61 lines
2.5 KiB
Plaintext
61 lines
2.5 KiB
Plaintext
On the night before the fall of the Empire, Svyato walked through the war-camp to the Emperor's tent.
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His tent was, of course, splendid in its ornament, but walking through it unsettled Svyato as much as it usually did.
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Recognised by the guards, he entered, and descended what seemed like stairs to the inner sanctum.
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The stairs perhaps unsettled Svyato the most.
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For there was no reason that the inside of a tent should resemble the imperial palace in the capital; perhaps the Emperor missed home today.
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The Emperor Yakob sat on his throne, looking more like a statue than a living yak.
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He wore a ringlet of truesilver, with truesilver threads that wove themselves into his fur, gleaming.
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Svyato stopped and sat in his own chair, and began to open a small pouch, never taking his eyes off the imperial visage.
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For a brief moment, though Svyato did not actually see any change, a great sorrow seemed to fill Yakob's face.
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As suddenly as it occurred, and again with no perceptible movement, the sorrow passed, returning the pensive serenity Yakob usually bore.
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Svyato pulled the dice out of his bag and scattered them across his table.
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Each one came up with nine pips on its surface.
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Another roll, and they again all came up displaying nine.
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Which was worrying, as they were all eight-sided dice.
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―Yakob, what disturbs you?
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Days have passed.
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The people clamour for you.
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―I am confronted with a problem.
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The solution is hidden from insight.
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―And you have not sought my help?
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Yakob, please.
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My role is to advise.
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The Emperor was silent, for long enough that Svyato began to wonder if he should interpret it as dismissal.
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Eventually he responded, voice soft and wise.
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―I surveyed my empire today.
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A small town an hour's walk from the capital, I saw a small child, climbing a pile of rocks, as children do.
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Near the top of the pile, she stepped on a rock that was not steadily balanced.
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She lost her footing, and fell.
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Several rocks had rough edges, and scratched her as she fell.
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She, in tears, ran to her father, who comforted her.
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Svyato waited, but the Emperor did not continue.
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―Yakob, this is not a problem.
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This is a normal event.
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Kids playing, learning.
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Yakob looked at him, and Svyato shuddered at Yakob's eyes, deep and terrible.
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―It is pain.
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Suffering.
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―Minor pain at most.
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―Tell me, dear adviser.
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What amount of pain should I allow my subjects to suffer, if I have the power to stop it?
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Allow them to be killed?
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Maimed?
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A poor ruler I'd be.
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No, I will not draw a line I cannot justify.
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Any compromise is too great for my conscience.
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