FATE\Deus Decipit

Chapter 42: The Tempest

....

He felt the wind tickle his hair. His normally close-shaven head had grown prickly since leaving his home. The sensation reminded him of his youth, and brought him back to different days. Days of the salt in the air, the smell of the sea, and the wind that always felt like it would blow him over. He could still feel the swaying of the old fishing boat, and the years seemed to wash off of his mind and heart with the tide. His mind became clear, it became empty. That is, until the reservoir opened, and something entirely new pressed itself into his mind.

-And so the stage was set.

...

He opened his eyes, the blinding light of morning all around him, the sun above refracting brilliantly through the thin layer of clouds that surrounded the humble vessel. The wind blew powerfully at this altitude, but even so, his regal form would not be moved, except for his cloak, a silvered mantle that billowed in the wind behind him. The long voyage was nearing its end, and his heart returned to that childish state of mind, where dreams are reality, and reality a dream. He wouldn't know of the smile that rose from his chest as he made his way to bow, and, if he had known, he wouldn't have dared to stop it; to fight the joy within him. He gripped the rails of the old boat, and stood over his handiwork.

The view was majestic, an expanse of blue and white, and there, in the center of it all, an emerald, a green jewel.

The new home of his people.

He laughed from his core, glee and ambition shining from his eyes, "Look! Don't tell me you and your father were really going to hide this beauty!? It's even better than I imagined!"

Behind him, the ferryman's son looked on with eyes more vacant than those of the fish that swam far, far beneath them. Silver eyes, nearly hidden behind long, silver hair that draped over his shoulder, poking out from behind the dark grey hood of his cloak, a face young and fair within, "The two worlds hath mingled for all of time, there is nay keeping these apart. We hath never intended to try, only to stopper the flow."

He waved his hand flippantly, "Ugh! What's even the difference?" He turned to the young ferryman, "Either way, you wanted to keep us from here, isn't that right?"

The ferryman sighed, "Aye, but I doth protest being considered a villain for it. The order that exists here is different than thine own. I dare to say they art incompatible."

The young king could only shrug, "All I hear is excuses. The only reason your old man opposes this is 'cause he worries about his business. He won't have anyone to ferry anymore, but isn't that a good thing? The barriers are coming down, and this sorry charade of 'balance' is finally over."

" 'Charade of balance?' Is that what thee sayeth of peace?"

A sly grin crossed the king's lips, "That's exactly what I call it."

The young man's expression turned to scorn and he moved to speak, before pulling back and allowing a cooler head to prevail, "... Permission to speak... sire."

The king laughed to himself, "You aren't one of my subjects, you don't need my permission."

"Thee speaketh truth, and so I shall speak truth myself: thou art a fool of a king."

He chuckled to himself. When one was so deeply entrenched in political matters, insults such as these hardly counted as sticks or stones. "Is that right?"

"Aye. Thee speak as if my father or I accept coin for our deeds, but we do not, and never have. As those who go between, I dare to suppose that we should have better knowledge of these matters than thee or thy court. Our concern is genuine, sire."