Perdition's Rest

by J. C. Placeres

  The Weakness of Flesh

  “As far as I see it, we have two options available to us. The first is that we can be honest and forthright. We can explain that we do not fully understand what is going on but that we are tirelessly working on figuring out the cause of the situation and finding any possible solution. This avenue can only be taken if we have absolute faith in our people to remain calm when the natural reaction is to panic. The second option, if we don’t have that much faith in the populace, is to feed them false information. We can put out some sort of fraudulent statement that panders to them and attempts to calm and placate while we continue to try and figure out what is going on. Either way we must face the unassailable fact that Thunvold, along with many other Tormos, have died during the reincarnation process,” said Duvold calmly.

  Duvold, the acting emperor, sat at the large round meeting table in the royal quarters of Juxon City. Circling the table were the five representatives who had helped Thunvold – now Duvold, rule Juxton. The four clans were each represented by their chieftain (the emperor was not considered the chieftain of his own clan as he was to remain neutral in all things) and the fifth representative was the high priest of the Church of the Flesh.

  “Those are the options as I see them gentlemen," continued Duvold. "Would anyone care to comment one way or another?”

  Zeranidul, a tall and lanky Tormos who had dark brown skin with silver streaks throughout, was the chieftain of the Anidul tribe. Despite being in a position of authority, Zeranidul was commonly the quietest representative. The Anidul were the last primarily nomadic tribe, and they roamed the Savage Tundra surrounding the forbidden Dallion Forest. Zeranidul was thus a loner amongst the representatives and usually stuck to himself.

  “I think telling the populace that we don’t understand what is going on shows weakness," replied Zeranidul, "which is something we can’t afford at this time. We must appear like we have a firm grasp on the situation else people may lose faith in our governing, especially once word spreads further that Thunvold is among the deceased.”

  Khavold, the Tormos who took over leadership of the Vold tribe after Thunvold united the people, was of average Tormos build. He had a well-groomed beard with a shaven head. His skin was a noticeably light silver color but with large swaths of near black pigment. “As much as I hate to agree with Zeranidul, in this circumstance I must. This is the worst disaster to strike our people since the Dallion Rebellion. The Northern Night has long favored us with worse crises than those that have befallen the Phlebos, most likely because we have the fortitude and strength to succeed where they would have failed. However, this sickness is truly unsettling. We must appear calm and in control. Admitting that we are baffled just invites chaos.”

  “How do we know the Phlebos aren’t having this same problem?” Duvold asked the group at the round table. For several seconds silence hung heavy in the air as Duvold stroked the thin beard that graced his face.

  “We have heard no reports from Armistan concerning any occurrences in Aunia,” responded Liurbin, chieftain of the Urbin tribe. Liurbin was short for a Tormos but had broad shoulders and a large upper body. His hair was long and unkempt. The animal hides he wore seemed as if they hadn't been washed in quite some time. Although he was more sociable than Zeranidul, the Urbin tribe was similarly situated as the Anidul in that they were a small fringe tribe that collectively carried little weight in Tormos society. The Vold was the largest tribe and carried the most political power and controlled the most land. The Inda was the second most populous and powerful tribe. Although the Anidul and Urbin were identical in their minority status, the two were not traditionally close due to the Anidul primarily being self-sufficient loners.

  “Like those fancy prudes would ever come and tell us their society was not ideal. I hope this sickness is affecting them and I hope it kills every one of those arrogant pricks,” huffed Byrinda, a short and squat Tormos with light grey skin and a full bushy brown beard. Byrinda was famous in the upper echelons of Tormos society for two things. The first was his legendary hatred of the Phlebos. The second was that be constantly wore more furs than seemed necessary or appropriate. Today was no exception as Duvold, at first glance, counted the pelts of at least seven dead animals covering Byrinda’s body. Byrinda had long been a thorn in Duvold's side; the Inda representative was notoriously stubborn and insensitive. Some amongst the Tormos royalty secretly referred to him as the fat Gunvold.

  The representatives, all save Duvold, chuckled at the Byrinda's remark. Duvold merely grimaced while steepling his hands in front of his face. The emperor was not upset by the comment but rather the light heartedness of the situation amongst the chieftains. Duvold felt greatly out of place at the table surrounded by Thunvold’s old friends. Granted the geomancer was usually present at the table for these meetings in the past as the guild master of the geomancers had that right, however previously he was largely just an observer or advisor and tried his best to ignore the chieftains. Duvold also wasn’t particularly good at playing politics like his predecessor was. Thunvold was well known and liked; he could talk any man or woman into doing anything. He knew the clan chieftains well and was more of a friend than a superior to them. Thunvold was a good ruler not because of his excellent decision making, but because he kept everyone around him happy. Duvold could feel the tension in the room; these chiefs knew the acting emperor was a fish out of water. He had no desire to pander to them and make friends. Duvold wondered if any of them, save Charvold the high priest, had ever read a book in their lives. If he thought it prudent, he would have relinquished the position he was currently in, but he held the crown simply because of the fact he didn’t trust any of the chieftains to rule better than he. As much as he hated to admit it, he believed the best chance Juxton had of staying united and strong was under his calm and logical leadership.

  “I know the Phlebos haven’t approached us about this problem, and like the rest of you, I wouldn’t expect Mielor to take the first step. However, do you all think this problem is affecting them as well or is it localized here in Juxton?” Duvold asked the question through his steepled fingers.

  Charvold, with his shaved head and plain brown robes, looked more like a lowly monk than the highest priest in Juxton. The high priest spoke up in response to Duvold's question. “While at first, I would have thought that this problem is a regional one, I’m beginning to have my doubts. For almost three weeks now we’ve secretly been investigating the failed reincarnations and we can’t find any evidence of the source. It is not a disease, or at least one which we can detect, and none of the deceased were poisoned as far as we can see. We've also tested the grain and water we use for the beasts of burden and both appear fine. Furthermore, there’s no rhyme or reason to the deaths. There isn’t one district of the city being stricken or just one tribe. We have reports of failed reincarnations from Juxon City, Deep Ridge and multiple nomadic family units across the Savage Tundra. Some additional grim news is that since the bodies began dying, not one single person has successfully reincarnated. Every single person who has passed over roughly the last three weeks has not returned. Our preliminary reports show that over the last two weeks a grand total of fifty-two individuals have passed over and not a single one has returned. This news leads me to believe one unassailable fact - we are no longer immortal.”

  “What about the last known person to reincarnate? Have we figured out who that was? If so, is there a report on the person?” Duvold continued in his questioning of Charvold who had largely taken the investigation under his command.

  “Yes, at least in Juxon City that is. There was a woman, her name eludes me, but I interrogated her. She passed and returned shortly before Thunvold’s departure. We questioned her as to what she remembers, how she feels and similar inquiries. As with all reincarnations she remembers nothing of her previous life and feels fine. She is a miner and is getting back into her old routine. Despite our thorough investigation, we are no closer as to figuring out the
malady affecting our people.”

  Duvold took a deep breath before asking his next question. “Do you think that we have angered the Three? Is this revenge brought upon us?”

  Many heads shook around the table, however Charvold continued in his methodic answering of the new emperor’s questions. “I don’t believe so. The Three have never directly communicated with any Vesnian, although we do believe they communicate with us in our dreams. If we were to ever suffer the ire of the Three, I imagine it would have already occurred in the past, most notably as a result of the Dallion Rebellion. However, one could argue the Dallion massacre was an act of vengeance by the Three. For their heinous treason, we were vicariously Lunara's instrument of justice, but that is just a theory believed by some. The main problem I think, more than anything else, is that we don’t know if this is a spiritual phenomenon or a natural problem. Are the bodies dying and thus the soul has nothing to return to? Or are the Three keeping the souls from returning thus causing the bodies to die. We just don’t know unfortunately.”

  “The next question to all of you then is," Duvold took another deep breath in mid-sentence, "aside from the investigations already being conducted what else can we do? If anyone thinks anything is being overlooked, I need to know now.”

  The answer which Duvold received was terrifying: silence. All the representatives save Charvold, whose gaze had never left Duvold, either stared off into nothingness or shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

  “So be it,” continued Duvold. “Your arguments for deception have been dually noted, however I have faith in our people to be calm and reasonable when presented with the truth. Yes, it may appear as weakness to some, but I believe the majority will respect us in being honest and forthright. Charvold, you will begin drafting the statement to be posted throughout the empire. Be honest in that we do not know exactly what is occurring yet, but we are investigating and will have an answer soon.”

  There were some sighs of exasperation and light grumbling around the room at the decision but no outright dissension. “My second course or action," began Duvold sweeping his gaze around the table, "will be to immediately send a runner to Armistan with a request from me, to Mielor, asking to meet with her and discuss our crisis.”

  “Outrageous!” Shouted several of the chieftains in unison as if they had been rehearsing it. The room instantly broke out in arguing and yelling. Duvold and Charvold sat calmly while watching Khavold, Zeranidul, Liurbin and Byrinda scream in rage.

  “Do you have any idea what you are doing? You are single handedly giving all the power to those gold hugging pieces of shit! Everything that Thunvold worked for you are throwing away!”

  “Never in all my years did I ever expect us to go crawling to those arrogant bitches! You might as well get down on your hands and knees because you will appear completely submissive to the Phlebos!”

  “Thunvold would be disgusted by this! Not to mention what Gunvold will do! Have you even thought this through? The Phlebos should come to us! Clearly we need to get you a new crown because the weight of the current one is crushing your brain!”

  After a while, the cacophony of yelling intermingled to where Duvold had no idea who was shouting what obscenity towards him. He could only imagine what the servants in the adjacent rooms were thinking. He didn’t care how the servants interpreted the screaming, his entire mindset was to be the calm voice of reason in a storm of bravado and arrogance.

  “That’s enough. Everyone calm down," said Duvold in a forceful tone. His words were drowned out though as the four enraged chieftains continued their cacophony of insults aimed at Duvold.

  “This is just unbelievable! Do you know what the Phlebos will do? Their heads will go even further up their asses now that they have affirmation they are superior! I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to recover from this! For the rest of time the Phlebos will hold this above our head! We buckled first!”

  “ENOUGH!” Duvold yelled with such force it echoed around the room. The emperor contemplated quickly casting a spell to assert his dominance, but he held back. The geomancer believed in only using his magic when it was absolutely necessary. His forceful shout though appeared to have delivered the message as his subordinates quickly shut up.

  “I have had enough of your insults. Would Thunvold abide by such insolence? You may not agree with my decision but Nua damn it this is the decision we are going with; my mind is made up. You all do not have to be my friends, but you must respect both me and my decisions. The choice for me to assume the throne should anything ever happen to Thunvold was made long ago by versions of us that have long since passed. You all must live with those decisions now. I am the acting emperor whether or not it pleases you and the severity of the situation we now face is far graver than any rebellion that Thunvold suppressed by unleashing Gunvold. Unfortunately, the solution to our current problem is not as simple as wholesale slaughter. What we are facing is not a threat to our empire, rather the very fate of our people as a race hangs in the balance. Unless we can find a solution, or at the very least a cause to the blight that has afflicted us, we are doomed, unequivocally, irrefutability and without question, doomed. We cannot reproduce as the beasts in the wild do, there will never be more Tormos or Phlebos than there are currently today. We have a finite number to our race gentlemen and each day that number is drawing closer and closer to zero. This is not a situation to be taken lightly and I am not interested in entering into a competition with the Phlebos to see who blinks first. All that matters from this point forward is one thing: a solution. If we cannot find a solution, we are all dead and that is the end of our tale. I will move every rock, destroy every building and plunge into the blackest depths of this world if I must, but by the Three as my witness, our people will not die while under my watch, this I promise you. So yes, you can disagree with me, and yes, Mielor will hold this over our head, but if the cost of saving our very lives – potentially even our very souls, is to momentarily appear weak to our brothers and sisters to the south then I say yes. Yes, a thousand times I say to that proposal. Now that I have made myself abundantly clear, do any of you have further thoughts on the subject?”

  Duvold was standing, yet he didn’t remember getting up as he must have been lost in the moment. Leaning over the table he swept his gaze around the room glaring at each representative. Khavold and Byrinda were clearly still disgusted, glaring right back at Duvold. He could tell the two of them wanted to let loose with more but were holding back with every fiber of their being. Zeranidul and Liurbin cast their gaze downward and refused to meet eyes with Duvold. Charvold meanwhile looked upon his emperor and cracked a faint smile in support.

  “You are dismissed then," said Duvold and waved off the representatives with a flick of his wrist. "We will meet again tomorrow. Zeranidul get a messenger and send him to me at once.”

  The Anidul chieftain nodded as the group, save Charvold, got up and left the room. When the four clan chieftains were gone, and Charvold was certain none were within earshot, he spoke. “For what it’s worth I think you are making the right decision. It’s not an easy call, but I’m glad you made it. Thunvold, Northern Night rest his soul, would have caved into popular demand in order to keep the peace. If you had done the same, you might have very well sealed the fate of our people.”

  “I thank you for the support Charvold," began Duvold sitting back down into his chair. "Know that when I was referencing the group of representatives as treasonous, I was not including you. Though they do not show it, I believe it may be fear more than anything driving their aggressiveness. They have no solution to our apparent loss of immortality and are frightened by a foe they cannot see. What they can fight against though is the new emperor making decisions which go against two thousand years of precedent. Sadly, unless we suddenly have a miracle breakthrough in finding a solution, our hopes and very future depend on the Phlebos whom they hate so very much.”

  “Wise you are," said Charvold with a slight tilt of his head
in subservience. "Before I go we must discuss one more thing of vital importance your grace. As you know, tomorrow will be the official funeral for Thunvold, the first time ever a royal funeral has been performed. Following the ceremony, we will immediately perform another first-time event for our people - the coronation of a new emperor."

  * * *

  Vuurbin looked down at the heavy tome in front of him. He had read the book more times than he could remember, it was exactly 863 pages with 788,258 words in it. He knew every page and every word like the back of his hand. Long ago he had ceased needing physical possession of the book for study; he would simply sit in his quarters and go through the book in his mind jotting down notes as he went. He still took out the book for public services though as it made a good prop when speaking to the masses. From his pulpit, Vuurbin looked out at the crowd gathered today in Juxon Cathedral. While there were scores of churches across Juxon City, the Juxon Cathedral was the largest one, located right next to the royal quarters. All the highest priests in the church lived and conducted their various duties from within the Juxon Cathedral. The Church of the Flesh was not that much different from the Blood Church of the Phlebos, although each sect of priests argued vehemently that they were greatly different. Both completely believed in the Three and agreed on the events that had occurred to spawn their creation. The two religions only differed on two key things. First, they disagreed on the preeminence given to each deity. In the Church of the Flesh, Nua and Juxon were mentioned far more often and considered the eminent deities, whereas the Blood Church put a tremendous amount of emphasis on Aun. Both churches equally praised Lunara. Secondly, and the most hotly contested fact, was the exact timeline of their creation. The Tormos believed that they crawled out of Juxon’s body before the Phlebos emerged from his blood. Conversely the Phlebos believe they came into existence from the blood before the Tormos were spawned from the flesh. Thus, each claimed a moral high ground as they believed themselves to be the first born of Juxon.