A/N: as part of my ongoing policy of completely winging it and writing each new chapter however it pops into my head, enjoy the following – an entire chapter of a Victorious fanfiction in which no characters from Victorious actually appear. Go figure.
Disclaimer: don't own.
Kotna, third-degree subaltern in the Berserkers' Regiment of the Army of the Most Glorious and Eternally Unconquered Choti Empire, was scared out of his wits; indeed, only the fact that his race never wore footwear of any type prevented him from actually quaking in his boots. In the six years since his hatching, he had never before been summoned to the throne room of the High Chancellor Azlon-Rath; he had not even seen the Chancellor in person, a fact that (as he was uncomfortably aware) put him closer to the worker-drones toiling in the lower caves than to the other members of his military caste. All his hatchling-mates had long since made Heth, and a few had even reached Juth, while Kotna could not boast of any suffix whatsoever.
Then again, Kotna had no one but himself to blame for his stalled career. Membership in the military officers' caste might be a matter of birth alone, but advancement within its ranks was based entirely on achievement, and the young subaltern's accomplishments were very few and far between. When the Berserkers' Regiment led the charge that finally overcame the dreaded Ant-Beasts at the Battle of Kamyar, Kotna hung back; when the drone rebellion of a year before was forcibly suppressed, he took pains to avoid shedding fellow Choti blood. Unhappily for him, his commanding officer Torep-Heth noticed his reluctance and gave him an epic dressing-down in front of the rank and file as soon as the battle was over. "Your first loyalty is to the good of the Empire, your second to your own caste – how can you allow yourself to be weakened by sympathy for this mindless trash?" And then the worst insult any Choti could receive: "You're as useless as a surface-dweller!"
So many months later, the words still stung. He wondered whether Azlon-Rath had been informed of the incident, then remembered that it made no difference: the High Chancellor was said to be able to look into the minds of all his subjects, near or far.
Don't be intimidated, he told himself as he made his way toward the throne room through a labyrinth of earthen corridors dimly lit by phosphorescent fungi. He may be all-powerful, and he may be the first man in three thousand years to have earned the suffix Rath, but he's still just a Choti, like you. Hatched from an egg, a pupa – a mere grub – for the first weeks of his life until he shed his outer carapace, the same as every other member of the race. Not a god.
Two tall members of the foot-soldier caste stood before the deeply carved stone door that led to the throne room. Kotna summoned his nerve and tried to stride boldly past them, but they locked their ceremonial spears in an X-shape, blocking his passage.
"I…I am expected. His Magnificence has requested my presence."
"Remove your garment!" one barked. "No one may wear any marks of honor when he stands before the High Chancellor!"
"How dare you speak to your superior in such a manner? I demand…I demand you let me pass…" Kotna's quavering voice undermined any authority he might have had left. The two guards simply glowered at him, unmoving, until he finally loosened the fastening of his scarlet officer's cloak and let it fall to the ground.
They lowered their spears, and the stone door slid aside. Kotna practically tip-toed over the threshold, irrationally fearful that any noise he might make would incur Azlon-Rath's anger.
The throne room proved to be even more magnificent than rumor had suggested. Hollowed out from solid rock, it was perhaps a hundred feet high, and extended back for nearly a quarter-mile, so that the throne and its occupant were nearly impossible for Kotna, still standing just inside the door, to make out. His attention was instead drawn to the forest of supports – inverted, truncated cones – that formed a vast ring in the middle of the chamber. At their center was a circular reflecting pool, its limpid water glowing with a strange, soft light that arose from its depths.
Nearly every square inch of the walls was painted, elaborate frescoes that portrayed, in summary form, the long and illustrious history of the Choti. Their origins in remotest antiquity, as small but aggressive insects with chitinous purple exoskeletons; their slow, arduous climb to sentience; the centuries of wars that racked their nascent civilization, and which ended in the establishment of the caste system by Yegha-Rath, their greatest culture hero; the grand day on which the artificial sun was first ignited, giving light and warmth to the splendid capital city of Tashkib.
Unable to help himself, Kotna gawked at these frescoes for many minutes, until he realized that Azlon-Rath was no doubt growing impatient. He advanced through the ring of cones, and paused for a moment to look down into the pool, which appeared to have no bottom; he thought, though he could not be sure, that he glimpsed the movement of long, undulating dark forms deep within the water.
As he approached the throne, a gelth, curled up on the stone floor and seemingly asleep, lifted its head and flicked its forked tongue. He froze, following the behavior that had been drilled into him since he was hatched: the creatures had an acute sense of smell, but poor vision, and consequently often failed to detect prey that remained perfectly still.
Like all Choti, Kotna loathed gelths. With their tremendous length and many tiny limbs on which they scuttled about with the swiftness of insects, their slimy bodies that secreted a toxin agonizingly painful to the touch and that could change color to blend in with their surroundings, and their perpetually gnashing jaws holding three rows of teeth, they were second only to Ant-Beasts as the most feared predators of the subterranean world. He couldn't imagine how one of the monsters had found its way into the throne room, but he knew that it was his duty to evade it and get the High Chancellor to safety – assuming he was still alive.
From the golden throne in a niche behind, shrouded in shadow, a deep and raspy voice said: "The gelth is tame, youngling. It harms only those whom I command it to harm. You may pass without fear."
It was not that he mistrusted the voice – which, he realized, must surely belong to Azlon-Rath himself – but six years of ingrained behavior was hard to throw off in an instant, and so he remained unmoving a moment longer.
The next utterance from the shadows was far louder and harsher: "Are you deaf, grub? Or have you forgotten how to walk? The gelth will not harm you – come to me now! I command it!"
Somehow, this command was more frightening to poor Kotna than the serpentine predator at his feet. With supreme caution, he stepped over the gelth. It turned its head to watch him – among the gelth's most unnerving features was an ability to rotate its head three hundred sixty degrees on its neck – but it made no hostile movement.
Even when he was standing directly in front of the niche, he could not make out any of the High Chancellor's features. After a moment, he realized that something was wrong – the shadows that concealed Azlon-Rath could not possibly have been cast by the phosphorescent light-fixtures in the high ceiling. It was as if the High Chancellor simply willed himself to be cloaked in darkness.
"You see now that my word is to be believed." The voice had softened, but only slightly. "Do not forget this lesson."
Kotna immediately dropped to one knee, bent his head down, and extended his arms straight out before him, the traditional Choti posture of absolute submission. "May His Magnificence forgive this vile grub for ever having doubted him."
"Rise, youngling." Kotna did so. "I have called you here because I have need of you for a very important mission."
"Need of me? Surely His Magnificence must have many more able subjects from whom he could choose…"
"Silence! Do you dare question the soundness of my judgment?"
Kotna could not stifle the whimper of fear that escaped his lips. "No. No, of course not. His Magnificence is to be trusted in all things."
The voice chuckled dryly. "How very true. Now, boy – you are called Kotna, are you not? I am told that you lack the thirst for battle that is to be expected in one of your caste."
"I…I…I can explain…" Oh gods, help me…
"Your cowardice is so great that it amuses me, little grub. Normally I would have such a one as you torn to bits and fed to the worker-drones, but these are unusual times, and your softheartedness may actually prove useful to me."
Kotna's throat was so dry that he could barely speak. "But h-how…"
"It seems our campaign to eradicate the ape-things and claim their surface world for our own has encountered an…unexpected obstacle. Seven of the accursed apes have shown gifts that our intelligence reports did not suggest were to be found in their inferior species. They must be dealt with, and soon."
"Of course…I shall draw my knife and cut their throats with my own hand…"
Azlon-Rath guffawed. "Even if you had sufficient courage, they would snap you in two the moment you tried such a thing. No, force is not the solution here – guile is. I want you to win their trust. Show them your accursed compassion – make them think that you have turned against me, that you wish to put an end to the war. Bring them here. Then I shall deal with them – on my terms."
"Of course. The will of His Magnificence shall be done." But…even if they are just stinking ape-beings, how can I bear to lure them to their deaths? Gods forgive me, but that is not my way. I am a soldier, not a butcher…but Azlon-Rath can hear my thoughts! Surely he will kill me now for my disloyalty!
The young Choti shut his eyes and waited for death; but to his astonishment, the High Chancellor spoke almost mildly. "Very well. Go then, subaltern Kotna, and defend the honor of the Most Glorious and Eternally Unconquered Choti Empire. Chark-thoth will lead you to the surface."
Silently thanking all the gods for his incredible reprieve, Kotna turned to go back the way he had come. When he was almost to the pool, a stentorian cry froze him in his tracks:
"BOY!"
And much more quietly, but still clearly audible: "I shall be watching you."