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incomplete-nano-stash · 4 years

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Welcome to Technasia Ch. 2

In a dark, foreboding throne room there sat a single man, glowering into the darkness, his face showing an intensity no mortal dared to confront. Shafts of light penetrated the darkness at various times, while high above his throne stood the crest of his kingdom, the highly masculine lions on either side ever challenging each other to a duel to the death. Into this environment walked a slender man, a royal advisor, who made no attempt to hide his nervousness at having to enter the throne room.

The advisor stood on ceremony, upright and strong as he entered. “My Liege Lord Protector, I humbly ask for your audience today.”

The king muttered, a low, guttural sound that barely sounded like human language emanating from his slumped frame. He turned to a figure hidden in shadows, motioning toward the advisor. The shadow figure gruffly made his way across the throne room, eventually showing his intimidating frame in the shafts of sunlight, and the face containing a permanent scowl.

“His Royal Majesty, Lord Protector Turgen Halder, demands to know your business before the throne today.”

The advisor cleared his throat. “Your Highness, it is urgent. I have news of the happenings in Technasia.”

An eyebrow raised, the larger man motioned for the advisor to follow him further into the darkness. When they were before King Turgen, the larger man walked up and whispered in the King’s ear. This made the figure perk up gently, his beard ruffling as he finally spoke clearly.

“Prince Guent tells me you have Technasian news. Please tell me it’s chaos over there.” King Turgen laughed coldly.

“It’s close, My Liege.” The advisor handed forward three sheets of paper, which Prince Guent intercepted. “There has been an assassination. The fourth in line for the throne was killed.”

“I see.” King Turgen motioned to the prince. “Guent, do you mind?”

“Not at all, Your Majesty.” Guent took the papers from the advisor and gave them a quick glance. “Hm, seems that the Princess of Medicine was the victim.”

King Turgen growled. “Stupid assassin, can’t pick a higher value target? Honestly, who kills a doctor?”

The advisor bit his tongue, not wishing to remind the King that in their last armed conflict he had ordered the targeting of a Technasian-run hospital. Guent, however, continued reading the missives. “It says here the entire Royal Corps came under fire during a parade, and a commoner’s interference prevented further loss of life.”

King Turgen snorted. “Well all right then, have a missive of our own composed offering Litigia’s warmest condolences. Have your worthless brother do it.”

“Have me do what?” The higher-pitched voice carried through the room as another figure entered the room, another royal. “What’s going on, dad?”

Prince Guent flew into a rage and ran toward the newcomer, knocking him to the floor. “That is your King, Thaylen, and you will address him as ‘Your Majesty’ when you are in his presence!” Guent threw the first missive derisively toward Thaylen. “Compose a diplomatic reply to Technasia regarding this. Now!”

Punctuating his order with a kick to his brother’s abdomen, Prince Guent smiled with a satisfied sense of superiority as Thaylen struggled to get back to his feet and quickly left the throne room. He returned to King Turgen’s side, finding his father chuckling at the show.

“Well done, Guent. What else have we heard?”

Prince Guent returned to the rest of the sheaf of papers. “It appears that tomorrow there will be a memorial service for the Princess … ew, how can you go around with a name like Giana Killaine? Sounds like a scullery maid’s name.”

King Turgen chuffed under his breath. “She probably was one before they put her in line for their worthless throne.” The King spat his disgust, then turned to the advisor. “Contact the diplomatic corps and arrange for an ambassador to attend the festivities.”

“Very good, Your Majesty, it will be done.” The advisor bowed in assent, awaiting his permission to take his King’s leave.

“That’s odd, they have already replaced the dead Princess in the Royal Corps.”

Guent’s statement immediately had the attention of both the advisor and King Turgen. “What’s that?”

Prince Guent waved the third sheet in front of him. “Right here. Apparently that commoner that saved the rest of the Royal Corps was named Princess by …” The Prince’s eyes widened suddenly.

“What? What is it? Tell me, Guent.” King Turgen’s voice became more insistent. He almost stood up.

“The name of the new Princess. Isn’t this familiar?” Prince Guent handed the sheet over to his father. The King squinted his eyes and muttered as he read the missive aloud, only allowing certain words to be intelligible.

“… blah blah … new Princess … reward … heroic service … Technology … im … im-a-geen in-peer-ya?”

Prince Guent’s face darkened. “It’s Hunt Inperia’s daughter.”

King Turgen suddenly crushed the missive in one hand. His teeth ground. “Cancel the ambassador,” he barked at the advisor.

“Your Majesty?” The advisor leaned forward, hoping for clarification.

“You heard me. Cancel the ambassador to the memorial. And get me the assembly of Lords. We need to take a keener interest in these events.”

Thaylen still rubbed his side where Prince Guent had kicked him. Almost like he knew. The tight windings underneath his shirt were that much more uncomfortable now.

“No luck, huh?” A woman’s voice stopped Thaylen in mid-stride. He turned to face his questioner, a noblewoman by her dress, leaning casually against the wall with her feet crossed in front of her.

“I apologize, Lord Moethran, I didn’t have a chance …”

“Oh, you poor dear.” Lord Moethran approached Thaylen slowly, extending her hand to stroke the man’s cheek gently. “You sweet, smooth little boy, it’s okay. It was a longshot anyway.” She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Oh, and don’t stand on ceremony for me, you can call me Firnian when it’s just us.”

Thaylen smirked. “I know, but you know how my brother is …”

“Fuck your brother.” Firnian laughed like she had made a joke. “Not that you or anyone would want to, of course.” She looked down and noticed Thaylen cuddling his side. “May I?” Thaylen sighed, looking around the hallway. “I suppose.” He gingerly lifted up his shirt, revealing the tightly wound linen on his side. Firnian gently lifted the linen and looked at Thaylen’s flesh.

“Oh dear, that’s going to bruise. Here, let’s get you to your room.” Firnian stuffed Thaylen’s shirt back into his belt, just in time as the advisor came out into the hallway.

“Oh, Lord Moethran, you’re here already! Our Glorious King, Lord Protector Turgen Halder, requests your presence at an immediate Council of Lords meeting. May I ask if you know where the other Lords are?”

Firnian smirked. “Like I keep tabs on them? I don’t know, probably off somewhere jacking off to their own reflections.” She grumbled and walked down the hallway, but turned to wave to Thaylen as she left.

The advisor turned and watched Firnian leave. “What I wouldn’t give to have that on my arm.”

Thaylen cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

The advisor turned back to Thaylen and saw fire in his eyes. “Oh dear, Your Highness, I didn’t mean …”

“I’d hope you didn’t. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a missive to write.” Thaylen turned away from the advisor and continued down the hallway, toward his room. Once away from prying eyes, with the door securely shut, he made his way to the mirror in the room and resumed the task of attending to the injury Prince Guent had delivered.

His shirt off, Thaylen began the tedious task of unwinding the linen which encased his torso. Three layers … four … five … six. It had to be secure every day, there was no way it could move, even in desperate cases. The linen sheet fluttered down to the floor.

Thaylen inspected his upper torso in the mirror. Firnian was right, he was already bruising right where he had been kicked, with a near-perfect imprint of the toe of Prince Guent’s boot in an ugly brownish-black color forming. The latest of many, as he looked over the other injuries he had sustained at his brother’s hands. There was the burn mark on his shoulder, which was going to scar, the remnant of a fistfight Prince Guent had decided to start in the palace kitchen. There was a cut from Prince Guent’s sigil ring, running along the front of Thaylen’s stomach, a body blow in the same fight. Out of habit, he looked over a scar from the most recent of Prince Guent’s murder attempts, a neat stab wound that had gone in one side of Thaylen’s right breast and out the other.

Thaylen chuckled as he ran his fingers along the scar. It was a miracle that they didn’t find out then. How long could he keep it up?

Evening fell, but the palace continued to be busy, with all torches and lights running. Cars pulled up to the castle gates, all awaiting their admission. Each of them carried an important guest, a member of the Litigian Council of Lords; these men of power and wealth were the dictators of policy and advisors to King Turgen on urgent matters of state.

Tonight this matter was unknown to the Lords, as each of them sat at the long banquet table, each nursing their own plate overflowing with food. Each had their own concerns, each had their own source of prestige, but none of that may have mattered tonight. Tonight they were all men, drinking and eating and bellowing.

Nice crowd, Lord Moethran thought darkly. She was a member of the Council, true, but she was also the one marginalized the most often. She should have equal power, she kept reminding herself, even as she ducked a flying chicken leg. She straightened up and glowered at the thrower. “Seriously?”

The responsible party, Lord Bruxien Jair, grinned sheepishly and shrugged. The gesture made him look cartoonish because of his long beard, and disgusting all at once due to all of the food caught in his teeth. “Sorry, Firn. Want some?”

Lord Moethran wrinkled her nose. “Not if you’ve touched it, you bastard.”

Her disgust only triggered laughter from the other two Lords. The only one not laughing was the one right next to Lord Moethran. He turned toward her. “I’m so sorry for my sex. These people do not represent us all.”

“I know, Lord Qine. You’re one of the good ones.” She patted his cheek. Lord Umbrient Qine blushed at the gesture, as Lord Moethran continued. “These idiots, on the other hand …”

Lord Qine lowered his face and shook his head. “Sad.”

Trumpets interrupted the din of the room. At once, all of the Lords stood up. A guard entered the room. “All hail His Majesty, King and Lord Protector of Litigia, Turgen Halder!”

King Turgen shuffled into the room, waving and smiling, as most of the Lords applauded him, Lord Moethran being the exception. King Turgen took his place at the head of the table.

“All hail His Highness, Crown Prince and Executioner of the Crown of Litigia, Prince Guent Halder!”

Prince Guent strode confidently into the room, taking a place by his father’s right side. He looked for a chair to take, and finding none made his way to the other end of the table to take Lord Moethran’s. “Certainly you can stand like the cow you are, bitch,” he muttered under his breath. He loudly slammed the chair down next to his father, almost to rub it in to Lord Moethran that she was now chair-less, and sat down with one foot on the table.

King Turgen lifted his hands to the Lords. “Please, sit.” The Lords took their places at the table, at least those who still had chairs. King Turgen glared daggers at Lord Moethran. “I said sit down, Lord Moethran.”

Firnian seethed internally. She had to remain courtly. She had to be polite. Any false move killed her and removed her house from any chance at the throne. She took a deep breath. “Your Majesty, I’m afraid I do not have a chair to sit in.”

“That sounds like a personal problem, Lord Moethran. None of my concern.” King Turgen laughed coldly. This roused chuckles from two of the other Lords. Lord Qine, on the other hand, motioned for a palace servant to bring a chair for Firnian, who sat down when it was brought to the table.

“Very well, then, let’s discuss the urgent news that is coming from our rival to the northeast. Guent, please?”

Prince Guent rolled his eyes … clearly he didn’t think he would have to do anything at this meeting … and stood up. “Gentlemen and Lord Moethran, we received word this morning that Technasia had a Princess assassinated.”

The Lords rustled among themselves. Lord Jair cleared his throat. “Do we know which one? Please let it be the Princess of Law, I hate her.”

Prince Guent shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but it was the Princess of Medicine. They still have the first in line to throne; Giana Killaine was fourth in line.”

Lord Qine shuddered. He pulled out a notebook and wrote a quick reminder. Lord Moethran sighed and mournfully lowered her face.

“That’s not the important part. Guent, get to the good stuff!” King Turgen was adamant, and yelled the order at his son.

“I’m getting there.” Prince Guent cleared his throat. “In the chaos of the events, Queen Guerrania named a new Princess. This is why we’re assembled tonight.”

Lord Moethran raised her face, interest showing. She and Lord Qine leaned forward.

King Turgen took the announcement away from Prince Guent. “Gentlemen, and Lord Moethran, the new Princess is the daughter of Hunt Inperia.”

A collective gasp came from both Lord Jair and his best friend on the council, Lord Vriant Poe. They passed concerned looks at each other.

Lord Moethran, though, was perplexed. “Why is this so important? What’s wrong with you guys?”

Lord Poe turned quickly and glared at Lord Moethran. “Are you as ignorant as you are crude, woman? Hunt Inperia is an enemy of the state.”

Lord Moethran and Lord Qine looked confusedly at each other, then back to the other Lords. “I don’t follow,” Lord Qine admitted.

King Turgen rubbed his temples in exasperation. “For those of us in the room unfamiliar with this name …” he glared at Lords Moethran and Qine. “Hunt Inperia for a long time worked as a designer at Lord Poe’s company, designing the arms which made the Litigian Army the grandest in the world. Then approximately twenty-two years ago, he rejected his Litigian citizenship and fled to Technasia.”

Prince Guent continued. “We’re very sure he spent those twenty-two years designing weapons for the Technasians. Not sure if you’re familiar, but Queen Guerrania used to be the Princess of War, so she’d want a good weapons designer in her camp.”

Lord Moethran nodded. “Did anyone bother to ever ask Master Inperia why he left?”

Lord Jair scoffed. “He said he fell in love and was tired of making weapons.”

“Indeed,” Lord Poe added. “I remember him telling me I should join him, but I refused. Why would I abandon my own company?”

“He said he wanted to build inventions to help people rather than kill them.” Prince Guent laughed coldly at the statement. “Can you imagine that?”

Lord Qine shuddered. “Of course, he’d say that,” he whispered to Lord Moethran. She, however, was losing her patience and stood up.

“So what exactly are you proposing? We go in, we kidnap a Technasian Princess, force Hunt to return?” Lord Moethran clutched tightly to the table.

“Far from it,” Prince Guent growled, ”and know your place, bitch! Sit!”

King Turgen swatted Prince Guent on the back of his head. “Know your place, Guent. Sure she’s a woman, but she’s also a Lord and she is entitled to speak her mind at this meeting, just as we are.” He turned back to Lord Moethran. “All the same, though, please sit back down. We are proposing sending an ambassador to the memorial service, someone who can get close to the Royal Corps and report on the happenings that Princess Inperia is doing for Queen Guerrania.”

As Lord Moethran sat back down, Lords Jair and Poe muttered in agreement between themselves. Lord Qine raised his hand slowly. “If I may, Your Majesty, why send a spy? It’s my understanding that the Royal Corps is insanely open about their activities.”

King Turgen pursed his lips at the younger Lord. “Do you have someone in mind?”

Lord Qine shrugged. “Why don’t you send one of us? We can get in, use our diplomatic status to get close, and report to you what we find out.”

“Absolutely not!” Prince Guent stood up and pointed toward Lord Qine. “No Lord is permitted to go to the enemy. I forbid it!”

Lord Moethran stood up again. “You are not the King, Your Highness.” She turned back to King Turgen. “I will go.”

The room went silent, briefly. Lord Jair started laughing. “You? You’re a woman, you know nothing of diplomacy.”

Lord Moethran smirked. “And just because you have extra equipment in your pants means you do? What are you going to do, chuck a pie at her and hope she blows you for it?” Her smirk became even wider as Lord Jair let himself get baited.

“Enough!” King Turgen stood up at his end of the table. “What are your terms for the assignment, Lord Moethran?”

Lord Moethran sat down. “It’s like you said. I’ll go, act as Litigia’s ambassador to the memorial, spend some time getting to know the new Princess, and report back. I’ll need a royal stipend to cover expenses.”

King Turgen nodded. “Done.”

Lord Moethran cleared her throat nervously before making her next request. “And I want Thaylen with me, as my escort.”

Prince Guent laughed hard. “You can’t be serious!” He nearly fell out of his chair.

“I’m deadly serious. Send Thaylen with me as my escort. It might look better for Litigia if the writer of our condolence missive comes with the diplomatic party that attends the funeral. Besides, it’s not like you need him here, you’ve got plenty of whipping boys around.”

King Turgen stroked his chin. His eyes rotated upward. “Reports nightly. Agreed?”

Lord Moethran took a deep breath and nodded. “Of course.”

“Very well.” King Turgen rang a bell, summoning an advisor. The man quickly raced to the King’s side. “Ready a stipend account and a security detail for Lord Moethran and Prince Thaylen to travel to Technasia. They leave at dawn.”

#nanowrimo #incomplete nano

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christiancrossroads-blog · 7 years

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July 28, 2017

Today could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse. But I also chose not to make it better. I know that I need to me God my priority in my life but it is hard to get there. Today was another day of whirlwind emotions. However, I really tried to keep the peace. Is it bad that I can’t even remember how my morning went because it honestly feels so long ago. Everyday seems so long. I do realize that I have trouble remembering events when I am under a lot of stress and that is what this is…stress. Anyway, I am not sure if we cleaned today or yesterday… although I think it was today. It was very stressful and very tense. I was able swallow my pride and say thank you, accept that he cleans differently than me and that is okay, I was even able to put out the fire of an argument that was brewing in both of us. We were able to come together and actually shower together. I paused in the shower and held him and kissed his lips. These days, kisses make me cry. Each one seems like it may be the last. I laid on the bed and he actually invited himself to lay with me. Skin to skin. Honestly the best part was the time after where he held me. And I could feel our breath and our heart beats in sync. It was safe. It’s when his brace unlocks when I feel uncertainty at my every step. Fortunately he was able to help me with cleaning out my car and even willingly helped happy outside. It was pleasant. Sophie met the neighbor and we smiled in the sun. Bren resisted the urge to get angry when I unexpectedly decided to start cleaning the book case on garage. I could see his frustration, the way he had to pause, inhale and redirected the conversation. It was one moment but I was grateful. My luck was running short though. Bren became distracted and quickly left for inside before I was done. I ended up grasping all the things and scrambled to carry them inside. I honestly do not remember what he was doing when I got inside but I knew I needed to get ready. I had decided to go to the county fair. Bren was pleased because at some point in the day an almost-argument happened regarding his desire to raid tonight and tomorrow tonight. This exact phrase makes me feel as if I’m never his one desire. In that moment I swallowed the anger, disappointment and fear and chose to continue life. I am realizing that I can not make him live with me. By this I mean that I can not make him participate in life actively by my side. And that is okay. However, I wish I didn’t have to learn to want to live without him. I am not sure if that is going to be interpreted correctly. Let me re-phrase it, I wish that I did not have to chose to experience life with other people. (Skipping a big portion of unpleasant family time.) Tonight I ended up going to the county fair with Abby. However, this always comes with struggles. My faith is not without weakness and each time I spend extended periods of time with her, I can feel myself choosing the world more than Christ. Knowing this, I need to work on it. Like I really need to, not just typing this and forget about it. Anyway, my second mistake was county fairs aren’t my thing. I am not sure what is but that isn’t it. Something about all the worldly idols and adultery and alcohol, etc. didn’t sit very well. Instead of just enjoying myself I actually was very critical of everything and everyone. This, me being just as sinful as me judging others to be. The verse in Matthew about the plank in my eye actually came to mind. Despite the sin-filled evening, I know God was with me on the drive home. One of these days I will actually feel comfortable behind the wheel of my dear friend Abby. In the meantime I’ll pray and just trust that God has plans for me for another day. I called Bren on my way home like normal and he reminded me to get him some medicine and despite my desire to just go home, I did it. I stopped. I even surprised him with mints. I sat next to him and even thought about asking him to get me some water to soak my foot but decided against that. I did it myself and then sat next to him as he played his game. There was no anger or fear. I laid my head gently on his shoulder and a few moments passed and he kissed my forehead. It was 11:40 when I was done and cleaned up my mess. I asked Bren if happy was in bed and he said yes but no meds. This upset me because I know he was asleep but because he was so caught up in his game he could not stop to administer the medicine. Also, I knew the raid was over at 10pm. Anyway, I shut my mouth smoothed over the hiccup with some remark and made his meds. I then went to tend to happy where o realized Bren hadn’t done a thing. It was upsetting because he knew I was on my way and that it should had been done 40 ‘inured prior. However there was no injury or neglect necessarily but I felt sad that he waited and didn’t do it. I went into the room and at 12:03 am I began folding the clothes on the bed and then laid down shortly after. Bren has said he was only doing one more thing and then he would come to bed at 11.40pm. I am typing this at 12:35am. I should be used to it right? Tonight I lay here thinking, I don’t only owe God amends but myself. I am so hard on myself and I need to give myself a break. Im doing my best. With that said, I think emotionally I did well. However, I need to make more of a conscious effort with God as well. I do know that it is because of him I am here, alive and well. I have him to thank for my strength today. That is why I will continue to make amends and I will continue to pray.

One day at a time, one moment at a time.

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