Unnamned Series: Pt.1. "Jack"
It was cold. The chill in the place, which hardly referred to Earth in any aspect geographically speaking, was not of any mortal kind either. This chill only came from something few have actually felt, and even fewer fully understood. It could only called a chill because that is the closest sensation, and the comparison pales to the reality. This cold, slowly eating away at all the comfort one could feel in any way, stole away any sense of immortality that most men might feel at the pinnacle of their lives. This was the chill that emanated from the figure before Jack.
The things clothes, dark and red, were classy. The extremely formal appearance was only broken by the face.
Gods. Those eyes.
"You have a choice, Jack. A simple and extremely well organized choice which few are given, and even fewer are ever let in on the great cosmic joke you are a part of."
It always ended there. His eyes scanned the ceiling of his room, and Jack finally felt the presence of whatever that thing was fade from him. It was a pervasive dream, and constant in some ways. He always felt in when he questioned things, always when he wondered why he never heard from anyone he used to know, or why he had the dream. It was cyclical for him. He would fret over it, and he would dream it again. It conjured in his mind all the mortal fear he had of never leaving the place that, to many he knew, was paradise. To him, it was another hell.
The city stood separate from the rest of the kingdoms in the land. The local reign of Sir Gildesh was the only supposed person or persons knowing of the place, because nobody, not even a single villager, had ever heard even a hint of what lay beyond their borders. Gildesh was honest with the people, though they still didn't trust his intentions. At times, he could act the part of the great sovereign prince sent to hail them on high, and set them free from the toil and doom that beset other lands. It had been no small effort for them, however, to see beyond what he had told them, nor did he deny that there were many things he didn't tell them.
They never left. Nobody in the entire village ever went beyond certain borders long established by the reigning lord Gildesh. It would do them poorly to upset him, as they had witnessed his wrath more than once. People had died in horrifying ways to him, slowly falling to the floor, oozing what was left of their soul into the dirt. He fed on it, tasted it, and made them all subservient to him by such public displays of strength and prowess in what everyone in the village was capable of.
After all, every person living there, including Jack himself, held enough magical energy to force their will upon whatever they may. They took it for granted at times, since very seldom a child would be born without such a gift, and no other boons whatsoever. They would quickly learn that they could only do what they were required to do, and that usually meant little more than watching horses, cooking, or manual labor that could not be accomplished with magic, which included very, very little.
But Jack knew that this place was death for him. It was stagnant; a trap for the weak minded fools that lived here, all of different birthright, mark, wealth and skin. Few were literal kin, but all felt a brotherhood in the sense of magical power, and so endured as such. United against the lord Gildesh, they proved to be formidable. Yet he had proven, time and time again, that they could not do much of anything to him. Many times, young boys and bright men stood against him, as they had for the last fifteen generations. Before the end came, they begged for mercy, begged for a release to the torment of slavery as a kind of conduit for the punishment of the next.
Those guilty of treason, after all, were not allowed the kindness of a swift death. They were lucky enough to slaughter, maim, kill, and dismember their friends and family for generations to come, given long life to be a servant for many decades, to be an executioner for nigh a hundred years.
To Jack, there could be no worse fate. To others, they accepted his governing for lack of any other option. He was kind at times, giving more than enough food, and never taxing a cent to the people. By some grand scheme, he managed to keep much of the populace content in ignoring him. Rarely did he even walk among them, or make his presence known. Some children even thought him a ghost, or a God.
Yet no God was quite so mad. No God or immortal being capable of lifetimes of wisdom and understanding could possibly be quite so evil and cruel. No, Jack knew better. Gildesh was the worst kind of being.
Gildesh was a lord, a man, and far more powerful than every man, woman, and child in his city combined.
The things clothes, dark and red, were classy. The extremely formal appearance was only broken by the face.
Gods. Those eyes.
"You have a choice, Jack. A simple and extremely well organized choice which few are given, and even fewer are ever let in on the great cosmic joke you are a part of."
It always ended there. His eyes scanned the ceiling of his room, and Jack finally felt the presence of whatever that thing was fade from him. It was a pervasive dream, and constant in some ways. He always felt in when he questioned things, always when he wondered why he never heard from anyone he used to know, or why he had the dream. It was cyclical for him. He would fret over it, and he would dream it again. It conjured in his mind all the mortal fear he had of never leaving the place that, to many he knew, was paradise. To him, it was another hell.
The city stood separate from the rest of the kingdoms in the land. The local reign of Sir Gildesh was the only supposed person or persons knowing of the place, because nobody, not even a single villager, had ever heard even a hint of what lay beyond their borders. Gildesh was honest with the people, though they still didn't trust his intentions. At times, he could act the part of the great sovereign prince sent to hail them on high, and set them free from the toil and doom that beset other lands. It had been no small effort for them, however, to see beyond what he had told them, nor did he deny that there were many things he didn't tell them.
They never left. Nobody in the entire village ever went beyond certain borders long established by the reigning lord Gildesh. It would do them poorly to upset him, as they had witnessed his wrath more than once. People had died in horrifying ways to him, slowly falling to the floor, oozing what was left of their soul into the dirt. He fed on it, tasted it, and made them all subservient to him by such public displays of strength and prowess in what everyone in the village was capable of.
After all, every person living there, including Jack himself, held enough magical energy to force their will upon whatever they may. They took it for granted at times, since very seldom a child would be born without such a gift, and no other boons whatsoever. They would quickly learn that they could only do what they were required to do, and that usually meant little more than watching horses, cooking, or manual labor that could not be accomplished with magic, which included very, very little.
But Jack knew that this place was death for him. It was stagnant; a trap for the weak minded fools that lived here, all of different birthright, mark, wealth and skin. Few were literal kin, but all felt a brotherhood in the sense of magical power, and so endured as such. United against the lord Gildesh, they proved to be formidable. Yet he had proven, time and time again, that they could not do much of anything to him. Many times, young boys and bright men stood against him, as they had for the last fifteen generations. Before the end came, they begged for mercy, begged for a release to the torment of slavery as a kind of conduit for the punishment of the next.
Those guilty of treason, after all, were not allowed the kindness of a swift death. They were lucky enough to slaughter, maim, kill, and dismember their friends and family for generations to come, given long life to be a servant for many decades, to be an executioner for nigh a hundred years.
To Jack, there could be no worse fate. To others, they accepted his governing for lack of any other option. He was kind at times, giving more than enough food, and never taxing a cent to the people. By some grand scheme, he managed to keep much of the populace content in ignoring him. Rarely did he even walk among them, or make his presence known. Some children even thought him a ghost, or a God.
Yet no God was quite so mad. No God or immortal being capable of lifetimes of wisdom and understanding could possibly be quite so evil and cruel. No, Jack knew better. Gildesh was the worst kind of being.
Gildesh was a lord, a man, and far more powerful than every man, woman, and child in his city combined.