Age of Mycea (Book 1 - Chapter 3)
Mercy for the innocent, savagery for the guilty: Meshia rules the square with iron and heart, but shows vulnerability with Sebastian on the edge of the world.
In the last installment of Age of Mycea
In the first installment of Age of Mycea
Morning came, and preparations were made, organizing tables to receive citizens and seating for those who would interact with them in the square. The king occupied one table where a line was already forming. He would be approving taxes, hearing from those with issues with their neighbors, and addressing legal matters that needed attention or clarification.
The taxes would then be turned over to the bookkeeper.
Punishments and other decisions would be implemented immediately.
Sebastian usually would have played the king’s part, but this morning, he found himself standing behind Meshia, whispering to him every so often when someone came to the front of the line whom Meshia had no prior experience with.
“Next.” Meshia motioned for a man and his young son to come forward. They had a white goat in tow, one with the exuberance of a young squirrel. It was likely a yearling at most.
The thin man bowed. “Your Majesty.”
“Taxes.” Meshia crossed his arms. Sebastian tried his best to contain a grin. It was going to be one of those days. More livestock. At least they would be eating well for a while.
It wasn’t as if the monarchy needed the money. It was a formality, the tax collection. The empire had enough gold and jewels to hold them over for a hundred lifetimes.
“This goat here, if it pleases Your Majesty. I was injured this past year. Unable to work on milling lumber. I have not been able to provide for my wee son here.” He looked down at his son, no older than five. “I’m all he has. We’ve been relying on the kindness of neighbors.”
Meshia tapped his pencil on the tally sheet. Sebastian could sense him hesitating. The goat was a perfectly acceptable way for this man to pay his taxes.
Surely, he would not expect more.
The king rose to his feet, circled the table, and squatted down to be eye level with the young boy. Sebastian had not noticed, but the boy was crying.
Meshia placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Is this goat your friend?”
The boy nodded, tears running down his face. He swiped a hand across his skin to clear them in an attempt to appear stoic. Meshia rose to his feet and turned to the father.
“Consider your tax debt paid, but I will not be taking your son’s friend from him. And I never want to hear word that you sold or slaughtered this animal, or your tax will become due … and worse.”
Meshia made his way back to his seat. “Have I made myself understood?”
The man nodded and bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will obey your request.” Meshia grunted and waved the next in line to him. It was a woman with a basket full of eggs.
Before he had a chance to speak to the woman, the sound of something being dragged through the square could be heard. Sebastian rose on his toes to see Krunk lumbering toward them, a bloody mess of flesh and torn clothing gripped tightly in his hand.
Meshia met him halfway across the stone cobbles of the central square. All eyes were turned toward him, a crowd gathering. Sebastian shifted his position, watching the villagers for anyone who might object to the example Meshia was about to make of this man.
The man in Krunk’s grasp was made to kneel at the king’s feet. He had to be held from tipping over; the man’s consciousness was wavering. His head lolled side-to-side, both eyes bloody and swollen shut. His nose was broken in multiple places, and his teeth hung haphazardly from his puffy and drooling mouth. The rest of him seemed to be in no better shape.
Sebastian stepped closer to the spectacle unfolding. Krunk had done his best work for whatever crime this man had committed.
“I see you received my message.” Meshia grasped the man’s hair, forcing him to look up at him. “I trust Krunk explained everything, and we won’t need to have this conversation again.”
A slurred response of “Yes, Your Majesty” tumbled from the man’s mouth.
Meshia released the man’s head and clapped his hands together. “Excellent.” He strode back to his table and took up his seat again. “Next.”
The poor woman nearly dropped her eggs; she was shaking so badly.
The road had been heading upward for hours now. The climb was made more difficult as the sky opened once more, pouring rain down upon them.
Whereas the road earlier had been packed well, the incline of this portion of the trip resembled trudging up a rivulet-streaked riverbed. The cart would often need all men to dismount and push. It was slow going.
As the sun began to set, the decision was made to stop and make camp for the evening. Sebastian grabbed one of his saddlebags and handed his reins to one of his men. Before long, he was scurrying down an embankment, a cliff’s edge, to an escarpment he had discovered years back when trying to get a better look over the valley.
Sebastian turned when he heard small rocks tumbling down from along the path, indicating someone else was making their way to what he had hoped would be a private place to reflect.
A short scuffling sound, then Meshia appeared. He stopped short. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else knew about this place.”
“Your Majesty.” Sebastian bowed. “I found it quite by accident.”
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Meshia was taking in the expanse below them, a smile on his face. “My mother used to bring me here when I was young. It was our secret spot.”
Sebastian shrugged his saddle bag onto his shoulder and started for the path.
“I’ll leave you alone.”
Meshia touched his arm. “No, sit. I could use some sane company. I appreciate your men for volunteering for this trip, but what, by all the angels, are you feeding them? I can’t bear to hear one more vulgar recounting of their sexual exploits.”
Sebastian snorted out a laugh and found a place to sit. He opened his bag and ripped a loaf of bread in half, handing one half to Meshia. He did the same with a piece of jerky. “It’s possible I encourage them, Your Majesty.”
Meshia turned the bread over in his hand. “Sebastian, we’re alone. You can cut the subservience.” He brought the bread to his nose and sniffed it.
“Right then. Meshia, sit your ass down and eat.” Sebastian grinned and patted the piece of ground to his left. He exhaled a relief-filled breath as Meshia took a seat beside him, closer than he had anticipated, their shoulders touching. He tucked a piece of bread into his mouth.
Meshia pulled a thin strip of jerky away with his teeth. Chewed and swallowed.
“Please tell me you brought this with you, and it’s not some of that conjured rubbish you’re always munching on.” Meshia was one of the few people who knew he could conjure.
“I get hungry.” Sebastian waved his piece of jerky in front of Meshia. “I promise it’s from the inn we just left. Pocketed on site.”
Meshia grunted his acceptance and went back to looking out over the valley as he ate the food Sebastian had given him.
Sebastian pointed to where he was looking. “If it wasn’t for the thin plumes of smoke, you’d never know there are villages down amongst that thick tree cover.”
Meshia nodded, his features becoming contemplative. Lips soft but brow furrowed. “My mother used to call it the Mycean Sea of Green.”
“You don’t usually speak about your mother.”
“Not to most, no.” Meshia pressed his knee to Sebastian’s leg. “It’s too painful.”
Sebastian peered at the tortured man seated next to him. There was a level of trust between them that had never existed before that night—a closeness.
He touched Meshia’s knee with his hand.
“Meshia ….”
Meshia brushed the crumbs from his hands and rose to his feet.
“We should get back to camp.”
The men were predictably rowdy, seated around the campfire. Sebastian smiled. He might have magically conjured a bottle of rum, transporting it from the inn to his saddle bag once the dinner dishes had been cleared away.
Chicken again. Always chicken.
A fat boar would make a welcome change.
Meshia excused himself and headed for where the horses were corralled. They were just out of sight of the campfire in the darkness.
Sebastian set his cup down and followed him, taking a different route than Meshia had, so it would not look as if he were following him. He found the king brushing down his horse, a task that had already been completed.
Sebastian stepped up beside him and patted the neck of Meshia’s steed, whispering some comforting words to it, but it wasn’t the horse who needed to be soothed.
“Meshia ….” He placed his hand on Meshia’s, stopping him from brushing, and settled his other hand on Meshia’s back. “You were watching me with those women.”
Meshia exhaled and yanked his hand from Sebastian’s hold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Last night. Your face … your eyes.” Sebastian stepped closer to Meshia. The pain he had witnessed, the longing, the sadness—it had melted his heart that a man so often temperamental, angry, and unfeeling could exhibit such emotion.
“Sebastian, it was a mistake what happened between us on Kronos.” Meshia turned away and retreated to the other side of his horse. “We thought we were going to die.”
Sebastian followed him and pinned him against the nearest tree. His lips were close enough to kiss him. Maybe he should break the tension hovering between them. “Have you never wondered why I was the one thing you desired most before you died?”
Meshia was tracking Sebastian’s gaze. This was the closest they had been to each other since that night. The temptation to draw his king back into what they had experienced two years ago was excruciating to delay a moment longer. He needed Meshia’s touch so badly.
Time and place. And this is not it. The best he could manage was to sneak into Meshia’s tent later that evening once the rest of their entourage was asleep.
Before he could whisper to Meshia what he was thinking, the ground shook beneath their feet, causing Sebastian to stumble into Meshia’s arms.
Meshia clung to him, momentarily, until Sebastian took a step back as a violent shudder reverberated, shaking needles loose from the trees above and frightening the horses.
Krunk came running through the darkness, nearly tripping in his haste. He slid to a stop near the two men, unaware of what had been transpiring; his focus was on urgency.
“Your Majesty.” He bowed. “Commander. The Neter colony is under attack.”
As if to amplify that fact, the sound of bombs dropping could be heard. The ground beneath their feet echoed the unfolding reality of what Krunk had told them.
They rushed to the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley. In the distance, the colony of Neter was lit up by explosions in the night, revealing its location amongst the trees.
Sebastian ducked instinctively as three dart-shaped ships flew overhead, destined for the colony. Not their ships. They did not have technology like that in their arsenal of flight craft.
Meshia grabbed Sebastian’s arm. “We need a ship. The queen is there on her own.”
“Zoltar is there with her, and Queen Lakeda is more than capable of managing the armies until we get back. We are riding. I won’t have the king lost in a downed ship.”
Meshia scowled but agreed, accepting the reins of his now saddled horse.
They took off at a gallop into the night.
The story continues … soon …
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