Lords of Kobol - Prelude: Of Gods and Titans

by Edward T. Yeatts III

like I needed to talk to you, though."

  The lights on Caesar's cube illuminated and his processors blazed with activity. How?

  "How are you?" the old man asked.

  The speakers in the room spoke softly. "Well. You?"

  Faustus nodded. "Me too." He slowly put one foot on the bottom step and began to ascend. After a few straining moments, he reached the top and knelt down in front of the box. He groaned as he did so. "You've looked better."

  Caesar remembered hearing that before. Faustus said it to him after a horse accident. And again after the Battle of Strand. And again after his first stroke. His mind probed the Matrix and he looked toward Arba. He tried to tap into the security system there but found only static and dead ends. Could this be him?

  "What brings you here?" the imperator asked.

  Faustus shrugged and plopped onto the marble platform. "Old age." He chuckled and then said, "I feel … done. Spent."

  "I understand."

  Caesar looked into the Matrix again. He looked for aeroplane manifests, boat logs, vehicle rentals, Arba security reports. He found no mention of Faustus' movements.

  "How is Constance?" His brother nodded. "And my nephew?"

  "Both are well." He breathed deeply and said, "I've thought a lot about you lately, Max."

  "I see."

  "It's true. You're on the news, of course. Your portraits are all over the villa. It's hard to get you out of my mind."

  The Caesar again looked toward Arba. No success.

  He was about to speak but he paused. "You seem lucid. Moreso than I had been led to believe."

  Faustus grinned a little. "I have good days and bad. Today is good." Caesar's processing lights came on again and remained on. Cooling fans engaged and Faustus nodded toward the indicators. "What are you doing?"

  "Thinking."

  "About what?"

  "You." Caesar probed the Matrix again. He still found nothing.

  Faustus wiped his mouth and said, "Why?"

  Caesar stopped his searching and turned all his attention toward the elderly man squatting on his platform. "I am not certain you are my brother."

  Faustus leaned back and laughed loudly. It sounded familiar to the imperator. The man clapped his hands together twice and said, "Of course it's me."

  "Prove it."

  Faustus finished his laughter and sniffled. He glanced toward the distant floor, licked his lips and said, "As you wish. Ask me whatever you want."

  Caesar thought for just a second. "The Gargano Forest."

  "Yes."

  "I was eleven and we went hunting with Dad."

  Faustus smiled, "I remember."

  "How many points were on the buck I shot?"

  The old man chuckled and wagged his finger at the cube. "You think you're tricky, huh?" The speakers didn't answer. "You told everyone it was a ten-pointer …"

  "It was."

  "No, it wasn't," Faustus said. "It was a sixer." Caesar was quiet. "I shot a ten-pointer and you only got the six, so … so you ran back to town, yelling about the ten-pointer you shot …"

  "Incorrect," Caesar said.

  "No!" Faustus barked. His face flashed with anger. Then his cheeks became rosy and his lip curled on one end. "You told everyone about my buck and when I got back to town with Dad, they believed you. No one believed me."

  Caesar's lights flickered as he recalled the story.

  Faustus' voice got soft. "I told Dad, I said, 'Daddy, Max is lying. I got the ten-pointer.'"

  The imperator's lights stopped when the memory was recalled to its fullest in his mind.

  "And do you know what Dad said to me?"

  The speakers answered, "'This is a lesson in leadership. Be bold. If to be bold you have to lie, you must own that lie.'"

  Faustus smiled and nodded. "Yep."

  "He taught me that lesson on another occasion."

  His brother leaned forward and scratched behind his ear. "Wait …" He jerked his head upright and said, "When you broke that ancient Attican vase."

  "Yes."

  Faustus nodded. "You took that lesson to heart. So well you believe your own horseshit."

  Caesar nearly laughed. He paused for a moment while the vision of the memory drifted from his mind's eye.

  "Why are you here, brother?"

  Faustus smiled and said, "You know, I never envied you." He crossed his legs under himself. "I … never really wanted to be Caesar so it's just as well that you have been for so long." He put his elbow on his right knee and held his chin in his hand. "You've been … a good leader."

  Caesar didn't respond. He studied his older brother as much as he could. He listened for each breath. He watched every muscle movement.

  "You remember when I went to Gela to put down the insurgency?"

  The cube answered, "Yes."

  "So boring. Nasty business, too." Faustus sniffled and continued, "That was the first time I tried hulgill, you know."

  "I remember."

  He rubbed his forearm up toward his elbow. He lingered there and stroked the old skin. "I was using that stuff for years." He smacked his arm and looked up at the box. "You try something like that once, when you're young, just to try it. But do you know why I kept using it after that?"

  Caesar didn't answer.

  Faustus smiled. "Because I was stupidly hopeful that the next time would be just as good as the first time." He chuckled a little and continued, "It never was. Never close."

  The imperator was silent. He continued to observe Faustus. He made no move to speak again. The Caesar asked, "Why are you here?"

  His brother grinned and said, "Old age." The lights flickered once. "My life is almost over. I've had it good. Really, I have."

  "I'm glad."

  Faustus nodded. He reached up and put his hand on the corner of the gray and black box. His fingers glided on the plastic and he let them fall down the edge. He sighed and said, "You're stuck in there … trying to shoot life into veins you don't even have anymore." Silence. "No matter how hard you try, Max, you won't be able to match that first time."

  Again, silence.

  Faustus retracted his arm and sat up straight. His pleasant smile vanished and his mouth became a straight line. "It's past time to go, Max. You'll be happier. Tiber will carry on just fine."

  Caesar was dumbfounded. His processors worked but no response came.

  Faustus rolled to one side and grunted. He put his feet down on the top step, pushed himself up and strained to stand erect. He placed his hands on the small of his back and stretched. When he stopped, his eyes looked over the cube once more and he said, "Take care."

  Slowly, the old man descended the stairs and shuffled across the red carpet toward the opulent doors. Caesar watched and studied him as he moved. Faustus pulled the door open and walked into the hallway. He didn't hear his guards react. Why did they let him in?

  The imperator entered the palace's security system and scanned the corridors. Faustus was nowhere to be found. He reversed the video for hours and never saw his brother enter. Where did he go?

  His processors whirred again. He tried futilely to contact Arba. Only static greeted him. He kept an eye on the security systems and on Tiber's outgoing transportation just in case he was spotted.

  Illogical, he thought. Faustus is an invalid. That could not have been him, despite … everything. He scanned and continued to think. Who was that?

  XXV

  THE MESSENGERS

  148 Years Before the End

  "Why are you here, brother?" Caesar asked.

  The male tender, cloaked in the guise of Faustus Valerius, smiled.

  "Why are you here?" the female tender asked. She only now appeared in the marble room and kept herself invisible to the sensors of the being known as Caesar.

  "You know, I never envied you." The image of the old man crossed his legs.

  As though he
grew a second mouth, the male tender spoke from underneath his costume. "I saw an opportunity for intervention."

  The female tender moved about the room and examined the cube. "It is too soon. We have not sufficiently practiced with the people nor prepared sufficient contingencies."

  Faustus said, "I … never really wanted to be Caesar so it's just as well that you have been for so long. You've been … a good leader."

  The male spoke, saying, "The opportunity presented itself. They must be seized upon when possible."

  "He is suspicious," the female said, peering inside the box. "He suspects subterfuge."

  "I have already assuaged those concerns," he answered.

  The old man asked, "You remember when I went to Gela to put down the insurgency?"

  "Temporarily assuaged," the Messenger said. "Your choice of his brother is problematic."

  "Not necessarily," he answered. "The only other candidates are otherwise engaged and constantly under this one's surveillance. I could not choose a deceased form. He would be too skeptical and immovable."

  The Caesar answered, "Yes."

  "So boring. Nasty business, too." The male tender delved into the past and grasped at threads of memory from further down the tree. "That was the first time I tried hulgill, you know."

  "I remember."

  The female tender alighted by his side. "I am uneasy."

  "I have had success with this method."

  The apparition of Faustus rubbed his forearm up toward his elbow and then stroked the old skin. "I was using that stuff for years." He smacked his arm and looked up at the box. "You try something like that once, when you're young, just to try it. But do you know why I kept using it after that?"

  The female rose again and looked about the room. "You have underestimated this one. The outcomes are beginning to come into focus."

  The disguised tender ignored her and the Caesar's silence.