The king stood before his throne, looking out at the guards and nobles before him. "There is only one way I'll allow murder of any sort," he said. "By sacrificial execution.” Murmurs arose from the crowd. Latrus watched for a moment. He had expected this. They weren’t murmuring from shock or surprise – they were more likely scorning him for being the same as any other man.
“As some of you know,” he went on, holding his head high. “These planets were created by the Lords. They dance around us like they're higher than gods," he spat. "When they're only human!" His eyes darted around, boring into his people, intimidating them, reminding them that he had authority. Reminding them that he was still the son of Alucin Latrus. "These Lords are false idols,” he said. “It is said they created these planets, right? Well, they also condone murder. Murder is no sin. But I've outlawed it, because it only brings destruction. My father may have built this kingdom from killing. But the former king was a rapist and a fool. My kingdom is pure! This world needs new rulers," Latrus said. This hit the crowd. The bodies shifted, weighing their odds in their boots.
"I'm not saying I should be taking the place of the Lords,” Latrus said. “But, I dare to say, I will begin a rebellion!" He threw his fist in the air, raising a cheer from some followers. "There is a god I serve- out of the many. He dines upon roses and insects. And he drinks what he calls Scopha. The life essence of the races. Or according to him it is. After much research, I found out that Scopha is really a small packet of magnius within the body, found at the back of the neck. And it only comes into existence if you've come into contact with this god. His name is Staara. He was once the God of Sin and Depression. However, that was long ago. He died once, but my father brought him back into existence.” The mention of his father brought unsettling looks from the crowd, but Latrus passed them by.
“If I were to execute a man who's murdered in the name of Staara Veigh' Extrauta, then he will drink from a cup of their flesh, crafted with platinum. In it will be their Scopha. He will gain the power to rid us of the Lords. And this world we live in will be that much nearer to purity. Lucrys is one such soul that has touched Staara. He did so by coming in contact with a plant in a different plane of existence. His death is justified. He has no one. He is alone in life. His death shall come quickly.” Latrus broke his stern gaze for a moment and steeled himself, returning the stare with more fervor. “He has three days,” he said sternly. “The poor soul would probably wish it came quicker.” He analyzed the crowd, silently daring them to argue. “If you guard his cell, then see me tonight so that we may prepare him for Staara."
◊ ◊ ◊
Skaarin shook his head. "Latrus," he said. "You really delve into things rashly, and pay far too much attention to your emotions in your decisions." An idea sparked in his mind, and he grinned. "It really reminds me of how I can be," he finished.
Latrus smiled at him. “I thought I was in for a famous scolding when you began,” he laughed. “Here’s old Skaarin, teaching a young king about the world as though he knows all the secrets it holds.”
Skaarin shrugged. “Perhaps I do,” he said. “Anyway, I was close to receiving Lucrys’ reasoning behind the murder a year ago. I know, I know, it’s surprising he’d give it away after so long. But, really, he’s almost been sane lately.”
“He’s out of time, Skaarin.” Latrus said. His voice was soft. “Staara needs more Scopha.”
“Very well,” Skaarin said. He turned away from Latrus and clicked his shoe. “Make sure the strike is clean this time.”
Latrus slowed his pace for a moment only Skaarin could notice before continuing on.
“You spent a lot of time with him out of kindness, Skaarin.” Latrus offered a faint smile. “He was just a murderer. Too insane to understand what he did, or why he did it. I know it’s sad, but he was just a killer, Skaarin.”
“Yeah,” Skaarin said. “I just really wanted to know what he was thinking.” Skaarin left, tapping his legs to the calm beat in his head. “I think I’m really going to miss you, friend.” He shot a final glance at the stained glass portrait and smiled. To think of what Lucrys had imagined when he saw the picture would be insanity. He guessed that Amillara must’ve been far prettier than even the woman in the portrait. The only similarity had to have been the fear in their eyes.
◊ ◊ ◊
"I get one more session with him," Skaarin said. "I'm his psychiatrist, after all. And he told me he'd tell me a story last time, but that we'd need a full length session to hear it in its entirety. I postponed it," he stuttered. “I’d like you all gone for a few hours.”
One guard dropped his hand. “Excuse me, Master Skaarin, but the young king has already ordered we see him tonight. And –”
“I know already,” Skaarin interrupted. “You have plenty of night left before dawn. Get on out of my domain. Temorra will tell Latrus that I’m busy.”
The man looked at the guard beside him and sighed.
"Very well,” Temorra said through his customary piece of bent metal. He pulled it from his mouth and spit on the ground, fully accustomed to the movement. "One more session,” he said. “But that's all I can buy you time for. We'll send notice to the king."
Skaarin looked up and nodded. His eyes gleamed and his lips lightly played on a wry smile. "Thanks," he smirked. The guards turned away, Temorra giving him a gleaming metal grin before falling in step beside the other.
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