by R W Sowrider
“It doesn’t surprise me that your taste in accessories is so refined,” Rowen replied, sarcastically. “But hush now, the adults are talking.”
Felix winced. Failing to capture Rowen’s attention, he grabbed him by the elbow and began leading him toward the bar. “My good sir, I’m afraid we’re getting off on the wrong foot. Come, let me freshen your drink.”
While being pulled away, Rowen turned his head back toward Irina and flashed her a your-husband-is-a-twat,-I-can’t-wait-to-make-him-a-cuckold smile.
“Listen,” Felix said, grabbing two glasses of chilled vodka from the bar and handing one to Rowen. “I’m terribly sorry if I offended you with my comment about your eyes. That was not my intention. It came out all wrong. The truth is, you have the most intense eyes I’ve ever seen. I find you fascinating.”
Rowen downed half of his vodka. “That’s nice, little man, but I’m not here to mesmerize or entertain the likes of you. I’ve got a much higher calling.”
“Yes. I know. Of course. I just mean that with my social and economic standing and your mysterious abilities ...”
“I don’t care about your family’s money.” Rowen gulped down the other half of his vodka and placed the glass back on the bar.
“Yes, but there are many things that we can do for each other. Once you get to know me,” Felix said, brushing his hand against Rowen’s, “you’ll see.”
“You naughty boy!” Rowen said, retracting his hand. “I’ve seen your ilk before at the Monastery of Abalak and it’s not my cup of tea. Vodka, that’s my cup of tea. Not backdoor shenanigans. If you’re looking for a man of the cloth to indulge your depravity, you should be attending Sunday School. But frankly, you should be paying more attention to your wife. She is an exquisite piece of ass.”
***
“What catastrophe has our courageous crown prince suffered this time?” Rowen asked, striding into Alexei’s bedroom yet again .
“He took a nasty fall while ice-skating,” Tsarina Sandra said, panicked. “I knew we shouldn’t have let him do it. It’s just too dangerous.”
“Of course you should,” Rowen replied as he made his way to Alexei’s bedside. The poor boy was in considerable pain and his breathing laborious. “Training to play center forward for our hockey team, is it? Or is figure skating more your fancy? Did you take a spill while working on your double axel?”
Alexei smiled weakly.
“Let’s have a look,” Rowen continued, having a seat on the bed and gently pulling Alexei’s shirt up.
Once again, his chest and arms were covered in ghastly bruises as he was suffering severe internal bleeding. “A fine mess, indeed.”
“He can barely breathe,” Sandra said. “You’ve got to save him!”
“Fear not,” Rowen replied. “God will once again come to our aid.”
Rowen stared fixedly at the boy. “Ready to clean it up?”
Alexei nodded determinedly.
“That a boy,” Rowen replied, placing one hand on Alexei’s forehead and the other on his sternum.
After invoking Dionysus, he leaned in close to the boy. “I’ve got the perfect spell for this one,” he whispered. “Rest today and tomorrow we play. Slapshot, loop de loop … unicorn poop.”
No sooner did Rowen finish uttering the charm than did Alexei’s breathing return to normal and a peaceful smile settle over his face.
“How do you feel, my sweet?” Sandra asked.
“Much better, mother.”
“Come now,” Rowen said to Sandra. “We must let him rest. No one is to disturb him for the rest of the day. Have an attendant bring barley soup in an hour and then broccoli and pheasant for dinner. Other than that, leave him in peace.”
Upon exiting the room and closing the door, Sandra as usual clutched both of Rowen’s hands. “You really are a miracle worker! We would be absolutely lost without you.”
“Oh, come now. I’m simply a conduit for God’s will. He is the one who deserves the credit.”
“That’s exactly it. God speaks to us through you.” Sandra let go of Rowen’s hands and wrapped her arms around him. “My sweet sweet man. You are a blessing”
Once Sandra finally released him from her embrace, Rowen looked deep into her eyes. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Sandra sighed while staring back into his hypnotic eyes. After a moment though, she shook her head slightly as she recalled the plight of her country. “Yes. I’m afraid that there is a lot more that we will need from you in the coming months. As I’m sure you’re aware, the hostilities to the west escalate with each passing day. War seems to be an inevitability. The Tsar will need your blessed advice on who can lead us to victory abroad and who can bring us prosperity at home.
Rowen smiled. “I am at your service, madam.”
***
“To the most profitable prophet in St. Petersburg!” Svetlana said, holding a glass of vodka high in the air and batting her gorgeous eyelashes at Rowen. “You’ve done it again and all of Russia is in the palm of your hand!”
“Here here!” Rowen said, pointing at the palm of his hand and laughing heartily. Once he was able to compose himself, he too held up his glass. “To the Tsarina!” he boomed, clinking glasses with Svetlana, her sister Tatyana, and the rest of his harem of fervent followers.
They were once again celebrating in a cozy lounge off to the side of the bar at Rowen’s favorite tavern .
“Can we have a celebratory dance, too?” Tatyana pleaded, wrapping her arm around Rowen and nudging him toward the middle of the room.
Rowen finished his vodka, handed the empty glass to Tatyana, and took position in the center of the open space.
“Music!” he called, clapping his hands together high above his head.
As usual, with the smuggest of faces, he circled the floor briskly with his arms outstretched and palms up, stopping now and again to fold them across his chest and bounce up and down like a human toilet plunger.
And as usual, the ladies ate it up, clapping and cheering and squealing with delight.
Satisfied and thirsting for another drink, Rowen strode over to the bar to find an unpleasant surprise.
“Congratulations, Rowen,” Prince Felix said. “I heard that you once again summoned your mysterious powers to heal Alexei.”
“What are you doing here?” Rowen replied, brusquely.
“Why, I’m here to celebrate with you,” Felix said. “Your miraculous feats never cease to amaze. You just keep getting more and more impressive.”
“…”
“And your dancing is … how shall I say … arousing.” To emphasize his sentiment, Felix brushed his hand over Rowen’s hip.
“You bad boy!” Rowen growled, grabbing the offending hand and tossing it aside. “I thought I told you that you are barking up the wrong tree. Now, if it’s a three-way we’re talking about, I’d consider it. But on two conditions.”
Rowen held up his right pointer finger in Felix’ face. “One: the third party in this three-way is your wife.”
Rowen held up the adjacent middle finger, pushing even closer. “And two: your role will be confined to taking notes and/or sketches on a sofa across the room.”
Felix smiled, deviously. “Oh my, you really are the Holy Devil. Wicked to the core.”
Rowen leaned back and let out a hearty laugh. As he regained himself, he noticed a couple of attractive young ladies whom he’d never seen before looking his way.
“Go home, Felix,” he said, pushing him out of the way and making a beeline for the women.
He penetrated them with his eyes as he strode over and could feel them falling under his spell. They swooned as he kissed one of them on the lips while grabbing the other one by the pussy.
The ladies in his harem giggled and cheered, entertained by his shenanigans.
“Girls,” Rowen said upon releasing his lips from one and his grip from the other. “Come and meet some of my devotees. Tonight is a night of celebration and sal
vation.”
He led them to the lounge at the side of the bar and quickly handed each a drink, then grabbed a couple for himself.
After clinking glasses, he downed one for each woman.
“Girls,” he said, addressing his entire harem. “In the midst of this celebration, I feel inspired to preach. Let us head back to my apartment and to the Holy of Holies.”
As Rowen marched toward the exit, his regulars clapped their hands in anticipation as they scrambled to catch up.
Svetlana and Tatyana could barely contain their excitement. “You girls are in for a treat,” Svetlana said to the newcomers. “Tonight, you’re gonna learn something that will stay with you for the rest of your life.”
“If you’re lucky,” Tatyana added, “you’ll discover what it feels like to be saved.”
***
Rowen indulged in a glass of red wine as his harem flowed into the living room adjacent to his bedroom.
Once the girls had a fresh drink and were sitting attentively on a sofa or leaning attentively against the wall, he plunged into his sermon.
“I will make this short and sweet,” he declared, eyeing the newbies. “I want to talk about sin and salvation.
“Those feelings that are pulsing through you at this very moment, burning in your loins,” he continued, gazing deeply into their eyes one at a time. “Those sexual urges. Are they sin?”
Dumbstruck, the girls were unable to reply. With each second, they fell deeper and deeper under Rowen’s spell and did not want to disappoint him with the wrong answer.
“Yes,” Svetlana chimed in, taking a step forward.
Rowen’s head snapped in her direction. Slowly, he took a drink. Then a step toward her. “That’s right, my little mouse.” Rowen wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her behind. “And what a wicked sin they are.”
He turned back to the newcomers. “And so what are we to do?”
“…”
“The clergy would have you repress those feelings. Push them way down into the bowels of your being. Lock them up and throw away the key.
“But is that the path to salvation?! Will ignoring your primal urges save your soul?! Or will it simply lead to a life of self-torment and emotional constipation?!”
Rowen let the rhetorical questions hang in the air as he drained the remainder of his wine and beckoned Svetlana for a refill with a nod of the head.
Once his glass was again full, he continued. “The clergy will tell you that the path to salvation runs through the church. Put your trust – and your money – in them and they will take care of it for you.
“Blasphemy!
“Salvation cannot be obtained through an institution. Salvation is only obtained through the individual.”
Rowen surveyed the room, locking eyes at random. “ Through you … and you … and you … and you. Salvation is obtained by seeking the spirit of God within oneself.
“So what are we to do with these sexual urges? These sinful thoughts and feelings?”
Once again sensing that the newcomers would be unable to answer, Svetlana took another step forward. “Yield to them,” she said, her voice burning.
“Correct,” Rowen replied, once again wrapping an arm around her, but this time awarding her an impassioned kiss. Perhaps too impassioned as it took a few gulps of wine to recover his train of thought.
“Yes, yield to those urges. But why? To what purpose?”
Rowen again eyed the newcomers who were spellbound by his sermon but again at a loss for words.
“It is because by engaging in sexual intercourse, we consciously sin together, and in this way the power of the sin is nullified.
“It is through sin that we attain divine mercy.
“Sin and repentance are the conditions necessary for salvation. Just like there can be no good in the world without evil, there can be no salvation without sin.
“Only when we yield to temptation and repent are we saved.
“The clergy will tell you to stay away from Rasputin. They will tell you that if you lay with Rasputin, you will defile your soul.
“This could not be further from the truth. When you lay with Rasputin, he is not polluting you, he is purifying you.
“He is saving your soul!”
At the precise moment that Rowen uttered these words, Delemor, in Verixion, knowing how the night would proceed, inscribed the names of the two newcomers into his register entitled, Humans Not Going To Hell After This Life.
And at the exact same moment, Aphrodite crossed into this world like a bolt of lightning and entered the body of Svetlana.
Rowen ran a finger down the cheeks of both newcomers. “Tatyana will inform you of the ceremonial washing you can look forward to.”
He then turned his attention to Svetlana. “But first, me and this sinner have some cleansing to do in the Holy of Holies.”
Rowen grabbed her by the wrist and led her into his bedroom, or the Holy of Holies, as he called it.
***
“Time to go home,” Rowen said, pushing Svetlana out of bed with his foot.
In the name of purification, they had tangled tongues, bobbed for apples, and bumped uglies, but none of it was to Rowen’s satisfaction.
Svetlana fell to the floor with a thud. “What?!”
“I grow tired of you, woman. Get out!”
“You’re literally kicking me out?”
“Something about you tonight irks me. I no longer wish to see you. Out!”
“I thought I was your favorite.”
“Favorite?! Hah! Even your sister has surpassed you on that list. In fact, send her in on your way out.”
Despite her insides seething with rage, resentment, and humiliation, Svetlana reigned in her emotion while putting her dress back on.
Emerging into the living room with a seemingly satisfied smile, she nodded to Tatyana. “Your turn, sis.”
Tatyana giggled and hurried into the Holy of Holies. As she crossed through the doorway, the entire room overheard a cheerful Rowen greet her.
“Ahhh, there’s my 68th favorite girl.”
** *
In what was becoming more of a regularity, Rowen was summoned to the Tsar’s palace for advice completely unrelated to Alexei.
The Tsar was despondent behind his desk and Sandra, standing beside him, looked equally forlorn.
“The war is out of control,” Tsar Nicholas said. “We have already lost more than a million men and there’s not a ray of hope to be seen.”
“You must tell us what we should do,” Tsarina Sandra said. “What does God wish us to do?”
Rowen frowned. “I’m afraid there is no easy solution.”
“Has He spoken to you?”
“… He has.”
“Then you must tell us. You must tell us what He would have us do.”
“… I cannot. In good conscience, I cannot pass on His message. It’s too dangerous. It’s … it’s madness!”
“Dammit!” Tsar Nicholas screamed, uncharacteristically losing his temper and slamming his fist on the desk. “Tell us, good sir!”
“The troops cannot win without their leader.”
“What are you saying?” Sandra replied, disoriented.
“He would have you, Tsar Nicholas, go to the front and take command of the troops yourself.”
“What?!” Tsar Nicholas cried out in shock.
“He says that the army has no chance without you. But with you, with the presence of their glorious leader, they will be inspired to fight like a pack of crazed wolves. For their emperor, for Russia, they will win the war. I’m very sorry, but it’s the only way.”
***
Many factors contributed to the outbreak of World War I.
It was partly because of political, territorial, and economical conflict;
Partly because the Germans were being dicks;
Partly because the French were being cunts;
Partly because there were simply too many human beings on Earth;
<
br /> Partly because massive amounts of people decided to worship no Gods other than Yahweh, drawing the ire of the rest;
But mostly, it was so that Rowen could have a clear, unobstructed shot at Tsarina Sandra. With Tsar Nicholas off playing war, it was like shooting fish in a barrel.
***
“There are rumors that you and I are having an affair,” Sandra said, laying back on her pillow and pulling the sheets over her bare breasts.
“Let them talk,” Rowen replied, clambering out of bed and pouring himself a glass of red wine.
“It’s just adding fuel to the fire. First, they were grumbling about your undue influence over us and now this.”
“Undue?!” Rowen repeated. “Now that hurts. My influence is nothing if not due.”
“Perhaps we’ve been a little too cavalier in letting you handpick the ministerial cabinet.”
“Me ?” Rowen replied, incredulously. “I only advise based on what God instructs.”
“This is true. But the war effort has not improved.”
Rowen drained his wine and crawled back into bed. “Give it time.”
“But the more defeats we suffer, the more ammunition they have against us. And they’re just itching to come after you.”
“That would not be good, my fair Tsarina,” Rowen said, kissing her neck while massaging one of her breasts. “For if anything were to happen to me, I’m afraid the royal family would be wiped from the Earth.”
***
“The Tsar’s ministers have been turned into marionettes,” Purishkevich, a lifetime politician, said. As an assemblyman of the Lower House, he had uttered the exact same line to an agitated crowd of hundreds the day before. Today, he delivered the line to a group of three in Prince Felix’ upstairs study. “Marionettes whose strings are being manipulated by the contorted fingers of Rasputin.”
Felix felt a surge of adrenaline and rage course through his body. Purishkevich left quite the impression. Despite his baby face, prominent widow’s peak, and pointed ears, when it came to politics, he was as knowledgeable as anyone, and he spoke with charisma, passion, and fury. Felix was certain he had invited the right person to get the ball rolling at his secret meeting.
“He has an excessive and undue influence over the royal family,” Purishkevich continued. “And an unpatriotic influence over the courts. He simply must be stopped.”
