the king of nothing 3chap

7/31/2019 The King of Nothing 3chap

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David Rousseau 80, 000

The King of

Nothingby D. Rousseau


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D.Rousseau/TheKingofNothing

North, south, east, west and all directions

in betweenone step. As stubborn as you are

and as afraid of change as you may be, no

man can stand still forever. Eventuallyone

dayyou will take one step, and have no

doubt that it will decide just who you will

become.

~Scriptures of the Abshivar, Mhavasda

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Land of the Burning Sun

YaiSeptou; my homeso long ago. Oft, as I passed

along its golden sands and met its many people, I claimed

to be a man in search of riches that few kings in the world

could provide. Foolish I was called by the dwellers of the

wastesThe desert kings of YaiSeptou have more jewels

than anyone could ever need!

Very arrogant, desert man! the western traders

would exclaim, Our noble lords have armor forged of silver

castles gilded in solid gold!

Denounce your greed, nomad, as there are no riches

but the word of our god, demanded the ideals many

zealots, all of whom claimed their god the one and only

truth-speaker.

Few men across the world understood my plight. It

was not riches of gold, diamonds and possessions I

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desired, but rather, riches that could be passed unto any

and all men I encountered without fear of physical

limitations. I sought enlightenment, I sought knowledge

andmost of allhappiness. Had I settled for gold, my

path would surely have been a simpler, shorter one, but

never did I stray nor lower my eyes when faced with

uncertainty.

Destiny has taken me down a path most strange, and

along it was taught to me the lessons of evil, good and

everything in between that makes a man just who he is.

Never will I take for granted the great things I saw, just as I

will not condemn the troubling trials I was forced to

endure.

My final wish, among the countless Ive both asked for

and been granted, is that I may one day repay the great

many whove aided my quest by passing unto others the

very same things that they had once taught me.

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*

(The Desert of YaiSeptou)

Just like the great many other women whod lost their sons, she cried as

I was pulled away at the tender age of tenlikely, never to see her again. I did

not cry, however. I had seen it happen before, and I was not so arrogant or

ignorant to think myself safe from the same difficult day that had decided the

very fate of those who had been my brothers and my friends. I knew my day

would come, and though I did fear how it would change my life, I made no

move to avoid it.

There will be no more fun and games from herethis is where the rest

of your days are decided With feigned care, the burly desert man ran his

gruff hands across the childs face and pushed back his dark hair, allowing

better view of yet another unimportantunmemorableface. I would tell you

to impress our king, but I am sorry, boy. There is nothing impressive about

you. Now go.

*

(YaiSeptou: Hessheif)

My king?

My king?...

It was not the pounding drums, blaring flutes, dancing women or any

other spectacle that clouded the dour lords mind, but rather, his own

boredom and sorrow. Slunk deep within his throne of ivory and desert jewels,

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King Mahksabir sat with turban-wrapped head slumped lazily against his fist

his eyes, unintentionally locked upon the boy who approached with

uncertainty in his step.

My king, another of your sons has reached the age of manhood. His

fate is in your hands The heralds voice trailed off, though his concerned

stare upon his lord remained, Keep in mind, my king, that youve yet to

choose a successoreventually you will A jewel-encrusted hand rose

without word to silence the herald, andthough seeming as reluctant as a

corpseKing Mahksabir lifted himself upright and leaned forward to further

inspect the boy before him.

Long braids of black and gold hung from the old rulers chin, and

enshrouded in robes of bright desert colors was the entirety of his body.

Amongst all the glorious aspects of the king many called Mahksabiramongst

the many names given to him and deeds claimed done by gypsieshis dull,

lightless eyes betrayed them all and cast unto him the visage of an apathetic

vagabond.

He started with a deep breath, and then an interested rub of his chin, I

have sent a hundred sons and daughters into slaverya hundred more into

the fields of battle. Not a one of them, however, has ever looked into my eyes

whence first we met. You are not so afraidbut is that a wise choice?

With a pain-wrought grunt, Mahksabir rose to his feet and strode

towards the boy with his hand upon the hilt of his gold-encrusted scimitar. A

maneuver few wouldve dreamed the old man capable of sent the swords tip

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diving gracefully into the ground before his unflinching son. Next to itthe

gently-placed crown-esque turban that once covered his ebon-black mane.

Beside yet even that he laid a jewel, a sickle and all manner of bizarre

treasures that would tempt even the most disciplined of men. When finally all

was laid out, the great king stood tall and upright with his many robes

stretching outwards around him like a god ensnared in holy light Choose

whatever one youd like, my son. With it, I will give you your nameand your

life.

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The Consequence of Choice

And so my life was to be decided on a gamblejust

the same as the great many who had come of age in the

Hessheif clan before me. Perhaps my father held equal

opportunity in the highest of regardsor perhaps he was

little more than a madman.

What I chose was not what was laid out before me,

but rather, my father himself, and colder than even the

metal of the sword that protruded from the dirt was he. He

was my father indeed, but he held no love for methis, I

knewI felteven before my decision. I cannot explain

why I chose him amongst all else, though upon every

consideration I think it to be because he loved his

treasures as little as I did.

All before my eyes in that very moment told me that

my choice had been a poor one, and into my hands was

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thrust a sword without so much as a cause to its edge or

even a reason to swing it. It seemed I was not to be the

heir of Mahksabirs throne, nor to ever hold status

amongst the nobles of Hessheif. His bizarre, confused

frown told me this, and little choice did I have save to

accept it

His eyes, however, said something different, as did

the name he gave me; Salkhabirafter his own. Maybe the

opportunity he gave me was different after allor maybe I

myself am just a madman trying to find good where it does

not reside.

*

(The Trail to the Hessheif Badlands)

Deep into the rolling dunes passed the tips of the high sandstone towers

he had been accustomed to seeing through all the days and nights he had

thus far endured in life. Where once the merry sounds of the Hessheif

settlement were what he awoke and fell asleep to, now came only the nearing

sound of yelling men and steel crashing against steelarrows thudding as

they collided with woodanimals roaring as they awaited to test the most

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elite of the barracks warriors. Within the prison-filled wastes of lower

Hessheif, there was no beautyno people. Within the sand-blasted halls of the

Hessheifian barracks, there were only animalssome who were once men,

and some who were never.

From across the wagon, a man with beard short and grey stared deep

into Salkhabirs eyesthe only ones unafraid amongst the many tear-filled

orbs that darted around the shaking, stinking wagon, You must be a son of

MahksabirI am so sorry, boy The man shifted his gaze to the urine-and-

blood stained floor, This life was meant for criminals such as usnot you.

Confusedly, young Salkhabir rose from where he had sat silently for too

long and demanded again the eyes of the only one who cared amongst a great

many, Where are we going? I dont understand

*

(Past - Hessheif: Audience Chamber)

Without care or compassion, King Mahksabir kicked loose the confused

boy from around his leg and angrily ripped his gilded scimitar from the sands

only to then force it into the too-young, too-weak hands of his son. You,

boy, will be remembered as Salkhabir if you can endure the life youve seen fit

to bestow upon yourselfguards!

Like a mad animal, Mahksabir lifted Salkhabir into the air with a single

clutched fist and stared hard into his eyes with an inexplicable angernot in

the boy, but himself. Treasure is nothing, boymaybe you know this, or

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maybe you, by luck, just happened upon the only answer worth lending hope

the only outcome worth living to see! You will suffer just as I did, boy, but if

you survive itand if, unlike myself, you can keep your eyes on the horizon for

just a bit longer! He spat ravenously as he spoke and searched for the right

words with which to express his frenzied self. Nothing! Fight for nothing, my

son, and with your empty hands, feel the treasures of this world that I, in my

weakness, surrendered!

From the hands of the king was torn young Salkhabir by the guards, and

only as he was pulled away did a sparkle of true remorse light the old mans

eyes. Remember, boy! If you can hold it, it is worthless!

*

(The Trail to the Hessheif Badlands)

Theres nothing to understandnot anymore. The grey-bearded man

ran his fingers through young Salkhabirs hair before forcing him to stand

upright by the collar of his shirt. Give me your name, boy.

Salkhabir.

The man paused for but a moment, accidentally letting drop his feigned

visage of forcefulness, You must be something special to have earned his

name he muttered under his breath. I am Shahid, and though I am no

good man, I will watch over you, son of Mahksabir. Not because I lie of who I

am, but because maybe, in you, I will find some thread of redemption worth

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clinging to. But...this means nothing to youyours is the present. I hope you

are ready for a very troubled lifeand it beginsnow.

With the completion of Shahids cryptic words, a thunderous boom

forced Salkhabir from the hands of aged desert man and all around him burst

open the doors of the wagon that had, for uncountable hours, protected him

from the scorching desert sun. Hands rough and calloused reached in through

the beaming light and tore the wagons captives from their resting places

before tossing them to the sand and stomping them into submission.

Welcome! Salkhabir heard a loud, distant voice exclaim, though

through the blood and sand that blurred his vision, he could see naught.

Welcome to the barracks of the Hessheifian armyor what many like to call,

the badlands!

As the loud man began to speak, all else around themeven the

animals that had rattled their cages only moments agobecame quiet. Be

you an old man Salkhabirs eyes widened as he realized that the footsteps

of someone he knew not neared where he lied face-down, or be you a

young boy, you are now a soldier under rule of King Mahksabir, and you will all

be treated equallyand by equally, I mean as the lecherous, traitorous

criminals you were. Oh yes, I know well that not a one of you is here

voluntarily

The tormenting pressure that had held Salkhabir in place subsided all at

once, and though his body began to recover from pain and fear, a new worry

grew like fire in his stomacha fire of realization that he would never, ever

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leave this place. Atop the sandstone walls that surrounded he and the many

men hed traveled with stood desert-wrapped soldiers with bows and swords

readybut eyes even more frightening than even the most razor-sharp

weapons. Even worse than the rest, however, stood a man with beard long

and grey below eyes heavily shadowed and empty of empathy. A great, spired

turban sat tenaciously upon his brow with many a scimitar hanging

threateningly from his waist. Anything any of you has ever had is now

nothing, and in exchange, I give you these!

At the feet of each soldier was tossed a scimitar notched and bloodied

hardly cared for, but almost as welcoming as water to their never-to-be-

quenched thirst. Only the blade granted to Salkhabir was different; golden and

filled with dents where once resided jewels, and with its glimmer in the light of

the sun came the immediate attention of the terrifying man whod spoken to

them all.

From now on, with these, you will earn everything and anything you

want. You will take what you need, or you will dieby man, animal, self,

elementI care not, and if you are here, listening to me, certainly fate itself

cares not! The turbaned man bent down, snatched up the golden weapon and

thrust it hard into Salkhabirs hands before a single other had yet retrieved

their own. Here, you are what you holdso hold it tight, or fall into sand and

dust with the rest. Now, let us begin! Let me show you what the abyss of our

afterlives is sure to feel like!

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Man is a Sword

Shahidthe name alone could turn tail of the deserts

greatest bounty hunters. The few who persistedmostly

men whod come from across the sea in search of easy

fortunewere never seen again. Across the desert were

known several swordsmen who had stood nearly

undefeatable since the first battle theyd ever

encountered, but among them all shone a select few even

more ferocious than the rest. The lions of the wasteland

many called them, and fate just happened that I would

come upon two that day; Shahid the prisoner, and

Mechfust the Hessheifite, our trainer.

I am almost certain that Shahid could have escaped

that compound when not under the watch of Mechfust, but

never did he tryand I fear such a truth was the fault of

mine. As bad a man as he may have been, and as many

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lives as he may have taken, he was true to his word

always.

*

(The Badlands: Hessheifian Barracks)

After the first day, there were no guards beyond the terrifying turbaned

man and the small handful that ever-awaited his beckon. None kept watch

over him, and none save he kept watch over the score of new initiates. Side-

by-side, the prisoners stood between scorched earth and infernal sun

awaiting the new life they knew naught about but feared with every inch of

their being.

I pray you rested well within your cells last night, for today and every

day that follows will be torture like youve never before feltand just when

you think you can endure it without shedding a tear or drop of blood, I will

personally beat you back into the burning earth with every ounce of malice I

contain. The turbaned man stared into each and every hateful eye as he

passed before the desert-wrought unit, though his own returned no feeling of

any sortno anger, no sorrow, no life. Some of you may already know who I

am, but for those of you who do not, I am Mechfust, and if a single one of you

sees fit to try and take your freedom from me right now, you are more than

welcome to try. Pass me, and those who watch the gates will not try to stop

youI guarantee.

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In one passing moment, a man saw a chance to gamble for his freedom

and in that very moment, the same man lost everything hed bet as the

turbaned nightmare drew his scimitars and, in a whirlwind of sand and flashing

metal, remorselessly shredded the defiant prisoner. His many robes flapped

open like the wings of a desert beast as he leapt upon his enemy, and beneath

it glimmered his never-touched armor of brass scales and chains. When all

was done, but one man stood where once were twoand his look remained

unchanged, willing to twice demonstrate his offer.

Theres always at least one... Mechfust smiled like a meal-pleased

monstrosity as he sheathed his weapons and again hid his arms within his

robes. Are there any more takers, or may we begin?

There was silence.

Very well, then. You, and youthere, he began as he slowly strode

from the tip of the row and made his way downwards, sending each pair of

men into their own box-marked arena as he went.

Stand with me, boy,whispered Shahid as he pulled the nervous child

close to his side and forced his sword arm to be strong.

Only when finally Mechfust stood before Shahid and Salkhabir did the

boy lift his gaze from the gore pile that was once a person not so different

from his friend of himself, and mistakenly, raise it to meet those of the man

that embodied his fear. As though he were aware of their intentions, the

turbaned man shifted his empty eyes towards those of Shahid, and then back

down towards Salkhabirs. There, he ordered with a bony, outstretched claw,

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knowing he need not even pair them aloud. Those who stand out are oft

expected to do great things. I would ask that you do not disappoint mebut

youre still here, Shahidwhy?

The desert man said nothing.

Mechfust only chortled at his long-time nemesis silence, Few sons of

Mahksabir have ever come close to leaving this placeand they were all

greater than this one. Let us see just how long you can keep him safe. Lets

see how long it is before you grow bored of him.

Leaving a trail of cold awkwardness in his wake, the turbaned man

turned about and continued down the row without so much as another glance

at the unlikely duo. Do not worry, boy. I will teach you what you need be

taughtI will show you how a desert man learns to walk.

*

Desert Manthere were only two situations in which

this term was used aloud. The first was a name given to us

by foreign traders. To them, anyone and everyone upon

this continent was a desert man. The other use, however,

was an insult used by YaiSeptians to describe those who

belonged to no clan or settlement. Desert men were

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raiders, and to walk like a desert man was to have no

homeno friend but your swordno goal but survival.

When I was young, I imagined that I could be many

things; a musician, an artist, a poet

but never a desert man.

*

(Hessheifian Barracks: Battlegrounds)

A man is not what he holds, boy, but the decision behind whyhe holds

what he does. Does a man hold a sword because he has no choice, or does he

wield it in the name of something greater than himself? Does a pauper hold

nothing because he has nothing to hold, or does he realize that the emptiest

of hands are those filled with falsities? Shahid readied his battered scimitar

and sloped into an eastern battle stance as he stared downwards at the

obstacle he knew not how to overcome. Sometimes, the reason as to why we

hold what we do is not our own. Here and nowthis is the case. Not for long,

though, boy. You will learn what fate has put you here to learn, and when the

time for change arrives, I will see to it that you and it are met. Nowweapon

up, boy. Hold it just as I do.

Confusedly, Salkhabir lifted his heavy golden scimitar and looked

nervously towards the only tranquil man amongst the mass of barbarians that

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bathed each other in blood and sparks. I Salkhabir began and, for the first

time, I dont want to do this

Many times through life, youll find your own desires irrelevantnow hit

me! barked Shahid with a deep anger in his eyes that forced the boy back

uneasily.

No! Without mercy, Shahid slammed down his sword upon Salkhabirs

and sent the child to the ground with a thud. No! There will never be anything

of worth behind you! Go forwardthrough your troubles, or you will never go

anywhere! Another strike of the desert mans sword whipped the golden edge

from the frightened boys hand and sent him crawling backwards in fearat

least, until colliding with something far worse.

Like a monolith of fear, Mechfust towered over the conquered with a

smirk, Is it simply too much for your conscience? Or perhaps, youre

somehow seeing profit in this He stared down at the boy who refused his

sword and, by his neck, lifted him to his feet. If it is not swordplay you desire

No! spat Shahid, though the realization that his objection only made

the turbaned man gleeful returned him to silence

If it is not swordplay you desire, son of Mahksabir, then perhaps

youre better suited to aid me in the daily tour of my arena. Guardsprepare

my chariot he smiled and cast a glance back towards Salkhabir as he began

towards his bustling watchmen, But not the horses.

*

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(Hessheifian Barracks: Arena)

Faster! Faster! Between every word was the crack of a whip, and upon

every crack came the cries of the men who pulled the large golden chariot of

Mechfust. You will get strong, you will get faster, or you will be executed! We

need no men with backs too weak to carry their destinieswe need soldiers!

Champions!

Stay strong, Salkhabir,Shahid growled through gritted teeth upon

noticing the boys agony-wrought face. If a mans only struggle in life was to

pull a golden chariotrghthings would be much simplerkeep going! This is

the easy part! Enjoy it!

Into the dust fell many of the men who could no longer stand the burden

but not Salkhabirnot Shahid. Faster! FASTER! roared Mechfust, and in

compliancethey pulled, and pulled and pulled. Scorching light fell away to

freezing darkness, yet still they ran. A hundred times too many they felt the

bodies of their fallen brethren beneath their feet as they ran their circular

track time and time again. A hundred times for every cycle, Salkhabir

wondered where his old lifehis old freedomhad gone, and what awful thing

he had done to deserve the new one.

Enough! ordered Mechfust, bringing the chariot to a complete stop.

Ive grown tired. Return to your cells, and in the morning, we will begin

again The turbaned man turned about with a sneer upon his lips, and do

not dallytoo many of your brothers died today, and thus the arena must be

cleaned. A nonchalant wave of his arm was all the warning the terrible

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warden gifted his prisoners as he vanished into the barracks, Guards, release

the snatchers!

At the very sound of the terrible things Mechfust called for, a ferocious

blow struck Salkhabir in the back and, like a bolt of lightning, tossed him

towards the prison doorway. Run! yelled Shahid, Get behind those bars

now!

Many men followed in the trail of Salkhabir and Shahid, stumbling and

limping in torment as they went, though the few who did not let loose wails

and shrieks few thought humans capable of emitting. From behind the bars of

his cell, Salkhabir watched with moon-wide eyes as the loping forms moved

about the darkness with crippled, crumpled men within their long, gangly

arms. Snatchers Shahid cut in with his hand floating briefly above the

boys shoulder before denying comfort, Mechfusts arena cleaners. They are

what most men would call monsters, and I do not know from where they came,

but we will see them many times more.

Shahid watched as the child slumped into the corner of the room and

held his head between his hands, and though his heartfor the first time in a

very, very long timedid ache in sympathy, he refused to let it show. One

day down, boy. This will not go on forevernothing will, and it will only outlast

you if you allow it. The prisoners whove been sent here and whoagainst all

oddssurvive, are to be shipped upland to Hessheif as one of the greatest

warring forces upon YaiSeptou.

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Wearily, Salkhabir lowered his head to the filthy ground and closed his

eyes without so much as another whisper. Remember, boythats where

your father is. To see him again, all you must do is survive, and when you

discard all save that fact, the act itself is far easier. Day after day, night after

nightsurvive. In the filth across from Salkhabir lied Shahid with the look of a

tired, confined animal upon his face. Anyways, there is no need to worry

about a future youve not yet earned. Tomorrow is the reward for completing

today, but youll never really win anything by surviving. No, boy. Surviving is

only the first step.

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the king of nothing 3chap

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