A War of Queens

Scorpios & Verreas: Part 6

Below the stars and all the lights and life of the city, there he rode his horse in the coldness of the night where the light could not reach him. Through the inner courtyard he rode, only the sounds of his horse's metal hooves clanging and echoing around, bouncing off of the stone walls. Click, clack, click, clack. Turning his head to the side now and again to ensure that no one had eyes set on him, he took note of the large stone pillars standing in uniform perfection on both sides of the courtyard, spiralling until they met the large petal-shaped capital, flamboyant in its appearance as they were all painted with bright reds, oranges and blues to captivate the utter beauty of the rarest of flowers near the golden river. Turtle orchids, blue and yellow water lilies, lion lilies and many more with twisting petals and bright stigmas.

As he walked through the city's square, he took note of the stone statue of the prophet Mayzor who foresaw the destruction of Vazdarth, the once mighty nation the world has ever heard of in thousands of years, before the age of roaming titans and before the gods of old resided on the earth's surface themselves. However, those were tales and events that had happened hundreds of years prior and Ramses often wondered whether Mayzor was even a prophet. Some days, he would wonder whether Vazdarth had even existed. Who was to blame him though? Many a folk had believed in the Vazdarthian Empire, there was no doubt that it did exist, for on every scroll in the Gunish schools and temples of old, there the history of Gunay was written down and recorded in ink for all to read. Along the walls of the great pyramid the images were engraved into the stone. Stories of a once great land with riches beyond count and great nations who lived in unity. The ancient tongue that the Vazdarthians once spoke to one another in the days of its peak and hubris, now almost forgotten to the Gunish as the language slowly changed and evolved over time into something more simple and direct. How he wished to revive the ancient tongue and unravel all the secrets lost to the Green Sea. But those days were long ago and their history sunken in the deepest trenches of the roaring ocean, never to be revealed to the world of man again.

The young prince of Gunay kept on walking on the stone pathway upon his horse, as he often did late in the evenings to visit his companion in the Den of Scorpions. The night was glorious, he thought as he gazed up upon the stars resting in the heavens as clear as streaming water.

In the background he heard the songs of men and women as they danced around their fires and ate and drank almost to the point of drunkenness. Though word had reached everyone's ears that their emperor had met his unfortunate end upon the battlefield on the Sea of Fields, they rejoiced in that, knowing their ruler to be courageous and without dread rather than mourning about the loss of their source of power and headship. With joy rather than dread, Ramses thought, thinking about the common expression that was often said in the eastern parts of Yyquars. An expression well-suited for the folk who inhabited the great Gunish plains.

As he strolled on the streets, he saw Gunish men, women and children celebrating the night's perfect display of artworks. The air was filled with the thick smell of sweat, animal hair and incense. Smells of cinnamon and lavender filled the air when he passed the house of pleasures with the sign of the Ayi'lons; the nude man and woman engaging in lust. Two women with their breasts revealed spoke words of poetry to him, urging him to come inside and take their flesh and relieve them of their wants and aching desires, but he simply gave them a cunning smile and put into their hands five gold coins. However, to the man who wore only his leather sandals and a white cloth over his broad bronze shoulders, Ramses had given ten gold pieces and bid him a good and safe evening and he rode on.

The streets were always lively and colourful in the evenings, he had wished to remain until the sun rose, and sometimes he had, but the scorpion prince knew better than to remain out in the darkness for too long. He saw stalls of fruit sellers, perfume and incense sellers, women who sold fine cloths and scarfs, farmers who worked into the hours of the night to sell their livestock and butchered meats. The steam that came from the meat on skewers was enough to stop Ramses and buy a juicy piece of beef or duck, but he kept his stomach at bay and rode on until he found himself on the stone pathway to the outskirts of the city. There he saw the great ruins of Yyqueta; large pillars of eroding stone that had the images of the gods seated on their thrones. The gods, frozen in time as they watched those who entered and exited the greatest city of all time.