“The Emperor would never do such a thing as slay his own father!” Joven chimed in, in hopes of defense.
“Emperor!? You have killed your brother, too?”
“Look here! The Emperor would never do such a thing!” said Joven.
“Not in the presence of witnesses, I suppose! But I do forget myself, and any time that I misjudge a man, I do owe an apology. Decebal, I thought that you were just an evil man exercising unjust power over me. I now realize that it was all on the orders of an evil emperor that forced you to deal as you did with me. I ask your forgiveness for misjudging you. It nearly caused me to cleave you in two with my sword! As for you soldiers, I misjudged you to be followers of the former emperor. If so, there is still honor in you, and you will not stand idly by while this man usurps such power over your empire!”
“Honor? Forgiveness? Such lofty, God-fearing ideas died with Darvanius! It was he that began the whole movement that has become the Darvanian Empire! Suddenly, he meets your father and decides that maybe there is a God and that we should begin to worship him! Did his God help him as he was run through with a sword?” Joven bit back.
“That really depends.” Alban continued.
“On what?” sneered Joven.
“Well, did he die after denouncing God and swearing allegiance to his son?”
“No. If he had done so, his life would have been spared . . . and he would be sitting at his throne right now!”
Alban asked, “Joven is your name, correct?”
“Yes.”
“It should just as well have been Fool as Joven. His God did help him to die well, or he would have cowered before you and kissed the devil’s horn!” Alban insisted.
“There is no such thing as a devil. It’s just . . .” Joven snorted.
Alban interrupted, “It is just the thing that I am looking at now. Reginald, you must see that. A society without laws makes for great chaos. Mark my words, this man . . . this Joven . . . he will not stop until he is sitting on your throne!”
“Preposterous!” Reginald exclaimed.
“Is it?” Alban returned. “Who put the idea of slaying your own flesh and blood into your heart? Did he not administer spiritual poison by degree? I have seen this type of thing before. When men decide not to follow God, soon they begin to ‘reason things out’ among themselves. They realize that without God in their way, they can basically do whatever they feel will further their own cause. Soon lies are nothing, as long as there is no proof, shown most eloquently by our present companion, Decebal. Then, it soon does not matter what a man should decide to do, as long as it is in the law books, or the law is reinterpreted to make it all seem legal and, therefore, good. Then, and I have seen it with my own eyes, even human life begins to be devalued, bit by bit until it is finally a nuisance to be discarded at will, should it become necessary to the comfort of those in power. Before your father had any sense talked into him, he allowed the practice of what you called in your empire ‘Appeasement to the Gods’. All to which it really amounted was the slaying of unwanted newborns when they were to be found with any perceived birth defects — most common among those was merely the gender of the babes. It is no small wonder that Decebal made such a killing by selling so many females from other nations to your empire. Tell me, Reginald, if it is true that your race is so superior due to this ‘appeasement’, then why must you import women to continue your bloodlines? I am in favor of the part of you bringing the women in, though, because, eventually, you will breed yourselves out of existence!”
“At least we are conscious beings that know what they are doing!” Reginald roared in retort. “You so-called god-fearing nations were constantly slaying your animals for sacrifice against their will for centuries, and you have the gall to speak to me as if you were some morally superior . . .”
“Did you ask the sheep if they resented the whole thing? Besides, that was centuries ago, and I would scarcely dare suggest that you do anything consciously.” Alban quipped.
Reginald got a confused look on his face for a second or two and then sputtered, “Did the babes . . . to whom you refer say anything along those lines to you? Of course not, they were not of age to speak!” Reginald blurted out and then sat wondering if he had made any sense.
Of course, arguing against himself like that made Alban think that perhaps the new emperor were mad. However, Alban also knew that people do sometimes talk to themselves aloud. His uncle used to do that very thing. He would throw out ideas and see how they should stick (or not). Then he would see by others’ reactions to his ideas if they were sound or if he were simply “examining all of the angles” to a given situation. Somehow, he thought that by doing so he would not be held to account for thinking such thoughts. The rolling of some of the Darvanian soldiers’ eyes in a look of “Oh, here we go again!” made the idea of lunacy seem much more likely. The man had, after all, had his own flesh and blood slaughtered in order to obtain the empire for himself. The idea may have been planted there by Joven, but Alban figured that a man would have to be mad for letting such a thought to ever enter from his brain to his heart, let alone act upon it.
“Lunacy and incompetence!” Alban started before he realized what he was saying aloud. The irony of that made him chuckle at himself a bit as he continued, “Those are the things upon which you build an empire? Have you ever given any thought to what you are doing, Reginald? You have let this man enter in between you and your father and affect you in such a way that you decide that the good thing to do is to murder your father and usurp his throne through lies and deceit? Did you ever even stop to think that he may not have your best interests in mind? You have let this man into your confidence and, by doing so, have practically given him the keys to the Central Fortress from which your father governed! The fact that you allow him to live after such beguilement astounds me to no end!
“And you, Joven! You lead Reginald around and parade him as though he were some sort of trophy that you had won or a prize from a great battle when it is well known that he suffers from a lack of judgment! The both of you turn my stomach out upon the ground! Tell me, Reginald, did he promise loyalty to you and then begin to contradict every decision that you make? Perhaps you deserve each other, after all.”
Joven grabbed the hilt of his sword and began to say, “You insolent ba . . .” but felt a sword at his neck. At that point, he decided to shut his mouth, a good idea, if you ask me.
“I do think that I will make a public example out of you, Joven!” said the “usurperor”.
With the still, calm resolution of a thousand devils’ tongues, Joven replied, “No, it is I that shall make an example out of you, dearest Emperor. I shall make an example of that which happens to an emperor that cannot control his appetites. I shall show the whole world that benevolence and justice are not merely some lofty ideals that are held by the god-fearing. Why, anyone can wield such a weapon!”
“You do not know when to stop your threats, do you, Joven? Every man here has heard of at least part of your long list of debauchery! Do you really suppose that you can just conjure up justice and benevolence at the mere suggestion of it?” Alban began. “Listen to me with both ears, and take this point to your heart: Benevolence and justice are not the spells of some Tarvish witch that can be conjured and made to seem real by the fear that they strike into the hearts of those superstitious enough to believe. These principles are no outlandish tale that, if rewritten to fit your empire, should work any miracle in your favor. They were not ideas invented by any man or woman, nor did they come from fabrication or imagination. Benevolence and justice both sprung up from the beginning of time from the Water of Life. God whispered these thoughts into the hearts of his servants long ago. Which begs the question, why did he do so?
“Well, he could have created us and merely left us to work our way through this life the best way possible for each of us. He could have just left us to wander around, stealing that wh
ich does not belong to us, taking advantage of one another by brawn or brain. Whatever a man be able to accomplish, that he should do. Does that sound familiar? Should that foster anything even similar to strength, it would be a great idea. The problem with that is that people become weak. Their very strengths are used against them if they will not trust on the Lord. So, that line of reasoning does not follow logic, unless one were to believe that God himself is not just and benevolent; He is, and perfectly so.
“It comes down to the fact that we are all his children. He loves us all. He wants us all to be able to return to Him. We cannot ever even hope to do so, unless we learn of him and have noble principles grow within our hearts.”
“Enough!” Joven growled, knocking Reginald’s sword away from his neck. “You cannot stand there and lecture us on some god that you say existed on some distant orb and eventually — after he was killed and came back to life, mind you, visited our world and told your ancestors of his exploits there on the other world when you have no proof except for some account written by the same ancestors. All this fable you project as if it were some undeniable proof of this god’s existence. The word of some cattle herdsmen! That is what we are to believe over the cold, hard facts that our scientist have uncovered?”
“How can you believe their word?” Alban interrupted.
“Why, they have shown with evidence that the things that they teach are true! They can reproduce the same experiment time and time again.”
“Yes, but in the end, you must take them at their word that what they have found is true every time! Is it not the same?”
“No. I can reproduce the same results, following their instructions and arrive at the same results. For instance, if I administer poison to someone, and then he dies . . .”
“To anyone, or to the emperor?” Alban reiterated.
Notably miffed at the interruption, Joven continued, “If I were to administer poison to anyone, and then he dies, then it must be true that the substance was poisonous. It must be that, if such is the case, then their findings are true.”
“You are well versed in rhetoric, Joven. Of course, you should have to be in order to get where you have in life. You thought to compare apples and oranges in order to obtain the desired effect. It will not work with me.”
“I can hardly see how the two are apples and oranges!” Joven volleyed. “It all comes down to the fact that one must choose whom to believe!”
“Do you have children, Joven?” Alban interrupted.
“What?”
“It is a simple question. Do you have children?”
“Yes. I have . . . I have a son.” Joven returned, to the raising of eyebrows of the soldiers.
“Do you love your son?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Do you give him evil gifts?”
“What do you mean, ‘evil gifts’?”
“Do you purposely give him gifts that will harm him?”
Joven shifted in his saddle a bit and offered, “Well, it is complicated.”
“If things were not complicated, would you give him everything that he needs?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“If you truly love him, you will start from this day to make your situation less complicated. When a child is brought into this world by a man, he must stop what he is doing and love that child. He must give him or her of the most perfect gifts that he can. Surely, you must see that. I can tell by the look on your face that you can feel that.”
“I see your point, but what does that have to do with us here and now? You are stalling the inevitable.”
“If it is inevitable, then it truly can wait.” Alban rebutted. “I feel, deep down in my heart that there is some good in you. There must be. In spite of all of the complications in your life, you still have great tender feelings for your son. If there were no god, no reason beyond this world, you would have none of those feelings. Look at the animals of the world. They grow, and reproduce, care for and raise their young. When they reach a certain age, however, ties are severed and the young are set off on their own. There is no remorse, no looking back. There is just preparation for the survival of their kind. But, why is it, then, that we as humans are so different?
“You have stated that if things were not so complicated with your own son, if things were more perfect, so to speak, then things would be different. Our Eternal Father loves each of us, His children. He wants to give us perfect gifts, but He understands that things here in mortality are complicated — not by Him, by any stretch of the imagination, but by us and the things that we do and know to be wrong. He knows that His world is a perfect world and that nothing that has not been made to be perfect can enter into it, or his world becomes imperfect and ‘complicated’ like this one. He would, therefore, cease to be God, but that cannot be because He is perfect in every way.
“You know, if you think about it, that can be the only explanation for even creating us in the first place. Otherwise, God would simply be playing with us and be an unjust, anti-benevolent, and corrupt being, for all in the universe is so. Everything is either already perfect and without flaw, becoming perfect, or becoming corrupted. There is no other direction or state of things.
“Having said that, as far as the idea that you have spewed forth about wielding justice and especially benevolence as weapons, further shows your previous lack of understanding those principles. It is true that justice can be administered, but only against those that have done wrong in the sight of the law. God sent down that law.”
“How do you know all of this?” Decebal asked in shock.
“That is straight to my point!” Alban began to answer. “What one follows, he becomes; it is as simple as that. In order to understand and have benevolence (or mercy) and justice, one must go to the ultimate source, which is God. There is no other way. They are not things that we can either wield or invent. They are extended to us by God, upon our obedience (or disobedience) to eternal and universal law. We seek out his will and do it. There is no other way to have them. There is your apple! What, or as you put it, whom will you believe?
“You have said yourself that if you follow the instructions carefully of an experiment exactly as directed, you will be able to reproduce the same effect time and time again. Your apple is to give that same attention to the things of God! If you are willing to follow instructions to the letter, you can also repeat the experiment of getting to know God and His ways, but you must be willing to do the same as you would for your scientists. An experiment on the word of God is what I am saying will render results. I have seen it work its ways to the delight of all that will allow it to grow in their hearts, and then these people know that God does exist and that He loves them most dearly!”
Joven sat in his saddle with a pensive look on his face. Alban knew that he had reached him. He had seen the look before. He waited for the man to wrestle with the Spirit for a while.
One of the soldiers, seeing that all had been brought to a standstill at the words of a slave, blurted out, “Are we just going to set here and let him bad mouth our emperor and his Councilor?”
“Didn’t you see the way he shone as he said those things?” said another. “It was as though he were an angel or something!”
“Come on! You expect me to think that you are afraid of one man? Soldiers of the great nation of Darvania, we do not hold to such foolish words! Why should we listen to one man? What can he do to us, when we are so many?” the first soldier responded.
Joven took note.
“Think about it for a minute,” Alban answered coolly. “I have exposed, in short order, by the way, a plot that has been hatched among you by these two usurpers. When the fighting starts, who will really be on the side of whom? Do you know who will emerge victorious? It is a great gamble that you take in starting any sort of skirmish, at least here and now, given the treacherous natures of these two.”
“You know full and w
ell, that I shall emerge victorious!” retorted CoAgulon. “You never could beat me at the Royal Games, and you won’t beat me now!
Alban calmly returned, “You have always cheated, CoAgulon. You may have cheated others, but you cheated yourself most of all. You are of Darvanian mettle. Your fame has grown far bigger because of what you really are. Soon you will find yourself in a situation that will test your mettle; you will not be able to cheat death forever. Like that shiny Darvanian sword you hold in your hand, you will come crashing to the ground and be shattered by the fall.”
“I shall never be bested by the likes of you!” CoAgulon protested.
“Of course not!” came the reply.
“Then you admit that you are outmatched!” CoAgulon reveled.
“No. I am merely saying that you will not be defeated by the likes of me. It shall be I who will seal your fate, CoAgulon!”
“There are more than enough men left here to finish this bit of exercise. What makes you so confident that you shall survive the onslaught?”
“The same thing that caused me to become enslaved, CoAgulon!”
“And that is . . . what?”
“When you had me surrounded last time, and I was about to fight my way out of your trap, I stopped suddenly . . . You remember that, do you not?”
“Yes, I do! You were about to attack, but suddenly, you realized that it was useless. That is why you are alive here today.”
“No, CoAgulon! You are wrong about the whole thing!”
“Then, why did you surrender?”
“Because, I said a prayer within my heart that I should know what to do in the situation, and I felt very strongly that I should suffer myself to be captured. So I dropped my sword and let you take me.”
“Lies!” yelled Joven.
“No.” Alban volleyed calmly. “I do not lie. Is that not the case, CoAgulon?”
“He does not . . . ever.” CoAgulon responded. “I will give him that.”
“Even so, what makes you think that you will have luck in dealing with us right now?”
“I did the same as last time. I said a short prayer and felt that the Lord above will spare me at this time. I have no desire to go with you, so, I must be about to send you to your graves.” Alban stated with such serious solemnity that CoAgulon’s demeanor was knocked down a few notches.
After around twenty seconds, Joven yapped “Well, you still must answer for what you have done!” Joven yapped.
“Please, by all means, tell me what great wrong have I done to you?”
Joven let loose with a berating bellow, “I told you then, CoAgulon, that we should just put an end to the two of them! Now look at the trouble that your lack of leadership has caused, what with the King of Effulgia returned from his cell to the . . . to Badgerden’s Holde and this . . . this insolent . . .”
“Prince to the Crown of Effulgia?” Alban interrupted.
“Well, I would have used other terms, but I suppose that your title is enough to degrade you . . . enough.”
“One ‘enough’ is enough in your sentence,” Alban smiled wryly. “Or should I say that enough is enough? You can hardly blame CoAgulon, me, or my father for eventually escaping from your clutches. It is not merely your incompetence that has produced these results, but we have already been through all of that. Incidentally, if you feel after all that I have offered you here today that you still must attack one that has given you no small chance to help you prepare yourself to meet God, I will spare you alive, Joven, simply by way of gratitude, as you have just given me the greatest of news — that of my father being alive and his location. I have not seen him these many years. It will be a great reunion when I see him at Badgerden’s Holde. As for the rest of you, you will meet God one way or another!”
“How do you suppose to get clear of this? We will take care of you before anything should happen between us, is that not correct, Joven?” Reginald mockingly asked.
“Of course!” was the reply.
Alban just looked at Reginald with a look that said, “Seriously? You’ll take him at his word . . . after all that has just happened here?” That look sent Reginald’s eyes wide!
“Look, Alban? Is that what you are calling yourself these days? Are you using the name of a martyr? There is no way that you can fight and win against all of these men.” Reginald covered.
Alban stated, “I do not have to win against all of these men. Some will scatter as soon as the fighting starts; they are not all fools! You have heard of my wins at the Tournament of Goff. You may know of some of my other exploits, as well. I can handle myself quite well. Had you any good archers with you, you might have stood a chance. As it is, however, you have ridden here in haste and left them behind.”
“Flanglestord here is quite the accomplished archer!” began Reginald with a chuckle which sent his head back a bit. “With one arrow, he should be able to end this whole . . .”
Just then, a spear flew right into Flanglestord’s chest, sending both the archer to the ground in a lifeless heap and, as predicted, a cloud of men riding away like the scattering of a murder of magpies as a cat approaches.
“Who threw that spear?!” Joven shrieked.
The men that remained all pointed to Alban with trembling hands.
“What!? From there?” was Joven’s reaction. “That is utterly impossible! I only took my eye off of him for a split second, and suddenly Flanglestord lay dead! Besides, the throw is too far to . . .”
“Well, I had five spears in this . . . Well, I guess that it is a quiver of sorts. Now I have four. They do teach mathematics in your empire, do they not?” Alban taunted.
“I cannot believe . . .”
“You Darvanians! Devoid of faith, you always want your proof! Would you care for a further demonstration?” Alban confidently replied.
“You’ll pay for your pride! You may be good at the spear, but we still outnumber you! You can’t win!” Reginald suggested loudly enough, but with very slight conviction, if any.
“My tongue grows tired of speaking your venomous dialect! Either make your move or let me ride on in peace! I will not be held here by the likes of you! Besides, it is not pride that fills my speech with power, it is truth. I have not yet accomplished the things that I am commanded to do. I shall be spared until they are completed.”
Joven took the Bow from the saddle where Flanglestord had just been unseated, grabbed his quiver, took an arrow from it, and notched it as he pulled back. Alban stood in the chariot, unbothered by the obviously imminent attack. So, Joven took aim and loosed the arrow.
Alban drew his sword, knocked the arrow out of its midair flight, and said, “Weak!”
Joven sat on his horse and thought for a second.
“Attack!” he yelled at length.
“If you wish to live, stay right where you are!” Alban warned in a deep, menacing lion’s roar.
The men all froze in their tracks. It was not just that they had heard of his exploits and seen the spear take out their archer that stopped them. It was not the fact that he had knocked Joven’s arrow away at the last split-second that froze them with fear. It was most definitely the fact that they saw a glow around him and a power in his voice that seemed beyond mere mortal spectrums. They feared the force that they now believed supported him.
“He is one man!” shrieked Joven. “How can he prevail against so many?”
No one moved a muscle.
“I am telling you now, that if you do not fight him here and now, that I will let you live to see your families dashed to pieces before your eyes as human sacrifices!” Joven spat out, quite literally. He wiped the saliva from his twisted beard and added, “NOW!”
Seeing the sentence pronounced upon them, the men began to make ready for the attack. Swords were drawn, shields made ready, armor adjusted and helms put in place. Well after all were ready, the men continued to adjust straps and pull greaves, look down the blades of
their swords to see if they were straight, and recheck everything again.
“If you are quite ready, ladies, we must be getting back to Darvania!” Joven mocked.
“Oh, good!” smiled a young man. “I thought that you were actually going to go through with it!”
Others sighed relief, half of them because they were also relieved at not having to attack, and the other half because they were glad that it was not they that had put forward such a gaffe in front of Joven, as they knew him to be a most horrid man, exacting revenge in the range of double to tenfold on any whom he deemed to have wronged him, though he usually used the likes of CoAgulon.
Joven fumed and breathed fire as he blew up, saying, “You will all attack at once and maybe you shall receive mercy! Attack!”
The party cautiously sauntered forth as they approached Alban. He turned his horse and with his chariot (well, Decebal’s, really) and he climbed the nearest dune that ended in a large rock formation overlooking the small canyon below. From his chariot, he looked down at the men in pity, even shaking his head. They rode even more slowly. Joven, watching the scene play out, decided that he had seen enough. He sunk spur, shouted “Hya!”, and started out after the men to herd them up to the attack. Not to be outdone, Reginald decided that he should be seen to do the same, though he held back just a bit, telling himself that he was emperor, after all, and he could not be caught in some sort of trap.
As the party reached the canyon floor and was just about to come riding up the slope to where Alban lie in wait, the whole ground began to shake violently. Some three of the horses reared up in fright while two others began to buck. Some riders were able to stay on, others were not. It really made no difference, because as they looked around in fear, a great shaft of water sprayed forth from the ground between the face of the rock wall and the desert sand that made up the floor of the canyon, sending riders off of their horses and tumbling to the ground. Soon, more shafts of water shot forth, as the somewhat box-shaped canyon began to fill with water. Some soldiers tried desperately to ride through the stone walled mouth of the canyon, but a couple of shafts shot up in front of them, blocking the path to freedom. The canyon filled so rapidly that none had the opportunity to reach high ground — none except for Joven, who had ridden through the mass of men as the rumbling began. The rest were swept away in a thrashing jumble downstream, as their armor was too heavy for them to swim free.
As Joven clung to the rocks that had become exposed in the flood, Alban walked slowly down the slope towards him. He stopped out of arm’s reach and looked Joven in the eyes. In spite of the fact that his eyes were bright green, it was like looking into the vast darkness of two caves that were covered in moss and hid all sorts of demons in the blackness. It gave Alban cause to pause a moment, but he had given his word.
“If you promise to abandon your war against my people, I will indeed spare your life.” was his statement of hope.
“I will not make any such promise! Besides, you gave me your word that you would ‘leave me alive’! Does the word of an Effulgian prince mean nothing?” Joven bleated through chattering teeth, partly due to the cold and partly due to the thought of Alban not making good on his promise.
“An Effulgian prince? This Effulgian prince does keep his word!” He said, as he plucked the man from the water and struck him soundly on the back of the neck with the pommel of his sword, rendering him unconscious. He tied his prisoner up, placed him on the chariot, drank greedily of the precious water now flowing freely over the desert, filled his own canteen, boarded the chariot, and turned back for the camp where he had left his friends, now with the Prime Minister (or Councilor) of Darvania as his prisoner.
Alban knew that this would cause future repercussions for him and his people, but it was, after all, done in self-defense. He worried as he drove the chariot along.