Child, God, Dust: The Cruel
Tjenkha, Central Nekhtou, the Kikhepis.
The Seventh Day of the First Moon, 2395 BD.
Today was a day for reflection. For contemplation. For instance, he thought that the vintage in his goblet was most pleasing, and he could see his face in it. Contemplation and reflection.
He smiled at the joke he had made in his own head, before drawing himself together and regaining some semblance of a serious aspect. He had achieved much in the few years he had reigned so far. The royal coffers remained full no matter how much gold and silver he poured into his monumental project, and his people regarded him as a true god-made-flesh. He had forged a fast friendship with the Sotenari and would likely go on a tour of the great cities of that empire within the next few years, and his armies were buoyed by their successes against rebels and marauding nomads alike. Indeed, it seemed that a strike against Nrtkha, the City of Vultures, would soon be made possible. With the nomads' piteous tent-city swallowed by the sands of the desert their power would be utterly broken, and they would be forced to scatter on the dunes. His advisors had warned him against such an action, stating that keeping the nomads centralised made them more manageable, and that splitting them apart would only increase the number of raids they launched against his good and loyal subjects as they scoured the land looking for food, shelter, and gold. He remained undeterred. If Nrtkha was destroyed then there would be less nomads to launch raids in the first place, didn't they understand that?
He shook his head and regathered his thoughts. It was not only the Sotenari Empire he had begun trading with; further north the city-states of southern Kliskorios were most receptive to his diplomatic overtures, and his exiled cousin seemed to have founded an empire of his own on the Dathanian peninsula centred around a city fittingly named 'Khypria'. It seemed cousin Khypra, backed by an eclectic band of his other cousins, wished to bring a touch of civilisation to the northern savages. Of course relations between them were strained, after all, Amerys had ordered the exile of his cousins, but they were not stupid; they knew that trading with their southern brethren was the best way to secure their power in these new lands. On top of that the easterners were coming with increasing regularity, their appetites for the black-diamonds found in the south of his kingdom around Ntidwakha seemingly never satiated. He took pride in that; these men and women had travelled thousands upon thousands of miles through dangerous waters and hostile lands, and then spent a fortune that most could only dream of acquiring in their lives on something that could only be found in his kingdom. He'd hosted dignitaries from far off lands that most had never even heard of, and sent them away with great gifts that were, to him, little more than trinkets and baubles.
To them, they were more valuable than all the riches of whatever distant kingdom or backwards tribe they had hailed from.
He had acquired many titles over the course of his reign so far. His own people knew him as the King-of-Kings, the Divine, the Magnificent, the Holy. The Sotenari called him the Peace-Bringer, the Slave-Master, or just the Radiant. He was much loved amongst the former enemies of his people.
The nomads had different names for him. They had heard of how the Sotenari had subjugated and broken an entire kingdom to fill out the ranks of the slaves he had purchased, they had seen the great monuments he was building in the Valley of the Gods, and were appalled. They called him many things. But no-one would ever repeat them to him unless pressed.
Sin-Made-Flesh. He-Who-Forges-Chains. False-God. The nomads had a great many names for him indeed. He was unaffected by them. Well, almost all of them. There was one name he despised;
A child, younger than Amerys himself, rushed forwards out of the line of slaves, waving his fist towards him. There was a look of uncontrolled fury on his face as he directed a flurry of curses at "He-Who-Waters-The-Desert-With-Tears".
Amerys signalled to the guard to his left, and a halberd fell swiftly. The boy dropped to the floor before he'd even been able to utter another word, an expression of shock on his face. Really, what had he expected to happen?
He had taken the tongue from every slave under twelve after that. He would brook no further insult to his person. He was holy, did they not see that? Were they so blinded by worldly attractions that they did not recognise his divinity?
Amerys took a deep breath, bringing himself back to the present. It didn't matter. The child had hurt his feelings, and he didn't like it. He would not be made to endure such ill-feelings again, that much he would make sure of. The name had gotten to him though, had struck a chord within his being. How could someone say something so hurtful to their divine monarch? It was inconceivable in their mind. For the briefest moment, for perhaps the first time in their short life, Amerys was given pause, was given doubt. For a moment he wondered if this would all be worth it.
But the thought lingered only for a moment, and then was gone. The Valley of the Gods was worth whatever sacrifice it demanded. It was what would remain of him, of his bloodline, his kingdom, when all else was gone. So what if a few lessers were spent on its construction? His new northern ally was more than happy to offer new slaves for his constructions almost as fast as they were bred. In fact, across the last four years he discovered he had been responsible for both the training of record numbers of masonry-adept slaves and the complete destruction of the small kingdom of Ereverry by the Sotenari, who had needed the population of that small kingdom to fill out the ranks of his bulk order of slaves. The people of Ereverry were a queer bunch, he thought to himself. They only worshipped one god, though they didn't acknowledge him as such. Instead they called him a 'Saint', which he had been told was some sort of holy champion. It was stupid, he thought. There were dozens of gods, and only one that walked the world amongst mortals.
Him.
He looked out over his palace, a goblet of wine in his young hands. It was his eleventh name-day today, and he found himself ruminating on all he had accomplished so far. He was the single largest purchaser of slaves in the world, and the head of the single greatest construction project ever undertaken. Ever. It was no exaggeration. The pyramids of his father and his father before him were as nothing compared to this. One-hundred thousand well trained workers toiled day and night in the valley, and some six-hundred thousand enslaved men and women were being worked to their death even as he sipped a truly excellent vintage from a jewel-studded goblet on a balcony in one of his palaces. Hundreds of 'creations' from the Slaver's Guild of the Sotenari Empire could be found amongst the workers, mostly Ogyrs, but also those creatures only referred to as being 'Titanblooded'. He hadn't known how true the name was before he had seen them in person. Their footsteps were as thunder in the desert skies, their size dwarfing even the Ogyrs that worked alongside them. There were two of them on the worksite, each of them named for one of the titans in Nekhtoudum mythology, Kamas and Nefera; to see them as anything other than the titans of myth was stupid. They were nothing less than true pinnacles of flesh-crafting, or whatever Fardin had called the process. Speaking of Fardin, the man had asked his presence to present him with a name-day gift in around an hours time in the same plaza where he had once been shown the Ogyrs at work. For all he enjoyed the hundreds of lavish gifts he had been presented with, there was something about the creations of the Slaver's Guild that filled him with excitement.
"Your Magnificence."
The voice of his spymaster cut through his reverie. He turned, and bid the man speak.
"Yes, Misaphris?"
Misaphris had been a good advisor and a true friend in the years since he had escorted Amerys to the throne. He had served both Amerys and his divine father well, and had ingratiated himself to almost everyone in court. Even the Sotenari, distrusting as they were of most Nekhtoudum, found him to be a most pleasing figure both in court and in courting, so to speak.
"Your report from your advisory council, summarised as requested."
He nodded at the man, and bid him read the text.
"Casualties amongst the workforce have just risen past seventy-thousand workers. We have yet to encounter another nomadic raid since the Ogyrs killed the last party that attempted to free your property in the valley."
"Anything else?"
There was a brief pause for a moment, an expression somewhere between pleasure and annoyance on the face of his spymaster.
"Your... project is progressing well, your Magnificence. The latest progress report was reviewed in your name by your advisory council."
In reality he knew his spymaster's unspoken objections to his monument to the gods. Misaphris, though supportive of the new relations between the Kingdom of the Kikhepis and the Sotenari Empire, believed that the vast head of chattel Amerys had purchased would be put to far better use working on farms or building roads or bridges or somesuch boring thing. Amerys knew the man meant well, he just... he lacked creativity. It was not his fault; he just did not have the divine mind Amerys did.
He let the silence linger a second or two, to get his thoughts back on track.
"And?"
"The first statue has been completed, your Magnificence, with the second no more than three weeks away from completion. Most casualties seem to come from those working on the uppermost regions of the mountains and statues due to a mixture of what I have been informed is 'altitude sickness' and 'thin air', though the Ogyrs seem to suffer no such ailments when they ascend to such heights. Those in charge of the worksite therefore recommend increasing the numbers of Ogyrs, as they perform their duties far more efficiently than any human could hope to achieve at such heights."
Amerys nodded.
"It will be done. I am to meet with Fardin soon, and shall thusly bring such matters to his attention. I know he will do whatever is asked of him by myself; he has risen far on the back of my patronage, and understands that his rise is only assured so long as he maintains my support. Tell the heads of the worksite that they will have more of their Ogyrs soon enough."
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Amerys' spymaster nodded and motioned towards the door.
"Speaking of Fardin, you are right when you say you are to meet with him soon enough. I believe he is waiting for you in the courtyard as we speak."
Amerys nodded and poured what was left of his vintage onto the ground below the balcony. He had not expected the man to arrive so soon, and yet there was no point wasting time savouring his wine. He could always get another cup, after all.
"Very well. I shall see him at once."
A rare, true smile overcame his features as he thought back on the gifts he had been sent by the Sotenari on previous namedays.
"Oh, I can hardly wait. I wonder what he'll have brought before me this time?"
The spymaster just smiled a sardonic smile.
"Well, there's only one way to know for sure, isn't there?"
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He always liked meeting with Fardin. Life had been strangely lonely since he had taken the throne, what with his family gone and most people being to awed by his status to approach him, but Fardin had grown close enough that Amerys was fairly certain he could almost be called a friend. Almost. Misaphris didn't trust anyone who tried to befriend the King-of-Kings, and as a result Amerys had never kept a true friend for long; they were all just after his riches, his lands, his power, how could he trust them?
Misaphris diligently kept him safe, however. He made sure that all those who wished him harm were shooed away, told under no uncertain terms never to return. Some sort of melancholy seemed to flit through Amerys' mind and through his chest whenever the thought of his loneliness passed through his thoughts, but he always pushed it away. It was a fleeting thing, and he was divine. It would be unbecoming of him to waste time thinking on what might have been, of fantasising about companionship. He was divine. That was enough by itself.
"Your Magnificence! It is most pleasing to see you on a day so beautiful as today!"
Fardin's voice cut through the courtyard, and Amerys smiled. Yes, it was a beautiful day out. The sun was shining, there was a smattering of clouds to provide shelter from its rays where required, and there was a most pleasing sensation whenever the northerly breeze met his exposed skin. Yes, today was beautiful.
"Indeed, it is a most pleasant day. I will admit to being pleasantly surprised to hear of your presence here on this day. Please, rise. Rise, and tell me of your most generous offering."
Fardin did as commanded, a curled smile upon his lips.
"As your Magnificence commands! Your Magnificence, may I ask if you still possess the black whip gifted to you three years ago?"
Amerys grabbed the curled whip at his belt and waved it around for emphasis.
"Indeed I do. It is almost always worn upon my belt, next to my blade. I do so enjoy seeing the glint of the diamond in its hilt."
Fardin smiled his sleazy smile back at him, stepping forwards.
"I am most glad to hear that, your Magnificence. I have something here that will, I hope, truly elate your divine self."
Fardin clapped his hands twice, and then there was a shrill screech. It was the cry of an animal, that much seemed evident, but Amerys had known of no creature that could make such a loud noise save only the titanblooded.
"In a moment, your Magnificence, you will lay eyes upon one of the greatest works of our Guild yet. Not for its size, nor the constituent creatures that make up its form, but for how sophisticated its training methods have been."
A shadow covered the courtyard, and then fell to land alongside Fardin. Hardened flesh, pale-green in colour, covered the bulk of its form. A pair of short horns sprouted from its skull, and its legs were almost reptilian in form.
"Before you, your Magnificence, stands a wyvern. Not just any wyvern either; this one has been specifically bred and trained to be completely and utterly subservient to you, or rather, your whip."
Amerys stepped forwards tentatively, ignoring the tensing of his champions. They were here to protect him, so they obviously wanted to step between Amerys and the beast, but they were also smart enough to know that any attempt to come between Amerys and the creations of the Slaver's Guild that he so loved was tantamount to ordering their own execution. He raised the black whip, holding it up to the winged beast as if to show the creature that he was to be its new master. The creature sniffed it twice, then bowed its head. Amerys turned to Fardin, shocked.
"He's... he's... so docile... how?"
Fardin smiled and bowed his head a little.
"She, actually, and I would not wish to bore your Magnificence with the minutiae of how the fleshsmiths mould the minds of such creatures. Instead I will simply say that both the Slaver's Guild and the Fleshsmiths who serve them are most thankful for your support, and... well, with all else said, happy name-day, your Magnificence."
Amerys smiled at the man as he petted the beast. This had to be his best name-day yet!
"Oh, and as a little something from me personally, your Magnificence."
He gestured to the midsection of the wyvern, and as he walked to the side of the creature to see what Fardin was motioning to Amerys actually gasped.
A saddle. Fardin had given him the means to ride this creature. Amerys felt a rare spike of true gratitude flood his senses,
"Oh, Fardin, you've truly outdone yourself this time. Truly, thank you."
The man stood there looking like a rather puffed-up songbird after receiving the compliment, and Amerys made to climb the rungs that led up to the saddle. It was good, comfortable leather, seeming to be secured around the midsection of the wyvern with further strips of the reinforced stuff.
"Your Magnificence needs only command the creature, and it will obey. It has been trained in your own tongue. I advise only that you ensure every strap is secured and in place around your person, and that you keep a good grip on the reins. I would not wish your Magnificence harmed, and so the safety of your person was paramount whilst such a saddle was designed."
Somewhere in front of his position Amerys heard a noise of strangled fear from Misaphris, if quickly smothered. It seems his spymaster had just decided to join him.
"She will rise when I give the word?"
"Indeed she will, your Magnificence. Are the straps in place?"
Amerys clinched the last of the leather strips into position, and then tugged each of them in turn to make sure they were secured. His legs were all but bound to the saddle, likewise his torso, and so he would be under little danger of falling from the saddle mid-flight, he assumed.
"I will fly her now. Depending on how well she flies, I will fly to the Valley of the Gods, to see the statues that have been finished as well as those under construction."
Fardin nodded, smiling. Misaphris' frown deepened.
"She will have you there after a day's flight, your Magnificence. I wish you well on your journey, and hope you find it most enjoyable."
Amerys smiled a true smile at him once more, then turned so he was forwards facing in the saddle.
"RISE!"
And then he was flying.
He giggled and laughed as he rose through the air at a truly staggering speed, before gently pulling on the reins, leading the wyvern to slow its ascent before hovering in the air. Amerys laughed heartily as he looked down at the world below from his perch on high. This, this was what it meant to be divine! To soar high above the world upon the back of a creature that had taken most likely longer than a year to create, to condition, to train, and to know that it was meant as little more than a gift to him! A gift!
He laughed hard and loud. For a moment the lonely feeling that had lingered in the back of his mind was banished as he felt a oneness with the creature that carried him into the skies.
"Tuaa. That is to be your name. Do you hear me, Tuaa? You're not some monster or creature that I own, you're not some slave. You're my pet, understand?"
If the creature heard him it did not respond, save for a guttural groan that Amerys took to mean "yes". He smiled wider, if such a thing were possible, and urged her forwards.
"Onwards, Tuaa!"
He pressed his feet into her side, and she sped up. He just needed to follow the river Kikhepis until the mountains came into sight, then it'd be child's play to find the Valley of the Gods. But then, he wasn't too worried about taking a wrong turn. After all, it would give him more time to savour the joys of flying. A tear rolled down at his cheek, and he swiftly swiped it away with one hand whilst the other gripped the reins. He was so, so happy! He could see so much of the world from up here, and if he had the time he would gladly have travelled to the four corners of the world, but he knew he would never find the time. There were always too many dignitaries to meet, too many ceremonies to oversee, too many accounts to review. Amerys thanked all the gods that Misaphris had agreed to oversee the rest of the functions of state. Without his help Amerys would have found himself unable to deal with all the stresses of rulership, surely. Well, that was what Misaphris said, anyway.
He pushed such thoughts aside. He was here, now, and should make the most of it whilst it lasted. He was flying, and surely that would be enough to satisfy him for now!
His flight came to an end all too soon, but oh, by all the gods, those statues were magnificent. Intimidating, yes, but magnificent. The lives spent in their construction, the riches poured into the colossal construction works, it was all worth it. Only two stood finished at the moment, but by the very gods who's likeness they bore, they were truly worthy of every accolade that would surely be lavished upon them in the centuries to come. From this distance their true vastness could be truly appreciated, not least because he was far from the hundreds of thousands of slaves wasting away in the valley as little more than a form of living rot. They would only dampen his experience if he had to look upon them.
He sighed to himself. He really wanted to look up from the feet of the statues, to see them from the ground level. He didn't really have a choice but to see the thousands of head of chattel, did he?
Well, best get that part over with. At the very least they'll quail before Tuaa. And then I'll get some food and some sleep. It's been a tiring day of flying, after all.
He was carried to the valley by the sound of almost gentle wingbeats, before setting down carefully in the overseer's quarter. A lavish tent was commandeered, as well as a bronze tub filled with heated water. He scrubbed himself clean before eating. Who knew that there was so much dust in the air to cling to you? His meal was small, but excellent, and he went to bed with a full stomach and a satisfied smile.
But strangely enough, he struggled to get asleep. He could not shake the feeling that he was being judged.
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The statues that had been finished defied even his greatest expectations. They were huge, so huge that when he had stood at the base he could not see the head, but when he stood and stared from his camp miles away from the valley itself he could see them in all their glory. They had been carved with such care that they almost felt lifelike, a sensation that sent shivers or chills down the spine, depending on who you asked. The eyes were the most magnificent thing, he thought. They were made of a most strange rock that the priesthood called 'wyrd-stone', or somesuch thing, a grey coloured rock with blue seams that almost seemed to flicker and flow as he looked at it, giving the impression that it was truly alive. The Sotenari, especially their fleshsmiths, as Amerys had come to know quite well, coveted the substance to no end, as did his own priesthood. Apparently it was used in the construction of some runic magics on the tombs of his forebears, most notably the pyramid of Djaf the Undying, the first King-of-Kings, but the fleshsmiths decried what they saw as a 'waste of a most valuable substance', and had informed him that it was a most useful component in the making of their creations. According to those who had overseen that particular part of the project the very air itself seemed to cool around the stone, becoming frigid and cold.
Even thinking about it sent a chill down his spine. He pushed the thought away. Stone was stone, odd or not. It was of no significance to one such as himself. Besides, the feeling of power it gave him, the sensation that he had crafted something that defied all the laws of this world...
He shivered in ecstasy. Everything was proceeding in a most pleasing fashion; he suspected that his reign held a great many high points for the kingdom over which he ruled, the kingdom his father and his father's father had ruled, and that his sons would one day continue to rule. Yes, he was to be the high point of a thousand generations of greatness, and so long as the world continued to turn, so long as the sun rose in the east and set in the west, his name would be remembered. He would be remembered.
Yes, that sounded good. What a lovely thought that was. He thought to himself.
How much he looked forwards to eternity amongst his divine kin.