by Jez Cajiao
“Legionnaires! Our duty is clear, and we have been ordered to carry it out! Those two are appear to be enslaved citizens.” He gestured to the shabby man and boy that had been carrying Lord Faustus’s rain cover. “Investigate their story and stand ready. Any and all forces inside the boundaries of the Empire are now declared subordinate to the Legion or are our enemies. As it was in the Empire of old, so shall it be again!” Romanus roared, and the Legion echoed the cry back to him, clashing their swords against shields and advancing upon the tent menacingly.
“As it was in the Empire of old, so shall it be again!” they bellowed to the skies. Dozens of Alkyon and Djinn took up station, appearing from nowhere to hover in the air above, crossbows and spells clearly primed, even as the ships overhead shifted in their steady patrols and dipped lower, closing the distance to the ground.
The woods rang with the sound of marching feet, and dozens upon dozens of Legionnaires marched out into the drizzle, their armor gleaming wetly as they took up position in formation.
Four Legionnaires approached the two slaves that had carried the rain cover, and they spoke quickly in low voices.
“Wait, what… what is this all about?” Faustus whined, his anger and pride draining from him like wine from a cracked jug in the face of the Legion roused to anger.
“I am the Scion of the Empire,” I growled. “Until I take my place as Emperor, I speak for the Empire. when I do take that final step, I will BE the Empire. Either way, you have threatened me, spoken down to me, and attempted to rob me, not to mention breaking the laws of the Empire blatantly before me. And beyond all of these offenses, you had the gall to order my Legionnaires to do their duty? All Legionnaires, everywhere, are under my direct command now, as acknowledged Scion of the Empire. There is no higher authority than mine,” I finished, my anger building as my voice dipped to a low rumble.
I could feel the power building as my anger grew, and I rose to my feet, shaking my head slightly and cracking my neck, feeling the muscles of my shoulders flex as my body subconsciously prepared for war.
“Romanus, get the slaves down here, fast,” Oracle ordered, her voice crackling with authority, and he saluted her without pause.
“Yes, my Lady Wisp,” he acknowledged, spinning to address the Legionnaires close around the tent and passing orders in terse sentences.
I strode out into the gentle rain, Romanus, following along behind, grabbed Faustus, and dragged him along, the weaselly lord’s shoulder gripped inextricably in one gauntleted fist.
I looked over the men and women that had filtered in to surround the clearing. The Legion were present, of course, but peering out from behind them, from every angle, were hundreds of common people. Milling liberally around the stoic Legionnaires, these emaciated, filthy, people who, even now, remained terrified of being harmed, were the slaves we’d freed from the city.
These hundreds of men, women, and children were creatures of every race, small and large, from gnomes to a half-giant creature that huddled at the back in an attempt to hide, seemingly unaware of his massive size and strength.
They stood there, soaking in the rain, all looking to me, all rescued by my order, and all desperate for a chance. A single chance at life again.
They slowly crowded forward as my power grew, sensing as it poured through me, a river growing by the second. I strode into the center of the clearing, my steps implacable, until all at once my feet lifted from the ground and I began to glow. My love, my companion, my heart, Oracle, was drawn up beside me, her usual faint shine now radiating like the sun as she threw back her head, feeling the power flow though us both.
Her emotions resonated with mine, feeding my rage and strangely, my love; the two emotions, so different, yet so necessary, two sides of the same coin, built and reinforced each other, as the Ability continued to amplify.
“Who am I?” I called out, slowly rotating, able to see every last detail in the clearing in stark clarity as shadows were banished by the light of the Imperial Ability, Righteous Rage.
“I AM LORD JAX,” I called out, my voice booming in the stunned silence, augmented by the power. “I WILL BE YOUR HOPE. I AM YOUR LORD, AND YOUR SERVANT. YOU WHO HAVE BEEN ABANDONED, DISCARDED, AND ENSLAVED, I AM YOURS. WHEN NO ONE STOOD FOR YOU, I NOW WILL.” Lightning crackled across me, jumping from hands to feet and arcing in the air.
“I WILL PROTECT YOU. I WILL BE THE ROCK YOU STAND UPON TO REACH THE LIGHT. NEVER AGAIN WILL A LEGIONNAIRE DIE ALONE AND FORGOTTEN. YOU WILL ALL BE REMEMBERED, HONORED, AND LOVED,” I intoned, slowly lifting higher. As I cleared the tree line, hanging unsupported in the air, I saw them, and I felt Amon. The souls of those he had lost, the crew of the Prax, named Glorious Retribution, seemed summoned into existence by my power.
I felt them, flickers of will, or honor and dedication, rising from the Sunken City as they were drawn to me, desperate for absolution, for forgiveness of their failures, in allowing Glorious Retribution to be smashed from the sky so long ago.
As I watched, lights rose from the wilderness all around me, dozens, then hundreds of them, glowing souls that were being drawn from the depths of the city by my power and lifted into the air by the grace of my magic.
The long-dead crew of the Prax flickered as they came closer, their incorporeal forms glowing as the first jolts of lightning flashed out to them from the gathering storm of mana. These quick jolts of energy granted them visibility to mortal eyes once again in daylight.
They streamed up to me, their calls echoing in my ears as Amon reached out our arms, and our power altered. So many of these spirits, the souls of the forgotten, forced by a twisted sense of duty and their own personal beliefs that they should have done more, had been bound indefinitely to this plane of existence.
I saw them as I never had before, and I knew then that the world was filled with them: the unquiet dead, trapped in this realm, unable to move on until they received absolution.
“I AM YOUR LORD, AND I AM THE IMPERIAL SCION, ACKNOWLEGED HEIR TO THE THRONE,” I whispered in a voice that bounced off walls and echoed in the bones of all who heard it.
“I SEE YOU AND I REMEMBER; I FORGIVE YOUR PERCEIVED FAILURES. KNOW THAT I, JAX AMON, DECLARE YOU TO BE WHOLE. YOU ARE NOT FAILURES. YOU ARE NOT BROKEN. YOU ARE NOT WEAK. YOU WERE FAILED BY THE REALM AND THE EMPIRE, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND. YOU ARE LOVED, AND YOU ARE ENOUGH,” I declared, tears running down my cheeks and turning into wisps of steam as they boiled away from the power that flooded my form.
“I SEE YOUR SOULS. I SEE YOUR POWER AND YOUR PAIN. I SEE YOUR POTENTIAL, AND I SEE THOSE THAT HAVE DONE THIS TO YOU,” I snarled, my voice rising in anger as the power built to a crescendo inside me.
“I SHALL BRING YOU VENGEANCE. I SHALL BRING THE DEAD PEACE, THE LIVING FREEDOM, AND THE SOULS YET UNBORN THE CHANCE TO STAND TALL IN THE LIGHT OF THE SUN! YOUR CAPTORS AND TORTURERS SHALL KNOW MY WRATH, THOSE WHO HAVE IMPRISONED MY CHILDREN!” My voice boomed in the air, shaking leaves from the trees, and stunning those around me into silence.
“FOR I AM JAX AMON, HEIR AND LORD, AND I DECLARE YOU TO BE MY IMPERIAL SUBJECTS. AS SUCH, YOU ARE FREE OF ALL OTHER TIES!” I screamed those final word, as the world seemed to reverberate with power. Blinding white light roared outwards, tearing at the ground, and latching onto slave brands and collars, leashes that were welded into place, and worse, harnesses that had been fused to bone through some mix of evil magic.
All of these were touched and bathed in the pure white light of Righteous Rage, and when it passed, it left behind clear, healed skin, unmarked by any blemish.
Hundreds of slaves and former prisoners were lifted into the air on wings of my power, scoured of injuries, and the in the dark places of their souls, they found light instead.
As the light receded and I slowly lowered to the ground, my feet gently touching down onto the grass, I heard and saw them, my people, weeping as they rejoiced in their freedom.
The Empire was born anew that day for many, and I felt a weight lifting from
my heart as I accepted my role fully at last.
Chapter Eight
I turned back to the tent, to Romanus and his prisoner, to the lords from Narkolt and their sycophants and guards. I looked from one to another of their stunned faces, feeling the burn of using magics not meant for mortals.
Oracle landed next to me, full sized again, clad in a gleaming white dress with a belt of woven silver leaves around her waist and judgement for the lords in her eyes. Her hair, black as a raven’s wing, ran down her upper back in ringlets and curls, while lightning still crackled across her body, leaping, and flashing across to mine and back.
We stood glaring at the delegates we’d invited with open hearts to discuss the Sunken City. I’d had high hopes of recruiting them, or at least of sharing information with them, purchasing maps or artifacts. At worst, I had expected to simply warn them to keep out of our way.
Now Romanus stood gripping a nobleman who’d been revealed as a slaver, if the pulse of white fire that had caressed his two rain-cover bearers was any judge.
“I… I… how?” Faustus sputtered, before seemingly remembering himself and deciding it was demeaning for him to be held by a ‘mere’ Legionnaire. He twisted and glared at Romanus, attempting to backhand him across the face.
Romanus simply twisted him, the attempted blow becoming a pathetic brush of his lacy sleeve instead. The Prefect took one quick glance at me, then smiled grimly and stomped down hard on the back of Faustus’s left calf, twisting, and shoving down on the shoulder he still held.
Faustus fell to his knees, and Romanus switched his grip, grabbing the back of the callous lord’s head and pressing down, folding him over and exposing his neck. His gladius announced its presence into the suddenly silent clearing.
All around the periphery, people who had been whispering, weeping in joy, and laughing, had fallen silent, watching the spectacle of a noble, one of their ‘betters’ being shoved down and prepared for execution without the benefit of a trial, without the usual gold and backhanders changing the facts, and without the chance to become one of those who had broken even the most heinous of laws only to simply laugh and walk free.
Instead. they heard his startled yelp of pain as Romanus’s razor-sharp blade came to rest directly over his arced neck, ready to slice through the spinal cord.
“Please!” Faustus cried out. “I have gold! I… I have more slaves! You can have them!” he whimpered frantically.
“From his own mouth, he condemns himself, Lord Jax,” Romanus called to me, raising one eyebrow in question.
“Do it.” I ordered flatly, turning to the guards he had brought with him. They stood uncertainly in the clearing to one side, surrounded by Legionnaires, and they knew a single movement would spell their doom. “Your former lord broke the laws of the Empire,” I called to them. “One of the earliest laws established was that Slavery was illegal, and that slavers were to be summarily put to death…” As I spoke, Romanus ignored Faustus’ squeal for mercy and drove his sword down with a grunt. The sharp blade sheared through the gap between Faustus’s upper vertebrae, slicing through the cord, and severing his head’s attachment to his body. Romanus twisted the blade, forcing the cleaved vertebrae apart, then braced himself and yanked his sword free, leaving the corpse to collapse bonelessly to the side. Blood gushed from the wound as he calmly wiped his blade clean on Faustus’s golden cloak.
“When the criminal Faustus took slaves, he crossed the line, and his death was only a matter of time. You have a choice to make now. You can join me and serve the Empire, or I’ll give you a day to leave the island by whatever means you used to get here. Decide now, but any remaining slaves in your camp must be set free, or the Legion will come and free them,” I said warningly.
There was a few seconds of hesitation, until one of the guards stepped forward and hesitantly bowed to me.
“We… we’ll take the day… lord…” he stammered, and I nodded grimly.
“Then leave. Now,” I ordered, dismissing them and turning to the two people that had carried Faustus’ rain cover. “You were slaves?” I asked them gently, and they both nodded, the older man rubbing at his neck where his collar had been. “Then you’re free men now. You can choose to leave with the guards, or you may join my people.” They looked at each other for a second, then the guards, then they began to move at the same time, easing toward the nearest Legionnaires. “Get them food and berths on the ships,” I ordered the group nearest to them, and a Legionnaire clapped his fist to his chest in salute before leading them away.
I turned my attention to the second party that had arrived and glared distrustfully at them, my anger still filling me, even as the ability drained away. I felt weakness rising within me, a gnawing hunger that seemed to be reaching up from my boots. Due to the slight tremble starting in my muscles, I knew I didn’t have long.
“Well?” I asked them. “I believe you had a deal you wanted to offer me?”
Silence hung thickly for a few seconds before Hannimish seemed to come to his senses and coughed apologetically, spreading his hands as he bowed low.
“My apologies, ah… Lord Jax?” he said hesitantly, elbowing his companion to do the same. The younger man started at the blow, glaring at him, then at me, before grudgingly bowing as well. As they both straightened, I nodded to them and strode into the tent, sinking into the chair that Denny, one of the Legionnaires who’d assaulted the Skyking’s lair with me, braced with one knee. He ensured that I was seated safely before backing away, his eyes glued to me, as though he were aware of what the Ability had cost me in terms of strength.
I nodded in thanks, and he slipped from the tent as soon as the others took their places. Oracle’s voice suddenly spoke in my mind.
“He’s gone for Nerin. I think you scared them, beloved.”
“I damn well scared myself…” I responded internally, a terrible weariness filling my mental voice.
“Well?” I asked Hannimish brusquely. “I’ve not got all day, man.”
“Ah, perhaps you could tell me why you summoned us… Lord?” Hannimish interjected. “We had come here, expecting that a mercenary band or an expeditionary force had arrived, assisted by the Legion, and we had planned to make deals, hiring your forces to assist in the exploration of the Sunken City.”
“I intended on making deals with you,” I said flatly. “Until Faustus proved that he couldn’t be trusted. Then I moved to simply executing him.”
“Well, we’ve not done anything of the sort, now have we?” he said, forcing a smile and ignoring the significance of Romanus taking up station behind my chair as Oracle sat down next to me, clasping one hand and squeezing it. “Add to that, I’d personally love to discuss…”
“Yet,” I interrupted grimly. “You’ll have to forgive me, Hannimish…” I watched him carefully as I deliberately left off the ‘Lord’. “Every former lord I’ve dealt with so far has attempted to kill me, rob me, or worse. Now, I came here expecting this would be a research and exploration outpost, most likely manned by a few scientists and historians, and that’s all. I had planned to recruit them and share the spoils of the exploration if they chose not to join me… in exchange for their knowledge of the Prax.”
“The... Prax?” Hannimish’s companion asked, glaring at me as though weighing and measuring me.
“Ah, this is my nephew, Joshua, Baron of Sarat,” Hannimish said smoothly. “He means no offense, my lord, but his question is appropriate… what is a ‘Prix’?”
“Prax, not prix,” I said shortly, my body aching and notifications flashing desperately in the corner of my vision. I could feel a deeper tremble running through my body, and I did the only two things that I felt might help: I attempted to ignore it for the moment, planning to make this meeting short, and I turned to Romanus. “Could you get me a potion of ‘Might,’ please, Romanus?” I asked, and he blinked in surprise before nodding and speaking softly to someone out of my sight.
“As to the Prax… well, this was a Pr
ax, or a ‘War-City,’ as it might translate. This particular Prax was named ‘Glorious Retribution’. She sailed the skies, hunting down those who attempted piracy against the Empire, and assisted the Legion in bringing peace. Permanently, usually,” I said grimly, as I gestured generically, waving my hand to include the ground, and the trees, and the island.
“I am here to retrieve some items from the depths of the city and make some repairs to my ships, as well as permit my people to stretch their legs. I am at war with Himnel; as are you, I believe?” I asked, getting nods of affirmation from them both. “Good. That makes this easier, then. I have no quarrel with you, so if you have anything you want to trade, we can talk about it. Otherwise, we simply stay out of each other’s way. You don’t annoy me, and I won’t have my Legion stomp you from existence.” Joshua drew in a deep breath, straightening as if he were about to argue, when Hannimish grabbed his arm and held on tightly, bowing and forcing a smile.
“That sounds wonderful… Lord Jax… perhaps we could return to our camp and consider what treasures we might trade? And we could return to discuss this with you tomorrow? Or the day after, if that suits better?” he asked in a strangely pleasant tone, and I nodded tiredly.
“Yes, fine. Apologies for my lack of patience, Hannimish, Joshua; using powers such as that have an effect on me.” I said forcing myself to smile in return.
“Of course! We completely understand, my lord. We will, of course, look forward to meeting with you again soon… noon, on the second day from now? At our camp? I will ensure there are refreshments, and… ” he continued to blather happily as I nodded acceptance.
“Fine, fine.” I waved one hand to stem the tide of his platitudes. “But mark my words, Hannimish: if I find slaves there, you will regret it. Better to admit it now and free them, before I get annoyed.”
“We don’t have slaves in Narkolt,” Hannimish replied quickly, looking offended. “We hold to the old ways as well.”
