The Prayer

To Obey

2 day later

"The doorman is..." Edward wiped his lips with a rag, "...our man. Adorned in his garishly green doublet of velvet, the doorman will be your guide in this." Edward scoffed as he chewed, "And by God is it garish." Edward leaned to an agent of his, whispering something. The man nodded and strutted away with purpse, "So, at which hour thee walketh to that gent, just let him take a gander at thy motley eyes and that less than pretty mug, and as though you were some..." Edward's eyebrows peaked as he suppressed a smirk, "...dignitary..." Munthir's hands squeezed together, yet a thin smile resided upon his face, "you shall enter."

"Tis done sir." The man called from the other side of the library.

"Thank you." Like a timid fox, Edward took a sniff of the pheasant rolled in rosemary and when he was pleased with its aroma, he snapped a bite. He chewed fast, waving around his odd pronged eating device they called a 'fork'. It seemed that Edward still had not yet done enough to demonstrate his supercilious elegance, to satiate his vanity. To eat like common folk would bespatter his image, dirtying his hands like the basely masses would make him less than. And thus, this 'fork' sat in his grip. "The rest should be fairly rudimentary. Deeds of yours done prior shall be done once more, only the faces change, the names...and that my friend, that the world quickly forgets."

'Friend.'

The cracks on the granite floor splurged forth waves as though a sea lay beneath the Earth, a hallucination so common, it was woven into his reality. To Munthir, the Hellborne deliria became little more than a sideshow, tickling his sight. But times did come that in spite of Munthir's knowing of what was real and what was not, particular scenes remained unbearable to be witnessed. Images that he knew were painted for him alone, knew their horrors were dedicated solely in the name of him. Credit be to the craftsmanship of the serpentine brands, which bubbled on his back as though they were branded minutes prior in spite they have now marred his flesh for many years, "Munthir?" The thrall of Edward appeared erased in the soul, willess. And his appearance spoke true. The cavalcade of lead laden memories endlessly splurged forth, splashing on the floor, playing before his eyes just as much as the present did. It was as though the scenes of yesterday belonged to the hour of the now, shimmering off the wet stones, displaying glimpses of the former realities that had cast him here. Edward's eyes narrowed, "Munthir? What vexes you so?"

His will to obey, to heed commands, had been run threadbare. Munthir's fiery destiny was already set in stone, like the coils soldered into the flesh of his back, he was fused to a fate. Little was there left to bestow him the strength, but then he remembered Saleh, and that was enough, 'Oh Allah...deliver me from this perdition that I find myself nailed to.' The coils on his back pulsated coldly, as if wind blew through them as gaped holes, chilling his ribs. Munthir shook his head as he crossed his sinewy arms, feeling himself as though the flesh that clothed his bones could bear some remedy. He imagined his hands were his son's. But Saleh's hands were not this large. Munthir squeezed his bicep like his son would when he would hang from his limbs, and the false sensation was more than enough of a reminder to galvanize his insensate body forward. To obey, to listen like a dog, to cast aside his dignity. It was all forfeit for him. A giant, a champion of flesh, helmed by; Munthir looked up at his master...

Edward jutted a finger at his slave, "Hark! Do not play this game!" Edward licked his lips and squinted, "I can see it in your eyes. This...paltry story of yours, you and your little sufferings. Know this. This is no fable, no play, no theatric ordeal. Look around you, gaze keenly. There is no audience to cry on your behalf, no one to see you weep when alone. It is just me, hearing you flog your back to red ribbons like, like..." Edward threw his hand up and turned around. His fingers ran through his blonde locks, "And for being thy ward, studious and well paying, you dare hold ire towards me? You have tasted human flesh, raped. You have deflowered virgins. Butchered their fathers. Thy master told me all, sparing not one gore laden detail. No crime remains uncommitted by thee!" His voice calmed, "You were entrusted to me by she who, who although loved you enough to spare thee from a well deserved death, placed you in my keeping for reasons I know little. So hold no grudge in the name of I. It is your deeds, singular and alone, which have landed you here."