A Soul for a Kingdom

The king walked into the prison wearing a long, hooded cloak. His mission today was not exactly official royal business. He stalked past the guards-a few that he trusted to keep his dealings quite. Or, at least, he trusted that their greed would keep them quiet, so long as he bribed them properly. He was king. Bribes were of little consequence to him.

He approached one of the newer cells. It was more well-maintained than the ones in the older section of the prison, where the more vile captives were held. The creature that sat on his wooden bed, head bowed, was hardly even a criminal. Just a fool, really. He would have been a criminal, the king thought, if he hadn’t been caught before he could commit his crime. That was why he was a fool. He had been caught.

The king stepped up to the bars, and the prisoner looked up. The man’s skin was just faintly more olive toned than an Amphortese, and his hair just a touch too dark. Ganduan. Any foreigner wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the two races, the differences were so subtle. One had to be a native to see it.

“Are you here to make a slave of me?” the prisoner asked in a faintly accented voice, torchlight from outside his cell casting ominous shadows across his face. His voice was overtly hostile.

“Don’t forget,” the king said, “that you were the one to try to rob me. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

The man snorted. “And have you come to preach moral platitudes at me?”

“Hardly,” the king replied coldly. The man’s shoulders slumped.

“Well, what is it then?” he asked bitterly.

The king did not respond immediately, and the man looked up, meeting his gaze defiantly.

“The great king, the chosen one of Hekoneye, does not come to visit a lowly thief in his cell. You want something from me.”

The king raised an eyebrow. Perhaps this man was not as much of a fool as he had originally assumed.

“You act as though you have something to offer me,” the king replied, “as if I could not just take what I wanted.”

The man snorted again. “Wouldn’t that be poetic. The caring, benevolent keeper of the Light, taking advantage of a poor Ganduan merchant.”

“You weren’t so brash before, as you begged me on your hands and knees to spare you for the sake of your wife and unborn daughter,” the king said harshly.

The man fell silent. “Don’t you dare bring them into this,” he hissed. “Do not think to threaten my family.”

“I am no threat to your family,” the king snapped. “It is you and your foolishness that has doomed them.”

The man’s head drooped, and he gave no response.

“Whatever you may think of me,” the king continued, “I am merciful. And I am your only hope, at this point. So I am here to make an offer.”

The man’s head snapped up, and his gaze suspicious.

“I will let you free. You may return to your family. I will not tell anyone of what you have done. Your reputation will remain unsoiled.” He paused, letting that sink in. “In return, your daughter will become mine the moment she is born.”

The man let out a gasp, at first appearing shocked, and then outraged. “You…you monster!” he gasped, scrambling to his feet and stepping towards the bar. The king stepped back, out of the man’s reach.

“And I thought Ganduan’s were supposed to have such great control of themselves,” the king sneered.

The man smacked his hands against the bars, as if intending to rip them free. His eyes were wide, teeth clenched.

“This is my offer,” the king said, waving a dismissive hand. “You may take it, and become a free man, return to your wife. Or, you can refuse, and as your punishment, your family will become my property.” He smiled in a self-satisfied manner. “I suggest you take my offer. That way, at least you get something out of it.”

He turned and left then, hearing the man begin to weep softly behind him.

Heckonism taught that all people should be open and honest with their emotions. Emotions were a gift from the Giver of Life himself, and were meant to be shown in their purest form. They should not be buried or changed, but expressed.

So was it heresy that the king used a weapon that could deceive using emotions?

The child smiled brightly at Keesha, holding out her hand. Keesha shook her head, pulling the doll away further, scowling. The other child watched Keesha carefully for a moment, and then let her shoulders slump, her bottom lip puffing out slightly. Keesha watched her warily, but her expression slowly softened as the child began tearing up. Keesha stepped forward and pressed the doll into the other child’s hands. Immediately, the child perked up, holding the doll to her chest and grinning widely.

Another little act. Keesha, as part of the royal family, could not act. Her emotions were as real and raw as any could be. The rest of the Amphortese contained traces of this, some ingrained by culture, some by actual biology.

The other child had no such inhibitions. Her emotions were a mystery, known only to herself. The perfect weapon, one that Hassanital would never expect. For what man would sell his soul for his kingdom?