Perfect Control

“Yes, quite.” A sneering voice said. “I don’t think it would be at all possible for anyone not to appreciate this wine. It’s sharp, sensual.” Vixin heard the sound of licking lips. “Perfect.”

“Oh come now, Nyxiv.” Another, bored voice protested. “Aia has commanded us to give up such worldly things.” His voice sounded sarcastic, as if he didn’t actually believe the things he was saying.

“Oh, but the worldly things are so beautiful, Watcher.” The first voice replied. “Why would I want to give them up?”

Vixin sat up with a jolt and a gasp. Could he breathe? Was he dead? If not, then where was he? A thousand questions swam through his head before he had even opened his eyes.

He was in a cell. A real, legitimate prison cell. Iron bars separated him from the world, and an enormous iron chain was wrapped around his hands and legs. The walls were a dull brown, but a few crimson splotches broke the monotonous tone. Vixin didn’t want to think about those, so he turned his eyes toward the front. Across from him, outside the bars, sat two men. A third stood in the corner.

Their demeanor and outfits differed wildly. One wore plain leather armor that was tattered and torn in places. His expression and posture matched the roughness of his garb. He sat back in the chair with his legs sticking out and arms crossed, a bored frown on his face. He snorted loudly before hacking a glob of mucus onto the ground.

“Are we going to get on with this, Nyxiv?” The rough man, the Watcher, said, scratching his beard. “I don’t have all day.”

The other sitting man looked at the rough one in disgust. “Patience, master Watcher. Let me enjoy some of this for a moment more. I scarcely have had the time before.” He sipped at his goblet, not a single drop spilling over. Every movement Nyxiv made was refined. Well, it matched his clothing. He wore an ornate golden doublet with jewels encrusted along the seams. His trousers were bland but immaculate, and at his waist he wore a thin, decorative sword.  

Vixin had two thoughts at this point. The first was: With that sword, he’s either a Bloodwielder or just very bad at fencing.

And the second was: I have heard the name Nyxiv before.

“Enough, you two.” The third man said, turning back around to the cell. His face was like stone, immovable and emotionless. He wore a crimson robe that billowed to the floor- a Harvester. “The King has called for this man’s trial, and it is your duty as his subjects to bring this man to justice.”

“Really, Janidol?” Nyxiv sighed, draining his goblet. “Is it utterly impossible for you to wait for a few moments?” He looked back at his goblet sadly. “I was going to savor the last few sips…”

“Hey!” Vixin called, drawing a surprised look from everyone but Janidol. He looked around in a panic. “Where am I?”

There was silence for a moment, and then the two sitting men burst into gales of laughter.

“Do you think he’s tryin to act like he’s insane?” The rough mans aid, slapping his knee and wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s not really working.”

“Maybe he’s just trying to be funny.” Nyxiv wondered sarcastically. He began clapping slowly and dramatically. “Bravo, Vixin. Bravo.”

“It was not a joke, my lords.” Vixin growled. “Where am I? Why am I being held?”

The two men looked at him strangely. “Are you feeling alright, Lord Xiviir?” Nyxiv said mockingly. “Did the cooks let your food spoil more than it was supposed to?”

“Nyxiv, he seems to be serious…” The Watcher said, forehead creasing. “What are you playing at, Viceroy? Was killing Xaxin not enough? Will you now disrespect his memory?”

Vixin almost fell back onto the cot. As it was, he could barely keep his head from lolling as his thoughts sped up. This was about Xaxin? His father?

“Enough of this.” Janidol said angrily. “Silvertongue, you will bring this man to the courts for his trial within the hour. If you do not, King Cixusa will fine you a large amount of money. If you cannot pay, you will be made a slave and taken to fight at the Barabak Wall. Am I understood?”

Nyxiv nodded grandly. “As my lord Harvester commands.” He shrugged. “But I will need a few moments with my client.”

Janidol’s  expression hardened even further. “Very well. But within the hour, Highlord. No more.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, Lord Janidol.” Nyxiv said with feigned surprise. “I will absolutely stay on the great Cixusa’s timetable.” He pointed at the door. “Now, if you would be so kind to shut the door behind you…”

“I’ll show him the way out.” The Watcher said, rising slowly and fumbling at his belt for a keyring. “This way, my lord.” He opened the door. Janidol nodded curtly and walked out of it, throwing one last glance toward Nyxiv as the door slammed shut.

Nyxiv turned back to Vixin and smiled. “What an interesting position to find yourself in, Viceroy. You really have a knack for getting into trouble.”

“Who are you?” Vixin said, exasperated. “Why do I know you?”

“Oh come now, Viceroy.” Nyxiv said, leaning back in his chair. “We only met for a brief moment, but I thought I had made an impression.” He pointed at the goblet, which instantly filled with a rich red wine. “How about this?” As he leaned forward, his skin darkened to a moldy green, and he quickly took on the appearance of a corpse. “Do you recognize me now, Viceroy?”

Vixin paled and began trembling. “You’re the one that I saw in the mirror.”

Nyxiv smiled, and his skin returned to its normal state. “Bravo!” He clapped sarcastically once again. “Somebody get this man a prize. Maybe an appreciative maiden or two?”

“Where am I?” Vixin interrupted. “What happened to the Void?”

“Why,” Nyxiv scoffed. “You’re in it right now, Viceroy. Right in the center.” He took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. “Don’t you just love it? All that raw creation?”

“What are you talking about?” Vixin said. “How is this the Void?”

“To put it in layman’s terms, the Void and the Aether are both made of creation “clay”, Vixin.” Nyxiv said, like he was teaching a child. He gestured grandly to himself. “If you know how, you can manipulate it into whatever you want.” He sipped at his goblet. “I rather like using it to make the perfect Junarian wines.”

“So why do you get to control my world?” Vixin said, eyes narrowing. “Who put you in charge?”

“Why, Aia of course.” Nyxiv laughed. “He’s running this whole show. I’m merely in charge of your trial.” He gestured to the prison. “Think I chose well?”

“If this is my trial,” Vixin said slowly, stringing a few thoughts together. “Then why are you talking to me and telling me this? I thought Aia was all about ‘purity’ and ‘non-interference’.”

“He is.” Nyxiv shrugged. “But this is my show. And while Nirastig can play his part all anonymous, dying and coming back to life very dramatically for your king’s trial…” He drained his wine goblet and smacked his lips. “I prefer a more hands-on approach.”

“Alright then.” Vixin said, still confused, but not wanting to try and absorb more information. His head was almost full to bursting as it was. “So, what now?”

“Like Janidol said.” Nyxiv proclaimed, standing and pulling open the cell door. “I have to get you to the courtroom within the hour.”

“Are you serious?” Vixin spluttered.

“Like death.” Nyxiv said solemnly, then he broke into a huge grin. “Isn’t it hysterical? Your trial is a literal trial!”

Vixin thought he might cry. Puns and trials were two of his least favorite things, and Nyxiv had found a way to give him both in one day. Fantastic.

* * *

“Hear ye, hear ye.” Highking Cixusa said, banging his staff on the ground. “The trial of Vixin Xiviir will now come to order.” He eyed Vixin viciously. “Is everyone present and accounted for?”

“They are, Highking.” Janidol said proudly. He had shed his brown Harvester cloak and replaced it with the fine linens of a Silvertongue. He and Nyxiv were almost indistinguishable now. “Our witnesses have gathered.”

“Very well.” Cixusa said, leaning back in his chair. “Call your first, then.”

Janidol picked up a piece of parchment and cleared his throat. “Will the Goodman Janis Prindalsson come to the pit?”

Vixin had always wondered what the Diradis trial chamber looked like. Now he had a chance to see it firsthand, and he did not enjoy it. The room was spacious and tall, but the light from the small number of sputtering torches scarcely was able to light up the floor, let alone the entire chamber. The Silvertongues and Highking sat on raised pedestals on three points of a rectangle, while Vixin sat below them in the center. The fourth pedestal was reserved for the witnesses. Surrounding the rectangle were rows of benches for spectators and waiting witnesses. It was from this group that a young man dressed in servant’s clothes walked out of the benches and onto the fourth pedestal.

“Thank you for coming, Goodman.” Janidol said sincerely as the man sat down. “Your account will be invaluable in this case.”

“‘Twas no trouble at all.” Janis said, bobbing his head. “What do you need of me?”

Janidol stood and began pacing around his pedestal. “Goodman Janis, where were you on a night approximately…” He sifted through a pile of papers on his desk. “Four and a half weeks ago?”

“I was in the Highking’s palace, your majesty.” Janis said promptly with a nod. “Specifically, I was in the washroom washing my master’s robes for the sermon the following day.”

“And did anything strange happen that night, Goodman?” Janidol continued, looking at the witness with a raised eyebrow.

Janis hesitated, but he nodded. “Well, sir, that was the night that Highking Xaxin was killed.” A collective mutter went through the crowd. Vixin rolled his eyes. If the time was right, it had been four weeks since Highking Xaxin was killed. Hadn’t the people exhausted all of their gossiping yet?

“Would you like to tell us the events of that night?” Janidol picked up a quill and inkwell. “For the record, of course.”

“No, no, that’s alright.” Janis nodded. “I can talk about it.” He took a few deep breaths and cleared his throat, looking up towards the ceiling thoughtfully. “I was in the washroom, like I said, washing my master’s robes, when I heard something odd coming from the kitchen. I thought ‘who would be rattling around in the kitchen at this bloody hour?’”

“So you went to look.” Janidol said, looking up from his note-taking.

Janis nodded. “I didn’t think it would be anything terrible, my lord. Just thought it might be a tramp or something who had snuck in and was looking for a meal. I was fully prepared to give him a loaf of stale bread and send him on his way.”

“But it was a bit more than you bargained for.” Janidol nodded, as if he expected it.

“Yes, my lord.” Janis nodded again. He looked awkwardly at Vixin, and slowly lifted a finger and pointed it at him. “He was there instead, holding one of those Bloodblades.”

“What kind of Bloodblade, Goodman?” Janidol interrupted. “For the record, you understand.”

“I’m not sure the name, sir.” Janis said, scratching his wispy beard. “It was long and thin, much like a rapier. It was like a long needle.”

Aia’s blood. Vixin thought. He did see me.

Vixin had indeed been through this trial, once, but there had never been any witnesses like Janis. At his first one, the SIlvertongue that prosecuted him had only circumstantial evidence. Footprints that were his size, the fact that he hadn’t been home that night, many things like those. Refuting them all had been child’s play. But this time, this time Janidol had a very good chance of catching Vixin.

“Thank you, Goodman.” Janidol nodded and smiled. “You may continue.”

“Well,” Janis said, wringing his hands. “I didn’t really know what to do after that. I ducked back into the hallway before the Bloodwielder could see me.” He looked back at Janidol. “The whole problem was that I didn’t know where this Bloodwielder was going. There were a number of visiting nobles in the castle that night. I had no idea which one he was going for.”

“So what did you decide to do, Goodman?” Janidol asked. “You must have decided something.”

“My master had always told me to look after the guests, my lord.” Janis said in a hoarse voice. “So I went to check on the nobles.” He hung his head and began to cry. “I’m sorry, my lord, I should have known!”

“Nobody is blaming you, Goodman.” Janidol said soothingly. “It wasn’t your fault.” He pointed at Vixin. “And now you are helping to catch the man who did this.”

“Protest!” Nyxiv shouted as he stood. “Assumption of guilt.”

“Upheld.” Cixusa said, shooting a glance at Janidol. “Watch your words, Silvertongue.”

“My apologies, your majesty.” Janidol said unapologetically. He looked back at Janis. “Continue, Goodman.”

Janis sniffed and wiped away tears from his eyes. “Well, I checked on each of the visiting nobleman. There were many, my lord, and it took much more time than I thought it would” He sighed. “But, eventually I finished. Each one slept safe and sound in his chambers. I began to make my way back to the servant’s quarters, when I heard a strange, rhythmic sound coming from my master’s chambers.”

“What kind of sound?” Janidol asked.

“If I hadn’t known better,” Janis said slowly. “I would have thought it was a heartbeat. I looked around for a moment, and even focused on my chest, to see if I was hearing things. My heartbeat didn’t match this other one, so I made my way quickly to my master’s chambers. When I got to them…” He took a ragged breath. “The Bloodwielder I had seen was standing with his sword stabbed straight through my master.” The audience gasped as Janidol nodded.

“Did Xaxin say anything that you could hear?” He asked. “Any last words?”

“Yes, my lord.” Janis said. “I heard him say ‘you are no son of mine. Let me die, so I do not have to look on you a moment longer.’”

“Strange last words, to be sure.” Janidol said, finishing his notes with a flourish. He put his quill and parchment down and looked smugly at Cixusa. “No further questions.”

“Thank you, Silvertongue.” Cixusa said, and Janidol sat back down. The Highking looked over at the trembling Janis. “You may sit now, Goodman. Your testimony has been invaluable.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” Janis stood up and bowed, before quickly returning to his seat. A middle-aged woman grabbed his hand and squeezed it as he began to cry once again.

“Well,” Cixusa said grandly, turning back to the Silvertongues. “That was an enlightening testimony.” He looked at Nyxiv. “Silvertongue, you may now call your witness.”

Nyxiv stood up with a silly grin on his face. “Thank you, your majesty.” He looked down at his notes. “I would like to invite Vixin Xiviir to the Pit, please.”

The audience suddenly roared to life, a hundred men and women shouting with all their might. Nyxiv looked proud of himself, and eyed Vixin grandly. Vixin just stared back in surprise. The accused defending themselves never ended well in all the stories. What was Nyxiv playing at?

Cixusa pounded his staff on the ground several times before the audience quieted down. “There will be order!” He looked at Vixin with a raised eyebrow and the hints of a smile. “You may ascend the pedestal, Lord Xiviir. Perhaps you may stay at that level.”

Vixin nodded and rose out of his chair slowly. As walked up the steps that led to the pedestal, his mind raced. What would he say? There were a number of flaws in Janis’s story. Nobody here should have known that he was Xaxin’s son- Yrit had made sure of that. He could refute Janis’s testimony with that. Xaxin’s last words suggested that his attacker was his son. And if Vixin wasn’t his son, then it was impossible for him to have killed the Highking.

Yes, that was the defense he could use. He finished climbing the pedestal and sat down, his arms folded across his chest. Cixusa and Janidol both stared at him, but Nyxiv took a moment to sip something out of a crystal goblet at his desk. Junarian wine, no doubt.

“Alright.” Nyxiv said, wiping his lips and staring intently at Vixin. “Lord Vixin, where were you on the night specified by Silvertongue Janidol?”

Vixin opened his mouth to speak. The moment his lips began to move, however, a thought struck him. What would have happened if he hadn’t denied his crime? The weight of killing his own father had nearly broken him on several occasions throughout his life, and on other days it threatened to drag him down to despair.

Vixin closed his mouth and looked out to the audience, and his eyes fell on Janis and his wife. The woman had Janis’s head on her shoulder as Janis looked at Vixin with a hatred that Vixin had only ever seen in men like Yrit. Vixin could feel it emanating off of him, almost like waves of heat. This man had loved his master, and Vixin had murdered him. Not only that, he almost certainly destroyed this man’s livelihood. It was customary for a new Highking to take new servants, and Cixusa was a man of tradition. It was likely that Janis had lost his position that day.

Vixin began to survey the crowd intently, and he was astounded to find that every single person was either an employee, relative, or friend of his father. There in the middle row was uncle Roxon, his father’s favorite brother. A few rows behind him was Lord Kilnaros, a Glausianian ambassador and close friend of his father’s. And straight in the front seat, sobbing without end, was his mother.

Aia’s blood. He thought, tears stinging his eyes. I can’t do this. Not this time.

“Lord Xiviir,” Cixusa said angrily. “It would be marvelous if you wouldn’t waste the proceedings’ time. Many people would like this to proceed as swiftly as possible.”

“My apologies, your majesty.” Vixin said with a shrug. He looked back at Nyxiv, whose grin had changed into a knowing smile. “Could you repeat the question, Silvertongue?”

Nyxiv nodded slowly. “Where were you on the night specified by Silvertongue Janidol?”

Well, He thought. If I’m going to do it, I might as well shock them.

“That’s simple.” He said with a grin. “I was at the Xexeran palace, with a Bloodblade, about to kill the Highking.”

The audience gasped, and Janidol’s jaw dropped to the floor. He looked so much like a little child, that Vixin had to work very hard to keep himself from bursting into gales of laughter.

Nyxiv, however, was unfazed. He nodded, as if he expected it. “And why, Lord Xiviir, were you killing the Highking?”

“Because he denounced me.” Vixin said with a shrug. “I was his favored son, right up until the day that snake Yrin tricked my father into throwing me out.”

Cixusa’s eyes went wide. “What is the meaning of this?”

Nyxiv held up a hand. “Let him continue, Highking. I, for one, find it intriguing.” He leaned onto the banister of his pedestal. “Go on, Lord Xiviir.”

Vixin nodded. “Highking Xaxin was a brilliant man in so many ways, but his paranoia was probably his greatest flaw. You all know this. He had at least five different personal chambers, all with interconnecting passages he could escape through. He never took his meals in the same place on the same day, and he always prepared them himself. He barely even trusted his wife to make love to him, frightened that she would be an impostor and slaughter him during it.” He looked toward his mother, and was grateful to find she was nodding even as she sobbed.

“Yes, yes, Xaxin was paranoid.” Janidol interrupted. “That doesn’t change what you did.”

“No it doesn’t, Silvertongue.” Vixin said, nodding towards him. “But it gives me much of a reason. You see, one day, I saw a street urchin by the name of Cobra talking to my father in the garden. At the time, I didn’t question it. My father always had informants among the populace, and I assumed that this one was just another of those.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t until a few days later, when my father threw me out of the house my heels, that I pieced together what had happened. This child, this Cobra, had somehow convinced everyone in my household, starting with my father, that he was their true son, and that I had supplanted him at an early age. I cannot fathom his methods, but he surely did. And on that day,” Vixin shivered with the memory of it. “On that day he became Yrin, and I became Cobra.”

“An astounding story indeed.” Cixusa said, narrowing his eyes. “But what proof do you have?”

“None, your majesty.” Vixin replied with a shrug. “But that is what happened. And so, I killed my father when I was old enough. I killed him for what he did to me.”

Strangely, the audience had no response to this. They all sat in stony silence, their eyes wide and expressions shocked.

“Very well then.” Cixusa said. He looked at Nyxiv. “Do you have any more witnesses?”

“No, your majesty.” Nyxiv said with a smile. “That’s all we needed.”

Cixusa looked at him strangely, then sighed and looked back at the people. “By my power and office of Highking of the Diradis, I declare that this man, Vixin Xiviir, is guilty of the murder of Highking.” He pointed at Vixin. “Guards, take this man back to his cell, and prepare the gallows for his-”

Everything stopped. Every single person in the large trial chamber froze, except for Vixin.

And Nyxiv.

“Very well done, Viceroy.” Nyxiv said, clapping slowly. “Brilliant testimony.”

“What is this, Nyxiv?” Vixin snapped. “What happened?”

“You did exactly as you were supposed to, Vixin.” Nyxiv laughed. He snapped his fingers, and Vixin found himself standing with Nyxiv at the bottom of the pit. “You did what Aia needed.”

“What are you talking about?” Vixin spluttered, but Nyxiv held up his hand.  A black hand. Vixin gasped as he saw part of Nyxiv’s body darkening to jet black and the other part bleaching to a pure white. In the middle was a gray stripe, and, as Vixin watched, the gray stripe widened. It grew until it encompassed all of Nyxiv’s face.

“It takes a quick mind to deny guilt, Viceroy.” Nyxiv said softly. “But it takes great courage and integrity to accept it and own it.” He put his hand on Vixin’s shoulder. “Your part has been fulfilled, Viceroy.” He squeezed it affectionately. “Rest. You will wake soon.”

The world exploded in a storm of white light.