Being a hostage king still seemed to have some value it seemed.

I hadn't seen nor heard from the Emperor since the Long Night but I was still given a certificate to verify living in the lower tower. With it I was allowed free access to the lower levels and the city, though I did not leave it to avoid stirring up problems, and holding it warranted privileges of being able to buy from shops while putting the expense on the government, a necessary thing when one has neither career nor allowance.

"I'll take the strongest thing you have." I stepped up to a bar and took a seat away from everybody. The owner spared me a glance before turning to his bottles and pulled out a horn to pour it in. "Just give me the whole bottle."

"You came in humming. One of those days?" The barkeep asked. He was a kind ol' Ne-Blood, with a good memory for regulars and perceptive of people. Came with the territory I presume.

"You could say that."

From in sight of the bar and the wooden seats was an open window. Right across the streetway was the party and the base floor of the tower. This shop was close enough to be in its shadow but far enough away for rain to hit it. I sent an annoyed eye towards the mass of people in the thralls of their celebration and noise. I heard him place the bottle in front of me, so I reached out for it, but my hand found air. I returned my attention to the stool and found nothing.

Drinking sounds drew my attention to my right. Next to me was a Soran-Blood. Only it was not the Soran-Blood drinking, but someone else. My eyes fell down until I gazed at a child, looking about twelve years of age. His atire was that of a seaman. Tight and short pants, a suit, shirt, vest, a hat hung from cords at his chest, a scarf tied around his arm, and a short sword on his hip belt. His hair was short, wild, and the whitest I had ever seen. His skin was deeply tanned, making it impossible to judge his blood, and contrasting his hair. On his back was a leather backpack or saddle of some kind because the Soran-Blood had no legs and was perched comfortably in it with his arms resting on the child's shoulders.

The child looked familiar.

"Excuse me?" I wondered, increasingly annoyed this child stole from me.

The Soran-Blood's head snapped a full sixty-degrees on its shoulder to me as soon as sound left my lips, and I wasn't sure how to take that. They are so unnerving.

"Thanks for the drink, Chicken-Scratch." The child stopped drinking long enough to flash me a smile.

Ah yes, an insult to my ear. I had to give the kid some credit though, it was a new one. "How old are you, kid?" The barkeep asked.

The kid rolled his eyes. "Tall enough to see over the counter."

"That wasn't what I asked." He took the glass from him and pulled it back, but just as it passed the kid's reach, the Soran-Bloods hands snapped instantly around it, clamping tightly around the bottle and the man's hand enough to draw blood from the tip of its claws. To the man's credit, he didn't so much as whimper.

"Its alright," I intervened. I glanced to the barkeep and nodded. He got my message and relented. The Soran-Blood gave the bottle back to the kid. "He is from the Ref. The lords there are liberal about drinking ages. Comes with technically having no laws."

"Point for Chicken-Scratch! He knows something!"

"Besides, it comes out of the Aeterna's treasury." I added. "Not from either of us." The barkeep got my meaning and stepped away to leave the matter be.

The kid paused ever so briefly, and an expression I couldn't place passed just as quickly, "Even better." Before I had time to question the manner in which he said that, he asked, "Question, I know the Aeterna lives in this tower, but where?"

"Top floor," I answered. It was common knowledge, but with him being a foreigner, I wouldn't expect him to know.

"And how high is that?" The kid asked.

Now I knew the kid! "You're the one who tried to climb the statue but got pulled down with nets!"

"Yeah, probably should have waited till everyone's attention was more focused elsewhere." He mused. He took one final gulp of the drink, slammed it down on the counter, and stepped away. "Thanks again, Chicken-Scratch."

The kid walked behind me on his way out the door.

"Bit of advice, kid." I snapped around and pulled my certificate out of his thieving little fingers, then pulled back as the Soran-Blood's claws went for me. "Don't target someone who had a younger brother."

The kid simply smiled, gave a mock salute, tied his scarf around his hair, and stepped out.

The barkeep huffed his annoyance. He didn't say a word, not with the Ref pirates making a good number of the customers in here on this holiday, but he was at the very least displeased by the child. He passed me another bottle, and just then the whole crowd outside roared with such a joyous noise that the ground shook. I covered my right ear, but still heard ringing.

"Thanks." I said. I got up from the stool and headed back towards the crowd to see what the noise was about. Before, the crowd of a hundred-thousand was mingling in different groups and with their attention scattered, but now all of their collective attention was towards the stairs.

The Aeterna Emperor stepped down into view.

The sight of him brought me back to that day he brought the sun down on us, and my legs trembled. I could not move, planted here caught between the fear to flee from him and the terror to stay rooted. If I had taken even a single step I probably would have fallen on my face, as the world spun around me and blood left my face.

I struggled to take a breath, and the present returned piece by piece.

The Emperor was followed by a number of people, one of whom I recognized as General Bagon'Kyltu'Kes. He had been spared by the Aeterna and I hadn't seen him since. The rest were impossible to recognize from a distance. The Emperor, followed by his entourage, entered the mass of people, stepped onto the stage in the middle, and spoke.

It was impossible to hear from this distance but what was passed back by those in the front was a simple enough concept.

Reorganization.

Namely that the Empire's territory would be split up between lower governors and higher governors selected by the Aeterna. For the last year there was no tangible organization or structure, so the generals and warlords commanded the far reaches, but that would now change as the Empire forms itself into a structure capable of withstanding time and judging the masses and needs of the regional territories and holdings.

This could work in theory; but in practice, I was not convinced. There needed to be more to it than this. Spending a year selecting the high-level governors for a more permanent structure is good enough, but what of the local towns? Did the people have any say over their territory or was the power in the hands of the Aeterna? Who would ultimately be the ones to judge these men or select new ones in the future?

I felt poison water in the mouth and my scar itched. This reminded me too much of my father.

He went on to condemn some of the warlords and praise others who had done good or bad in this transition period, though by what metric he did not explain, nor would I trust the explanation even if offered. After all, this message was to the masses with no understanding, not to the learned. We were only presented with the summary and final result of whatever examination. It did not help my skepticism that he made no mention of the slavery.

After these words there was some stuff of non-importance that I tuned out, and stepped away back into the masses.

His words finished and the Aeterna Emperor entered the crowd and the festivities. Faintly I saw him drift towards the various sights and gifts I had seen myself. This would undoubtedly keep him occupied for some time. My attention was on Bagon.

"So is it General or Governor, that I should call you now?" I inquired as I approached.

I found the man, alone, stooped over a fence watching people do a game of garden mazes. While he thought himself unwatched, his composure was unsettled. The man turned, surprised, but smiled on seeing me all the same.

"Governor." He answered.

"I guess congratulations are in order."

"You don't sound particularly pleased with it." He deduced.

"Neither do you." I returned.

I leaned over the fence with him and watched the children and young adults go through the hedges trying to find the exit. All of them were either Ne or Ire-Blood.

"Its missing something," He reflected. "There are only two bloods here. The Soran don't seem interested, but they are at least offered. Not like the Kes and Cynn -I mean- Mirrad-Blood."

"Slavery will do that."

"I didn't sell anyone out if that is what you accuse me of."

"I haven't said anything."

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "You have royal blood. Even if you aren't accusing me, you will come to your own conclusions."

He was right. "True enough. So, did he give you a choice?"

"I requested it."

There were a lot of things I wanted to say. Not the least of which was declaring him a fool, stupid, and a self-seeking traitor lower than even the chancellor. But, I withheld my tongue, let out a shaky breath, and simply asked, "Why?"

"I don't want anyone else governing our people," He replied. "I will not be given the whole of Kes, but I can at least help make the transition painless in my life time. The storm has come and people need help to weather it."

"You remind me of the Ire dukes. They also surrendered, comparing the Aeterna to a storm."

Long ago I had sent out letters across Ire to surrender to the Aeterna and rise again when he proves himself evil, but that didn't mean becoming the executers of that evil across the land.

Bagon sighed, disappointed, "Its not surrendering, my prince. It is just changing the war." He looked at me skeptically from the side before walking away. "Be careful to choose your war wisely. Not all of them are with sword and arrow."

He didn't have to tell me such. I was not a military leader. My war was done on the field of kings, in the throne room and among the court, with connections and words. His words set a dark mood on me. The alchohol did not help matters.

My feet drifted towards something to lighten my spirits, and I came across a tournament of board games. I quite enjoyed them, so I put my name in for consideration and to my luck there was time to place me into the series before the games started.

My first opponent was a decent player. He had known the rules and had a strategy, but it was quite a common one unprepared for me. I had seen it no less than a dozen times, and this would be one more I had defeated.

My second opponent was a very young, and very new player. She barely knew the rules, probably having won through sheer luck, but had fun no less. Every move was an animated orchestra of emotion, squealing joy in victory, finger nibbling tension when nothing happened, and groaning aggravation in failure. The smallest piece was as valuable as the greatest to her, and though this might be true with a veteran in the planning of a higher strategim, for her it seemed to be because she had no grasp of value between them. I let her play herself out, giving her some whispered help to direct her focus and thoughts, but it was quickly apparent she would lose regardless. She was a good sport about it.

The third opponent was a Soran-Blood that forfeited in two moves, for some reason. The tournament organizer asked if it was sure, and the Soran replied that its odds of victory had fallen to just below half based on predictable parameters. I didn't understand and I doubt I ever would. Such an eccentric blood.

This put me into the lead alongside a Ne-Blood who I had the displeasure of knowing. It was the same military officer to drag me along to peruse a painting he bought from the legendary Pain Artist. And he became my opponent.

"Well, well, pigeon-king! I didn't think you would be so good as to be here? Ours is a competitive blood, and such games are ours. I'm surprised you even know it." He proudly declared.

"I know it." I replied simply.

'Choose your battles.' I told myself. Just because he is an ignorant man doesn't mean I need to react. However, now that I thought about it, it was a decent battle to wage, just not in the way my opponent might think. Hostages taken as kings exist to prove how powerful the conqueror are, to be humiliated, humbled, and paraded. It makes one small to make the other greater.

But it can also allow one to hide in plain sight, and blinding the proud.

There are advantages to being a hostage-king.

"Just barely," I added, lowering my tone, lowering my shoulders and head, and humbling myself. "I had been told some of the basics, but not near enough. The woman would have defeated me easily, but I think she took pity on me."

The officer scoffed. "Such are women. Probably saw you like a child to be pampered with a pat to the head. But don't think I will give such mercy, I am here to win."

"I will do my best." I lied. By this time, the crowd had started to grow. At first I did not grasp the reason, but then as I took my fifth move, I stopped, stunned.

The Aeterna stood only a few feet away openly observing us.

Before, when I had my panic attack, it was from getting a far-sighted glimpse of him. Here, with him just out of arm's reach looking directly at me, it was so much worse. I couldn't breath. The whole world condensed to just us and I felt like a wide-eyed deer staring into the hunter's bow.

The tournament organizer grabbed my attention and returned me to the game. He was at once nervous and proud as a fresh season apple for the Aeterna Emperor to be here at the peak and finality of the event.

Though I lied about doing my best, it became at once a lie and truth that I was forced to do my best, but just to be able to lose. Finding any moves worse than his, or prompting him to take steps to win, took significantly more effort than I had imagined. It was not a game of who would win but rather who could be the least incompetent to which my goal was to be the most efficiently incompetent.

How he made it past the first round I would never understand.

Eventually, after purposefully ignoring every exploitable mistake, from both of us, he took the victory. He stood to praise, and cheers, but among the crowd, there was one person not cheering. The Aeterna Emperor. The sun-prophet held my gaze following my defeat, his composure stoic.

"Again," He said.

"My lord?" The judges asked.

"Have them fight again." He repeated.

Everyone quieted down and looked between each other, confused. The officer smiled widely and said, "Certainly, my lord! You must not have seen my victory, but no matter I will show you how great your Empire is to this-"

"Just fight." The Aeterna said, his patience waning. His eyes snapped to the one who had spoken. The man gulped under his lord's direct scrutiny. "And be quiet."

So we played a second round. Like before, it was difficult to succeed in losing, but I managed it.

"Again," The Aeterna said. His composure darkened, his arms were roped together, and he openly glared at me.

At this point the officer was confused, while the organizers of the event stepped forward humbly and said, "My lord, surely the man has suffered enough."

The Aeterna looked at them quietly and they backed off. We did a third round, with the same result. Still, the lord stood watching me, but rather than concede to his officer having his victory or telling them to go again, he stepped forward, pushed the officer to the side, and sat down in his seat for him.

The Aeterna Emperor sat the board game table as my opponent.

"Are you trying to deprive me of my moment, my lord!" The officer asked. "What is-"

The Aeterna interrupted him, snapping, "If the next word out of your mouth is not with your lips kissing the dirt beneath your heels, you will find yourself incinerated through your flesh and bone!" Instantly the crowd was afraid and the officer was bowing with his face to the ground begging for forgiveness for his rudeness. Yet, the Aeterna's attention was on me. Even while speaking, his eyes did not leave me.

The Aeterna made the first move.

I gulped, unsure how to approach this. What was he doing? Did he not enjoy the praise I gave him in showing how mighty he was to have defeated me? He hated games with rules like these, yet here he was.

I made a move in turn, followed by him. It became a bit robotic at first, as my thoughts were lost in trying to understand what he was doing. Yet, to my surprise, after only five turns, I saw something amazing on the board. It was the same position of pieces we had been at when we dueled back in Ire while he was under the name 'Adam' of the Numerenai.

He remembered. He used the same pattern of movements, and subconsciously I had done the same. If I did not do something about it, if the flow did not change its course, it would end ultimately with his defeat.

He was the Emperor, I was the hostage. He was the winner, I was the loser. This had been written since I first saw him and was inevitable in my defeat just as much as the New World he made.

I placed my fingers on the king and started to topple him over, signaling my loss, but then there was nothing there and I was smacked with pieces. The Aeterna angrily smacked the pieces of the board onto me and across the ground into the crowd. His eyes bored into me, seething with fury his tone did not match.

"Leave my sight," He ordered.

Why? Why was he angry? Why was he bringing the attention of the hundred-thousand here, and making me a laughing stock? Was I not humiliated enough to be a hostage already, why must I be humiliated before a crowd?

My training to handle a crowd was the only thing that kept me rooted as I stood. No one saw the humiliation in my soul, the pain in my heart, and confusion as my slightly drunken might could not piece together what was happening, though there were thousands of eyes on me that watched me leave. They spit on me, but I walked. I was mocked and slapped and tripped, but I walked. I did not notice. My mind was back with him trying to understand him like a game of his own.

I did not notice until it was too late when a heavily armored person with veil beneath the armor put a bag over my head.