TWO - Xanthus VIII

King Xanthus deals with a criminal and marital strife.

Xanthus awoke to a knock at the door.  It can’t possibly be time to get up yet.  He groaned, rolled over and slid his feet over the side of his bed.  Whoever knocked began knocking again, this time more rapidly.

“Hold on, I’ll be there in a second!”  He pulled his cloak around his shoulders, grabbed a torch off the wall and trudged over to the door.  He opened it, revealing Thaddeus, the Head of the Guard.  “This had better be good.”

“Sir, we need you in the Throne Room immediately.”

“Is there a threat?”

“Sir?”

“Is anybody in danger?”

“No immediate danger, Sir, but�"”

“Then I’m going to get dressed first.”

Thaddeus opened his mouth to protest, but Xanthus slammed the door closed and made his way back to the bed.  He sat down and began taking off his nightwear.  From the other side of the bed, his wife Xanthia stirred.  She rolled over and opened her eyes.  Just what I need right now.

“Go back to sleep,” he said.

“What’s going on?”

“I said go back to sleep.”  It was a command, and she knew it.  She let out a frustrated sigh and rolled away from him.

Xanthus walked to his dressing room and put on a set of beautiful furs.  It had been made from the hair of a particularly large and healthy Bareland Beast.  He had been so pleased that he had immediately promoted the tailor who crafted it to a permanent fixture in the castle.  More and more it seemed like he only wore it when people were misbehaving.  His job essentially consisted of doling out punishments to Xantomians.  If just one day would pass where he didn’t have to scold, threaten, or exile someone, he would be a happy man.  I understand why my father started to seem so disheartened towards the end.  Things just keep getting worse around here.  If only he could see the state of things now…

When he had been very young, he had seen his father Xanthus VII growing old and weary with the work.  He moved like stone through the castle corridors, and was often late to meetings of the Guard, if he even remembered to attend them at all.  He brushed these occasions off with simple explanations, things like forgetfulness, but everyone knew the truth.  He was dying.

On one occasion, his father sat him down in order to teach him what he said was truly important.  Xanthus remembered thinking that he looked hollow, as if he had died already.  His breath was shallow and he spoke slowly, like his mouth was full of days-old broth.  He didn’t know it at the time, but this would be the last conversation the two would ever have.

“You have to learn to make the tough choices,” he said.  “People are going to look to you as King to make the decisions.  Remember to always stick to your morals.  No matter what anybody tells you, always do what you believe is right.  And not just for yourself, or for your family, but for the good of Xantom and all its people.  Even if it makes people mad, and inevitably, it will, as long as you’re doing what’s best for everyone, everything will work out, and you’ll be able to sleep at night.”

“Why are you saying this?”

“I’m not going to be around forever.  If I don’t say it now I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance.  I don’t know if I’ve always been the best father to you but as long as I can teach you this one lesson…  Ah, what does it matter?  You’re young.  One day you’ll understand.  One day everything will be clear.”

Xanthus always intended on asking his father about those words when he got a little older, or at least when his father seemed more lucid, but the time never came.  The next day, he remained in bed the whole day, babbling nonsense.  A young guard named Vanderford stood stalwart in his duty to guard the door.  No one entered the chambers without the King’s invitation apart from Willoughby, the Healer.

“Please let me in,” Xanthus had pleaded.  “I want to see him.”

“The King has made his orders very clear.  Nobody sees him without his express invitation until he is healed.  Not even you.”

The next day, Xantom shook.  The castle, the city walls, the homes, even the people in the Outskirts felt the quake.  It didn’t last long, but it had been unmistakable.  People said it was a bad omen, a sign that the Dome was punishing them.  Xanthus didn’t believe that, but the very same day, Willoughby announced that the King was dead.

After the funeral pyre had burned down to ashes, the room he died in had been sealed off as a monument to his passing.  The room came to be known as “The Passing of the Seventh.”  Xanthus’s mother had no interest in ruling, saying that she was as close to death as her late husband, so she allowed Willoughby to rule the city until Xanthus was old enough to take command.  She died shortly after Xanthus took control of the city.

Xanthus had finally finished dressing himself and placed his crown atop his head to complete the wardrobe.  He exited his Chambers and made his way towards the Throne Room where Thaddeus was waiting.  He stepped inside through the rear entrance and sat upon the High Chair.  After taking a moment to crack his neck and stretch, he turned to Thaddeus.

“What was so urgent that you needed to wake me before time?  The city hasn’t even awoken yet.”

Thaddeus stepped forward.  “We have a criminal who awaits your judgment, Sir.”

“That’s nothing new.  We have criminals every day.  He must have done something terrible to warrant getting me out of bed instead of throwing him into the dungeons.  What did he do?”

“She, Sir.”

A woman.  This was a special occasion.

“Bring her in.”

Thaddeus made his way to the front of the Throne Room and opened the side entry doors.  Xanthus heard him speaking to the guards waiting outside before making his way back to his place beside Xanthus.  Through the door came two men, the recently promoted Silvan and the well-built but aging Vanderford, escorting a woman between them.  She seemed strangely calm for someone being brought before the King on criminal charges.  The guards shoved her to her knees.

“State your name,” Xanthus said.

“Quintessa.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Yes.”

A moment passed in silence.  She thinks this is a game.  “Don’t make me ask again.”

“I snuck into the castle.  When I was discovered, I tried to escape.  When that wasn’t possible, I killed a guard.”

She seemed to Xanthus almost proud of what she had done.  “Why?”

“He wouldn’t let me go.”  As though that was enough.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you managed to get away,” Xanthus mocked.  She didn’t say anything in response, but he thought he saw her mouth twitch.  Good.  If you’re uncomfortable, you’re more likely to tell me the truth.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“The Outskirts.”

“How did you get into the city?”

If he wasn’t mistaken, the slightest hint of a smile crossed her lips. “Two guards, then.”

“Do you have no remorse for your actions?”

“I’m only sorry that they interfered.  They didn’t have to die this way.”

Insolence.  “What do you mean by ‘this way?’  Are you implying that there is a way they should have died?”

“Everyone dies.  All I did was speed up the process.”

“You are aware of the laws?”

“I’m aware of them.”

“And yet you chose to disregard them.”

“I didn’t choose anything.  I�"” she stopped herself.  What’s holding you back?  Maybe she realizes she’s crossed a line.  She started again, choosing her words carefully.  “My baby is sick.  I needed to get some help.”

Baby?  This is the first I’m hearing about a baby.  Xanthus turned to Thaddeus.  “Where is the child?”

“We have it, Sir.  It’s in custody.”

“What is the child’s gender, Thaddeus?”

“Sir?”

“A simple question, I assumed.  Please tell me that the men who guard my life are capable of telling the difference between a male and a female.”

“It’s a�"”

“If you refer to the child as ‘it’ one more time, you’ll be in just as much trouble as Quintessa.”

“…He’s a male, Sir.”

“And have you gotten him any medical attention?”

Thaddeus seemed at a loss.  “I… We came straight to you, Sir.  She killed two guards!  We didn’t�"”

“Quintessa may have broken a few laws breaking in here and killing two guards, but her child didn’t.  Take him to Willoughby.”  Thaddeus searched for his voice and paused for a moment too long.  “NOW!”

Thaddeus scurried out of the room.

“Thank you, Sir,” Quintessa said.  She sounded impressed.  I don’t need your approval, woman.

“I didn’t say you could speak.”  Quintessa lowered her head.  Xanthus sighed.  “I’m sure you tried explaining to the guard why you needed to come through.”

“Of course I did.  He wouldn’t listen.  He�"”

“�"was obeying orders, I’m sure,” Xanthus finished.  “As someone from the Outskirts, you should know the rules.  No one enters the city after Xantom goes to sleep.  And seeing how your son is still alive now, clearly you could have waited for the rising before trying to enter the city.”

She was silent.

“Am I wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Everybody needs something.  Despite what you may believe, you aren’t the only person who needed help during the sleep.  You are, however, the only person who broke the rules.  There are people within the city who are starving.  I’m sure it’s just as bad outside.  But the laws are in place for a reason.  If we don’t follow the laws, what do we have?”

Quintessa, again, didn’t respond.  I’m not getting through to her.  Not that I really thought I would, but if I don’t explain myself she’s just going to die hating me.  At least this way she has the opportunity to rethink her actions.

“As I’m sure you know, there are only two courses of action here.”

“What are they?”

“I find it hard to believe that you know this little about the way things work in Xantom.”  They stared each other down for a long moment before he spoke again.  “Based on the severity of your crimes, it’s either exile or death.  As is the custom started by one of the previous Kings, you have the right to choose which punishment you would prefer.”

“Exile.”  She spoke quickly, immediate, as though her response had been planned from the beginning.

“Very well.  Do you have a husband?”

She paused.  “Why?”

“We have to determine what will happen to your child.”

She searched the room before speaking.  Odd, Xanthus thought.  At this point you think she’d be more concerned with her child’s fate than looking for an escape route.

“The boy’s father is a Hunter, so he won’t be around to take care�"”

“The child will pass to him.  I’m sure there are people who will be willing to watch him while his father is on the Hunt.”

She nodded, stone-faced.

“I thought as much.  Silvan, Vanderford… escort Quintessa to a holding cell in the dungeons until we’re ready.  Give me an hour and we’ll have the exiling ceremony.  Silvan, after you get Quintessa in the cell, sound the drum.”

“It will be my pleasure, Sir,” Silvan said eagerly.

Silvan and Vanderford stepped forward to pull Quintessa to her feet.  As they began escorting her from the room, she went limp, dragging her feet lazily behind them.  Her weight pulled on them, slowing them down.

“Xanthus,” Quintessa called out.

He whirled around.  “That’s King Xanthus, or Sir.  If you do not refer to me appropriately I will change your sentence to Death before you can blink.”

“King Xanthus, then.  I just wanted to say… thank you.  You’ve really helped to open my eyes today.”

“I hope you know that your words won’t save you.”

“I have no intention of being saved.”  Xanthus wasn’t sure he was seeing correctly through the darkness in the room, but it appeared as though Quintessa’s face twisted into a tiny smile just before the three of them disappeared from the room.

That was very peculiar.  We’ve dealt with sick children in the Outskirts before, but none of them ever murdered a member of the City Guard just to get in before curfew ended.  Either the people in the Outskirts are getting more desperate and unpredictable, or she had some other plan.  She had to know this would end in Exile.

In truth, both sentences were essentially the same.  One was immediate death and the other was a slightly more prolonged one.  No one had ever survived Exile.  The Hunters had been on thousands of expeditions, but there had never been a report of finding a human body�"alive or otherwise.

Xanthus returned to his bedroom where his wife had fallen back asleep after he had commanded her to.  Not that she would have had anything to do if she had woken up.  He sat beside her on the bed and gently shook her awake.

“Xanthia,” he said.  She scoffed upon hearing the name.  You could at least try to hide your disdain for me.

“What was that all about?” Xanthia asked.

Xanthus ignored the question.  “Where is Cassiopeia?”

“I don’t know.  Have you checked her bedroom?” she asked.  “That’s the last place we put her.”

“Wake her.  There’s going to be an Exiling Ceremony, and she’s going to watch.”

“She’s not going to understand.  She’s too young.”

“I don’t care.  She’s going to have to learn sooner or later.”

“Wake her yourself.”

“I have other business to attend to.  Get her dressed and ready for the ceremony.”  He walked out of the room without saying another word.

Reviews

[DoormanDan]

This chapter, like the first one, is extremely strong. It's a bit slower than the first one, but provides some great details of the current king of this awesome fictional world you've created. This story, so far, is one of the best I have ever read, and I cannot wait to read chapter 3!

PS: Sorry i haven't been reading your writing lately. Because of my school schedule, I cant come on the website much during the weekdays, and if I do, it's usually only briefly :)

[Justin Xavier Smith]

Don't worry about not reading much lately. I understand school can be crazy!!