Everlasting (A Greek Tragedy)

Everlasting Ch VI

  Their trial was set to take place the next morning; the execution of Prince Achilles and his close friend Patroclus. The sentence was appointed by Troy's primary headsman, Paris, who had also happened to be younger brother of the king. He was a kind soul when he felt it, but was also fixed on his own selfish needs and wants. And his ego, inevitably, was as huge as the empire itself. All the men prayed to hold his strength, while the young women blushed as he rode by with his calvary. His sword arm was sturdy and close to invincible which made cutting down even the most brute villains easy. His ruthlessness was broadly noted. At the same time however, he could turn his charm on and off like a switch; the people were gushing at the palm of his hand. None dared to rebel against his decisions because he was always right.

    Everyone except for the king himself of course, who was the only set authority over Paris. The last man that knew his brother inside and out. Even though he was headsman of the kingdom, King Hector formed a small group of army commanders, officers and holy spokesmen to validate Paris' outlooks. The council met up in a large brown room with fleeting ceilings each morning to discuss onerous issues. From thieves to murderers to rapists; the most corrupt crimes were processed through them.

    However this case stood to be slightly different. Through old tradition, it was conventional to kill off any captured enemies. And that meant to kill the men they had managed to drag all the way from the small greek island. But most of the members hesitated due to the fact that their thought process wasn't as primal, albeit their attempts were instantly rebutted. Paris' conclusion was quite lucid though: kill them off and claim the conquered lands. No one in Troy would miss them.

     An aging clergyman named Julius was the first to speak. His hair was thin and gray, yet his mind still sauntered effectively. Due to his vast knowledge of being able to communicate with the gods, he earned a spot next to the prince. He was known for helping the needy and boosting the weak. A job that he would only describe as being the gods' eyes.

   "The spirits above us would weep at our rash choices. I beg of you to contemplate, Paris."

     The raspy voice echoed off the walls, yet the words fell on deaf ears. Paris gave a calm shrug before laying his hand flat on the table. The last thing he wanted to do was practice pacifism while his people had suffered.

   "There were no gods when thousands of women and children were put on stakes. Or what about when our farms and animals were burned to measly morsels?"

   Julius frowned, "Our niche is not to avenge them."

   "That is our people. Our future. My brother may not want to do anything about it, but I won't bend so easily."

   "If you act on emotion, you'll be the fool." A feminine voice broke into Paris' speech, which to his chagrin silenced him immediately. His hues traveled over to the middle-aged woman, who had a large, blonde braid laid over her shoulder.

    He tilted his head, "Are you calling me a fool, Genia?"

    "No one can be more enraged than I from this war. You use the loss of your people as an excuse to exercise your power, not to set things right."

    The council remained quiet after she had seized speaking. It hadn't surprised anyone much that Paris remained completely calm. His face still bore that same, impassive expression.

   "I assume you are still angry over your father's sacrifice. But, is it not why Hector gave you a front position to lead the Trojan soldiers?"

    "We make them suffer." She gestured her hand to the billowing red and white flag pinned up near a window. "We pin that up in their lands and make them suffer."