A Lesson in Mercy

The night is silent. Lightning hasn't struck in the last few days. I heard the whispers before the people started uttering them. Their words only echo what I have known for the last little while. The scales are unbalanced. Jove has something he wishes to show us.

A boy stands in front of me with his fists clenched. There's a look in his eye that I know all too well: guilt. The punches come one after another, but I find myself transfixed on the eye contact he isn't giving me. He is young, barely older than I am. This isn't personal, I know that, but it doesn't look like he does. We are soldiers fighting the battles in the only way we know how. One should never be faulted for that.

"The king will come for her." His voice is calm, but far from commanding. He's speaking to the man behind him. "We should get her ready for the exchange."

A moment of silence becomes more like a period of contemplation. The man in the corner straightens up and pushes off the wall. His knuckles aren't bloody. He hasn't gotten his hands dirty yet. "Don't you get it, kid? There ain't going to be an exchange. The king doesn't deal in this kind of stuff."

"Are you saying that all this was a waste of time? Then why did we go through the trouble-"

"Trouble? She just walked right to us."

"But all this?"

He nods. "To send a message." He reaches into his boot and pulls out a blade. The look in the kid's eye changes to fear. "We're going to skin her alive so that the monarchy can see that even gods have the ability to bleed."

We are not gods.

Far from it, actually.

He's young. I didn't see it at first. It must be the battles. War hardens you, makes you age faster than time itself. The man steps around him and kneels in front of me. It's a subtle challenge. He wants to see what I do.

"Well, Princess. What do you say? Should we have some real fun?"

"Fun? And you say the monarchy are the barbaric ones." I sit back for a moment and take in the air. The ropes around my wrists are tight, but not uncomfortable. "I am a soldier of Jove. My father doesn't come because he doesn't need to. You don't send an army to squash a couple of insects. We are civilized enough to know when to show mercy."

He presses the blade against my skin. "Mercy? More like murder."

My father always tells me not to over react. The best soldiers are the ones who can remain composed. The first cut stings more than I anticipate. No words are spoken. I cringe only a little.

The younger man pulls his comrade back. In an instant they are standing across from each other with their guards up.

"Don't ever touch me again."

He shakes his head. "This isn't right, Roderick."

A light chuckle fills the room. "And what is the difference between this and what you had just done to her? Beating the princess is fine, but cutting her isn't? Look at her, Manek. No wound stays. The priests are wrong, this is not the power of Jove, but of Tartarus."

I sigh. "Do you two even know why I am here?"

Roderick nods. "You are here because you are powerless. There is no storm to worship. This is our advantage."

I shake my head. "You think I worship the storm? No, the storm worships me. There is a difference." A crash of thunder echoes over head. The first storm in the last little while. "I'm here for the prisoner in the cage below us. I've been very tolerant as of now, but I'm done with these games. I walked to your camp with a purpose. Now I intend to-"

The kick is unexpected. It shouldn't have been. I, along with the chair I'm tied to, fall backwards. There is a struggle. Lightning travels through my body and splits the rope around my wrists.

"Stop…" But there is no need to finish my sentence. The one named Manek lay face down with more than a few cuts and flood of red pooling around him.

Roderick turns to me. The blade has red drying around the hilt. "Look what he made me do. Stupid kid." He straightens himself up and watches as the sparks dance around my fingers. "Your game cost this kid his life, Princess. If you had a purpose for being here then you should have gotten it over with!" He shakes his head. "This is what your kind does; play god. It disgusts me."

I don't realize that I've thrown lightning until he falls back into the wall.

His blade crashes to the ground. He scurries as far back as he can. "That look in your eye… you're angry." He pushes himself to stand. "Pathetic." A moment of realization comes over me. He must recognize it. I look up only after he takes a step forward. "You know who I am, Princess?"

"Your name is Roderick."

He nods. "Very good. So, what is it going to be? Mercy or murder?"

I pause for a moment. It's as if he hit me again. My father's words cycle through my mind faster than they ever had before. "That's not fair."

He smiles. "No, maybe it isn't. But Is this not the will of Jove that you all talk so highly about? His will is absolute. Unless this isn't his will and you're having doubts. What then would Jove think about what you're about to do?"

I look down at the corpse between us. "Jove isn't here, and even he had to make sacrifices. The bigger picture is what I should have been focusing on."

The lightning flies. This time, I am fully aware of its trajectory. The man falls next to his blade and I stand tall and watch the residual energy pulse.

What did I hope to accomplish without fighting? It seems the result hasn't changed. Is this what Jove wished to show me? That nothing changes? That I should have just barged in like I was planning and killed them all?

No, I see it now. He wanted to show me that our choices, no matter how admirable, always have consequences.

I step around the two bodies and make my way to the lower level. This time I don't hesitate. Each person I face gets only a second of courtesy before I make them move.

There, sitting in the cell, is who I came for. So much bloodshed, Makoto. Jove? I stop.

"Mako?"

With these actions, you are no longer a child.

"Shino." I hurry forward and break the bars. He looks so frail.

He takes one step before falling into my arms. "This place is dangerous. Roderick is here. You shouldn't have come. The rebels, they'll-"

I hold him tightly. "It's alright. It's nothing I can't handle."

For a moment I grant him peace; my faithful friend. I am not stupid. I know what will happen when I guide him and take him away from here. This isn't the battlefield I wanted to walk on. There is no glory here, but for what it's worth there is victory.

I help him stand and we begin our walk together.

The storm continues to echo over our heads.

Hello, everyone.

This is just a little writing exercise I put together to expel some of the writer's block I've been having in my other stories. I hope you've enjoyed, and as always feedback is welcome.

Thank you,

T.J. Lockwood