A God's Fury

A Brother's Death

"He's dead, Emperor Teridan."

We stood in the hallway just outside of the clinic. Golden lamps was set into the walls of the corridor, and the wooden ground were laden with bright Ocrrian designs. Each window was made of shining Forran glass, enclosed in marvelous curtains of Gedan silk. In short, a place of beauty and majesty.

An ironic scene in the death of my brother.

The doctor, Gorven, had eyes tight with sorrow as he reported to my father. Father simply nodded gravely in reply. Gorven then looked at me, and with a sigh he took out his bloodied gloves before giving me a pat on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry for your brother, but the weapon had hit a vital part." After seeing me look down to the floor, he added, "If it's any consolation, he kept muttering your name even close to death. He cared deeply for you, your big brother."

In seeing he couldn't offer anymore comfort, he gave a polite cough and started to go towards the clinic. But before he could touch the door's handle, my father called him.

"Gorven," he started, then nodded towards the other three guards to his right, "and you three, go and wait at my quarters. Now." The four left without complaint.

"The populace will be shocked at the heir's death, my Emperor." Werrit, the chamberlain, opined, in which my father replied, "Yes, they will. Alert them of this early in the morning, and prepare for my son's funeral."

He spoke without emotion restraining his voice. He did not shed a tear, nor did he look stricken. He looked as if he just lost an important pawn in his board. Really, father? Are you this heartless?

"Sire," Vicar, the captain of the house guards, started to speak, his knuckles pale white in gripping the hilt of his sword. "I am sor-" before he could say more, my father gave him a cold gaze, two dark blue circles stared at him, silent and steady.

Vicar gulped. My father was a man that instilled fear, a man of violence, a man that was the sole reason the green fields of Ancrasia was filled with the sea of blood. He was a man of war, and he wasn't known for patience.

Werrit, sensing the tension, excused himself and left. The tap of his boots echoed in the silent hallway as my father went nearer to Vicar. He stopped, inches before him. You could see Vicar's sweat gleaming as they ran down his forehead. His eyes rapidly moving about, unable to keep eyes with my father.

There were others around. Some soldiers standing by as part of their patrols. And some maids were cleaning as part of their everyday duties. My father snorted, then turned his gaze to the nearest soldier. The soldier flinched. "You, boy, have this man hanged." Then Vicar's eyes stopped moving, instead rested on father.

"What?" Vicar responded with astounded belief. My father impatiently turned his back on him and left, as if hanging a man was just a chore. Two soldiers started moving towards Vicar.

"You can't do this!" He retorted violently as he shook off the grubby hands of soldiers. "I am the Lord Vicar dan Gorf, Lord of House Terebar! By hanging me you will make enemies of House Terebar, and the wrath of an army will come marching your doorstep!"

When my father was out of sight, Vicar quickly turned from threats to pleading. bubbling spits and repeating 'I beg of you' and 'please' in every sentence. After a few moments, silence once again dominated as Vicar was led to the dungeons.

With a sigh, I slowly entered the clinic. There was a young nurse that took care of my brother's corpse. She noticed me and bowed, "I will leave you alone, Prince Hestral." I absently nodded as she went to leave. I waited a while for her to close the door, then I went nearer to my brother.

He lay neatly at one of the clinic's bed, a white cloth bloodied at the center covering him from toe to neck. He was a mess, my brother. His hair was all ruffled up and his teeth and mouth was filled with faint blood, cleaned mostly away by the doctor.

"Hey," I said, never really knowing why I began speaking. "How're you?" But I spoke anyway. His skin was pale, and his mouth and closed eyes lay motionless, and yet I was still looking closely at him, thinking that my words would suddenly wake him up.

But I knew it won't. My brother was dead. A sad loss for a sad country. I went down and gave my brother a kiss on the forehead. Goodbye brother, you made us all proud. With one last affectionate look I turned and left.

In a few moments I found myself standing beside the slightly open door to my father's quarters. With my one eye I spied at everything happening inside, but for some reason there was a glint that kept blinding me.

I heard my father's voice, strong and loud, "How, In Styros' name, did you not see the culprit?" The first soldier gulped, "S...sir, there were no footprints, no sign of entering, just nothi-" He was broken off by my father's fist pounding the table, "Nothing? You expect me to believe, me, an emperor, provided with the world's greatest swordsmen and defense, is easily bypassed by 'nothing?'"

The second man said simply, "yes, my Emperor." And my father glared at him, and I slowly realized that the glint was from a steel dagger lying carelessly at my father's table, his hand just inches from its hilt. And there I feared tomorrow a maid will have to clean another body.

But the third man quickly spoke, as to lessen the tension of the situation. "Sir, I speak for all of us, when we entered the room the-" my father gave a loud sigh, interrupting the soldier quickly. He stood, and with hands clasped behind his back he looked to the emptiness beyond the windows.

"Gorven," he said simply, "What of it?" The doctor, who seemed calm, said, "he died by sword, my Emperor." My father seemed annoyed, "I know of this, and so what?" Then the doctor looked up to my father, "We found no sword."

Then none spoke, and the silence that entered seemed to deafen my ears. I chose this moment to leave, for I felt as if I was hearing too much of it. I didn't understand, what was the importance of Gorven's reply? If only... if only father was more open.

My journey to my rooms was silent.