We wanted to be a society without war. We wanted to be a society without poverty. We wanted to be a society without strife. All were noble goals. But these are twisted into our natures. Can any artifice work when every part is inherently flawed?
***
That night, Laidu dreamed.
But this dream felt different. It felt like a memory, too real to be imagined. He felt the wind on his scales as he stood in the street of a great city. The buildings towered over him, made of smooth stone. Glass windows, in Alberion the privilege of the rich, shone in every window. This was a city of prestige, a city of power.
And it was burning.
The sky was choking with ash, the horizon stained red by the vast inferno. Buildings became deathtraps, the outer stone shells turning the structures into blast furnaces. He could hear the screams of the people within.
A flag drifted by in the wind, the corner on fire. With a start, Laidu recognized the symbol. It was an eight pointed star, the tips touching the edge of a circle around it. The symbol of Elysion.
"I thought I told you to leave," an all-too-familiar voice said. Laidu whipped around. There was that thing -Kazalibad- and it stood, bathed in crimson. Long, tonguelike tendrils lashed out, originating from the mouths all around the creature.
"Leave?" Laidu heard himself say.
"They abandoned you. They cast you out." Kazalibad's mouth on his head smiled, and the slit above opened into the crazed, bloodshot eye. "King of Joy, they don't want you anymore. They want the chaos. They want the incoherence. They want the amoral world they chose." He looked around. "This is what they wanted. But they didn't know they wanted it."
"You...you murderer!" There was a righteous anger in Laidu's voice, one he had never possessed before.
"I may kill...but I will never die because of that." He looked at the corpses, stained red around him. "Their lives were insignificant. Time plus matter plus chance. A fortunate happenstance for them. But I have elevated them to a greater purpose. They have become a part of a greater whole." Kazalibad's tendrils flicked around. "Me."
"You're wrong." It definitely wasn't Laidu that was talking. Laidu didn't have that sort of authority in his voice. "They're not insignificant."
"It's a moot point now," Kazalibad said. "Your presence, however, offends me." The tendrils idly lashed to and fro. "I don't like being offended." The tendrils paused. Laidu felt a deep fear come over him.
The tendrils lashed forward, slamming into him. "And now," Kazalibad said, picking up a massive chunk of masonry, "it's time to die!"
He brought the stone down on Laidu.
***
Heart pounding, Laidu sat up in bed. Which, in this case, gave him a headache.
BAM! Pain exploded across his forehead as he slammed into something. There was a thud as whatever he hit fell to the ground. "Ugh..." Laidu said groggily.
"Ow..." Kyra moaned, rubbing her head, laying on the floor.
Thaen sat up. "What's happening? Are we under attack?" he asked rather loudly. That caused the other three to sit up, alert. Well, Karik'ar and Skaria were alert. Indra was still half asleep.
"No..." Kyra said, sitting up. Laidu tossed off the covers and hopped off the bed.
"Kyra, are you alright?" he asked. "Sorry about that."
She put a hand on his bare shoulder to stabilize herself as she got up. "It's alright."
"Alright. No one's attacking, no one's dying. I'm going back to bed," Skaria said. She looked odd with her hair undone and her armor off. She fell back down onto the pillow, grabbed the quilt and pulled it close.
"Bah," Thaen said, before yanking the quilt over his head.
"Let's leave," Laidu suggested. "We don't want to wake them up." Kyra nodded, but stumbled. Laidu reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her close. "Still a bit dizzy from the fall?"
"Less from the fall and more from being whacked in the head." She smiled. "I think I'm good now." Laidu let go of her, and she stood, massaging the rather dark bruise that was forming on her head. The two of them walked out the room.
Rhea was busy, cleaning out the ashes from the hearth. "Oh, hello!" she said as they walked down the stairs. "I heard banging in the room. Is everything alright?"
"I had a nightmare," Laidu said. Rhea looked at him blankly.
"I saw him twitching and mumbling, and I wanted to hear what he was saying," Kyra explained. "I was right over his head when he sat up. And he sat up very fast."
"Ow," Rhea said. She went back to sweeping up the ashes into a bucket. "Looks painful."
"I wouldn't know," Kyra said. "Can't feel anything beyond the headache." She chuckled slightly. "I think Laidu's fine. His skull was plenty hard."
Laidu nodded. "I'm fine." He looked at Kyra. "Why don't you sit down?" Kyra nodded and sat down on a bench, massaging her temples. "I'm going to see if I can be of any use." He noticed the pile of firewood was almost gone. "Do you have an axe?" he asked.
"Um...what for?" Rhea asked.
"You look like you could use some firewood," Laidu remarked.
"In the shed out by the stables. Go through that door. Can't miss it," Rhea said, pointing to the door that Tom had vanished through the days before.
"Alright," Laidu said. "You, don't get yourself hurt," he said, looking at Kyra. And with those stunning words of wisdom, he went through the door.
The door opened to a covered walkway, connecting the inn with another long building that stank of hay. The stables. And there, leaning against the stable wall, was the axe.
The covered walkway opened up on one side to a small space, fenced in by the stable, the walkway, the inn, and the giant wooden city wall. A large pile of logs sat under a roof, dry, begging to be split. And a large stump, with countless indentations and slices within, looked the ideal place to split logs.
Laidu grabbed the axe and carried it over to the logs. His clawed feet sunk into the morning-dew damp earth as he grabbed a log and set it on the stump. He grabbed the axe, lifted it over his head, and brought it slamming down onto the log.
With an all-familiar crack, the log split in two, and Laidu frowned. The force of Laidu's swing embedded the axe head into the stump. Sighing, he put his foot on the stump and pulled, wrenching it free. He tossed one half of the log onto the other side, and picked up the next log. Another swing split that in two, and this time, the axe only stuck in a little bit. Laidu reached for a third one.
He enjoyed this work. It reminded him of Ranger training. It was something easy, something mindless, that he could just lose himself in, and forget about the problems of the world. Even the voices in his head remained silent. That was a nice feeling. Laidu needed them to be silent for a while. He set the third log up, and split it. But he must have swung wrong.
There was a crack, and the log split, yes. But it also showered him with splinters. "Bah," Laidu said, annoyed, brushing himself off. He tossed the log halves onto the growing pile.
You're an odd one. Laidu paused. That voice...it was new. Didn't sound like the dejected, sad one. It wasn't Rhaem or Kasran. Nor was it the voice he had heard in the night, the one who spoke of Weightless Blood. This was...different. It sounded smug.
So? Laidu thought back as he set the log up.
You're the vessel of a king. A real king. Not just some spoiled heir who inherited a crown and throne. A real king, the kind with majesty and honor and glory. The voice paused. And you find delight in this?
Yeah, Laidu said, a bit annoyed. I'm me. Not a king. I like this.
Yes, yes, of course you are, the voice said dismissively. But still, if you were given the robe of a king, you wouldn't be doing this. You wouldn't be doing manual labor. You understand? You wear the king's body. Respect it.
Laidu paused. Then, he stepped back, and looked around. There, outside the little enclosure, was a puddle. Perfect. He set the axe down, walked over to the covered walkway and, seeing no door to outside, vaulted over the railing. He stopped at the puddle. What are you doing? the voice asked, annoyed.
Do you see my reflection? Laidu asked.
Yes.
Describe it.
The voice paused. I see the shape of a man. A young man, but without skin nor hair, with the face of a dragon, and his noble pelt.
And?
Well, he's wearing some pants. And he's barefoot. And barechested. And pretty beat up. That last part was especially true. Laidu's chest didn't have the bandage anymore, as the cuts had cleared up quite well. But it was still a mottled collection of bruises and scrapes.
And?
Well, he's strong.
Exactly. Laidu hopped over the railing. I didn't always look like that. I trained long and hard to get strong. And guess how you stay that way?
By exercising. Yes, I'm well aware. The voice paused.
I work. That's how I exercise. That's how I keep the "king's vessel" in shape. That's who I am. But who are you?
I am the child who won a war. The voice faded away, silent.
Laidu sighed, then went on back to chopping wood. He lost himself in the monotony of it. Really, it felt good, just to work and exert himself. Except for a few sporadic fights -which had usually ended with Laidu sporting some new bruises- he hadn't done much. Riding was a trial, but a few minutes of stretching could change that.
By the seventh log, the voice was bored. Really, you should be training. Learning to protect yourself.
I know how to do that, Laidu said. I'm not an idiot. I was raised in Ten-Zuan, by warrior-monks.
Impressive, the voice said dryly. You're about as frightening as my rheumy old toothless aunt.
And who are you to judge?
The man who spared his worst enemy, yet killed the love of his life.
Laidu grimaced. That's rough, he said.
You don't know the half of it. The voice went quiet again.
Laidu finished with the woodcutting, and set the axe down. He moved over to pick up the logs, before stopping. He was being watched.
Immediately, the other voices roused. Is it Kazalibad? Kasran asked. I want to rip that giant eye out! Of course he did. If it involved violence or brutality in any fashion, Kasran would agree to it.
Not true! Kasran said. I abhor violence against animals! Well, he did have one redeeming quality. It ruins the meat. No one wants to eat an eviscerated animal! And that redeeming quality vanished, just like that.
Maybe they're friendly? Rhaem suggested. This time, Rhaem was spot on. He saw the spy watching him from a window in the inn. A familiar face watched him. Tom.
Laidu had an idea. He scowled and pointed at Tom. The boy's eyes went wide. Laidu pointed at Tom, then pointed next to himself. Come down here. Tom got the message. He disappeared from the window, and a few minutes later, dashed out the door. "What is it?" he asked. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No." Laidu stared gravely into the boy's eyes. "I need you to do something of utmost importance," he said with as much gravitas as he could muster. Inwardly, he fouught the urge to laugh hysterically.
"Yes? Anything!" Tom said.
"Help me carry this in." Laidu pointed to the large stack of firewood. Tom nodded, and began to stack the split logs up.
Laidu kicked the door open, and the two of them began to ferry the wood in. It filled up the firewood holder, so they set the rest on the ground. "You were a bit... overzealous out there, weren't you?" Rhea remarked.
Of course you are, the voice said.
I ask again, Laidu responded. Who are you to say this?
I am the bastard child who inherited a throne.
Laidu sighed. He was going mad. That was the only answer.
You better not be going mad! You have the vessel of a king, you know!
Laidu sighed. "Alright. I'll be back," he said to Rhea. "Sorry about the excess of firework."
"Yeah," Rhea said with a small smile. "Now I won't have anything to tell Tom to go do."
Laidu shrugged, and walked up the stairs, wincing slightly at the pain in his side. Oddly enough, it hadn't hurt when he was chopping wood.
You're welcome. The paradox-speaker was silent for a while. You know, I really don't like how you're hurting the body.
I know, Laidu responded. You tell me that a lot.
Maybe you should listen!
Yep. Laidu realized it as he sat on his bed, the others still asleep.
He was stark, raving mad. Only he didn't know it yet.