Chapter 15: "The King's Word is Law"

Down in the square of Padtū, the crowds had begun to thin. The Rrolando Venators returned to their guild hall, and the rest of the citizenry went about their prior business; all but for a group of about a dozen, who had been arguing over the king’s declaration, with the spat quickly devolving into a brawl. The royal guard, the Praetoriae, was quick to break up the commotion.

From the top of the ziggurat, Bartimeus watched as the guards barked at the citizens, shooing them away with minimal effort. The spears and swords they kept at their sides were more than enough to keep them in line.

The man sighed as he shook his head, tucking his helmet under his arm. “The people, they just don’t understand. If only they had been there, they would agree wholeheartedly.”

“And where is ‘there’, Bartimeus?” King Caleus asked. “You speak of Petraz, I presume?”

“Not just Petraz, lord,” he replied. “The palace as well, the night the prince was devoured. If they saw what we have seen, they would know this has been long overdue. If anything, they would see you as the merciful and long-suffering king you are.”

“I thank you general, but I sincerely doubt that would change anything, least of all Petraz. You and I both ordered that.” There was a weariness about the man not just as he spoke, but even as he descended the ziggurat steps.

Queen Mirabella put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “My dear, do you mean to say you doubt this decree? Purely because the people reject it?” Her voice, as always, was like honey to his ears; and yet, it did nothing to change his demeanor.

“The people have every right to do so, as do the Beasts.” Caleus appeared utterly indifferent as he spoke, even as it drew shocked responses.

“My lord! You mustn’t say such things!” Bartimeus whispered. “Not here, not now! Do you wish to incite an uprising, undermining your own words? Supporting the Beasts?”

“Father? What are you saying?” Philippi was being aided down the steps by his personal guard, his Shadow. The frail boy had stopped, looking in shock at him. “How could you, after they came for us, in our own city?”

“Dear, I must agree with the general-”

“Silence.” The king’s voice cut in harshly. “My queen, my heir, and my general may you all be, but you are still naught but a woman, a child, and a soldier. I am the king. And a king will speak in his own country however he wishes.”

All three promptly quieted down.

“Why should they not reject it? My forefathers, our ancestors, endured war and the God’s wrath, and built this country as equals with the Beasts. They rejected our God-given birthright, out of the respect and forgiveness, the bond they had forged with the Beasts.”

Caleus gestured back in the direction of the square. “I just severed that bond. If this had been any other town, such a decree would have immediately led to riots and mayhem.”

He gave a stern look at Mirabella. “And you of all people should know how this country has felt about those that abuse Beasts.”

“But dear,” Mirabella interjected. They had come to the base of the ziggurat, the door to the covered chariot open. She planted herself firmly between him and the chariot, hands on hips. “You said you finally understood! After what happened to poor Caseus, you said it was a revelation! How could you still falter?”

Caleus did not shove her aside. The eyes of his son, his general, and his guards were on him. Would he punish this public outburst of insubordination, by his woman no less?

Instead, his hard voice faltered again.

“You have a point. A king should not waiver nor vacillate in his decisions, yet that is all I can do.” He gently took her hand, pulling her to his side as they entered the chariot. The tension having passed, Philippi was helped into his own chariot. Bartimeus was pulled aside by some of his soldiers, one of whom seemed rather excited about something.

Caleus put his head in his hands, slouching back into the chariot seat. “I do this for you, and for Caseus, yet I…”

“What, my lord, my dear?” Mirabella likewise had softened. Again her voice was like honey, and she batted her eyes as if she were some flirty young girl.

“...I cannot imagine Caseus blessing such actions. Nor my father, nor my forefathers. What would they think of my rule? How would they judge me?”

“Oh dear,” Mirabella tenderly brushed her hand to his cheek. “You told me you had a revelation. That you had seen the truth. A king cannot waiver in his decisions, not for the people, nor for the thoughts of the dearly departed. So long as the truth guides you, what is there to fear?”

***

“The damned fool!” Caseus had remained silent for the whole trip back to the vineyard. Truthfully, Arabella had not known what to expect. While he had not been able to even set foot in the square, its acoustics had carried the king’s declaration adequately enough to be heard.

He picked up a discarded chair from the floor of servant’s quarters, and with a guttural scream, smashed it against the wall.

“To destroy his own kingdom! Betraying Beasts! What has that whore been filling his head with?! What man would destroy his legacy for a red-headed Fillianan strumpet?!”

“Oi!” Arabella piped, though she wished she hadn’t. Caseus turned on her, face red. His eyes were glowering, and for an instant, she could have sworn they were the color and shape of the Tyrannosaur. She stepped back, and felt a warm trickle of fear dampen her underwear.

But as quickly as it had manifested, Caseus’s anger subsided. “Forgive me,” he said. He walked over to the crumbling portion of the wall and sat down, again looking back across the countryside. Shawk, ever dutiful, took his place at his side. Psaltria did the same for Arabella, nuzzling her close.

“My lord, what shall we do now?”

Caseus gave a sigh. “When the decree goes out, there will be unrest. Neither the people nor Beasts will be innocent in the coming violence. I would not be surprised if a total war breaks out.”

He stood, plucking another grape from the vine. He crushed it in his palm, watching as the juice and flesh oozed from between his fingers.

“I say we leave. Let Father deal with the mess he has made. If he wishes to burn this country to the ground, there is no reason for us to be burned.”

“Come now, my lord…” Shawk began, trying to keep his own voice calm. “I understand the frustration, but-”

“You two are welcome to join us,” Caseus said, turning to the women. He gave no indication he had even heard Shawk. “We can take you as far as the border, if you wish. Pradesh may be the most welcoming to both of you, at this point.”

“My lord, please!” There was a mix of frustration and sorrow in Shawk’s voice. “Surely you do not mean to abandon everything?”

“Why should I not? For ten years, I wandered this country and our neighbors, searching for a cure for this curse. I became a Venator purely to try and maintain some semblance of peace, to resolve as many crises as possible, but what has Father done? Naught but that wench’s bidding, only ever making things worse!”

He threw the remains of the grape down, locking eyes with Shawk. “Even if I were to be rid of this curse, I do not think I would want to see my father again. I certainly do not wish to inherit the throne to a nation at war with itself.”

Neither Arabella or Psatria spoke. For a moment, all was quiet as the two held their stare. In the back of her mind, Arabella wondered if they would come to blows over this. What was only a brief staredown felt like it lasted an eternity.

Finally, Caseus was the first to turn away, walking out of the ramshackle building.

“And what of the Isha girl’s family? What of your promise to them?” Shawk’s voice was stern, but there was no malice nor anger behind it. “Or the baker from Myria? What of our debt to the Horn-Faces of the West?”

Caseus turned back to look at Shawk. His eyes were red, not with anger, but with tears.

“The man I met, the Caseus who saved me, would never turn his back on his country. Nor would he break his word.”

Caseus didn’t answer. Without a word, he walked off into the overgrown vinyard. He could hear Shawk give a weary sigh behind him.

Forgive me, my friend. But every man has his breaking point.

He wove his way through the tangled rows of vines, plotting the best path to the Pradesh border in his mind. He looked up at the afternoon sun, steadily getting lower. They would need to leave at first light, as soon as he returned to human…

Suddenly, there was rustling amongst the vines. Something was making its way through the vineyard.

“Shawk? Arabella?” he called. No response. Instead, the rustling grew faster, and he could now make out the sound of footsteps approaching. Fast. He cursed himself for not keeping his khopesh on him. He looked around for something to use as a weapon, picking up a loaf-sized rock. He raised it in anticipation as the footsteps rounded the last row.

It was a human that rounded the corner, clad in the gilded garb of the Praetoriae. A low-ranking one, considering the lack of gilded tassels adorning the helmet. The soldier skidded to a stop at the sight of Caseus. Rather than drawing his sword, he held up his hands.

“Wait, I come in peace, I mean no harm!”

“No my apologies,” Caseus said, lowering the stone, though he did not release it. “I did not realize a member of the Praetoriae was here as well.” Did this guard not recognize him? It had been 10 years. If he could avoid a fight and settle this amicably, it would be best. He didn’t want to have to flee to the border with the army on his heels.

The man took a cautious step forward. “Well, I was not waiting for you. I saw you in town, and I thought, for a moment, that you looked familiar.”

Oh no.

“Is that you, Prince Caseus?”