Eternal Heavens
Disclaimer: I'm poor, so don't bother sueing. I only own my original
characters. Hell, I don't even own some of them, heh. I don't own any Tenchi
characters. To be honest I can't afford them, though I think I'm handling them
better than AIC is. _
Author's forword: I warned you all; I'm going to meander around a lot. Trust
me though, all loose ends will come together...though I expect if they don't
I'll be beat 'til I'm black and blue. Heh.
Now I'll beg for C&C (hey it works for Morgan Hudson, sorry dude, just had to
point that out. ^_-)!!! PLEASE OH PLEASE CORRECT ME!!! ^_^ I'm at
kthardin@yahoo.com , so feel free! ^_^
Gathering of the Children
-Vengeance Come to Me
Opening Theme: Sweet Child O' Mine - Guns and Roses
BGM: Involution - Dark Project
Among the greatest mysteries of life is the one that states, "Looks can
and are almost always deceiving." Which should lead one to wonder why we are
given such a sense, if it quite often feeds us such false information. That
answer is actually very simple.
It is not the sight that is false, but our own perception of it that leads
said sight to be false. Take for example, The Hall.
The Hall, for that was the name given to the place by those who had built
it, stood silent; save for the rustling of clothing as those present fidgeted or
walked about on some errand or another. Not a word was spoken aloud; barely any
were whispered. Most of the people simply sat in the tiered seats of the hall;
many of whom glanced at each other in thinly veiled hatred. Some others noted
the glances among their neighbors and made plans to take advantage of the
situation for whatever reason, be it for alliances or for treachery. Still
others typed on data pads on the tables provided before them, checking on
various reports, issuing orders, and even sending written messages to loved
ones. Other forms of communication were also being employed...from runners to
subspace comms, from semaphore to interdimensional warping. Though perhaps one
would think direct mind to mind communication would be by far the fastest and
most useful. Possible misunderstandings such as, "I am going to kill you in
ways that will make your descendants feel it for the next twelve generations,"
would be avoided, as the meanings and feelings would be made perfectly clear;
and the lag time between such messages would be absolutely zero. Certainly all
in the room were capable of simple telepathy and more, but not one would dare
power up even a whiff in a room filled with people ready to kill each other.
Despite the look and feel of a more organized Wall Street stock exchange, this
large group of people made the cutthroat economics of that particular
institution look like the play of only a few day old kittens. There was enough
hatred and instilled anger (much of which had become genetic by this point) that
were anyone to even think about gathering the minute amounts of energy necessary
to send the shortest of transmissions that one would wind up contracting himself
a rather bad case of perished as weapons of nearly every conceivable type were
shoved through all his vital organs in alpha-numeric order.
Needless to say, this is something most would choose to avoid if they
could.
Even if that were not enough to cause the stupidest soul to quake with
fear at such a fate, a simple look to the north end of the hall where the
tiered seating trailed off and then into a throne which took up the entire north
end, would be all that was needed.
Its beauty was awe-inspiring. It was fashioned from hyper-dense, multi-
colored crystal that spread out from the obsidian seat, perfectly situated on
the floor right in the center of the northern wall. The light from the suns,
that filtered through the skylight above reflected off the crystal in ways that
made their colors seem to shift and move all over its wide expanse, and doubly
so when both suns were high in the sky. Truly a sight to behold for anyone; yet
this wonder was not what caused the fear that would have cowed even the most
insane of spirits.
It was the darkness, the inky blackness which seemed to suck up the light
refracted by the crystaline seat of power, who resided there. It was the man
who occasionally looked up from his data pad and, in that glance of baleful
purple within purple eyes, gazed at everyone in a way that promised one day he
was going to kill everyone in that room with his bare hands...slowly. It was
him, that evoked the terror which kept those in the hall from displaying even
the least of their natural abilities.
For it was known also, that the man, who was named Emperor (for who else
would have the gall to sit on such a grand seat?), had the power to do such a
thing, and quite possibly all those in the hall combined would not have the
power to stop him. Indeed, he was known to be the strongest of their race. The
fact that there had been others stronger before him, one of which was his very
own father who had killed the first Emperor in single combat, was of no
consequence now. All that was relevant was that the man sitting on that throne
was the one who was now the most powerful of all...and more than enough to
eliminate them in any case.
Strange, many thought, that the Emperor of their entire race would
seemingly hold nearly all of them in murderous contempt. The way he glanced up
every so often ever since he was elevated to his august rank many centuries ago,
had only gotten steadily worse; and still chilled each and every one of them to
the bone when he did let his eyes rove the various leaders, military commanders,
delegates, representatives, and what have you that actually ran his empire and
all the clans, families, and other associations therein.
"WILL THE EMPEROR OF ALL TETRAN CONSENT TO RECEIVE THE HEIR?"
A startled silence followed and all activity ceased. All eyes turned
toward the large ceremonial doors, and it's guardian who had made the
announcement, that covered the southern end of the hall. Like the throne, it
too was constructed of the same multicolored crystal and took up the entire
expanse of the southern wall, and the tiered seating tapered off before it
reached said entrance.
The man on the throne looked up from the forms on his table, his eyes
boring into the door's guardian with such an intensity that it was no wonder the
protector was not reduced to a pile of ash on the spot. It seemed the Emporer
spoke barely above a whisper, yet no one could deny that they heard the words he
spoke or the power that was carried with them when he said "Let the Heir come
forth."
The doors on the south wall began to lumber open soundlessly, and
impossibly without mechanics, for they were too large for simple physical
strength to be used without destroying the door. Still no one did so much as
touch the shimmering brilliance around it, and still it opened outward of the
room. At the same time, the Emporer's desk withdrew into the floor; removing
all barrieres between himself and the Heir.
Within moments it was revealed that it was indeed a solitary man that was
causing this to happen. He stood, with his arms stretched out before him,
opening wider as the door moved...a force that shimmered and warped the air
emanating from his arms and surrounding the doors. His body shimmered in a soft
colored orange light as the power continued to flow from to open the doors with
the utmost care. A most interesting effect; considering the reflective property
of his blue colored full body armor.
A strange thing happened to those in the room then. Where before everyone
had their own agenda, now all combined looked upon this newcomer with a mutual
respect and, in some cases, adoration. All put aside their hatred, their anger,
and their imperative to kill their neighbor and practically genuflected in the
Heir's presence, as he walked through those massive doors with a small entourage
in tow.
The aura remained around him, as he used it to smooth back his long blue-
black hair and close the doors behind him in a far less melodramatic fashion.
This man was not pretty in any way shape or form, but his power did not
lie with his looks. He carried his power with sheer force of will; he radiated
authority and charisma in such mass quantities that one could not help but give
him the respect he demanded.
He could be walking into The Hall right now, naked as the day he was born,
and still command the very same obeisance.
Well, maybe not the same, as it would be likely that the females present
would be in various stages of fainting, but then again that could be considered
a form of err...respect. Maybe.
Quite a number of the female persuasion were almost at that point
regardless of his clothing. Still it was a strange thing that when he came here
this time for all his attention was directed at the seat of power itself; his
face set in an expression of cold inscrutability.
Considering he was smiles and nods during previous visits, this was indeed
a cause for some concern. It seemed that the Heir had bad news for the Throne.
All wondered what it could be. Was the empire being invaded? Had perhaps
the Juraians or some other empire declared openly hostile intentions? Did some
sort of disaster, such as the great T'larian massacre, happen? Speculation,
such as this, was inevitable, but quickly pushed aside and dismissed as
needless. They would know the answer soon enough.
Some eyes then roved over those that came with the Heir. Behind him,
walked his wife and his daughter. A vision of loveliness his wife was, with
strange hair that would seem to shift colors from white to purple in patterns
that responded to the way the suns would hit her tresses through the crystalline
skylight above them. She too wore the severely metallic blue armor, but in her
case it only highlighted what was already a flawless figure. Indeed, she was
the target of much jealousy and envy by the women present; for she had the most
perfect figure, and the most desirable husband that could be imagined. Not only
that, but she was wise in the ways of politics, and a shrewd commander, both on
the field and in the home. She was the perfect compliment to her husband, who
shared that genius.
Honestly, if ever they decided it was time to remove the current holder of
The Throne, they would find all the support they could ever hope to have within
the families of The Eternal Tetranian Empire. This despite the fact it would be
suicide for them to try.
It was also easy to see, however, that as those in The Hall looked upon
the pair with a worshipful adoration, the Heir and his wife looked upon the
Emporer in the same fasion.
Their daughter however...
How was it possible that two, who were so perfect and so perfectly
matched, could produce...that?!
She had inherited what seemed nothing of what either of her parents should
have provided her. She was rather thin and underdeveloped, and quite a bit
shorter than them both; which caused the blue armor she wore to seem to hang off
her pre-pubescent frame. Her hair was an unhealthy looking shade of platinum
blond, which was rather stringy and unkempt, though if you were her maids,
they'd tell you how impossible it was to do anything with her tresses. Worst of
all her eyes, which were the same blue on blue color as her parents, and
seemingly the only trait she had inherited from either, had a vacant look to
them. Perhaps even a bit of boredom, but whatever it was, it was certain to
those present she was hardly the genius she should have been, considering who
she had for parents.
All three began to traverse the distance to the seat of power itself,
their foot steps being the only thing heard in The Hall as all had grown silent
after sensing the Heir's move. They stepped in time, each amplifying the other,
and all echoing loudly off the walls surrounding them, seeming to herald in a
doom that would shortly be realized. As the Heir and his family passed, each
felt the passage of the One Who Brings Eternal Night in his bone. None could
escape the chill it brought.
All too briefly, the steps ended, and the three stood face to face with
their lord and master. They kneeled before him upon one knee; their heads
hanging low.
"You have failed." If one could have seen the faces of the Heir and his
wife, a slight tightening, akin to the reaction to the pain of taking a blow,
would have been evident at the Emperor's statement. Their daughter, at least,
knew enough to keep silent being that she was way out of her depth.
The Emperor stood then, his table sinking into the floor; he stood, and
kept on standing. He stood until he was fully erect, all seven feet of him. He
was indeed very tall, but he was also incredibly broad of shoulder; making him a
veritable Titan physically. Like the Heir, he too projected an aura that
demanded the respect due him, but unlike the Heir, it was not the kind that
instilled loyalty through love, but then that was more than evident before.
Now, standing at full attention, the menace that he exuded permeated the
room; overpowering the respect those in the room bore the Heir.
There was calculation, consideration, even curiosity, but mostly fear.
For he had failed. The HEIR had failed. It was hardly conceivable, considering
the Heir had never failed at any task set before him, no matter how daunting.
Still it was known that the Emperor had little tolerance for failure, and
usually only one punishment was administered. This was the Heir though. Surely
there would only be a small penance for this, before he was sent to correct this
error...whatever it happened to be. It was inconceivable that there would be
anything else.
"How long has it been? Seven-hundred years? Eight-hundred?" The Emperor
asked casually. "I asked you to look into why our empire was suffering what
looked to be some sort of attack upon our sovereign. Pirate raids, random
destruction, and even whole lesser families being destroyed every now and then.
Yet you report that there is no clue, there is no trace? No god we might have
offended? No revolutionary activity? No setup for a possible coup attempt of
any family? Not even a chain of natural disasters? Nothing, but destruction
for no rhyme or reason, and completely random." As the Emperor spoke, his voice
became more and more hoarse, his anger seeping through, and in doing so
agitating the wound he suffered to his throat long before he became the Emperor.
If one were to look closely, assuming they dared to, one could still see the
messy scar right along his voice box.
There are many stories as to how he might have acquired it. Some say he
dueled the original Emperor in The Hall, and was wounded in this manner before
his father interfered and finally put the old Emperor down once and for all.
Others said he received this wound as some kind of lesson in his training as a
Deneign warrior priest; the symbol for which was branded forever more on the
back his left hand; that of a Dragon, wings spread wide, atop a Phoenix,
screaming with joy as if it had just arose from its ashes, signaling it's
rebirth.
The most unbelievable one, however, was that he was defending his second
wife in one of the innumerable battles that took place between the families as
they jockeyed for position in the ranks of their empire. In that one it was
said he did indeed fight the Emperor himself, as the K'thardin family to which
he hailed had grown so strong as to challenge the old Emperor's power. Rather
than kill his enemy, the Emperor rendered him helpless, wounded his voice (which
was said to actually be his most beautiful feature, for what is a handsome man)
and then forced him to watch as he raped and murdered his second wife; which was
meant to be a message to both him and everyone else that to attempt to usurp the
throne was to invite a fate worse than death.
While that story was not believed by most, it did amuse all somewhat. For
if true, it was quite obvious now, that little message had the opposight effect.
Then again, it would be another explanation why the current Emperor did what he
did to the one he usurped just after the old Emperor's defeat.
The old Emperor screamed for forty days and nights before he was finally
allowed to die. During that time the current Emperor and his father carted all
the current heads of the families and the various other associations in to watch
the entire gruesome ordeal.
Needless to say that assassination and coup attempts were few and far
between.
Now what the Emperor was saying about the attacks were well known to all
present. In fact, most of them had suffered from these...disasters in various
degrees ranging from the equivalent of a bug bite to having one's legs and arms
slowly chewed off. That the Heir could not find the cause of this was
disturbing in and of itself.
"The most you have gotten for us is that all of these occurrences are
related somehow. You received this information from the oracles, prophets, and
truth-sayers that are in our fair empire. A dubious, but as of yet, ONLY source
of information." The Emperor walked toward the kneeling Heir and his entourage.
Kneeling down, he placed his hands upon the shoulders of the Heir, and lifted
him to standing; though he only came up to the Emperor's chest and kept his head
bowed before the taller man. His wife and his daughter were then silently
motioned to rise as well; haltingly they did so, keeping their heads low as
well.
"You who were responsible for conquering the Jinai, the last of the
autonomous empires within this galaxy and facilitating its assimilation into
ours. You who discovered why and how the T'larian family was annihilated (may
we never offend the Mad One again). You who actually negotiated a peaceful
settlement with the Juraians over the intergalactic trade routes between our two
galaxies. You who have never failed at any other deed and task I set before
you." His scratchy voice grew quiet again, but as before all heard what was
said as clear as distilled water. "C'mon! This is really messing The Empire
up. Not only is it inconveniencing us, it's making a fool of us. Of all of us!
Every man woman and child in the empire! Did you lose your pride, man? Are you
not the Heir to all Tetran? Are you not the one who will inherit everything
when your time for ruling comes?"
"Please My Lord! Please! My husband has serv..." As quickly as the
Heir's wife tried to speak in her husband's defense, so too was she silenced as
the Emperor cast a baleful glance in her direction. The daughter began to
tremble ever so slightly, as the enormity of the situation began to sink into
her young mind and fear began to take over.
"Have you nothing to say for...yourself?" The Heir's head shot up, and
for a brief moment anger flashed across his eyes at the Emperor's somewhat
obscure insult registered upon his mind.
Quickly dismissed as the Heir nearly broke down in tears before his master
and said with as much humility as he could muster, "I beg of you My Emperor
Ryuken. I only wish to serve you. I beg for another chance. This will not
happen again, I swear to you on my soul."
"Indeed," the Emperor nodded his head grimly, "This will not happen
again."
It happened so fast; that it seemed nothing had happened at all. Yet, the
Emperor's movement, and flash of power, was felt.
The two of them stood there for what seemed an eternity, before both the
Heir and his wife fell heavily to their knees making a clanking sound that
echoed throughout The Hall. They hovered in that position momentarily, then
they fell to the floor limply in unison, their armor ringing out, like a final
tolling of the bells at midnight. Only when they hit the ground, did their
heads roll from their bodies; their faces still set in masks of humility, and
now set like that forevermore.
A shocked silence fell over The Hall, no one believing what had just
happened.
Surely..? How..? What...? Can't be...just...can't be.
No one spoke, but they did move; many to rise from their seats, and even
one to draw her weapons.
How could the Emperor possibly do...THAT!?
The Emperor eyes noted the bright flash of a psi weapon being activated,
and with the barest flicker of his power, destroyed it's source. Not to mention
a few other unlucky individuals that happened to be too close to her.
Everyone sat back down quickly as his eyes roved over each again,
promising he'd do the same given even a fraction of an excuse.
"It is true this will not happen again," the Emperor Ryuken stated as he
continued to gaze at the congregation before him, "but it is also true I now
need a new Heir." Without hesitation he pointed. "You. You will be my new
Heir."
And the former Heir's daughter, still unable to believe that her parents
were laying dead at her feet, their crimson blood now pooling below her yet not
gaining purchase upon her armor, turned a shocked look to her sovereign. All
color had drained from her face, and her shaking causing a slight rattling sound
as the various bits of her armor tapped against each other.
"My first command to you is to complete what your father was incapable of.
If you should repeat his failure, this will be your fate. Do you understand, my
Heir," he asked placing an extreme emphasis on her new title to drive the
reality of it home.
A shuddering nod was the only response she was able to give.
"Good. Now leave, and when next I send for you, have the answer with you.
If you find it before then; make me aware of this." To her credit, though how
she did it was anyone's guess, she managed to turn and walk calmly to the huge
double doors that were opened by their guardians for her, for once outside, she
ran for dear life.
The Emperor then instructed the guards to remove the bodies and have the
mess up on the seventh tier cleaned up, but all the while he kept an open eye on
the masses of the Leaders of the Tetran before him.
The daughter of the previous Heir was not someone that the families would
follow without question. That ungangly and ugly girl did not have the genius or
the charisma that were the trademark of her parents. How could the Emperor make
her, of all present, the new Heir? How could the Emperor just KILL THE HEIR
LIKE THAT?!
Amidst all the outrage, and anger and shame he saw reflected in many
faces, Ryuken also saw the beginnings of calculation, of how best to make use of
this new situation. He saw alliances crumble, new ones form almost instantly.
Old hatreds began to flare up, while new ones were just forming. Others were
buried, and forgotten in light of what was done to their Heroes.
Yes, Ryuken thought, as he took his place upon the crystalline seat of
power. Perfect. A truly satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"Let the endgame begin," he said quietly.
Ending theme - Dreams - Van Halen
Disclaimer: I'm poor, so don't bother sueing. I only own my original
characters. Hell, I don't even own some of them, heh. I don't own any Tenchi
characters. To be honest I can't afford them, though I think I'm handling them
better than AIC is. _
Author's forword: I warned you all; I'm going to meander around a lot. Trust
me though, all loose ends will come together...though I expect if they don't
I'll be beat 'til I'm black and blue. Heh.
Now I'll beg for C&C (hey it works for Morgan Hudson, sorry dude, just had to
point that out. ^_-)!!! PLEASE OH PLEASE CORRECT ME!!! ^_^ I'm at
kthardin@yahoo.com , so feel free! ^_^
Gathering of the Children
-Vengeance Come to Me
Opening Theme: Sweet Child O' Mine - Guns and Roses
BGM: Involution - Dark Project
Among the greatest mysteries of life is the one that states, "Looks can
and are almost always deceiving." Which should lead one to wonder why we are
given such a sense, if it quite often feeds us such false information. That
answer is actually very simple.
It is not the sight that is false, but our own perception of it that leads
said sight to be false. Take for example, The Hall.
The Hall, for that was the name given to the place by those who had built
it, stood silent; save for the rustling of clothing as those present fidgeted or
walked about on some errand or another. Not a word was spoken aloud; barely any
were whispered. Most of the people simply sat in the tiered seats of the hall;
many of whom glanced at each other in thinly veiled hatred. Some others noted
the glances among their neighbors and made plans to take advantage of the
situation for whatever reason, be it for alliances or for treachery. Still
others typed on data pads on the tables provided before them, checking on
various reports, issuing orders, and even sending written messages to loved
ones. Other forms of communication were also being employed...from runners to
subspace comms, from semaphore to interdimensional warping. Though perhaps one
would think direct mind to mind communication would be by far the fastest and
most useful. Possible misunderstandings such as, "I am going to kill you in
ways that will make your descendants feel it for the next twelve generations,"
would be avoided, as the meanings and feelings would be made perfectly clear;
and the lag time between such messages would be absolutely zero. Certainly all
in the room were capable of simple telepathy and more, but not one would dare
power up even a whiff in a room filled with people ready to kill each other.
Despite the look and feel of a more organized Wall Street stock exchange, this
large group of people made the cutthroat economics of that particular
institution look like the play of only a few day old kittens. There was enough
hatred and instilled anger (much of which had become genetic by this point) that
were anyone to even think about gathering the minute amounts of energy necessary
to send the shortest of transmissions that one would wind up contracting himself
a rather bad case of perished as weapons of nearly every conceivable type were
shoved through all his vital organs in alpha-numeric order.
Needless to say, this is something most would choose to avoid if they
could.
Even if that were not enough to cause the stupidest soul to quake with
fear at such a fate, a simple look to the north end of the hall where the
tiered seating trailed off and then into a throne which took up the entire north
end, would be all that was needed.
Its beauty was awe-inspiring. It was fashioned from hyper-dense, multi-
colored crystal that spread out from the obsidian seat, perfectly situated on
the floor right in the center of the northern wall. The light from the suns,
that filtered through the skylight above reflected off the crystal in ways that
made their colors seem to shift and move all over its wide expanse, and doubly
so when both suns were high in the sky. Truly a sight to behold for anyone; yet
this wonder was not what caused the fear that would have cowed even the most
insane of spirits.
It was the darkness, the inky blackness which seemed to suck up the light
refracted by the crystaline seat of power, who resided there. It was the man
who occasionally looked up from his data pad and, in that glance of baleful
purple within purple eyes, gazed at everyone in a way that promised one day he
was going to kill everyone in that room with his bare hands...slowly. It was
him, that evoked the terror which kept those in the hall from displaying even
the least of their natural abilities.
For it was known also, that the man, who was named Emperor (for who else
would have the gall to sit on such a grand seat?), had the power to do such a
thing, and quite possibly all those in the hall combined would not have the
power to stop him. Indeed, he was known to be the strongest of their race. The
fact that there had been others stronger before him, one of which was his very
own father who had killed the first Emperor in single combat, was of no
consequence now. All that was relevant was that the man sitting on that throne
was the one who was now the most powerful of all...and more than enough to
eliminate them in any case.
Strange, many thought, that the Emperor of their entire race would
seemingly hold nearly all of them in murderous contempt. The way he glanced up
every so often ever since he was elevated to his august rank many centuries ago,
had only gotten steadily worse; and still chilled each and every one of them to
the bone when he did let his eyes rove the various leaders, military commanders,
delegates, representatives, and what have you that actually ran his empire and
all the clans, families, and other associations therein.
"WILL THE EMPEROR OF ALL TETRAN CONSENT TO RECEIVE THE HEIR?"
A startled silence followed and all activity ceased. All eyes turned
toward the large ceremonial doors, and it's guardian who had made the
announcement, that covered the southern end of the hall. Like the throne, it
too was constructed of the same multicolored crystal and took up the entire
expanse of the southern wall, and the tiered seating tapered off before it
reached said entrance.
The man on the throne looked up from the forms on his table, his eyes
boring into the door's guardian with such an intensity that it was no wonder the
protector was not reduced to a pile of ash on the spot. It seemed the Emporer
spoke barely above a whisper, yet no one could deny that they heard the words he
spoke or the power that was carried with them when he said "Let the Heir come
forth."
The doors on the south wall began to lumber open soundlessly, and
impossibly without mechanics, for they were too large for simple physical
strength to be used without destroying the door. Still no one did so much as
touch the shimmering brilliance around it, and still it opened outward of the
room. At the same time, the Emporer's desk withdrew into the floor; removing
all barrieres between himself and the Heir.
Within moments it was revealed that it was indeed a solitary man that was
causing this to happen. He stood, with his arms stretched out before him,
opening wider as the door moved...a force that shimmered and warped the air
emanating from his arms and surrounding the doors. His body shimmered in a soft
colored orange light as the power continued to flow from to open the doors with
the utmost care. A most interesting effect; considering the reflective property
of his blue colored full body armor.
A strange thing happened to those in the room then. Where before everyone
had their own agenda, now all combined looked upon this newcomer with a mutual
respect and, in some cases, adoration. All put aside their hatred, their anger,
and their imperative to kill their neighbor and practically genuflected in the
Heir's presence, as he walked through those massive doors with a small entourage
in tow.
The aura remained around him, as he used it to smooth back his long blue-
black hair and close the doors behind him in a far less melodramatic fashion.
This man was not pretty in any way shape or form, but his power did not
lie with his looks. He carried his power with sheer force of will; he radiated
authority and charisma in such mass quantities that one could not help but give
him the respect he demanded.
He could be walking into The Hall right now, naked as the day he was born,
and still command the very same obeisance.
Well, maybe not the same, as it would be likely that the females present
would be in various stages of fainting, but then again that could be considered
a form of err...respect. Maybe.
Quite a number of the female persuasion were almost at that point
regardless of his clothing. Still it was a strange thing that when he came here
this time for all his attention was directed at the seat of power itself; his
face set in an expression of cold inscrutability.
Considering he was smiles and nods during previous visits, this was indeed
a cause for some concern. It seemed that the Heir had bad news for the Throne.
All wondered what it could be. Was the empire being invaded? Had perhaps
the Juraians or some other empire declared openly hostile intentions? Did some
sort of disaster, such as the great T'larian massacre, happen? Speculation,
such as this, was inevitable, but quickly pushed aside and dismissed as
needless. They would know the answer soon enough.
Some eyes then roved over those that came with the Heir. Behind him,
walked his wife and his daughter. A vision of loveliness his wife was, with
strange hair that would seem to shift colors from white to purple in patterns
that responded to the way the suns would hit her tresses through the crystalline
skylight above them. She too wore the severely metallic blue armor, but in her
case it only highlighted what was already a flawless figure. Indeed, she was
the target of much jealousy and envy by the women present; for she had the most
perfect figure, and the most desirable husband that could be imagined. Not only
that, but she was wise in the ways of politics, and a shrewd commander, both on
the field and in the home. She was the perfect compliment to her husband, who
shared that genius.
Honestly, if ever they decided it was time to remove the current holder of
The Throne, they would find all the support they could ever hope to have within
the families of The Eternal Tetranian Empire. This despite the fact it would be
suicide for them to try.
It was also easy to see, however, that as those in The Hall looked upon
the pair with a worshipful adoration, the Heir and his wife looked upon the
Emporer in the same fasion.
Their daughter however...
How was it possible that two, who were so perfect and so perfectly
matched, could produce...that?!
She had inherited what seemed nothing of what either of her parents should
have provided her. She was rather thin and underdeveloped, and quite a bit
shorter than them both; which caused the blue armor she wore to seem to hang off
her pre-pubescent frame. Her hair was an unhealthy looking shade of platinum
blond, which was rather stringy and unkempt, though if you were her maids,
they'd tell you how impossible it was to do anything with her tresses. Worst of
all her eyes, which were the same blue on blue color as her parents, and
seemingly the only trait she had inherited from either, had a vacant look to
them. Perhaps even a bit of boredom, but whatever it was, it was certain to
those present she was hardly the genius she should have been, considering who
she had for parents.
All three began to traverse the distance to the seat of power itself,
their foot steps being the only thing heard in The Hall as all had grown silent
after sensing the Heir's move. They stepped in time, each amplifying the other,
and all echoing loudly off the walls surrounding them, seeming to herald in a
doom that would shortly be realized. As the Heir and his family passed, each
felt the passage of the One Who Brings Eternal Night in his bone. None could
escape the chill it brought.
All too briefly, the steps ended, and the three stood face to face with
their lord and master. They kneeled before him upon one knee; their heads
hanging low.
"You have failed." If one could have seen the faces of the Heir and his
wife, a slight tightening, akin to the reaction to the pain of taking a blow,
would have been evident at the Emperor's statement. Their daughter, at least,
knew enough to keep silent being that she was way out of her depth.
The Emperor stood then, his table sinking into the floor; he stood, and
kept on standing. He stood until he was fully erect, all seven feet of him. He
was indeed very tall, but he was also incredibly broad of shoulder; making him a
veritable Titan physically. Like the Heir, he too projected an aura that
demanded the respect due him, but unlike the Heir, it was not the kind that
instilled loyalty through love, but then that was more than evident before.
Now, standing at full attention, the menace that he exuded permeated the
room; overpowering the respect those in the room bore the Heir.
There was calculation, consideration, even curiosity, but mostly fear.
For he had failed. The HEIR had failed. It was hardly conceivable, considering
the Heir had never failed at any task set before him, no matter how daunting.
Still it was known that the Emperor had little tolerance for failure, and
usually only one punishment was administered. This was the Heir though. Surely
there would only be a small penance for this, before he was sent to correct this
error...whatever it happened to be. It was inconceivable that there would be
anything else.
"How long has it been? Seven-hundred years? Eight-hundred?" The Emperor
asked casually. "I asked you to look into why our empire was suffering what
looked to be some sort of attack upon our sovereign. Pirate raids, random
destruction, and even whole lesser families being destroyed every now and then.
Yet you report that there is no clue, there is no trace? No god we might have
offended? No revolutionary activity? No setup for a possible coup attempt of
any family? Not even a chain of natural disasters? Nothing, but destruction
for no rhyme or reason, and completely random." As the Emperor spoke, his voice
became more and more hoarse, his anger seeping through, and in doing so
agitating the wound he suffered to his throat long before he became the Emperor.
If one were to look closely, assuming they dared to, one could still see the
messy scar right along his voice box.
There are many stories as to how he might have acquired it. Some say he
dueled the original Emperor in The Hall, and was wounded in this manner before
his father interfered and finally put the old Emperor down once and for all.
Others said he received this wound as some kind of lesson in his training as a
Deneign warrior priest; the symbol for which was branded forever more on the
back his left hand; that of a Dragon, wings spread wide, atop a Phoenix,
screaming with joy as if it had just arose from its ashes, signaling it's
rebirth.
The most unbelievable one, however, was that he was defending his second
wife in one of the innumerable battles that took place between the families as
they jockeyed for position in the ranks of their empire. In that one it was
said he did indeed fight the Emperor himself, as the K'thardin family to which
he hailed had grown so strong as to challenge the old Emperor's power. Rather
than kill his enemy, the Emperor rendered him helpless, wounded his voice (which
was said to actually be his most beautiful feature, for what is a handsome man)
and then forced him to watch as he raped and murdered his second wife; which was
meant to be a message to both him and everyone else that to attempt to usurp the
throne was to invite a fate worse than death.
While that story was not believed by most, it did amuse all somewhat. For
if true, it was quite obvious now, that little message had the opposight effect.
Then again, it would be another explanation why the current Emperor did what he
did to the one he usurped just after the old Emperor's defeat.
The old Emperor screamed for forty days and nights before he was finally
allowed to die. During that time the current Emperor and his father carted all
the current heads of the families and the various other associations in to watch
the entire gruesome ordeal.
Needless to say that assassination and coup attempts were few and far
between.
Now what the Emperor was saying about the attacks were well known to all
present. In fact, most of them had suffered from these...disasters in various
degrees ranging from the equivalent of a bug bite to having one's legs and arms
slowly chewed off. That the Heir could not find the cause of this was
disturbing in and of itself.
"The most you have gotten for us is that all of these occurrences are
related somehow. You received this information from the oracles, prophets, and
truth-sayers that are in our fair empire. A dubious, but as of yet, ONLY source
of information." The Emperor walked toward the kneeling Heir and his entourage.
Kneeling down, he placed his hands upon the shoulders of the Heir, and lifted
him to standing; though he only came up to the Emperor's chest and kept his head
bowed before the taller man. His wife and his daughter were then silently
motioned to rise as well; haltingly they did so, keeping their heads low as
well.
"You who were responsible for conquering the Jinai, the last of the
autonomous empires within this galaxy and facilitating its assimilation into
ours. You who discovered why and how the T'larian family was annihilated (may
we never offend the Mad One again). You who actually negotiated a peaceful
settlement with the Juraians over the intergalactic trade routes between our two
galaxies. You who have never failed at any other deed and task I set before
you." His scratchy voice grew quiet again, but as before all heard what was
said as clear as distilled water. "C'mon! This is really messing The Empire
up. Not only is it inconveniencing us, it's making a fool of us. Of all of us!
Every man woman and child in the empire! Did you lose your pride, man? Are you
not the Heir to all Tetran? Are you not the one who will inherit everything
when your time for ruling comes?"
"Please My Lord! Please! My husband has serv..." As quickly as the
Heir's wife tried to speak in her husband's defense, so too was she silenced as
the Emperor cast a baleful glance in her direction. The daughter began to
tremble ever so slightly, as the enormity of the situation began to sink into
her young mind and fear began to take over.
"Have you nothing to say for...yourself?" The Heir's head shot up, and
for a brief moment anger flashed across his eyes at the Emperor's somewhat
obscure insult registered upon his mind.
Quickly dismissed as the Heir nearly broke down in tears before his master
and said with as much humility as he could muster, "I beg of you My Emperor
Ryuken. I only wish to serve you. I beg for another chance. This will not
happen again, I swear to you on my soul."
"Indeed," the Emperor nodded his head grimly, "This will not happen
again."
It happened so fast; that it seemed nothing had happened at all. Yet, the
Emperor's movement, and flash of power, was felt.
The two of them stood there for what seemed an eternity, before both the
Heir and his wife fell heavily to their knees making a clanking sound that
echoed throughout The Hall. They hovered in that position momentarily, then
they fell to the floor limply in unison, their armor ringing out, like a final
tolling of the bells at midnight. Only when they hit the ground, did their
heads roll from their bodies; their faces still set in masks of humility, and
now set like that forevermore.
A shocked silence fell over The Hall, no one believing what had just
happened.
Surely..? How..? What...? Can't be...just...can't be.
No one spoke, but they did move; many to rise from their seats, and even
one to draw her weapons.
How could the Emperor possibly do...THAT!?
The Emperor eyes noted the bright flash of a psi weapon being activated,
and with the barest flicker of his power, destroyed it's source. Not to mention
a few other unlucky individuals that happened to be too close to her.
Everyone sat back down quickly as his eyes roved over each again,
promising he'd do the same given even a fraction of an excuse.
"It is true this will not happen again," the Emperor Ryuken stated as he
continued to gaze at the congregation before him, "but it is also true I now
need a new Heir." Without hesitation he pointed. "You. You will be my new
Heir."
And the former Heir's daughter, still unable to believe that her parents
were laying dead at her feet, their crimson blood now pooling below her yet not
gaining purchase upon her armor, turned a shocked look to her sovereign. All
color had drained from her face, and her shaking causing a slight rattling sound
as the various bits of her armor tapped against each other.
"My first command to you is to complete what your father was incapable of.
If you should repeat his failure, this will be your fate. Do you understand, my
Heir," he asked placing an extreme emphasis on her new title to drive the
reality of it home.
A shuddering nod was the only response she was able to give.
"Good. Now leave, and when next I send for you, have the answer with you.
If you find it before then; make me aware of this." To her credit, though how
she did it was anyone's guess, she managed to turn and walk calmly to the huge
double doors that were opened by their guardians for her, for once outside, she
ran for dear life.
The Emperor then instructed the guards to remove the bodies and have the
mess up on the seventh tier cleaned up, but all the while he kept an open eye on
the masses of the Leaders of the Tetran before him.
The daughter of the previous Heir was not someone that the families would
follow without question. That ungangly and ugly girl did not have the genius or
the charisma that were the trademark of her parents. How could the Emperor make
her, of all present, the new Heir? How could the Emperor just KILL THE HEIR
LIKE THAT?!
Amidst all the outrage, and anger and shame he saw reflected in many
faces, Ryuken also saw the beginnings of calculation, of how best to make use of
this new situation. He saw alliances crumble, new ones form almost instantly.
Old hatreds began to flare up, while new ones were just forming. Others were
buried, and forgotten in light of what was done to their Heroes.
Yes, Ryuken thought, as he took his place upon the crystalline seat of
power. Perfect. A truly satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"Let the endgame begin," he said quietly.
Ending theme - Dreams - Van Halen