Un Memento

[Ozymandias]

Once upon a time, there lived a king. He was not a great king; but he was a good one; and all of his subjects were happy he reigned. Well, almost all.

 

The king loved three things in all the world: his queen, the gift of knowledge, and his country; in that order. So deeply did he immerse himself in the objects of his passion that he would sometimes forget he was a king at all. But this was all right, for he had a queen who loved him in turn and doted on him, even in all his absent-mindedness. For she, like their subjects, knew that behind that often vacant expression lived a soul of unimpeachable virtue and generosity, alongside such a curiousity about everyone and everything, she sometimes wondered if it truly were a mortal drive.

 

Their castle was a miracle to behold. Built by hundreds of teams of engineers over many generations it stood hundreds of feet high and a mile across at its widest point.

 

It was so fantastically huge not because of any false sense of royal grandeur, but because it was in fact the biggest library in all the land.

 

Of course, such a massive library required an equally massive amount of librarians. It was truly remarkable. A library the size of a city, that for all intents and purposes, was a city. Instead of police, there were warrior monks. In place of teachers, archaeologists, rather than woodsmen, explorers, and ruling over it all the 'mayor' occupied a throne.

 

Yes, the palace was large, and with a steady influx of researchers, bookbinders, scribes, poets, storytellers and the like, very prosperous indeed.

 

They flocked to him like birds to feed did all and sundry the king wished by his side (...and many others as well of course. Human nature being what it is.); for they knew how much the king not only respected the art of learning, but also how much he loved all, especially who he invited into his home. For you see, the king and queen had no children of their own. So the king treated all the people he loved most in the world as his family: his beautiful queen was wife and mother, and every scholar of every stripe who came through the palace gates their children. For how many truly deserved love and respect more than those who dreamed of helping others to understand the world around them?

 

One such family was that of the famed scribe Robert McLaggan. Robert, his wife, and their two children moved into the library one particularly cold, harsh winter.

 

~

 

War and frost attacked the land with equal savagery, but it seemed- especially at the season's apex -that each vied to outdo the other in sheer destruction. Little of the cold was felt in the scholars' kingdom, however, and the wars came not at all.

 

So it was the McLaggans found themselves on the royal doorstep. They could not have received a warmer welcome. Robert, with his breathtaking illuminations, superlative ear for languages, and script that not only flowed, but rushed headed a family he had taught well in those arts. And though lesser than he, they too were legends in halls of learning, wife, son and daughter all.

 

Here the king had a kindred spirit indeed. For in Robert's breast beat a heart that loved wisdom in all its forms so much that he had devoted his life to ensuring that all he encountered was preserved forever.

 

Many saw the duties of a scribe as onerous and unfulfilling. Not Robert. No, he had his life's joy in it and evoked a similar love for the craft in his handsome wife and oh so clever son and daughter.

 

The McLaggans were swiftly welcomed as though they were long-lost family. Husband Robert, wife Helena, daughter Sulette, and son Timothy found to their amazement a castle full of open arms.

 

~

 

Years passed, and the kingdom was healthy. The king levied no more tax than he, his family, his library, and the army needed. While such a limited focus on money did not make them a prosperous land, they were contented and happy; farmers, craftsmen, hunters, trappers, and merchants alike enjoying the rich purses their rulers left them.

 

Thus was the loyalty of the people deepened and cemented year after year. For with such an even-handed ruler and mighty army as the world had never seen watching over and caring for them right in their midst, who could feel ill-used or afraid?

 

Who, indeed, save the whisperers in the shadows, those furtive folk meeting in a back alley here, a dark tavern corner there. These unfortunate ones who did not feel safe in the open. Those few who did not want to speak their minds where all could hear for fear of reprisal from without...and within.

 

The king's excesses in studies they decried as being neglectful of a safely maintained populace, as well as a poisonous stagnation of the expansion of their borders and the royal coffers.

 

No matter that social unrest was almost a foreign concept. No matter that warmongers looked right past the small kingdom. People always get greedy, they argued. Someone always comes along, thinking he can do your job better, and takes it from you. Or does it simply because he can. These points did have ample support in their neighbor kingdoms, and history itself.

 

This minority slowly grew due to the natural ebb, flow and change of any populace given enough time. These new shadow speakers listened to the old, looked at the histories and their home, and saw not that they were blessed, but that they were overdue.

 

And so it went, for many more years; much of the kingdom blissfully unaware of any trouble, the king still blissfully unaware of much outside his books.

 

The twelfth summer since the McLaggans' arrival was to be the year that those fears were realized. Their whispers had reached hazardous ears.

 

~

 

Robert and Helena both lived their lives more and more quietly in the castle, as their years took them from being a young couple to the midst of full adult age; teaching, translating, and studying.

 

Timothy and Sulette led a very different life during this time. As their parents slowed down, they sped headlong into that most dangerous and uncertain time in life- their teen years. But fortune smiled on the family again, and neither suffered for it.

 

Timothy had begun maturing into a strong figure of a man. His frame alone showed their family's humble ancestry in farmers. Not that he was a large man to begin with, but that strong-backed and stout-limbed bloodline saved him from being as thin and frail as the rest of the men and women in his living family. The mop of unruly curls, now tanned somewhat, topped a serious face that hid a ferociously calculating mind. Young Timothy could analyze, decode, dissemble, dissassemble, recite, repeat, capitalize, and strategize with the best the kingdom had to offer. Even his mismatched eyes that would have marked, at the very least the arousal of constant gossip among his forebears, in this happy place were no hindrance at all. Much to the young ladies' of the court's delight, here at last was a young, muscular man who was philosophic, exotic, and most important of all, unattached.

 

The young lad however, only had eyes for the apple of his, his father, his mother and nearly every man in court's eye- Sulette. His sister, deviously irreverent playmate and constant companion had grown into an enchanting, willowy creature so very much in bearing and beauty like the dryads of legend, that the king was once forced to proclaim (jokingly) at a dinner that all of his staff were of full-blooded human stock.

 

The years had only enhanced Sulette's virtues, it seemed, and anyone who did assume so, assumed correctly. This delicate flower never told a lie, never stole, never cursed anyone or anything, and loved all animals and people.

 

As she had grown older, she had also eschwed her studies, and taken to learning fashions, the garden, perfumes, and other market trades. Approving of so responsible a vocation study, Helena and Robert both only encouraged her. They were open-minded parents, and sought to set no fate for their children that they did not want, but tried only to prepare them for life as best they knew how from their own experience.

 

Timothy's life in turn, was bliss. He had long ago decided that the only thing he needed in life was his darling sister. And one could scarcely blame him. Here not only was a beauty for the ages, but a quick laugh, a patient ear, loving tears, strong limbs and a sharp mind whenever one was needed. It seemed to him and their parents that joy itself was produced by this one young girl. As such great troves of affection were heaped upon her, Sulette became proud of her supernal charms.

 

~

 

Timothy and Sulette sat in his room that afternoon, basking in the warm sunshine streaming in through his windows. Sulette gazed out over the lush green landscape from her window perch, where she sat, kicking her feet.

 

Timothy lay across his bed, eyes closed and smiling to himself. Ahhh, he thought. All is right with the world. A warm, quiet day, good company, and no chores to do or meetings to attend. Paradise. He smiled a little wider to himself as he heard a songbird singing itself through the air, evidently enjoying itself as much as he was.

 

His sister seemed not so content. Sulette leaned her head back against the cool stone and looked at her brother critically.

 

"Tim?"

 

"Mm? Yeah, Su?"

 

"Have you ever thought..." Hearing the pause and all-too familiar thoughtful silence, Timothy recognized immediately when his sister was starting to broach something important. Opening his eyes, sitting up slowly, and putting on a more serious look, he bade her continue.

 

"What is it, Sulette?"

 

"Have you ever thought about our land?"

 

"Our land?" He was now becoming confused; which was a sensation he was wholly unused to feeling this quickly in a conversation. "Of course, I-"

 

"No, no. Not the agriculture, or even aesthetics. I mean our borders."

 

Poor Timothy was slowly getting into a bind. He'd not heard his sister speak so pointedly to him of matters of state before. In fact, he'd never heard her speak of matters of state before. So, he did the only thing he could think of. He listened.

 

"Our borders," she went on,"are pitifully small. For a kingdom as old as this, we should have been four times as large by now, at least!"

 

"But why?" At that, she hopped to the floor and gazed intently at her brother, arms folded across her chest.

 

"Timothy, have you seen where our country lies on a map?"

 

Timothy too swung his feet to the floor. "Of course. Northeast of the Arbean holds, west of the Burlock forests-"

 

She shook her head sadly. "No, brother. We are in the center of three warring kingdoms. They have been so for many generations. This one wanting land, that one fighting for honor, now this one fighting for no reason any can discern? They are our neighbors, Timothy. All they have shown to us is how fleeting their principles can be, and how bloodthirsty they are."

 

Now he was determined to get a word in edgewise. "I hardly see where this is a crisis, Sulette. They have left us almost totally unmolested since these battles began, and besides, I'm willing to wager that our military is at least the equal of any of their land forces."

 

She slowly shook her head again. Unfolding her thin, elegant arms, she clutched at the folds of her dress, as if in frustration. "If only it were that simple, Tim. To top it all off, we've hit such a high point of lazy anarchy in the country that it's quite likely not only if and when someone does truly invade us, we'd scarcely be able to get the common people to raise a hoe in defense of our land until it was too late. If attackers wait long enough, we shall simply degenerate into a kingdom of worthless layabouts and selfish, nearsighted people who ignore all of their would-be protectors' attempts to give them a prosperous and safe society. This place has no control, Tim! The king has left himself no authority at all! If we do not lose such a wonderful home to foreign despots, then we shall lose it to people who think they can challenge the monarchy, and win!"

 

Timothy now knew beyond all doubt he did not like where this was going. An icy, creeping feeling made its way up his stomach and into his throat. Who was this

person, and what had they done with his sister, dear, sweet Sulette? "Sulette..." he finally managed. "What are you saying?"

 

Her face finally relaxed again, and she smiled. It was just a little, but Timothy was more than willing to believe it was time for him to relax, too. He had been wrong, of course! Simply overreacting in his cold dread. Of course, Sulette wasn't capable of anything...anything like his fertile imagination had conjured.

 

This he firmly believed with all his heart... until he finally realized that sound that had been teasing his ears the entire time his attention had been glued to his sister was a commotion heard throughout the castle. A commotion heard through a keep of that immense size; more like an uproar.

 

His earnest face went deathly pale. "Sulette," he demanded,"What have you done?"

 

She continued smiling, almost shyly. He felt violent nausea rise in response. Locking eyes with him again, she continued. "We're saved, Timothy. Things are in motion now that will assure us of becoming a great, wealthy, and disciplined nation."

 

Timothy reeled backward. Suddenly, he saw it all. The nighttime meetings in strange places. The long, long sidetrips to someplace else entirely when she'd lied about going on some errand or another. All of it came into stark, clear focus, even as he heard shouting from the hallway just outside his door.

 

Even Sulette was jarred, however, when the ring of steel caught their ears, closely followed by cries of pain. "What...?" Bowstrings twanged.

 

The shouting and bustle had grown all the louder in the meantime, and suddenly, the bedroom door swung open, and there was the lieuntenant who had been trying to woo Sulette since the day she had come of age. His normally immaculate uniform was cut and torn in several places, and it was already decorated with blood and dirt.

 

A gory gash in his head colored his left cheek red as he grasped the door for support for several seconds as he caught his breath.

 

"Hurry... you must... run..."

 

Timothy rushed forward to aid the man, eyes wide with fear. He found his traitorous lips forming the very question he longed never to hear the answer to. "Thorvald, what is it? What's happened?"

 

"The king...is dead." With that, this bold, daring young man, archer and horseman without paralell, man acknowledged the land, perhaps farther, over as a soldier of highest honor, slumped to the floor, dead; now finally revealing the three knives jutting from his back.

 

A small noise escaped Sulette's lips. Timothy could barely discern it as "No." He turned towards her, slowly. She in turn, slowly shrank back against the windowsill. "No. They, they promised that noone would be hurt. They said it would be bloodless...a great day..."

 

Timothy could scarcely hear or comprehend her. All the world seemed to be wearing a giant muffler. The cries, the sounds of death and combat, and everything else was only a faraway murmur as though it were something you hear from many rooms away as you lie half-asleep in your bed at night. His outstretched hands were smeared with blood from Lieutenant Thorvald's body.

 

"How." He took a step closer to his sister, his light, his sun. "How could you." Another step. "You destroyed a great man today." The face that could make old men sigh and young men weep for its beauty quaked in fear as it looked right through him, unseeing. "A saint." Another step. "We were happy." Another methodic, wooden step. He had to get to the hearthfire of his heart. He had to get her back.

 

"They promised," she continued to whisper. Sulette was weeping now, he could see. But he no longer knew what that meant. "You destroyed him, his wife" another inexorable step. "Our home," Step. "A country." Step, step, step. Pause.

 

"And for what?" he heard the faraway voice that sounded much like his say. Timothy listened with interest. "Pride? Greed for more than your station allowed?"

She shook violently now, body racked with sobs. She made no other reply.

 

Step. "Why? You had everything." They were close enough now that he could reach out and embrace her. His poor, injured sister! How he longed to take her in his arms, dry her tears and tell her everything would be alright. He had never seen her hurt this way in their lives. Something inside him withered in sypmathy as he looked on such intense pain and anguish in this bright flower.

 

"I wanted more," she squeezed out inbetween sobs.

 

"NO!", he roared, and with all his might, surged forward and threw her...

Out, out, and down, down, down. Her eyes went wide and clear as she fell. She uttered not a sound more; only stared steadily up at him in utter horror.

 

~

 

A man's heart, sister, and king died that day. Timothy would learn later that much of the royal guard had died, but the queen had lived on in imprisonment before she was later freed and exiled. He never found out what happened to his parents.

 

Timothy escaped, went somewhat mad, and was taken in by a monastery.

 

Under the new rule, the people were much less happy, but eventually, this changed due to the natural ebb, flow and change of any populace given enough time. The usurpers lived happily ever after.

 

~

 

The End.

[Ozymandias]

The story this is a preface to is 'The Gaze of Eternity', by Yui-chan, myself, Wyvern, Gyrfalcon, and Zadown.

 

'Timothy' is dedicated to all of my fellow authors on 'The Gaze of Eternity', for teaching me quite a lot about writer's discipline. To everyone responsible for such magnificent television shows as Three Stories Tall, Long Ago and Far Away, Faerie Tale Theater, and all the ones I've forgotten, as well as my Dad, and everyone I've ever roleplayed with. I have all of you to thank for my love of storytelling; both doing it and listening to it. To Robin Hobb, for being my other big inspiration to write this story, as well as my work in 'The Gaze of Eternity'. I knew I was doing something right when I could feel Fedwren and Fitz standing with me, nodding in approval.

 

To God, for giving me the skill and will to be a storyteller. This is my first full short story.

 

 

W00t! I did it! :>)

[WrenWind]

*satnds an applauds* Bravo!! well done. I liked the twist in the end.

 

 

Wren Windsong

[The Portrait of Zool]

WOOT! Excellent story - 'cept I can't wait for the sequel!

 

You GO guy!

[Gyrfalcon]

Ozymandias,

 

excellent work, it provides quite a bit of background on the crazy scholar we all know and love as Timothy.

 

Congratulations on completing your first short story, it was well worth reading!

 

It reads somewhere between a fable (Once upon a time...) and character development.

[The Big Pointy One]

I really enjoyed it; I thought you created a nice sense of emotion between Timothy and Sulette, although I must admit it seemed to border on creepy. Maybe it's because I have a simple mind? A sick one? Anyways, it was really well done, and I loved the intensity of the conclusion.

 

Good work!

 

[DeanTheAdequate]

Nice! Greed does seem to be the most evil of motivations. With a helping of good intentions, another empire crumbles. If I may quote the Gueniss researchers... "BRILLIANT!"

 

*Claps*

[Ayshela]

*laughs*

and i was going to say "brilliant" but since it's already been said..

"echo"

[Wyvern]

I agree with others that this is an excellent story, Ozymandias. I found the interactions between Timothy and Sulette particularly evocative, and especially liked the extremely tense scene where Timothy paces towards Sulette one step at a time. The twist of Sulette secretly being greedy came as a genuine shock to me, since you had me believing that she was a sweet and innocent girl until her very final confession to Tim!

 

It's great to learn more about Timothy's character, and I'm glad that the Gaze could inspire a story like this. Two thumbs up.

[Hot Soup]

That was good. I enjoyed it.