Immortal gates

Chapter 3: Acceptance

While he was waiting for the return of his goddess, emperor Tristan contemplated his chances of living to see the next sunrise.

The winter solstice was the most dreaded event of the year in all the six empires. It was on this day that emperors, kings, guild masters and commoners alike felt their lives hanging in the balance while the gods held their annual summit meeting. Some empires feared this day more than others, depending on how tempestuous their ruling deity was known to be.

Tristan had been pacing back and forth between the throne and the balcony ever since the sun had set. The goddess was unusually late this year, which was an ominous sign in his opinion and caused all sorts of dreadful scenarios to play out in his head. He knew very well about the worst historic events that had taken place on winter solstices, such as during the year 344 of the Divine Age when the god Endarion, the most ruthless of the six, had destroyed his own capital city. Over a million souls were erased from the face of Eurasia within the blink of an eye. Even now, after nearly four centuries, the vestige of what used to be called Moscova still holds testament of what a god can do when enraged.

The summits were always held in heavenly places where only the gods could reach, which is why only the six gods ever knew what went on up there, but for some reason sometimes they returned with a powerful thirst for mortal death.

Fortunately for the empire of Tynnvrosil, the goddess Rin was not as tempestuous as the god Endarion, but unfortunately for Tristan, she had her moments too. The previously delegated emperor, Ulux, and his predecessor, emperor Fargus, both lost their lives because Rin had returned displeased from two particular summits. The former emperors had no fault except for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and perhaps asking a wrong question or looking the wrong way.

This was plenty of reason to put the current emperor in the terrible mood he was in, and the only one in the palace who did not share his anxiety was his personal advisor.

"How is it that you never seem worried, Zen?" Tristan addressed the skinny, silver-haired old man who was sitting in his usual place near a corner of the throne room. "Even on nights like this you somehow maintain your tranquility."

The old man shrugged. "I do not presume to have any control over my destiny, high one," Zen replied with a weary voice, distinctive of men his age. "Whatever you or the divine lady decide, that is what shall occur," he fatalistically concluded, slightly bowing his head. "I find that acceptance is the solution to any problem, but this is only my humble view on the matter. I do not presume to understand the burdens that emperors carry on their shoulders."

The emperor rolled his eyes, wondering why he had even bothered to ask. After all, he had known Zen's philosophical world views for over three years now. Seeing as the old man had somehow outlived the previous two emperors, Tristan was suspecting that this philosophy might have some merit.

"How many servants are in the palace?" Tristan decided to change the subject.

"I do not know, high one. Shall I find out?"

"No. Stay here."

Four personal guards were stationed in the throne room. Tristan addressed them all. "Go through the palace and dismiss anyone who is not essentially needed until morning. It is probably safer for them to leave this place. Oh, and you all should do the same." he instructed. The guards executed command with visible signs of relief on their faces, leaving the room immediately.

"That was gracious of you, high one." Zen remarked.

The old man and most of the servants who worked in the palace knew that Tristan was a peaceful and just emperor who disliked meaningless violence and death.