Court of Snakes: This Desert Cage

Coals - The Tavern | March of the First Year

"So, Terran, tell me of your parents."

"Why do you want to know?" Terran gasped and then held his breath as his bare skin brushed flame. He balanced on top of a few stacks of books on his elbows in a solid plank position, but underneath him, The King had placed a tray of smoldering coals. He had no doubt his arms would hold him now; he had been training hard. He could lift his body weight with ease up and down buildings after two months of rigorous instruction, so a plank was no problem. At least, it would not have been a problem if the wobbly, precarious piles of books and scalding, hot coals had been removed from the equation. Sweat dripped down his nose, hissing as it hit the embers below, and The King set a cup of tea onto his back. The small office filled with heat as Terran balanced and it became hard to breathe.

"I'm just curious, is all," The King muttered, ignoring Terran's strained breathing and speech. "I only knew them from the political side, which was... a disaster. Your mother had the potential to fix this city, she was a good person, but she lacked foresight. Now, everything is falling apart, and it's only been months since she passed."

Terran took as deep of a breath as he could while trying to not shift the hot cup of tea. "I never saw my mother," he grunted. "She was working always, but when I did see her, we used to have the grandest times. She would take me out and we would go on adventures in the courtyards. We would pretend that there were horrible beasts to face, and my grandfathers would visit, and—"

"Child's play," The King snapped, took the tea again, and slid a card from his coat pocket. A small, nearly invisible pocket concealed the cards on the inside of The King's coat, far to the back and under the arm where no one would find them. Terran jerked his head to the side to look at the card that had been drawn. An illustration of a man walking off a cliff followed by a dog graced its surface. The sun shone behind him, and he seemed so happy that he was unaware of the cliff he was about to walk off. "You were a Fool."

"I was a fool for loving my parents?"

"You were a fool for wearing blinders. You all were. But you won't understand any of that, yet. Tell me about your father."

"He was always there for me. When I fell, he picked me up."

"So, you never learned to stand for yourself?"

"No, I—"

"The world is a harsh, cruel place. Their babying has left you weak and unprepared."

"I'm only fiftee—"

"Nearly a man in a year. I was on the street fending for myself at your age, and many of the kids in Atsa fare far worse. I knew how to get a meal, I knew how to come up with a day's labor, and I never sat on street corners and begged."

Terran raised an eyebrow at him and huffed, "Never?"

"Maybe once."

Terran breathed out, and the coals flared, shooting hot air into his face. He asked, "Why am I doing this again?"

"So you know what it feels like to be trapped," The King replied and replaced the tea. "Heat above you. Heat below you. No escape. What do you do?"

"I... well, I have to stay here until you let me u—"

"You wait it out and think. Hone your mind. I'm not like your father. I won't be here to catch you when you fall, and you need to learn to think yourself out of tough situations."

"I don't see a way out of this, seeing as you won't let me get down, so waiting and thinking won't get me anywhere," Terran inhaled and looked toward the door. "Can we at least open the—"