New Rome

3. Friend of Amen

Graesen, Imperator of New Rome, sat behind a large desk, swinging thoughtfully on his chair. The Castle of Red, his place of residence, was deep underground. For safety reasons the elite of New Rome all lived in the secretive luxury complexes below the surface. Graesen, like many of these wealthy 1%, hadn't seen daylight in years. His skin was snow white, disturbed by deep lines that bracketed his mouth and crinkled particularly around his sunken eyes. Flecks of grey showed in his neatly clipped beard and a strip of silver ran through his oil-black quiff.

Guy stood rigidly, aware that he still hadn't been offered to take a seat.

"Your grandmother's tears fall yet again," Graesen exhaled through flared nostrils. "From your doing."

"Ellie was not badly injured."

Graesen raised a thick eyebrow, warning enough that Guy shouldn't have presumed to argue. Guy clasped his hands together before him, and wisely kept his lips compressed.

"Ellie is special." Graesen continued in a deep, ponderous tone. "His innocence and virtue mark him as a treasure of the gods. He is not for the likes of you and I to tarnish. Guy, you will not take him aboveground again."

Guy bowed his head respectfully.

"Understood, Imperator."

Graesen put his palms together and rested his lips against his soft fingertips.

"Agost says that we are to applaud you for your cunning and loyalty. And loyal service."

Agost was the Emperor of Amen. His powerful empire and New Rome were allies - on condition that New Rome continued to pay tribute to the empire. 

Guy's chest puffed out proudly, noticed by Graesen's shrewd eyes. "Your cunning I do, your loyalty - I'll set aside from commenting for now. Did you, or did you not, execute our ambassador Lolly?"

"I did." 

Graesen sighed, apparently put out.

"An old friend and counsellor," he murmured disappointedly.

"He was flooding oblivion into Amen," Guy explained. 

"I see."

Guy's shoulder sank. Like so often in his grandfather's presence, he felt like an errant child.

"He was threatening our good relations with Amen."

"I see." Graesen's expression remained unreadable.

"Amen are our allies," Guy continued, defending himself. " Cheap oblivion offered to their working class would risk destabilising their entire economy. It could affect the war."

"Yes, yes."

"To speak nothing of the personal suffering of its victims."

Oblivion was a drug, fiercely policed against in New Rome. It was extremely addictive, giving its users a feeling of oblivion. All worries vanished, even hunger. An addict could starve to death with a blissful smile on his face. It's other name on the streets was, True Happiness. In the slums of Amen, Guy had witnessed its tragic result. Men and women, skeletal – neglecting their impoverished children.

Graesen gave his grandson a hard, scrutinising stare. Guy held his breath.

"You will be granted the new title, 'Defender of the weak' and a new name, in recognition of the great service you have done."