Chapter 2: Regal Panacea

Alexander ventures from the capital of Macedon, Aztlan, to a nearby Macedonian province called Tatsu. His knight and king of Tatsu, Lord Ryūjin, is introduced as one of his harshest critics.

         At midnight, King Alexander was fast asleep, still enervated by the incessant ceremonies of inauguration, anointment, and celebration that had taken place two days prior. He lay with his wife in the safety of his royal chambers as his head advisor rode aback his trusted mare to a hillside just outside the perimeter of Aztlan’s city limits. The white light of a silver, crescent moon illuminated him and his horse as he dismounted and waited. He waited for several minutes before whispering as loudly as he could, “Where are you, damnit?!” On cue, a black cloak came walking up the hill to meet him. “We need a password,” said the automated voice of the approaching thief.

         “No,” Theodore retorted, “what YOU need is an appreciation for punctuality.”

         “I’ve been waiting an hour, but I didn’t realize you had arrived.”

         “You’re a thief. Surveillance is your niche. Pay attention. Now, what did we get?”

         “A dead Minister of Defense is what you’ve got.”

         “Nothing? What do I pay you people for?”

         “You haven’t paid yet. So far, the only costs are to me.”

         “What costs?”

         “Half my arm,” the thief said as he gripped his left sleeve tightly below the elbow to show that it was hollow, “and three toes. Do not lecture me on cost.”

         “Did he say nothing of the Tigon Set?”

         “Apparently, your trusting king did not trust you as much as you thought. He was buried in it.”

         “You’re kidding. Now what?”

         “What do you mean ‘now what’? You’re the Chief Advisor. Don’t you know where he was buried?”

         “That kind of information is kept secret within the bloodline! Only descendants would know something like that.”

         “So, we’ve wasted our time.”

         “No.”

         “You’re right. We’ve wasted time, a foot, and a hand for Pete’s sake.”

         “There may be alternatives. Give me some more time.”

         “And what should WE be doing during this time?”

         “God help you, nothing! It was never my intention that General Cassius should die, so suffice it to say you’ve done enough. Just wait until I contact you.”

         Alexander had a busy agenda the next day, but he met it head-on and walked with absolute purpose and certainty. His council of elders was perplexed by the fact that he didn’t start by handling the mystery of the assassinated Minister of Defense. He rode his horse, instead, straight to one of his other provinces, Tatsu, leaving the investigation to the Aztlan Thieves Guild. In his mind, he had the frequent repetition of his council’s condescending voices in his head reminding him of the six provinces and their respective races: “Remember, Alexander,” they had said, “we have Humans in Aztlan and Cuzco, Elves in Ouardia, Dragonoids in Tatsu, and Dwarves in both Viki and Aesir.

         As the king rode through the mud and rain--en route to Tatsu on this dark day and accompanied by elite, human soldiers on armored warhorses--the councilmen were baffled by his last words to them. He had said, “You guys can forget about Aztlan’s low rune count because that’s not even a problem. Humans are naturally ineffectual when it comes to magic; be honest with yourselves and recognize the importance of our other provinces because focusing only on our province will lead to the fall of Macedon.”

         It took only twenty minutes to reach Tatsu, and Alexander arrived to make a personal appearance in its highest courtroom despite the fact that court was in session. He strode in with a smirk as his perfect hair and cape fluttered as though the rain meant nothing to the laws of physics when he was involved. Everyone stood in his honor, including the lord of the province, Ryūjin. “King Alexander,” Ryūjin said with an irritated tone as he reluctantly stepped back from his chair to let Alexander have the judgment seat; his indignation was resultant of the fact that Alexander was interrupting a court case of significant import but equally consequent of the fact that he anticipated Alexander being an inept ruler.

         “I hear this case has been stalling. Having trouble?” Alexander asked.

         “Are you going to sit?”

         “No, why don’t you recess for two minutes and fill me in on the details behind closed doors.”

         Ryūjin was quick to oblige Alexander’s unorthodox method of handling his affairs. In a smaller room, he sat with King Alexander while the imperial guards whom the king had brought stood in the courtroom to keep anyone from leaving. Ryūjin began promptly with no formal greetings, as he was the type of man who did not respect others solely for their titles; he only gave respect when he truly considered one worthy of it. Matter-of-factly, he stated, “Alright, Shugoryū is being prosecuted for two criminal acts: the protection of a Rain Dragon and the murder of a doctor--both at the same time on the same day fifteen years ago.”

         “Any evidence he did it?”

         “He confessed and is pleading guilty.”

         “Wait, what? Then, how is there a problem?”

         “The doctor he murdered was going to kill his son with a dagger to the chest.”

         “Why?”

         “What do you mean ‘why’?”

         “What do you mean, ‘what do I mean?’”

         “I mean that Tatsuvian law requires that we slay any Dragonoid who is born while it’s raining.”

         “What the hell? Why? Tatsu’s got a low-enough birthrate as it is; we don’t have time for you to…”

         “Dragonoids are NEVER born on rainy days to begin with; that’s the point. I’ve only seen it three times in all my years of life, and this was one of them. Rain Dragons are said to be radically powerful but equally insane and, thus, not only capable but liable to do great harm to the province.”

         “Really? How powerful are we talking?”

         “At birth, the boy’s Joule Grade was one microjoule.”

         “Wha- you’re kidding!”

         “Do I look like a man who would make a joke?”

         Ryūjin wore a black cloak that wrapped around his entire body from chin to ankle but could easily open since a slit ran up the middle and could be parted easily for hand-to-hand combat, shaking hands, or equipping a weapon. His skin was lighter than Alexander’s, and his hair was black--swept back into a long ponytail. His left eyeball was completely white with no retina, and a scar came down across it vertically.

         “So, the accused man kept all this secret for the last fifteen years?” Alexander asked.

         “Yes, it took this long for the Cold Case Unit to put two and two together.”

         “He murdered the doctor to protect his newborn son.”

         “That’s right, and that’s not all. The boy is nothing like what legend says he should be.”

         “What do you mean?”

         “As a Rain Dragon, he should be savage, perhaps even unintelligible. He should be ravaging our land with his power; in fact, this should have all occurred when he was born, yet there’s nothing different about him. He’s just like any other kid his age. He’s normal, and he had no problem staying near the top of his class when he was in school. No one would have known anything was amiss if it weren’t for the discovery of the murder, yet they want me to sentence both the boy and his father to death.”

         “Hm, sounds pretty cut and dry to me.”

         “How?”

        “They both live--simple.”

         “On what grounds? There was murder; remember? No self-defense.”

         “Sure, but clearly the law that executes Rain Dragons at birth is purposed with protecting Tatsu from a threat; the boy isn’t a threat. The only one to be charged with murder would be the father, so the kid’s free and clear either way. After all, he’s obviously harmless and has assimilated into society quite well. As for papa bear, we’ll sentence him to life in prison.”

         “Life imprisonment? We don’t do that in Tatsu.”

         “Oh, would you not like that? Is it because he is one of your elites?”

         “Defensive elite--a rank we call Guardian. How’d you know?”

         “He wouldn’t have been able to keep such a big secret hidden for fifteen years or even fifteen seconds unless he was highly trained and very knowledgeable about how this province’s security worked. I’ll cut you a deal for all of your prisoners who are ‘in for life’, as they say. With an agreement on our part, you and I can legally sanction any of those prisoners to exchange their sentences for a high-order community service.”

         “A pardon.”

         "It's not a pardon; it's Sui Generis Sentencing--circumstantial punishment, but we have to both agree on that individual to legally do that. Clear?”

         “Your father was as conservative as I am on legislation. You're surprisingly liberal.”
         “How many do you currently have imprisoned for life?”

         “No one yet obviously, except Shugoryū now. You know, the purpose of law...”

         “Splended, he’s just the man I need, and it so happens I'm in town today; I'll be able to escort him to Aztlan personally. Finally, we’ll have a Tatsuvian Minister of Defense to whip our soldiers back into shape. So then, ready to write it up?”

         “You planned it this way, didn't you? You're actually filling a position using remnants of an antiquated, vague penal code carried over from Macedonian Charter under King Phillip II's rule, which I wouldn't expect you or anyone still living to know. I'm not even sure how I know it. Still, you know you have to make the ruling for me, don’t you? You have to go out there, call the court back into session, make your ruling, and adjourn.”

         “Nah, you can do it.”

         “The law clearly states…”

         “Big whoop, consider this one a freebee. There’s no need for me to say it when you know exactly what to say. You were right here when we thought it up. Remember?”

         "What do you think is the purpose of law?"

         "You've already said that I'm liberal, so you know my answer."

         "Laws protect the monarchy. You can't play fast and loose with legislation because that increases the representation of the king's will in each judgment. It leads the people to either praise or blame the king for what happens. You establish very precise laws meticulously so as to ensure that they will always yield the correct results, and the monarchy upholds the laws to a T. People will not hold a king responsible for..."

         "But you can't establish an infallible law."

         "You're one of those."

         "See, conservatism is all about making it seem like law was handed down to the monarchy by some omniscient deity. The king is billed as no more than an enforcer--one chosen to rule within the confines of these divine guidelines."

         "Liberalism is all about playing god. You think you know well enough on your own how to judge the plights of man or decide his rights. Your conceit makes you want everything to fall under your authority."

         "My gahaha, you sound just like him."

         "Like who?"

         "My father called it conceit. Authority has nothing to do with it. Our authority dictates the laws either way, whether you want to admit it to the people or not; therefore, we may as well do the best job we can at ensuring that the will of the law is carried out."

         "The will of the law is to maintain order, and liberalism leads to rebellion."

         "The will of the law is the original intent behind each and every piece of legislation. The law kills Rain Dragons at birth to protect Tatsu. There's no threat, so don't just kill a peasant kid! What's the purpose of the king delivering a collective verdict instead of the knight?"

         "To portray unity amongst the king and his knights."

         "Do we appear any less united if you go tell them the verdict instead of me? I'm still king. You wouldn't be telling them unless I was okay with it, and they know that. The peasantry isn't stupid; give them credit."

         "It's an unpopular decision. Rain Dragon is a terrifying phrase in this province when taken seriously. They want him dead."

         "So ask yourself what you'd rather do, then. Do you want to be the face of an unpopular decision and maintain the appearance of full control, or do you want let me be the face of the unpopular decision and undermine your authority in front of your people?"

         "..."

         "My father always used to say: ..."

         "Sovereignty isn't a popularity contest."

         "That's right."

         “Hm.”

         “Hurry back, though. None of this was what I came to discuss.”

         “Of course.”

         Lord Ryūjin walked out from behind the curtain and sat back in his chair. He called the court back into session and made his ruling just as King Alexander had planned it. Shugoryū would be sentenced to life imprisonment, served via “community service” in the royal province under Alexander’s personal watch. The boy would also live. Many were disturbed by this but accepted it well enough, and Ryūjin was quite content with the decision made as Alexander’s guards quickly seized Shugoryū and took him into custody. All of this was a clear indication that Macedon was dealing with a king whose position on law was a very liberal one, contrary to his father who ascribed to the conservative school of thought that law was something a king should establish very carefully and thoughtfully and that it was something to which all lords should strictly adhere. Alexander clearly disagreed, preferring vague legislation and case-by-case judgment. Lord Ryūjin agreed with Alexander's father, but he respected Alexander for his independent thinking, which Alexander prudently predicted that he would. It was important that Alexander begin their formal relationship by earning Ryūjin’s respect as more than just an uneducated incumbent.

         Law dictated that, should a knight serving as judge consult with his king in a court of the province, any resultant ruling is to be stated by the king himself, regardless of either’s position. Alexander’s father had told him much about each of the knights of Macedon, including Lord Ryūjin, and the things his father had taught him about these knights were things like their methods, their strengths and weaknesses, their positions on issues of politics and philosophy, and their feelings toward himself. Alexander knew from all this that Lord Ryūjin was an intellectual but that he was also just as proud as he was intelligent; ergo, he expected that a trivial law whose result was the king taking Ryūjin’s courtroom from him was one with which he was willing to dispense. Lord Ryūjin was being offered an opportunity to maintain control of his own courtroom and handle his people himself, which amounted to saving face for him, and saving face was important. Ryūjin preferred not to appear upstaged by the young king, so he took King Alexander up on his offer for specifically that reason; however, in so doing, he was effectively conceding Alexander’s liberal stance that the law is not perennially self-sufficient and that it occasionally needed assistance. If the law could be such a trifle as to deal unnecessarily with the inconsequential matter of which authority addresses a courtroom, it was feasible that it could also fall short in addressing the specificity of certain moral issues, requiring judgment on a case-by-case basis. Obviously, this moment did not suffice in and of itself to change Lord Ryūjin’s position just because the law was made to appear foolish, as opposed to godly as conservatives would have one believe, but Ryūjin was willing to take defeat in stride this time.

         Alexander still sat in the same chair across the small table from Ryūjin’s chair; the table was up against a windowsill, and the window looked out into the rainy city. Alexander sat with his back against the wall and the window to his right as Lord Ryūjin reentered, coming from the courtroom. Ryūjin was beginning to esteem young Alexander more highly in lieu of his initial expectations; even though he still fully disagreed with Alexander's overall stance on legislation, he deemed it commendable that Alexander had cornered him so adeptly with logic, and it meant that, as an intellectual, Alexander was a worthy opponent with whom he could look forward to worthwhile discussion. “So,” he said to Alexander with a stern face, indicative of his zero-tolerance persona, “what else is there to discuss?” Alexander smirked as he managed to see through Ryūjin’s facial expression and read the subtle change that had occurred since his arrival. The difference between Ryūjin’s current countenance and that with which he had begun their initial conversation was that Ryūjin was beginning to take Alexander seriously; he was interested in what the king’s real business was.

         “I am more aware,” Alexander said as his smirk disappeared, “of our kingdom’s state of affairs than you or my council might think.”

         “Really…” the dark lord retorted incredulously.

         “I’m proud of you and glad to have you as my knight. So was my father, whether he told you or not. You have raised this province like a true king. Tatsu is currently Macedon’s strongest military power by far; the other provinces pale in comparison to your strength. Other powerful kingdoms like Zephyr and Xylon still believe that Macedon is just as invincible as ever, but the truth is… we’re extremely vulnerable right now.”

         “Hm?”

         “Does this surprise you?”

         “I… am only surprised that you are able to see the weaknesses in your kingdom. As knights, the lords of other provinces and I speak to your councilmen from time to time, and they seldom showed any signs of understanding what our real weaknesses are because they are only focused on the good of Aztlan, not the good of Macedon as a whole.”

         “Yeah, they’re mostly concerned with increasing the value of Aztlan as well as its military strength, but honestly, I find that to be a long shot. Value is no problem since we’re the kingdom’s richest province anyway, but strength is a long-term project; that’s why I needed a defensive elite from your province to aid me in training my men, and of course, he'll make a perfect replacement for General Cassius, given the untimely death.”

         “So, you had a second agenda for Shugoryū all along.”

         “Indeed, I did, but there are more pressing matters for the kingdom as a whole. For instance, we're the only superpower to have no Sacrodragon.”

         “I was wondering if you were going to bring that up.”

         “I had no doubt that my knights, especially you as the previous holder of our Sacrodragons in the past, would already know of this, but my councilmen seemed as though it had slipped their minds entirely. The one race my father did not dwell on in his teachings with me was the Dragon race, so tell me: what is the difference between you Dragonoids and the Sacrodragons?”

         “Our people are not truly dragons. We are of an evolutionary stage between human and dragon. Dragon is a combination of syllables; the first of which means ‘of clear sight’. This is why our large eyes often characterize us, serving as a defining, physical feature. Our eyes are dragon eyes, but it takes much work to evolve the rest of our body parts into those of actual dragons. Sacrodragons do not use human form as their biological base and, instead, are based on serpentine form, and reptilian skin expands much more than ours; therefore, they grow to be of a size that can eclipse the sun as it annihilates a kingdom one province at a time, covering half a city. We cannot achieve such things.”

         “What about Rain Dragons?”

         “What do you mean?”

         “Well, we’ve already established that Rain Dragons can accomplish far more than the normal man among your race of people, and we do have one now. I’m wondering if Rain Dragons just have a stronger evolutionary link to Sacrodragons than the rest of you.”

         “How could anyone know the answer to that?”

         “Good, your answer tells me whatever we find out will be a secret that no others can learn.”

         “Secret regarding what?”

         “Raising a Sacrodragon is expensive and time consuming. If we try to do it all at once, we’ll sink our economy and be even more vulnerable to our enemies. We need to do things properly, which will take quite a bit of time; meanwhile, we put our faith in the closest thing we’ve got.”

         “Here’s the problem, then. The kid has no training.”

         “What?! Why not? He’s fifteen, right? And don’t warrior races like yours start training children as preteens or something?”

         “He doesn’t want to be a warrior, so he never took that route. He’s been in grammar school all his life, studying to be a scholar.”

         “He wants to be a scholar?”

         “He does. He’s extremely soft to be suddenly turned into a warrior.”

         “Well, we can’t let his potential go untapped, so I expect to hear you report on some progress about all this when we next meet.”

         “And when will that be?”

         “Soon.”

         Lord Ryūjin shifted in his seat and stared out the window as he placed a wooden pipe in his mouth and lit its contents. “You’re not what I expected,” he said, smoke rushing from his lips in short spurts to the rhythm of his syllables.

         “I know.”

         “You’re a hands-on ruler like your father, the mark of a true king. Being anointed may bring you the crown and title, but many an heir to a royal throne remain prince mentally: arrogant, lazy, politically disinterested. You actually want to run this kingdom, don’t you?”

         “I do.”

         “Macedon is fortunate two generations in a row, then.”

         “Thank you.”

         “Granted, you dishonored my courtroom, and you’re liberal on legislation…”

         “I get the picture.”

         “This is only the beginning. You want the entirety of my honesty?”

         “Please.”

         “Macedon is a shell of itself. Flags everywhere claim that it is still the greatest kingdom on earth. By whose standard? I hope you are truly committed to this because anything less than a fully dedicated vow of both the heart and mind with an unmitigated sense of duty to this great kingdom will surely see the fall of Macedon, and that will indubitably be your error and greatest regret. Your father was a wise ruler, but his final two years were plagued with worst of his illness. During that time, too much authority defaulted to his narrow-minded council whom you've inherited. They are smart, but they are only preoccupied with the concerns of Aztlan. They don't see the big picture; it's why none of them could be king. Do not let the knowledge of your advisors intimidate you. Take control on the affairs of the kingdom no matter how much the stress affairs of the state.”

         Lord Ryūjin could see that King Alexander was taking his words to heart. Alexander's eyes were fixed on the table's surface, and his expression revealed a different side of him that had heretofore been hidden as he asked, "You saying you trust me? As king?"

         "I'm saying forget about those damn runes," Lord Ryūjin answered with a barely noticeable smirk. Alexander chuckled. "Something else to note about advisors in general. They're all predisposed toward a hunger for power--every last one of them; it's what got them where they are today. Listen to me. Smiles and words of comfort are nothing more than the difference between a snake and a snake in the grass." The somber profile lightened slightly as Alexander smirked and stood to his feet. “My father was right about you,” he said. “Give you the floor and only God can shut you up.” He exited the room, leaving Ryūjin to chuckle under his breath for a moment. He put the pipe to his lips again and stared out the window.

Author's Note

One of my main objectives in this chapter is to establish Alexander as relatively wise. He doesn't have to come off as brilliant yet because subsequent chapters are meant to take the reader to that conclusion. The question is whether or not his wisdom and/or accurate tests of said wisdom are showcased in this chapter.

Reviews

[JR Darewood]

You do a great job with dialogue, it always sounds witty and conversational. Alexander sounds masterfully clever, certainly, but I don't necessarily peg his as wise; he seems like he could be a bit brash and impatient. I like the complexities you've incorporated, (though I wonder, if the public wants the defensive elite and the rain dragon executed, wouldn't actually be better for Alexander to make the decision since it would relieve Ryujin from having to make an unpopular pronouncement?)

The two paragraphs where you go into all of this: "When Alexander was first presenting his solution to this case’s moral dilemma..." and so forth... it was thinking it might have been nice to get this information in realtime instead of after-the-fact (eg, as Alexander is talking, you piece together internal, mental reactions from Ryujin, he opens his mouth to interject, but the pauses, Alex says something, he reacts in another way.... etc etc.). It would be a bit of work, but it might be more of an exciting read if can experience unstated the conflict between the two as it plays out.

[Cedric D. Jr.]

First off, I like how we just happened to review each other's work at the same time lol.

read moreFirst off, I like how we just happened to review each other's work at the same time lol.

Anyways, you make a keen observation. I think I felt the same way subconsciously because I settled into the idea before reading your explanation as to why I should do it. It's a solid point, so tomorrow I'll probably hop into that little revision project because it would be more engaging if done correctly. I figure I'll need sleep to have the requisite focus to pull it off is all.

As for Alexander being wise, you're right. I think I chose the wrong words in my notes because the way you describe him is about right. Wisdom is quite a stretch, but masterfully clever is appropriate. The first and second chapter are meant to bring you through a sequence of experiences start you with little confidence in him yet gradually convince you that he has excellent strengths as a ruler, specifically his understanding of Macedonian Law.

Thanks again, J. Another of your ideas will be put to good use.

[JR Darewood]

yeah, that was pretty crazy! like a strike and counterstrike all at once

[AJJordan]

In answer to your specific question; yes, the king has proven surprisingly smart as to the current state of affairs, especially considering the opinion I formed of him from the last chapter.

I'm wondering now if there was a hidden agenda to making the Knight pass on the king's ruling, rather then the king doing it himself. Although as the king mentioned, the people aren't stupid and will realize that the order came from the king, who had just interrupted the knight's court. So I guess I'm wondering why all the theatrics in the first place? The king gives the order, and the knight carries out that order. The fact the knight argued with the king tells me that maybe it was just the knight testing the king. A brash test as, if this king was different, he may have lost his head for his insubordination.

The body of the chapter read like a script from Law and Order. I've never heard of a king enter into a political discussion with a subordinate in such a manner before. Again, I think this was just a test on the knights behalf, seeing what his new king thought about his position of ultimate rule. Again, this is my subjective opinion, but I've always been a firm believer in the king being the ultimate authority, answerable to none. By all means, plot and scheme to overthrow the despot behind his back, while maintaining a polite and civil and servile manner to his face.

Just a couple of things:

“We need a password,” said the automated voice. Automated? Is he a cyborg?

"As the king rode through the mud and rain--en route to Tatsu on this dark day and accompanied by elite, human soldiers on armored warhorses--the councilmen were baffled by his last words to them." This is just a POV issue. If the king is not there, how can he know the advisors are baffled by his words?

Finally;

"Alexander still sat in the same chair across the small table from Ryūjin’s chair; the table was up against a windowsill, and the window looked out into the rainy city. Alexander sat with his back against the wall and the window to his right as Lord Ryūjin reentered..." There seem to be too many chairs and and tables and windows repeated here.