The Cup of Suffering

Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…

He started the Lord’s Prayer in front of his congregation. He took his time as he enunciated every distinct syllable in the prayer that he has uttered for all his Christian life.

…Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done…

He shakes a little as the weight of his burden feels like it has increased tenfold. He imagines that this was how the Lord felt like when he prayed for his yoke to be taken away from him. While in the midst of the prayer, he says a silent one in his heart – that he would have the strength to finish this.

…on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread.

He has said this prayer more times than he can remember. But it didn't mean it came out any easier. As his congregation with their heads silently bowed wait patiently with the elements of communion – a piece of bread and a cup of ‘wine’ – in their hands, he wonders if any of them are sleeping. He knew many of them by name – His sheep that he has been shepherding for many years – and now he is up on the pulpit once again to deliver the Holy Communion. The elders have told him that this would probably be his last time on the pulpit as his health is deteriorating.  

And forgive us our depts., as we forgive our debtors.

How many in his congregation still have anger toward their own? He remembers the amount of marriage ceremonies he has conducted, but also the troubling flood of divorce cases. He remembers being the center of family feuds over the will of the deceased. He remembers the stories he has been told of his sheep being hurt by wolves in sheepskin. He is troubled. He has preached about forgiveness, but he knows the message has fallen on deaf ears.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…

Where was temptation? Where was evil? He knew the answer but did not want to admit it. Oftentimes, the source of evil in his church has come from the members themselves – the seeds of temptation sown by crafty wolves disguising themselves as sheep. He knew they were among his sheep now – eyeing their next prey. He felt overwhelming anger and pity for those men. He also found it ironic that the place that should have been the most holy of places has become the place of most deceit. The idiom was true it seemed that where we think we are strongest is where the devil strikes the hardest. He has planted this church on fertile ground, but the evil one has thrown in some weeds. And now he decided was the time for the harvest – to separate the good plants from the weeds, the wheat from the thorns. It was not an easy decision but he knew it had to be done. His sheep had to be purified. As fire purifies steel, he was ready to purify his congregation.

For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever.

He heard the unison amen. The voices of both the thorns and the wheat spoke the same language. He would never be able to tell them apart. The thorns, the weeds, and wolves are in his congregation like a poison that is slowly deteriorating his wheat, his good plants, and sheep.

Amen.

He raises his left hand that held on to a piece of bread. He puts it over his head, reaches for it with his right hand and breaks the bread. He gives the signal and as a body, they eat the bread together. They all eat together. The sheep and the wolves in sheepskin. The prey and the innocent. He couldn't tell them apart. He knows only God could be the judge.

He reaches for the cup and raises it above his head. He hesitates a moment. He knew this was his last time on the pulpit. He wanted to take in the moment. He says a few words about his appreciation of their faithfulness. He bites back the need to say something about the wolves among them because he did not want to pollute the innocent. He gives the signal and the congregation downs the beverage in unison. He notes the acidity of the wine. He chokes. As he falls onto the floor he hears the cries from his sheep and the wolves. He hears nothing more. He feels nothing more.  

He knows that only God can judge between the sheep and the wolves. Only God knows the true intentions of men. And what better way to free his congregation of the possibility of being  eaten by wolves in his absence then to send them to God early to be judged? He could not trust his naïve young leaders; they were not ready. He has struggled with this cup of suffering for many years; what did the other leaders know about leading a congregation? He knew killing was a sin, but his intentions, he felt, was justified. After all, God will be his judge. 

Perfect - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Fragments

I woke up three days later with the chief shouting cusses to the nurse.  He stopped as soon as he realized my eyes were open.  

“Thomason,” said the chief, “you awake?”

“Please, inspector,” said the nurse, “He needs his rest.”

“No, the last thing I need is rest,” I said to the shock of the nurse.  To jolt her more, I sat up and took the IV needle out of my arm.

“Please, sir,” she pleaded, “We do not know whether you have been affected in any way with the bullets.”

“All three bullets did not reach any critical areas in my body.” I never liked being confined.  The nurse gave me a weird look and checked the record at the foot of my bed.

“Sir,” she said after looking through it again, “There were four bullets: One in your thigh, one in your shin, one in your shoulder, and the last at the back of your neck.”

I immediately reached at the back of my neck and realized the gauze wrapping it.  The slight touch of the wound sent tremendous pain and I blacked out for a moment before I managed to stabilize myself. 

“Get back on your bed, please!” The nurse was worried.  I complied.

“How long will I have to be here?” I asked the nurse.

“We don’t know the extent of you injury, we have yet to check for any memory, sensory, and physical impairment.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” I asked, “Let us get those tests started.”

“No, you need a break.” The chief’s words were firm. “We don’t need another shooting case that big.  You know it grabbed international headlines?  The Mayor called me yesterday to ask me about you and about your past, but I couldn’t give her anything.  I know you are good people, Thomason, but I can’t have you getting shot at and cause another panic.  I’m putting Sam and Lily on your case. Whatever that is you were working on, I want you to pass it to them when they come, you understand?”

I stared at the boss for a while. I could sense the anger building inside of him and also a hint of concern.  The boss was not the best in controlling his emotions, and Sam and Lily were not the best in taking this case—I was. 

“You are putting the wrong people in charge, chief,” I said, “Sam and Lily will probably get killed following my trail.  This case is deeper than you know it and it is only important to me.”

“Thomason, you know personal involvement in cases is prohibited.” The chief was furious.  I shouldn’t have told him I was involved.

“Hand your case over to Sam and Lily when you return,” the chief said and before I could retaliate, he said, “and that’s an order.”

I did not nod to show understanding I just sat there staring at him blankly.  After a while, the chief spat a word and left the room.  The nurse went back to attending to me and reinserted the needle. 

“You would be here for at maximum two months.” She told me, but I know that for me that would only mean two weeks.  I decided to spend the week plotting my next move.  I considered confronting Colleen again, but that would only mean suicide.  What can I get that he has not already given? I know he was involved with my history in some way or another and it seems like he could be my antagonist from the past. It is a good thing that he did not know who I was. 

I gave in to boredom of thinking and fell asleep, and this time my dream was different:  Sounds of sirens fill the air.  Men in white lab coats with panicked faces run about the room—all as white as their lab coats. A troop of black uniformed men arrive in an orderly fashion and proceed to the stasis tube across the hall from me.  The stasis tube had cracked…

“…the…hope…you…!”A naked man shouts as he storms towards the black-uniformed men, “Control…more!”

“Keep…alive!” yelled one of the men in lab coats, “…billions…worth than…!”

The naked man advances on the black men. The men open fire.  The naked man stares directly at me before bullets fly through him.

I startled awake and wondered what my dream meant.  I noticed that next to the hospital bed was a radio. The newscasters were talking about some other country in peril and another natural disaster that happened one thousand and thirty-two miles away before they got to the local news.  It would seem that my shooting incident was a big local event and there were still reports of it on the news except for some odd twists in the truth.  The news reported that Dr. Colleen was threatened in his office by an armed man who took a hostage and led the hostage into an ambush zone.  The news reported that a certain detective – brave as he was – came to the rescue of the hostage and is now receiving treatment at a hospital. Well, I guess it’s a believable story, except for the fact that the so-called “armed-man” doesn’t get a conclusion.  A cliff hanger as plain as daylight is left hanging in front of all the listeners but none of them would bother. After all, the last line on the news said that the “authorities” had a list of suspects and were handling the situation. The naivety of society I would conclude.  Is that enough for people? Do people believe everything the media feeds them no matter how farfetched it may seem?

           

Lost in my thoughts, it took me some time to realize that the news was over and the radio was now playing a song by Ryan and the Renegades entitled Listen with your Heads.

The raindrops roll down the window pane

The flowers grow from a tiny grain

There is logic in there

Or am I insane?

The question we should all be asking

Is whether we believe in what they tell us.

Are we gonna be zombies, the living dead?

Or are we gonna start listening with our heads?

Listen with your heads!

Listen with your heads!

Question everything sung or said

Even my words as they leave this mouth

Should be analyzed and raided

Let us not be naïve; Let us not be deceived.

The world is never as it seems…

The perfect song for the scenario. I wondered if the radio channel actually knew that they were promoting the end of their careers with that song. The media feeds the people and the people fall for it – it is as clear as that.  But, who influences the media? How did that one event that took place in daylight become so twisted in facts? Was the media fed by the government? I mean, it is always about the government right?

It was then that I realized that there were ways to find out more – to dig deeper.  If I could trace the source, I could trace it to the people who want to cover this up.  They will have answers.  I had a plan, but I still needed to wait for at least a week before the hospital would allow me to leave.

On the first week of my confinement, Sam and Lily arrived.  Sam is a middle-aged man with a beer belly.  He is half-way bald and probably never fired his gun more than ten times in his twenty-two years and six months on the force.  Lily is a naïve girl three months fresh out of the academy.  She is book smart and lacks any field experience besides her probation.  I was right. Sam and Lily were really not the best for this case.

“You know why we are here, Detective,” announced Sam with his hoarse, tobacco-filled breath, “Just tell us where yer keeping all the files on your recent case and we’ll be outta ya hair.” I contemplated many ways to answer Sam. His commanding tone deserved a harsh reply. I considered answering him like the chief, but I told myself that there are many better word supplements than swearing.  All I could manage was:

“You know the funny things about a bullet grazing your skull, Sam?” I pointed at the back of my neck, “Memory tends to get a little fuzzy – I would say something like 50dpi?”

Sam gave me a funny look and all Lily did was snicker at my sarcasm (or was it at her partner’s lack of comprehension?). 

“Well, if you remember then, give me a call ‘right, Thomason?” Sam said after shaking his head, “This is our case now, you don’t go and be a lone ranger, yer hear me?”

I stared at him until he left muttering something the chief would. Lily snickered again and left.  I took a mental note to consider calling on Lily if ever needed – she had a sharp mind.  Just then my bedside phone rang and I picked up. Samantha Lee was on the other end. I had asked her to take care of Simon in my absence and she has been calling me frequently to update me about Simon. Our conversation went somewhat like this:

“Hey, Adam? I mean Detective Adam.”

“Hey, Samantha, how’s Simon?”

“He misses you. I caught him trying to sneak out of the house and when I let him leave I followed him to your place. How are you holding up?”

“Sounds, like Simon. I’m doing fine. Hey, when you went over to my place was there anything unusual?”

“Not that I could notice, why? Is everything alright? Are there people looking for you?” I could read her panic in her voice.  She was probably looking around her house checking to see she was not followed.

“Nothing to worry about, Sam,” I allowed myself to laugh a little to calm her nerves, “Can you do me a favour?” I waited for her reply before continuing.  Involving her may have its consequences but she was the only person I could trust at this point of time. “The keys to my apartment are under the twenty-ninth flowerpot in the park nearest my place.  Can you go to my place and get my case file by the title of “Colleen” and bring it to the hospital? Thanks.”

I ended the call knowing that I have trusted the right person.  Waiting for Samantha to arrive, I drifted off into another dream. 

“Ten is down! Get him back into the tube!” The black-uniformed men rushed in and grabbed the naked man and carried him into a tube.  A man with thick glasses and a shaved head stands in my view staring at me and yells.

“Thirteen…awake! He saw everything. He has…go as well.”

“No!” Another lab-coated yelled, “Billions…wasted…successful…we...erase memory?”

I jolted awake.  Everything I dreamt about felt like it really happened.  They felt real almost as if it was a memory. I remembered how Samantha told me that my dreams could be suppressed memories manifesting itself in my sleep.  I tried to think back on the dream.  I did my best to memorize the place from the dream.  I noted every detail I could remember.  All these fragments seem to be fitting together like a colossal puzzle.

Fact or Fiction - Theme Song

Verse I

I miss you so

I miss your smile

I miss the way you hold your hair

And twirl it round and round

I miss you so

Verse II 

I miss those nights

I miss your warmth

I miss those days when we could talk

And go on for so long

I miss you so

Pre-Chorus

It's nights like these that's got me thinking

It's nights like these I'm reminiscing

Chorus

Were we fact or were we fiction

Could what we both dream come to  fruition

Were we living as one

Before we said that we were done

Was it love or infatuation

Were we young and in delusion 

Time has come and slowly shown..

That 'what ifs' could never be known

Verse III

Remember how

We talked about

How we'll build our dreams

Upon our sacred ground

We were so young

Bridge

And we lose ourselves into the fact

That happily ever afters were  just that

They were hope shared to our lost souls                           

A rope so we won't let hope go

The chance that there's somebody

Like me

Chorus II

Are we fact or are we fiction

Could what we both dream come to  fruition

Can we try to live as one

Before we say that there's no chance

Is it love or infatuation

Let's be young and in delusion 

Let time come and slowly show..

The 'what ifs' that we're yet to know.

Bridge II

Let us lose ourselves to the fact

That nothing in this world is truly set

That we have a choice to accept

Or hold on to what is left

The chance that there's somebody

for me

The Cry and His Reply

One man raises his voice to the hills
Another man humbles himself and kneels
Still one more throws his fist in the air
One man asks, "Show Yourself, if you care."

One more begs aloud to be heard
One more mourns and shaves his beard
One more cries 'til tomorrow's dawn
Another man sings a heavenly song

One man slams the keys and shouts,
"Lord, please chase away my doubts!"
One man takes on more than he can chew,
To silence the pain that's in me and you.

One man wears a smiling face
Thinking that with it he can erase
The hurt, the fears, and uncertainties.
But they flood back like rushing seas

One son asks where is his dad
Where's the one to teach him good from bad.
He doubts he'll find a father's love
Neither on this earth nor high above.

One selfless mother prays with tears
That God would drive away her fears
As her little one lies in a hospital bed
She pleads, "God, can you take me instead?"

One little daughter sings in church
About the One on high she has researched
She's not too sure of the words she hums
She's not too sure of the chords she strums.

All their cries fill up the sky
And they all start to question why

Why does He stay silent in the clouds
When His voice is supposed to be thunder-loud?
Why is He hidden in the heavens
When it can't contain His presence?

And between their cry and His reply
Rose a silent song from High
And they knew it was from Him
Though they knew not the words to the hymn

Between their cry and His reply
The earth as if stood by
And He did not shout His answer
It came in a soft and gentle whisper.

He said, "Fear not you aching hearts,

For I have seen you from the start.

Steer your weary souls to Me

And I will give you liberty.

"Fret not, for I am here

For I have always been so near.

I've heard your songs; I've heard your pleas.

I've heard your chords; I've heard your keys.

"The mother's cry; The father's sigh

Not one of them has passed me by.

The little ones' pleas; the man on his knees.

No, not one, I did not see."

Between the cry and His reply

The earth as if stood by

And peace came in and cleared the drought

And it eased the heart and cleared the doubts.

Christmas Cheer

In twenty minutes, Christmas will be here.
In twenty minutes, comes 24 hours of cheer.
Get ready your smile, get ready your mood
For the meaning of tomorrow is well understood
Forget about your worries, put them all aside
Leave away your doubts, let your fears go to hide
Forget about the turmoil, forget about the strife
Forget about your starving neighbor, forget the lost of life
Forget about the oppression, forget about regret
For the reason for the season, is the chance to forget.

Put on your happy face, just for today.
Tomorrow you can return to reality's grey.
Put on your Christmas cheer and pretend everything's okay.
Put on your hymns and songs just for this auspicious day.

Just for today, we celebrate the Lord's birth
Just for today, we remember He came to Earth
Just for today, we shall sing of His saving grace
But when tomorrow comes, we shall return to our place.

Remember the Son and all that He did

Remember His birth and his great deed

Remember He came to save all mankind

But tomorrow return to the world of the blind.

If Christ was born to save us from death

Should we not do more than set up a wreath?

If Christ was born to set us free
Should we not do more than set up a tree?

If Christ was born to prepare us a way

Should we not do more than give Him one day?

So...
In twenty minutes, Christmas will be here.
In twenty minutes, comes 24 hours of cheer.
Get ready your smile, get ready your mood
But is the meaning of Christmas well understood?

The Funeral of a Friend

Today marked a sad day, it was funeral of a good friend of mine. I wouldn't really call him my friend per se, but I can vouch that he was a good person. He was the kind of person that everyone wish they could be. When you needed a hand, he was always glad to give it plus more. When you just needed to talk, he was your silent comforter. When there was something to be done, he was the person to get things done. Name it, he did it. Events, parties, mission trips, visitations, meetings. He was always there, and even when he wasn't he made tremendous effort to catch up. He made me jealous. I was jealous at his ability to carry on. I was jealous at his strive for excellence. He conquered whatever the world had in store for him. From the little things like washing the cups and mopping the floor, to holding a meeting and planning a huge event. He was in every ministry, yet he never complained. Not always anyways...

I remember he once said that he was tired, but he had no choice but to continue as no one else was able to take up the responsibility. He never liked leaving things half done. He never liked unfinished business. He persevered even from the most mundane tasks to the most complicated formulation. He did his best in everything. 

Over the years, he just looked more and more tired. Over the years, his strength waned. But he still carried on. In every ministry and more. He gave his all. Even with all the workload, he never gave up a chance for a good one-on-one with whoever was around him. He remembered the names of almost everyone, and he kept updated. How he found the time, I'll never know, but as I sat there hearing the floods of testimonies about this good man who gave all he had, I can't help but be dumbfounded and ashamed. There were orphans who went up to talk about the times he spent celebrating Christmas with them. There were a group of singers who sang one of the saddest songs I've ever heard and said that he never missed any of their performances...and the list is endless. From homeless men to rich investors, there was not one area of life that he didn't touch. 

Well, the sad news is this. He is gone and we have to bare the absence of our beloved brother, devoted anchor, and loving friend. We have to bare the absence of a man who truly was self-sacrificial. 

Who can replace him? Who can even try? The commitment he handled alone would be overwhelming for any one man. Who can we call upon now when something needs cleaning or some soul nears an ear? Who can we call upon now when someone needs a lift that is out of the way?

I end this speech with this quote: "It has never been about what life had to offer me, it has been about what am I doing with this life I'm given."

You will be truly missed our dear brother, may you find the reward that you have earned tenfold over. 

Rest in Peace, Someone Else. 





*this is a fictional work*

East Sun - Chapter One

Chapter One - The Stirring (Incomplete)

“I am the king!” Jarius slammed one fist on his royal throne as he pointed another at the man standing in front of him.

“Are you forgetting who put you there?” Calm as he always was, Avenzel rested upon his staff in the center of the throne room surrounded by Jarius’ counselmen, as he spoke, 

“Jarius, have you forgotten what it means to be king, what it means to be the lord of the Aeden throne? I have told you from the very start that the burden upon your shoulders would be far too great for any one man to carry, and the power, far too tempting for any one man to bear. It was not for your strengths that you became the chosen king; it was by your potential. Yes, Jarius, you are the king, and now act like one.”

There were some gasps from the council as Avenzel spoke those words. No one else would dare to speak to Lord Jarius in this manner. The law allowed Jarius to execute anybody who offends him especially within his throne room. Jarius had brought the kingdom of Aeden back from ruins. His councilroom was testament to the fact with its rounded hall and seven supporting pillars that seemed to take forever to reach the ceiling that was painted like the heavens. The thirteen lesser thrones surrounding the Aeden throne adorned with gold encircled the counselroom. A path between two lesser thrones that led directly to the middle of the room began at the main grand entrance. Protecting the main entrance of the counselroom stood a gate so grand that it requires two men to open.  The wealth of the nation could be seen painted on the walls, pillars, and ceiling as though creation was birthed from this place.

“Avenzel, do not use your wise words against me! I owe you a great debt for your service to me, but I would not be silent as you mock me in front of my counsel.”

“Can’t you see that you have been blinded? My child, open your eyes to see that the so-called wisdom that you have consulted has scaled your eyes. The words in whisper are the hardest to forget and so are the words of spite. Hatred has been planted, Jarius, do not let it win.”

“Can you listen to this old man any longer, my Lord?” Shaphira, the governor of the northern territories of Flynt and Barbiscus who sat two thrones away from the king's right, could not hold her tongue any longer, “Avenzel, you have been excused from the court with dignity, do you want to be escorted out with nothing left?”

“Woman, do you think I care about trivial face and social piety?” Avenzel’s stare though wrinkled with age lingered with determination and fire, “This is a matter beyond any of you so-called counselmen. You have excused me as a member of counsel, yes, but I am here as a citizen of Aeden and have every right to seek the king for an audience as stated in our laws.  You can lock yourselves in the emerald rooms that you possess later, but be you all warned that there is a fire burning from the very foundations of this soil!”

“Shaphira,” The King spoke, “Did I call upon your counsel? It would do you good to know your place in this hierarchy. As for your ‘concern’, my dear friend, it holds no importance in this court; you may leave if there be naught left to be said.”

“There is one more thing to be said,” Avenzel gazed as the floor as if contemplating his next words, “You are all fools to think that you are above what is coming. As in the words of the prophet Enzer, ‘the council will not be deaf but still would not hear; they will not be blind but still would not see...’”

“You were the very one who told me that Enzer was a nut.”

“Yes, I did call him that. Not for his wisdom, but for his stubbornness. He saw no better time than the present and was rash in his actions and words. Much like how you are rash in dismissing me.”

“Guards, take him away!” No one could ever testify to have seen the king lose his anger as such before, but before the guards could lay a hand on him, Avenzel turned around to face them and the guards stayed their place. Avenzel’s gaze was terrifying as he walked out of the counselroom unescorted.  The sound of the king’s agony was cut short by the shutting of the great doors that stood at the entrance of the counselroom.

As Avenzel walked past the gates of the multitudes of men and women waiting in line to gain audience with the king, he whispered the lyrics of an old rhyme:

Listen to the old for their stories to be told

Listen to the wise for their stories in their eyes

Listen to the brave for their stories in their days

Listen, oh you, young; the fire has begun

Beyond the setting star rises a mist upon the ground

And through the misty clouds no nature can be found

What lies beyond the peaks of Carringon’s Steep?

What moves in the night while we lay asleep?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the evening drew and the last of the citizens in line to see the king departed, Jarius rose from his throne, strode behind it, passed the golden high curtains, and fell into his resting chamber. His counselmen knew better than to question his haste exit, they knew that Avenzel had a knack at getting on the king’s nerves as well as pretty much everyone else, but peace was beyond him that evening. Jarius laid there reclined on his mattress staring into the ceiling as he pondered on the words of Avenzel, and though he hated to admit it, he knew that Avenzel often spoke true.

Avenzel was probably the only man he could truly trust – not even his counselmen had his full confidence. Avenzel was the man that made it possible for him to be king. Avenzel was the man who saw the potential in his scrawny limbs. It was Avenzel who plucked him out of poverty when he was just a youth and entrusted him within the care of the palace stables. It was Avenzel that recommended him to be the next Captain of the Stallions after Rider Mavin retired, and it was Avenzel that got the counsel to make him the king after Lord Jolan was killed in battle. Avenzel was in every step, and yet Jarius never truly understood why. Avenzel has never been clear about his attentions to Jarius. Whenever he was asked why, Avenzel would reply with some wise words such as ‘time unfolds all questions and answers them with patience’ or ‘a man who knows his destiny may fall short of it.’  That was Avenzel: always speaking in riddles. 

Deep in his thinking, Jarius did not hear someone approaching and he jumped the moment a feminine face appeared in his line of sight. He sat up to see a beautiful face with a beautiful smile; Kanra, his third wife from Lokyeshin, giggled, “Sorry, did I startle the king?”

“You can’t startle the king,” He replied. All his worries forgotten for a moment, Jarius put a smile on his face. “Nothing happens without the king knowing it. I merely acted startled to entertain you.” They both laughed at the lie.  He held her hands in his. “What brings you into my humble abode?”

“You’re late for dinner, and the entire royal family is hungry.” At that Jarius turned out his window to realize that the sun had set and the city was quiet.

“Sorry, Kanra, I was troubled.” Kanra went closer into his embrace at those words.

“I heard that the old man paid you a visit?”

“Yes, he did, but that is a matter for another time. As they say, lay aside troubles for the night, as good sleep solves most of them.”

“Good sleep and good wine.”

“Come,” said Jarius after a laugh, “Let’s eat.” Jarius held Kanra's hand as the headed for the banquet hall, but before leaving, Jarius turns back to the window and sees the small lights from the houses below. He sees the point where the sky touches the earth.  He sees the massive towering mountain whose three main peaks could be clearly made out in the darkness.  He sees what seems to be a small light emerging from the middle peak.

“Daydreaming again?” Kanra said tugging his hand. Jarius steals one more stare at the window before following her out the door. 

He could never refuse Kanra. One could say she was his favorite of his three wives. He married his first, Aeshen, due to his kingly duties to keep Jolan’s bloodline. Aeshen is Jolan’s niece and she was the youngest of marriageable age, but still four years older than Jarius. She has been loyal, but she has always been a little too picky about the finer details. Senphin, his second wife, was another political marriage to stop the territory of Calaphan from revolting. Though she would be considered the most beautiful among the three, she was also the most cunning and deceptive. Until now Jarius rarely confides in her, not knowing her true intentions. Kanra was his controversial wife. For the first time in Aeden’s history, the king took a wife that was not of any noble families, but it was not surprising knowing Jarius’ roots. Kanra became his anchor to reality and her charitable heart far outweighed her lack of education.  Kanra was his childhood friend. His sister from the street stables and they grew up together. Kanra was a waitress at the shack of a restaurant in which he worked as a hay boy, and the lessons they learnt from there thought them how much they needed each other.

As they approached the banquet hall, Jarius could hear the sounds of his starving family – particularly the cries of Fosten, his youngest son and third child from Senphin.

“You’re late,” mentioned Fizgard, Aeshen’s second son six years in age, as Jarius and Kanra entered the room, “Shara was going to swallow her tongue soon.”

“Fizgard, know your place!” warned Aeshen, “He may be your father, but he too is the king and they both deserve your respect.”

“Yes, Mother.” Gloom took over Fizgard’s face as he sat back upon his seat. 

Jarius chuckled at the cacophony in the throne room and proceeded to his seat. When Jarius became king, he insisted that the banguet tables be circular to show equality, but after much debate with the royal hall planners, everyone agreed to an oval table. Jarius passed by Fizgard and patted him on the head before reaching his seat.

“Forgive my tardiness,” He said, “I was resting and I forgot about the time.” 

As is the tradition of Aeden, the whole table went silent as Jarius pronounced thanks and blessings, "For the meal before us and the meals to come, for the life in us and the strength we have. May we give as we've been given, and may we be ever thankful." 

The family responded in unison, "To be ever thankful."

With that, the food on the table was uncovered and the meat was brought out to be served. When he first became king, Jarius refused to eat glamorous food when his nation was going through a rough time and he supplied the palace excess to feed the people. It was only when he brought Aeden back to prosperity that he actually began eating meals fit for a king. That was the type of king Jarius was. Because of his sacrifices, he earned the trust of his people.  He was the people’s pleaser and often went to great lengths to help those that needed help often to the disagreement of Aeshen and especially Senphin. 

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Starring out into the fortress of Aeden from his succor in the mountains, Verender puts his fire out as he readies to rest. He sees the lights in the secret resting room of the king dim and he is reminded of the past.  Though an outcast of Aeden due to his weakness in the Calaphan revolt, Verender is still highly loyal to the Aeden throne. Because of his shame, he fled into the mountain that stood behind the castle and has imposed an exile on himself. Verender was Jarius’ Captain of the Archers and he felt responsible when one of his men opened fire into an innocent Calaphanene boy. It was under his watch that the Calaphan feud became the Calaphan revolt and he retired from his position when the issue was resolved - after Senphin was taken as Jarius’ bride.

As he lay there in his self-imposed exile, he could not help but think of the many things he could have done to prevent that young boy from dying. After the whole incident, Verender visited Calaphan to seek the boy’s family for forgiveness. He learnt that the boy was the first and only son of elderly farmers. After the boy’s birth, there were some complications and the woman could not conceive again. The boy’s name was Hienavon which meant god-sent. When he met Hienavon’s parents and told them of his 

involvement in their son’s death, they simply gave him a slight smile and said that as Hienavon was god-sent, he could also be taken away. They thanked him for his honor and bravery which did not make Verender feel any better. He was hoping to have the town turn against him as vengeance for Hienavon, but living with the guilt was a far heavier punishment.

After six years in the wilderness, many think Verender dead. He left without a word and has yet to utter one for close to four years. At first he talked to himself to drive insanity away, but soon he embraced it. As his head lay on his makeshift pillow of deer skin, he hears the rumblings from beneath the earth and his eyes widen. With that he speaks the first words that he has muttered in years:

“One by one, they came to seek

For the ancient words they want to speak

But the words were lost as was the art

No man left around could the words impart

But in the ground beneath the Steep

Lies an ancient power deep asleep

And as he awakes from his eternal rest

The ancient words will rise to test

Every man left will have to stand

The Aeden throne for every man.”

As he mutters the last line of this old-forgotten folksong, he rises from his mid-slumber and runs without rest to the gates of Aeden.