Rules of Man: Conqueror

WORD ART by Ethan Steelman, Upper School

I

Victory at last! The first of the battles was the hardest. My soldiers and I have squashed the barbarians in every battle since, with little challenge. I go to discuss their surrender on the morrow. These men have turned me into quite a conqueror, Magnus! Let me tell you, it’s every bit as glorious as you think. By the way, the Marians, as I have come to know them, aren’t nearly as barbaric as everyone back home seems to think. Then again, we aren’t exactly known for our fairness, are we my brother? I don’t want to ramble on for too long, so I’ll finish this letter now. You can expect me and my men home within the month! I’ll see you then, Magnus.

Your loving brother,

Lucius

II

Lucius stood in a tent, elevated on a hill in a forest just beyond the largest mountain range he had ever laid eyes upon. The blue hue of the woolen walls reminded him of the sapphire-empowered streets and buildings of the capital back home. In the past, he dreamed of adventure and the thrill of combat. Now he had them, and he could only dream of the glory and fame he would receive once he returned home. It also reminded him of the curious letter he had found years ago at that first battle. Rage overtook him as he thought of the betrayal his father had done to him.

“Commander, tell me why you look so upset. We are on the cusp of triumph! And to be a conqueror at this age, you should be overjoyed!”

“I appreciate that, Maximus. What brings you here?.”

“Oh, yes. The Marian Queen has agreed to surrender and wishes to discuss terms. She requests your presence within the fortnight.”

“What is this ‘queen’s’ name, Maximus?”

“It does not say, Commander.”

“Okay, thank you for informing me. Please send for Brutus.”

Maximus nodded his head in affirmation and turned to leave as Lucius turned back towards the table. As he waited for Brutus, Lucius pulled out the letter he had found three years prior and stared at it blankly. Lucius still didn’t understand the reason behind his father’s betrayal. The same thoughts had raced back and forth through his mind over and over for the past three years, “What did he have to gain? What reason could his father have for this?” Lucius’s eyes were so fixated on the letter that Brutus had been standing in Lucius’s tent for a long moment before Lucius realized he was there. He tried to find a place to hide the letter but couldn’t.

“What do you intend to do about that, Lucius?”

“I intend to wipe ‘His Treacherousness’ from the face of the Earth,” Lucius growled.

Brutus nodded as if he had assumed as much already, but his expression showed disapproval and caution.

“Why do you wear such a look, Brutus?”

“Do you want the truth, or do you want that which I know you want?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes. I’ll give you the truth. I think it is a bad idea.”

Lucius paused in contemplation for a few seconds. His elbows rested against a table while he rocked back and forth angrily.

“You’re right, there is a difference.”

Suddenly, he stood up and faced Brutus. There was anger in his voice.

“You know he has to die, don’t you? Every second I spend out here, fighting a war already won is a second that my brother’s life is at stake. Just because the snake is out of the grass does not mean that it is no longer a threat!”

“And would you say that grabbing the snake by the throat is a good idea, that you will not still be bit? The emperor is not stupid, it will not be as easy as you think!”

“I don’t expect it to be easy, but I know it is necessary!”

Brutus began to realize that Lucius’s mind was made up. He calmed himself before speaking again.

“Remember, you do not have to listen to my advice. If you wish to act against your father, I will help in any way possible. But first, you have to negotiate the Marians’ surrender. Keep a clear head, my boy.”

Brutus began to walk away as Lucius stood silent, turning his head to the floor. He did not say anything as his friend left.

III

It was a cool summer morning. The mountains were covered in dew, and the sun rose gracefully as Lucius approached the Marian camp. People stared as he strutted through their town triumphantly. It was certainly not the Sapphire Coast, but it was certainly something. A child’s ball rolled out into the street in front of Lucius, and he saw the kid’s mother grab him and hold him back in fear. Lucius knelt, picked up the ball, and offered it back to the boy. With a look of confusion and caution, the mother slowly released her son, who ran to grab the ball. Lucius noticed a significant lack of fathers and husbands in the city. He continued walking through the town until his guide led him to a building just like any other. Lucius was confused.

“Are you sure this is it?”

The tour guide nodded. Lucius readied himself, and his most trusted few entered confidently.

“Sit.”

Before Lucius stood a woman, presumably the Queen. He was planning to sit, but that command only served to change his mind. He stood in stubborn defiance.

“Have it your way.”

“I assume you are the queen, yes?”

“Queen is a rather hostile word, but yes, I suppose so.”

Without hesitation or acknowledgment, Lucius blurted out his demands.

“You will cease all hostilities in the North. You will gift us half of your grain supply as reparations. You will profess your deepest apologies to my soldiers and myself here and now. Lastly, you will never challenge the empire again.”

There was quite a long pause after that. Finally, the Queen, disrespected and annoyed, replied.

“Why should I do that rather than, say, kill you where you stand?”

“I have twelve legions of men waiting just outside the walls of your city. If I do not return within the hour, they attack.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Are you willing to risk it?”

Lucius stared coldly into her eyes for a long moment to ‘prove’ he wasn’t bluffing.

“No… Please sit.”

Lucius finally sat.

“Should I repeat my terms?”

“No, I heard you the first time.”

“Good. Do you agree to them?”

The woman stared into space for a moment and then looked toward the ground.

“I suppose I don’t have a choice.”

“You would be correct.”

She rushed through the apology, slurring the words and avoiding eye contact as she went.

“My deepest apologies for the harm and injury I have caused to you and your soldiers. You and they are fine men and are worthy of only the highest praise.”

“That will suffice. I expect you can handle the rest without my presence. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Lucius stood and turned to leave.

The queen stood and beckoned at him.

“What is your name, boy?”

Triumphantly, Lucius proclaimed himself:

“Lucius, the Conqueror.”

Lucius could see that Brutus cracked a proud smile at that remark.

IV

Several days ago, Claudius received the letter. His son was a conqueror, something greater than himself. The people loved “Lucius the Conqueror” more than they had ever loved him. He scribbled his feelings down in his diary, as he always did in times of stress. “One part proud, one part jealous, fifty parts resentful,” he wrote. He sent his son into the world an anxious, unproven boy, fully expecting him to fail. Instead, his son conquered a nation. Nevertheless, he had to be or feel or look happy for his son in front of the people. Lucius the Conqueror was due to come triumphantly bouncing through the city gates any moment now. Magnus stepped out from behind his father, a tall young man.

“Hello, my boy.”

“Hello, father.”

“Are you excited?”

“Quite.”

Claudius chuckled his usual, boarish laughter.

“You certainly don’t seem it!”

“My apologies.”

Claudius could tell something was afoot in his younger son’s mind.

“Speak freely, Magnus. I’ll take no offense.”

Magnus sprung into speech as if he was only waiting for Claudius to give him the opportunity. He was angry, sad, confused, and depressed all at once. It was quite a show, but Claudius felt the pain in his voice.

“He’s been gone for three years, winning bouts, claiming land, showering himself in glory, and he hasn’t written me once. Has he forgotten about us? Does he even care anymore?”

“I’m sure he cares and I’m sure he has tried to contact us.”

Claudius was more than sure, he was certain. All of those letters he had written in his best impression of Magnus’s hand lay quite softly on his mind. Presumably, Lucius received them, but it mattered not. Lucius was not the son he had aligned himself with. Lucius’ letters, however, rested scattered among the winds, themselves turned to ash and ember.

“If he cared he would have at least contacted us.”

“He does care, my son. Perhaps he did write and the letters were lost, or perhaps he was simply too busy.”

“It matters not to me.”

Magnus walked away angrily, trying his best to keep his composure. Presumably, he was going to greet his brother at the gates. Claudius’s plan was coming together nicely. He could not help but crack a smile at the realization.

Doo-do-do-doo!

And just like that, Lucius was home. The crowds roared at the sight of him. Lucius stood tall and strong atop a glorious chariot of gold and silver. He smiled and waved at the crowd with the charisma of a jester and the nobility of a king. It looked as if Lucius had finally found his natural habitat. He was untouchable. The parade continued into the town square, itself adorned with gold and silver. It was the middle of winter, yet never had there been a brighter day on the Sapphire Coast.

Once Lucius and his ensemble reached the town square, he bid the chariot stop and dismounted. He lept down to the ground and roared a glorious cry of his own. At this, the crowds swooned and hollered. He walked around, ignoring his guard’s warnings, greeting his people. Women and children broke past the barriers and embraced him. Lucius was happy to return the embrace. Now that Claudius could see him more clearly, his discontent quickly soured into anger as he saw his son. Lucius was wrapped in glorious, golden, shining jewelry, the finest linen clothing Claudius had ever seen, wreaths and flowers crept their way up the livery on his tunic, but atop his head sat the worst item of all, a crown. At this very moment, Lucius, not Claudius, was the people’s emperor.

Determined not to be forgotten so soon, Claudius rushed down to greet his son before he escaped the public eye. As he exited the palace and entered the courtyard, he saw Lucius, still greeting and hugging his loyal subjects. Claudius opened his arms wide and spoke with a welcoming voice.

“Welcome home, my son!”

Lucius turned to his father, unenthusiastically.

“Why, hello father.”

Lucius bowed slightly and turned back to the people, undisturbed and uncaring.

“That was slightly embarrassing,” Claudius thought.

Nevertheless, Claudius was sure he would have plenty of time to show the people his and his son’s loving relationship. Then, Lucius spoke again.

“Well, my good friends, I’m really quite exhausted, so I must be going now. I appreciate all of you!”

Perhaps he wouldn’t have as much time as he initially thought. The crowd roared again as he walked away. Lucius gave his father a soulless smile as he brushed shoulders with him. Claudius turned to watch Lucius as he strode back towards the palace, still waving at the crowd. Well, he couldn’t simply leave now, so Claudius stayed and engaged with the people.

Lucius walked up the palace stairs, which was as exhausting as he remembered. Though, to be fair, it felt good to be exhausted by something other than men trying to kill you. Lucius had one thing left to do before he finally rested, go see his brother. However, there was just one small problem: Where was he? Lucius checked his room, the training pits, the beach, and everywhere he could think to find Magnus. Lucius shouted his name aloud for all, except Magnus apparently, to hear. Confused and hurt, Lucius crept up to his father’s chambers. Father never allowed Lucius or Magnus in his chambers unless specifically summoned. Though, to Lucius’ surprise, there sat Magnus. Upon Claudius's sapphire-crested golden throne of a chair that no one besides his sons ever saw, Magnus sat casually. Claudius insisted that it was not a throne, but it was, and yet Magnus was the one sitting on it. Lucius was confused but no less excited to see his brother.

“I’ve been looking for you, Magnus.”

“I know. I could hear you.”

Magnus was irreverent, angry, disgusted, or some other unpleasant emotion.

“And yet you didn’t come to greet me. Is something wrong?”

“Yes, many things are wrong.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, just the usual.”

Lucius stared confused for a while.

“If you have something you want to say to me, say it.”

“You really don’t know?”

“No, I don’t.”

“That’s rich.”

Magnus stood up angrily and walked out of the room, still without explaining.

Lucius turned to follow when Magnus shouted back at him.

“Don’t follow me.”

“Uh… Okay.”

What that whole encounter was about, Lucius really had no idea. And if Magnus didn’t want to tell him, Lucius would just have to figure it out for himself. Lucius walked out of the room and tripped as he walked down the singular step out of the room. It had been so long that he had forgotten it was there. As he picked himself up, he saw the folded letter of instruction he had discovered on the battlefield three years ago. It had fallen out of his pocket as he fell, a simple accident, but it reminded him that despite his newfound fame and glory, he was still in danger. Magnus could be too.

Could that be why Magnus is so upset? No, certainly not, Magnus doesn’t know about the letter… Certainly, if father wanted to kill Magnus he could have by now. After all, he owns the city. No, no, no… I can’t take that risk. If he’s willing to kill one son, he’ll be willing to kill the other. Magnus is in danger as long as our father lives. Regardless of how he feels about me right now, I still need to protect my brother…

Lucius rushed down the stairs and out to the courtyard, in search of the man he knew he needed for this.

V

How could he be so ignorant, so bashful, so… so… cruel??? He doesn’t contact his own brother, or father even, for three whole years and he comes home and just--nothing? I can’t believe him. “Is there something wrong?” Yes, of course, there is, you imbecile! If this is what fame does to a person, I’m better off becoming a farmer. My good, kind, loving brother Lucius went away, and in his stead has returned “Lucius the Conqueror.” All of that time that I spent worrying about him, wondering if he was even alive, was wasted. He didn’t and still doesn’t care.

Magnus had been writing his feelings down in his journal for over a year, and today’s passage was just one of many about his uncaring brother. Writing his thoughts down helped him to control his impulses and think clearly, as well as to relieve himself of negative emotions. His father had recommended it to him, just as he had for Lucius, but Lucius never took to it. The writing usually helped, but today it did little to calm Magnus. When he tried to access his mind, he saw only fog and smoke. To further clear his mind, Magnus decided to take a walk.

As Magnus left his room and began the long trek out of the palace and into the courtyard. He overheard Lucius and Brutus talking in Lucius’ quarters as he walked past. They weren’t being loud enough for Magnus to hear, not that he cared to hear, given his current feelings about his brother. He simply kept walking. The point of this walk was to find peace, not more trouble.

“You must decide what is more important: your family, or revenge, Lucius!”

Though… perhaps a little bit of trouble wouldn’t hurt anybody. Magnus crept up to the closed door and placed his ear on it.

“What do you mean, I have to choose? Are they not the same thing?”

“No, they are absolutely NOT the same thing!”

“If I do nothing, Magnus will still be in danger!”

What? How am I in danger? I should… No.

Magnus almost opened the door but decided to listen further instead.

“I’m not saying do nothing, I’m saying that you need to do the right thing!”

“Which is?”

“Choose your brother! Talk to him, and figure out what is wrong! Your quest for revenge can wait until then. That’s my opinion, and you’ll hear no more from me.”

Magnus heard Brutus stand up and begin walking toward the door. He quickly jolted around the corner, hoping that Brutus went the other way. Brutus opened the door with such force it rebounded off the wall. He didn’t bother to close it as he left. Thankfully, he went down the opposing side of the hallway, so Magnus was able to split outside undetected. Magnus continued his walk, as he had even more to think about now. It was nice to know that his older brother did, in fact, still care for him, though it was a double-edged sword, as now Magnus had to deal with the unsettling knowledge that he was in danger, for some reason. Magnus walked around outside for a short while to avoid suspicion, expecting to see Lucius, but returning to an empty room.

VI

It was now the third night of Lucius’s victory parade. The parties raged on outside, loud enough to hear through the thick palace walls. Claudius was jolted awake by a sudden crashing sound. He looked up to see that his chamber door had been broken down. The torchlight from outside came surging in, blinding him. Dozens of men walked in, dressed in black cloaks. They surrounded the bed, knives held to Claudius’ throat. Panic was not a feeling the Emperor of the Sapphire Coast was used to, and it paralyzed him. He could hardly even remember how to breathe. Though, in the midst of the chaos, two of the men’s hoods fell from upon their heads. Claudius recognized them: his own Imperial Guards. Suddenly, a voice spoke from outside the room.

“Not so fast, gentlemen.”

Claudius recognized that voice. It was confident, cocky, arrogant even, but humorous and charming as well. It couldn’t be…

“Hello, father,” chuckled Lucius as he waltzed into the room, arms held out wide. He was the only man not dressed in a cloak nor was he wielding a dagger himself. He couldn’t stop laughing, as if he suddenly found murder funny. Claudius tried to speak, but he was still paralyzed.

“You don’t look well right now, father.”

“W-w-what are you d-doing, Lucius?”

Lucius lost his humorous disposition in an instant, like the blink of an eye.

“The same thing you tried to do to me.”

“What are y-you talking ab-b-about?”

“You tried to have me killed, father. Or, do you not remember? Certainly you do…”

“I did no such thing!”

“Well, of course you’d deny it now. There’s thirteen knives being held at your throat. You probably think that’s what I wanted to hear, don’t you?”

Claudius gulped and stared his son directly in the eyes. Lucius held eye contact fearlessly and without remorse. He had not even a quick glance away for his dear old father. It was at that moment that Claudius realized Lucius's mind was already made up. Oddly, Claudius lost his fear. It was as if knowing that he was doomed relieved him of the paralysis that strangled his words and shorted his thinking. He spoke solemnly, but defiantly.

“Do it, then. Kill me.”

“I want a confession. Say it was you. Say you did it. Your vicious hand wrote that note. Say it!”

Claudius growled what he expected to be his final words, defiantly and angrily, determined to hold onto any morsel of dignity he could.

“You will get no confession from me.”

Lucius was angry, disappointed, and subverted. He turned his back as he threw his hand up, presumably the signal to commit the crime. Claudius straightened his posture as much as he could without impaling himself on one of many knives and shouted at Lucius.

“Don’t you even have the courage to watch? I raised you better than this!”

Lucius turned to face his father, staring him dead in the eyes and dropped his hand. The men surrounding the bed began to stab Claudius over and over and over and over. Claudius died quickly, but painfully.

VII

The fourth day of a triumph was usually the peak of the celebrations. Yet, today, the people mourned. Word traveled quickly of their Emperor’s killing. And with how brutally the crime was committed, sympathy fluttered in from every corner. Now, thousands of people were gathered in front of the courtyard, eager to hear or see something, anything, to relieve their grief. The grand palace door opened slowly, revealing Lucius and Magnus, walking side by side, heads down. Magnus had tears flowing in his eyes, while Lucius held his composure. Lucius had his arm around Magnus’ left shoulder, as if shielding him from the weight of the world. Lucius and Magnus continued walking up. Lucius stepped the furthest, ready to address his people. He spoke loudly, angrily, and solemnly.

“As you all know by now, our father, the Emperor, is dead.”

Lucius paused. The crowd was silent. It would have been a remarkably wondrous sight if it weren’t for the less-than-ideal circumstances.

“I also know that you all want answers.”

Another pause.

“He died in his sleep of stab wounds.”

The Imperial Guards that lined the palace walls looked shocked to hear that, but no one in the crowd seemed to notice. They were too focused on Lucius.

“Sixty-eight in total. No man should die like that.”

Yet another pause.

“Despite his faults, the Emperor was a good man. He served the Empire faithfully for forty years. I can only hope to be as virtuous as him in my future.”

Lucius broke into tears.

“And yet, some people thought that wasn’t good enough, that he deserved to die. These men have left a young man of only fourteen without a father, have left many without their loyal friend, and have left a nation without an Emperor.”

Lucius stopped the tears in an instant and grew an angry grimace across his face.

“The men who did… this… must be punished, and the only punishment for a crime of this nature… is death.”

Just then, thirteen of Lucius’s loyal soldiers stepped forward, once concealed by the crowd, and slaughtered the Imperial Guards. One guard, expecting something of this nature, fought off the soldier, killing him. He rushed towards Lucius, who stood unfazed. Lucius dodged the first slash and wrangled the man’s sword out of his hand. With one swift strike, the man fell to the floor. Lucius turned back towards the crowd, his face and clothes now covered in blood.

The crowd roared in applause.