by Jeremy Dwyer
“It does, Captain Serafina. Now, carry out all of my orders,” Octavian said.
Cassius spoke up to interrupt her, saying: “Captain Serafina, please, wait. There is another way that may be more effective.”
“No, Cassius. If killing is the goal, only death is effective,” Captain Serafina said.
~~~
Captain Serafina then walked down the steps from the throne upon the pedestal to the throne room floor. She left the throne room and took five hundred (500) of the troops under her command from the palace to commit the same murderous act against the people in the town that the aristocrat farmer came from.
~~~
Judith remained standing by Octavian’s throne and wrote all of this into her book: she recorded the name of the victim – Arthur – the guard captain who killed him, Captain Serafina. She also wrote of the refusal of the other guard, Captain Dominic. Judith also wrote of Cassius’s request to Serafina for a delay, if not mercy. Although Judith was free to move about as she saw fit according to the privileges granted by the Chronicler’s Oath, she could not go out and warn the people of the town about the massacre that was coming, because of the obligations of that same Oath.
The Third Tenet of The Chronicler’s Oath:
Do not interfere with the events of history. Prevent neither death nor disease nor war. Know the plans of the bringers of good and evil, life and death, pain and suffering, wisdom and folly, and betray no secret if it was learned in confidence. Save no life but your own, which is the living vessel of history, good and evil, profound and foolish, revolutionary and mundane.
Judith knew that she must maintain the trust placed in all Chroniclers of history who took the Oath, lest they lose that trust, and with it, lose their opportunity to stand close to kings and conquerors, and chronicle the true history. Then, the accounts of events would become fractured due to the secret events never recorded.
CHAPTER 9: Greater than This
During that evening, Judith walked through many of the halls and rooms of the ice castle while carrying a small distance measuring scope – much like that used by a property tax assessor – in her hand. As she went about, she was busily recording the dimensions and contents of the ice castle into her book, along with the number of troops and the contents of the treasury. Judith also counted the number of reflections on the clear ice walls, noting how they focused on the person or thing situated at the center of the room or the center line of the hallway. She saw that Octavian observed her while doing so. She also noticed that his chief advisor, Cassius, was present.
“My castle is indeed worthy. Will everything you see be written down, in all of its splendor?” Imperial Prince Octavian asked.
“Yes. Notes include the size, the interior dimensions of each room – the lengths and angles of each side and corner – along with the visible contents. Additionally, records were made of the size of the guard, their armaments and attire, as well as your own,” Judith answered.
Octavian then asked her: "Have you ever seen a castle as large as this?"
Judith considered for a moment how much she could tell, as the Chronicler’s Oath put limits on her answering of questions, only allowing her to repeat back her recent writings so as to demonstrate their accuracy.
The Fourth Tenet of The Chronicler’s Oath:
Knowledge gained in a Chronicler’s travels – the knowledge of death and destruction, crime and conquest, invention and inspiration, love and hate, loss and gain – must be held in secret until sufficient years have passed, and the related actors on the world stage have passed on. Only then may the true accounts of history be revealed and only when the interested one searches for the information for themselves. Yet, the revelation shall not wait forever.
This tenet meant that a Chronicler could only divulge information regarding those deceased sufficiently many years, and only if all of those who killed them – if the decedent was murdered – were also deceased. Circumstances around the killings must also be considered, to avoid giving away information that could cause a war, prevent a war, or alter the outcome of one. Additionally, giving away other types of information that could be valuable, or could change even the speed at which information is acquired and thus change the outcome of an adversarial situation, has too great a risk. Judith was not going to research the answer to Octavian’s question for him, as the risk was too great.
Judith answered him, saying: “I am here to chronicle present events, not to research past occurrences. If you wish, you may search the public archives in Emeth for yourself.”
Seeing the opportunity to advise the Imperial Prince – and to manipulate him further – Cassius then left and returned a few minutes later with a book from his collection that he kept in his private quarters. Cassius knew much about castles, owing to his work with the constructor and the books which he had taken – and kept – from inside of Duke Hagan’s castle.
"Your Imperial Majesty, while this Chronicler may not divulge much – if anything – I am at your service and will gladly tell you all that I know. There were no castles bigger than this that were made of ice; there were several made of stone, however, that were larger, one as much as five (5) times as large. The last one standing belonged to King Alexander the Ninth (9th), and it was dismantled six hundred thirty-one (631) years ago when he was deposed and beheaded by the Vitrians under General Xerxes. Of the one million four hundred thousand (1400000) stones from that castle, two thirds (2/3) were carried off to build nineteen (19) ceremonial sundials across the Citrine Desert in Volaraden. The remaining one third (1/3) of the stones were used to build the Pantheros lighthouse and watch tower overlooking the harbor along the western coast of the Dark Platinum Road."
Octavian considered these great castles of the past a challenge to his legacy. His next castle would need to be at least six (6) times as large as this one so as to be remembered as being greater than the castle of King Alexander the Ninth (9th).
“Cassius, come with me,” Octavian said.
~~~
Octavian and Cassius then left the room of ice and walked the hallways of ice until they reached the quarters of Gregory, one of Octavian’s other advisors, who was also his engineer.
When Imperial Prince Octavian entered his quarters, Gregory stood up from his seat, bowed respectfully, and then stood at attention.
“How may I serve you, Your Majesty,” Gregory asked.
Octavian gave his orders, saying: "Gregory: Begin calculations immediately for a new castle, a six (6)-fold increase over this."
"It shall be done, your majesty," Gregory answered.
Gregory then took up a metal tablet – over five (5) feet wide and seven (7) feet long – that was leaning against a wall and he placed it on a table in the room. He began sliding hundreds of metal tiles along grooves etched into the tablet’s surface, and each tile was etched with a number or a shape. After several minutes, he stopped. Gregory then walked over to a globe of the whole world, surrounded by seventy (70) glowing orbs – representing the suns of this world, sometimes known as lumina – which were shown orbiting the planet, using connecting rods. The globe itself stood ten (10) feet tall and the orbs and rods extended the model out another seven (7) feet in most directions.
Of these glowing orbs surrounding the world globe, thirty-seven (37) represented the small, cool red suns; twenty-four (24) represented the medium, warm yellow suns and nine (9) represented the large, hot blue suns. The yellow suns orbited in irregular and chaotic fashion, not in flat circles or ellipses, and went from east to west, north to south and even diagonals and strange paths. The five (5) largest blue suns orbited east to west around two (2) separate narrow bands: three (3) blue suns in the narrow band in the north and two (2) blue suns in the south. The other four (4) blue suns orbited from north to south. All of the blue suns had regular, elliptical orbits. The red suns had various orbits, some north to south, some east to west, but all were regular elliptical orbits, and these covered much of the world, and much of
this model. Gregory could hear the clicking sounds of the gears and springs that drove the model to turn.
Judith had quietly followed them and recorded the conversation into her book. She also noted this globe, and the movements of the orbs that represented the suns. She knew that the orbits of the yellow suns on this model were not accurate, and only very roughly approximated the true orbits, which were known to be erratic and unpredictable. No known model of the suns had ever correctly represented the yellow sun motions.
Gregory went back to the tablet with the sliding tiles and made a few more changes to their configuration, so as to reflect the motions of the glowing orbs in the model representing the suns. Gregory then announced his conclusion, saying: "The calculations are complete. However, a new location and terrain will be necessary to construct a castle of the required magnitude. It will have to be in a desert, under medium, warm yellow suns and large, hot blue suns, for adequate material and energy. The small, cool red stars which light and heat this southern sky will not be enough to power the castle constructor for this new task.”
Gregory was not an expert in determining the paths of the suns – and his flawed globe gave witness to this – but he was an expert in his understanding of the differing amounts of light energy that the red, yellow and blue suns generated, and what would be adequate. The waters of the Lujladia Ocean, which he regularly drank, greatly enhanced his understanding of all matters of light, as well as giving him the ability to control it.
When the Imperial Prince suddenly realized that Judith had followed them into this room, he became alarmed at her presence and her foreknowledge of his conquests.
Staring intently at her, Octavian could hardly contain his anger, and said: “For all of your years, you surely know so much...almost certainly, too much.”
Seeing the tension, Cassius then spoke up, so as to reassure Octavian and avoid any dangerous proceedings, saying: "Your Imperial Majesty, if you will, please remember King Tiberius the Second (2nd). You are wiser than he. You are destined for greater rewards than his.”
Judith knew this narrative in intricate detail, and listened only to be sure that Cassius recounted it correctly. Octavian remembered the name, and paused to listen. He knew that King Tiberius the Second (2nd) was on the road to victory, but came to a ruinous conclusion – one that he did not dare to consider for himself.
Cassius continued, saying: "King Tiberius the Second (2nd) killed Bartholomew of Priasta, a Chronicler who overheard his battle plans on the eve of the attack and recorded them. That very night, Tiberius the Second (2nd)'s entire army of four million (4000000) soldiers, his castle and all of his heirs, suddenly vanished. His own head was severed and encased in the entrails of a swine, then preserved in the archives of Emeth and immediately put on public display. No cause is known for the disappearance, or how Bartholomew's book of chronicles was recovered, but it was.”
Octavian listened intently, never having heard the full scale of the tragedy before. It stunned him that such a large army – along with a castle – could suddenly vanish. He hardly believed that portion of the story, but he did believe the report that King Tiberius the Second (2nd) was killed and shamed.
Cassius then said: “Military analysts' reading of the chronicle generally concluded that he would have been victorious. Were it not for the King’s actions against the Chronicler, Bartholomew's writings would have been kept sealed until two hundred fifty (250) years later, long after the battle would have been won and knowledge of the battle plans would have been anything other than history, rather than forewarning to the enemy.”
Judith recorded Cassius’ telling of the tale into her book, making a record which could be compared to the telling of the story by others. She did not write the tale as fact – instead, she wrote the fact that Cassius had told it in those words and at this time and in this place.
The Imperial Prince then remembered – and grudgingly believed in – the protections afforded him by the Chronicler's Oath to never give warnings and to protect confidential knowledge for centuries, long after his reign. He considered his glorious legacy and what was to come, and that Judith was recording all of it. The world would soon know even more of his glory, and would always remember him long after his days.
Judith then considered the account which Cassius gave of the relative sizes of past castles, and Octavian's egotistical response. This vindicated her refusal to recount any part of the history of great castles to him, as it would have given too much information by telling him things sooner than he otherwise would have learned, possibly prompting him to act differently. While he learned of it shortly thereafter anyway, she was not responsible for this, so that she was in keeping with the Oath. Chronicles were ultimately meant to be public historical records, for education and insight. The secrecy was only temporary so as to purchase the necessary trust for a closer view of secret events as they unfolded. This provided an account that was more accurate, and was thus more valuable for understanding the relevant details that could explain the past.
Still, the Fourth Tenet of the Oath held that each person must do his own research into the chronicles, so that the Chroniclers do not unduly reveal knowledge that would escape a lesser mind and give power to such a mind that it otherwise would not have acquired.
“Come with me, Cassius,” Octavian said.
Octavian then looked at Judith and said: “I suppose, now, that you will follow us, Chronicler, if you so choose. Yet, if you choose otherwise, you will miss the opportunity to witness the grandeur of my next castle and record it into your book,” Octavian said.
Octavian then returned to his throne room, and Cassius and Judith both followed.
Judith recorded even Octavian’s pompous invitation into her book – as an exact and factual quote – which gave evidence of the man’s overinflated ego. Personally, she detested him for the execution orders that he had given earlier. But his actions did constitute historical events so that, as a Chronicler, she had to follow him and record them.
~~~
Soon thereafter, the troops under Captain Serafina carried out their assignment, delivering retribution to the nearby farming town for the inappropriate tribute of its wealthiest resident. By the end of the following day, one thousand seven hundred thirty-five (1735) men, women and children were burned and murdered in that town. Captain Serafina reported this number in the most gruesome way as Octavian had demanded: her troops brought with them the charred skulls of the townspeople, laying them around the perimeter of his throne room.
“As you have commanded, Your Imperial Majesty, so it has been done. There is no way in which I will not serve you. You need only command, and all that I am is yours, and all that I have shall be given to you, to use as you please,” Captain Serafina said. She intended the offer to refer to her body in all of its intimacy, and her tone of voice did little to belie that fact.
Judith was present for this report, and she was horrified by the evil of it. She wrote all of this into her book with a heavy heart, detesting Octavian even more, because he had ordered it. She wanted to cry, but held back her tears. Judith had seen too much evil in all of her centuries as a Chronicler, and this was among the most heinous of acts. It would have been worse only if she had witnessed the murders as they had occurred. She merely recorded the details, carefully counting the skulls that had been brought in, noting that some were much smaller, and probably belonged to young children or infants. Judith also recorded the words of Captain Serafina, but not the tone of voice, because that was imprecise and subjective. As a woman, however, she knew that Serafina’s words and tone of voice had a carnal meaning.
Imperial Prince Octavian’s face showed only momentary pleasure at the evidence of the destruction of the noncompliant people from that farming town. His anger still raged, and his self-obsession remained. He looked into a gemstone that he held and saw his reflection in it, remembering all that had been said in the past – the words of mocking and rejection of his previously horrid appe
arance – and how those words had made him feel. Octavian saw the reflected image of his now handsome face in that gemstone, which was proof that he no longer deserved such abuse – in fact, he never deserved it, as far as he was concerned. Octavian then looked at the charred skulls arranged around the throne room and thought that it might just not be enough to pay for all the pain he had felt.
“Well done, Captain Serafina. If I need more of your services, I will tell you,” Octavian said.
“I have so much more to offer, Your Imperial Majesty,” Captain Serafina said, hardly containing her lust for the Imperial Prince, such that her voice was intense with extra meaning.
“Then remain prepared to offer it when called upon, Captain,” Octavian said.
Imperial Prince Octavian then called to his other advisors, who stood in the throne room, and said: “Survey the territory in a two hundred (200) mile by two hundred (200) mile square, with this castle being at its northwestern extreme. Note all towns and cities, and measure their worth, and issue summonses to their residents. While awaiting your return, my servants shall make room in the imperial treasury to accept the forthcoming tributes.”
“What of your next castle, Your Imperial Majesty? The suns move along their paths, and we had best be there to meet them,” Cassius asked. He was interested in testing the castle constructor at a larger scale, and he knew that it had to be done under the proper conditions of the positioning of the suns. If they waited too long, the solar orbits would place those suns in a different arrangement and location, requiring a change to their plans for placement of the next castle.