are thinking.

  At last, Aramon looks up from the parchment proposal, folds it up neatly and hands it to Felinius. He removes his glasses and gets up from his chair. He is ready to speak. The tension and the silence in the room is maddening. The only sound most men hear is the overly loud palpitations of their own heartbeat.

  “Well, Felinius-Sai. I have read the proposal. The offer of twenty percent of the profits is inadequate at best and insulting at worst. The Northern Territories of the Ballantine Mines are fertile with pastures and rich with the salt fields, but if Herod is unsuccessful in his coup, the offer will be as worthless as parchment paper it’s printed on. You ken? Herod conspires to scheme us out of the procurement of the mines and the fact that he dangles meat in front of wolf-hounds does not sit well with me. We are not tripe savages.”

  “Tis true, your grace, but if and when Herod-Sai successfully launches his coup, you will increase your territories ten-fold and procure profits from mines to line coffers, a deal that will cost you little, in men or venture.

  “And our coffers will be lined only when Herod-Sai is successful in his coup, as you say. What assurances do you give me? You say that you are not on behalf of Gilleon, which I am to surmise that you are traitor to your own people. It is true I hold much hatred for the Brotherhood and the calamities they have inflicted on our people. But why should I align myself with such traitors as you?”

  “Because when we eliminate the Brotherhood, you will see position elevated along with fortunes ten fold. Herod-Sai is a powerful councilman who accomplishes all that he puts joint purpose and action too. Such is the man. Accept his proposal and see fortunes rise or refuse and watch as Visi-Gaulia is left out without proper alliance and without the backing of the most powerful Empire in all of Paesla Continental. I assure you Herod-Sai will not take your refusal of his offer lightly. But do as you see fit.’’

  Aramon stares intently at Felinius for several seconds and then smiles sardonically. “Perhaps I should alert Council ears of the impending coup and win their support and trust. As an act of good faith, I could have you and your men executed for your role in staged coup. Then I would find favor with your Empire.” He offers.

  Felinius smiles back toyingly. “Perhaps. If you can find said Council Members who are not under the employ of Herod-Sai. You would be hard-pressed to find one who is still loyal to the Brotherhood. You will find our ranks everywhere. I know how much you detest the Brotherhood. I was once among their ranks, only to be extricated at last moment.”

  “I have heard high and far of treacherous deeds that earned your death sentence, only to be commuted at last second by sympathetic Dottore.’’ Aramon smiles mockingly at Felinius. Felinius stares back icily. They stare at each other for several seconds, the tension in the room palpable. Though it is quite comfortable in the room, a fever seems to have stricken Felinius’ crew. Sweat trickles down their brow and they slowly move to wipe it away, lest any sudden movement should move the guards’ shaky trigger fingers. Though they had uncocked their guns, their aim does not avert.

  Felinius smiles and nods. “Of course, you are privy to much, are you not? Ancient history and a source of much angst between me and the Brotherhood. A festering wound that can only be alleviated with the death of those that put me in that hellhole. Herod moves to eliminate the Brotherhood and so I align myself with him. Tell me, do we not share the same goals, your grace? Would you not consider such an alliance?”

  “How adamant is Herod-Sai? Will he make any concessions concerning proprietary rights? For forty percent of the profits from Bastall, I would consider the proposal. What say you?”

  “Out of the question and a subject not open for negotiations. Herod has presented his finest offer for alliance. This offer behooves you and your people. I would think long and hard on it? You ken?”

  “You overstep, brash one. You are in no position to ascertain what behooves my people. I am King and only I can decide what is best for my people. Do not advise me of such,” scolds Aramon.

  “I cry pardon, Prefect.” Aramon looks indignant and is about to speak when Felinius retraces his slight. “Again, I cry pardon, your grace. Of course, you are King and I might add a much more prudent one than your predecessor.”

  “Do not make such a blunder again, or I promise, you will regret it. You are on thin ice. I would tread carefully. And to speak ill of the dead is not a slight easily forgotten, especially among the current company, who were loyal to the departed.”

  Felinius smirks conspiratorially for a moment. Aramon doesn’t know what to make of it, considers saying something but then reconsider
s. “I cry pardon again your grace. I meant no offense. Jason was an ambitious and strategic King, but he had a reputation for being vindictive and capricious. I have never met the man, so I can only surmise from others second hand.”

  Aramon rubs his chin pensively. “Well, Felinius-Sai. You have a proclivity for negotiations and have earned a reprieve from a sure death sentence.” He looks at Felinius intently. “For another night, at least.” He pauses and looks at Felinius, hoping for a response or reaction. He receives none. He laughs. “I jest, of course. Whether or not I will accept the proposal of Herod-Sai, you have the word of a king. You will be granted safe exodus from my land. Give me a day and with it, the promise to consider Herod-Sai’s offer. You ken?”

  Felinius nods and then bows. “Of course, your grace.” Felinius returns to go. “Please leave the agreement, so I may peruse it further in my leisure.”

  “Of course, your grace.” Felinius hands Aramis the parchment paper and Aramis hands it to Aramon.

  Felinius returns to his party. They look at him with an exasperated look on their faces, as if he were a small, troublesome child. The Primm Brothers eye Felinius indignantly, still in shock over the loss of their brother and the callousness with which he was treated.

  “Well, gentlemen, I do believe that went well. Do you ken?”

  Akmed and Pontilus approach Felinius. “That was our brother you so callously murdered.”

  “To maintain relations with opposing factions, a necessary sacrifice. I cry pardon, but Aramon was adamant about wanting one of us dead. None of us are out of death’s grasp, even now. All eyes are upon us. If you wish to see the light of day outside city gates, you must trust me. I am the only reason we live even now.”

  Talonius and Jasper sigh in resignation. “For better or worse, we are at your mercy, Felinius-Sai. But know this, Herod-Sai will certainly receive a true account of transpired events.”

  Felinius smirks. “I will spare our illustrious leader nothing, I assure you.”