Plight of an Empire

Chapter Eleven- part 2: Arkayus

The climb to the lord’s quarters was a far more arduous task than Arkayus was prepared for.  How desperately he wished he had his horse to carry him to his room…  Then again, the thought of being around the creatures anymore churned his stomach.  Useful creatures they may be, but gods how they stank!  And they shat everywhere.

The door to his room loomed in front of him—his haven.  He pushed the door open and stepped into the dark room.  He shut the door, locking it behind him, and leaned against the hard oak, a deep breath flowing out of his lungs.  He sank to the floor, resting his hands on the tops of his knees and the back of his head on the door.  Light peeked in through the cracks.  The embers of a small fire burned in the hearth.  The honey haired wench must have set it when she brought his coat to his room.  She did a piss poor job of it, he thought sullenly.  It was not enough to warm the winter chill trapped in his room.

If he had still been in Mynoa, the flames would be threatening to spill out of the hearth and a servant would be at his begging call.  Even the cold felt different.  He belonged there, not here.  If it had not been for Audriel’s rejection, he would still be there.  The embarrassment of rejection still burned his cheeks when he thought of it.  He still could not believe that she did not pick him to be her husband.  He thought that was the entire purpose of his visit—so that she may find a husband to wed.  Yet, he left just as all the other suitors left, empty and unsatisfied.  She kept herself locked up tighter than a miser’s coinpurse.

With a deep grunt he pushed himself onto his feet and made his way over to the bed.  The dim light of the dying fire provided enough light for him to see the bed, but not enough to see the trunk pushed against it.  He banged his foot into the hard wood.  He yelped in pain as he fell, face first, onto the bed.  The gods are cruel in more ways than can be counted.  He flipped over and stared into the void, thinking of where he could have went wrong with Audriel.

Despite the chill, he could feel his body flush with heat.  He grabbed the pillow beneath him and hurled it at a wall.  The unmistakable sound of shattering of glass filled the room.  He laid there, with heavy limbs, unable to move.  You win, he told the gods.  He felt his eyes burn, but he bit his lip in silence until the feeling passed.  He waited for someone to come clean up the mess for what felt like hours, but no one came.  If he had been in Mynoa, a servant would have been there immediately.  The Didese people were too proud to clean up their own messes; naturally they are too proud to clean up the messes of others.

He used his weak arms to prop himself up.  He breathed a deep, dejected sigh as he stood from the bed.  Shards of glass crunched beneath the leather soles of his boots.  The embers in the hearth cast their light upon one large shard at his feet.  When he leaned down to pick it up, he felt a sharp pain in his hand.  He bit his tongue to hold back another yelp.  He dropped the shard, hearing it clatter on the stone floor, and held his palm to the light.  Dark, syrupy liquid pooled in the center of his palm, growing ever deeper by the moment.  The gods must truly enjoy watching me make a fool of myself, he thought.  Damn them.  Damn them all!

Defeated, he plopped himself back on his bed, holding his hand cradled in his other.  He held his hand over the shattered glass beneath his feet and tilted it to the side.  Blood poured from his hand onto the shards, dripping onto glass and stone alike.  He sprinkled his blood on every shard within reach.  Satisfied with their coating, he sat back and watched.  He watched as the pieces began to quiver.  Slowly, they rolled and crawled on and around each other, building upon each other.  They built upon each other to create an arm here, a leg there, another leg, an arm, and a head at the top.  A discernible figure was creates from the shattered glass painted in blood.  In the chest of the figure, a tiny heart glowed soft blue and beating in unison of Arkayus’s own pounding heart.