-REMEMBER ME-
PART II
CHAPTER SIX
Trexalore
"Now, listen, I tell you…this is completely unwarranted. I really do mean you no harm. All this violence might hurt someone, has no one taught you that?"
"Shut it, you!" growls the guard.
He gives me a hard push, shoving me on my way, and forcing me to trip over my scarf. I recover quickly, springing to my feet again and resuming chat with the guard.
"Well, I was just trying to help you out. It's really not good for the health, you know, all this shoving about."
"I'm warnin' you!"
"Now, now, rudeness is not good for the health either. It's seriously damaging to social relationships. I say, would you care for a Jelly Baby?"
I offer him the treat, but he glares at me.
"I ain't fallin' for yer tricks, mister."
I sigh, and eat the sweet treat myself.
"Where are you taking me, anyway?"
"To him."
"Ah. Him. He sounds very important, to not even have a name."
"You would know, wouldn't cha, eh?" he says, glaring at me and pushing me again. "An' anyway, his name is Trexalore."
"Hm. Trexalore. That sounds eerily familiar to the name of the planet."
"What choo on about?"
"Never mind me. I make odd connections sometimes. It's part of my job description."
"Shut it!"
I'm silent for maybe three seconds.
"Is that, by any chance, his title? Like…Ceaser? You know, I've met several Ceasaers. Julius was by far the—"
"What the 'ell is a 'Ceasear?'" says the guard, glaring. "And I though' I told you to shut it!"
"Yes, you did say that, several times…though as Clara will tell you, I'm not very fond of listening—"
"Shut UP!" yells the other, up until this point silent guard.
Deciding perhaps I'm pushing my luck, I fall silent, and admire the architecture.
It's overall design is rather primitive, like one might see in the Aztec culture on Earth, with sloping walls and an overall feeling of clusterphobia when inside the structures. But the walls and ceiling glows with an alien energy. Blue in color, it's a power source, running along the walls and incorporated into the décor. Whether or not it's safe to touch remains to be seen.
The gourds march me along, twisting through corridors that all look the same and up steep stairs designed to burn calories. Until finally, we come upon an open space.
It's a very large, open space, but still very much enclosed. Up the walls go like a pyramid, assuring that we all feel very small. At the very top is a single window to let light filter through, and in the center of the room, a platform. On it sits a throne, and on that throne sits a man with red paint on his face with his lips and eyes lined in gold, and a halo of feathers adore his green hair.
These people seem to have an odd obsession with gold. Well, at least the Cybermen are guaranteed never to come here.
The guards force me to my knees in front of the man.
"Ah, hello!" I say, ignoring the obvious etiquette and speaking first anyway with a wide grin. "You must be Trexalore! Very nice to meet you. I love your guards, by the way, they're wonderfully violent and perniciously dull."
Trexalore rises, looking incredibly offended. Just by the way the room seems to shiver I can tell this is a man of great power, and great brutality. As he steps forward he whips behind him a long blood-red cape, and his golden armor shines with hours of slave-labor.
"And you must be the one calling yourself Doctor," he says with disgust.
"Well, that is my name," I say irritably.
He steps down the stairs from the platform to the floor, taking his sweet time about it, as though by wasting time he would command a malevolent presence. Well, it works for the other people in the room, as they seem to cower and pretend not to. It doesn't work on me, as I do tend to get impatient. Tapping my foot, I take deep, dramatic sighs, putting off every air of impatience with his antics, and he glares at me.
Good. I love getting on the bad side of a tyrant.
He takes one last step and is on the ground with the rest of the common folk. And he steps towards me, his red eyes fixed upon me.
"I am Trexalore, but who you are is as of yet a curiosity. You are obviously a man of learning, but you dress like a commoner."
"Thank you," I say smartly. He glares. Or maybe it's just the eyes that are always glaring.
"And you obviously have no idea who I am."
I knew very well, but I'd taken it on a personal vendetta to make him angry. Not a smart move, on my part. But then, I have never liked a bully.
"Should I? You don't seem all that important to me."
His eyes gleam, and he straightens with anger.
"I am the leader of this great, almighty civilization! I am King! And I am the person who holds your life in his hands, so you might want to show a little bit of respect!"
"Ah. Respect. Yes. Quite right too. And yet, also, you should respect your elders, and I am by far your elder. By around…oh, say, 700 years or so."
There is the clinking of armor as the guards shift uncomfortably. Unnerved, but much too disciplined to talk amongst themselves.
Trexalore himself looks slightly taken aback.
"It is said that our Lord God was thousands of years old," whispers Trexalore's advisor.
"Silence!" he commands, whipping about. The old advisor cowers. Trexalore turns back to me. "You are a liar, and a traitor, and an imposter. You will be executed for your crimes. Take him away."
The guards grab me around the arms.
"Wait, wait! Don't I even get a trail? A hearing? A last request? At the very least an explanation?"
"What is there to explain?" says Trexalore. "You know very well your crimes. You, like all the traitors, know that being in the old city and the forest is illegal. You do it anyway. You, like all your friends, know it is an act of violence to rebel, and yet you do so anyway. And now you rebels have taken it another step further, sending in an imposter as God, something even you rebels would abhor, only to further your agenda! You are despicable, and will be executed! TAKE HIM AWAY!"