Ashtium: City of Sun

ENOCH

Lessons with Lucas went surprisingly fast today. He was asking more questions than usual about the measurements and scale of his sketches made for the future addition to our city bank. After I wrapped up his lesson, I went to my study to work on my own drawings for the rest of the day. Most of that time was spent worrying over Greta and Urdmin’s search parties out on the streets right now.

Tonight, we are eating fish from my father’s recent trip to the south sea. Its scales are orange and its eyes black. We each get our own as well as a large bowl of soup. Tonight’s wine tastes stronger than normal, and for dessert, the fried dough has arrived in a timely fashion as I have just finished off the last bite of my delicious fish.

It makes me wonder about the fountain.

Greta told me she saw an animal in it the day I left. She must have thought she saw a fish, but there are no fish in there. It was made to be a drinking fountain. A peasant could have placed a fish in it I suppose. I’m sure a bird would have picked it off by now though. It just makes me feel even more at a loss. It’s a miracle she survived out in the desert unable to see in color.

She’s killed before and been attacked by our own people. Sooner or later her actions will catch up with her, but I am doing my best to protect her until I can come up with a way to save her from the inevitable confrontation with what she’s done.

“Enoch, tell us. Has your day been well?” Mother asks me.

“Lucas is catching on quickly. He is a fast learner,” I say while stirring the last thin layer of soup in my bowl.

A servant hands me my dessert and I cut into the soft pastry, but put my fork down remembering Greta would be starving without me. It’s not right I indulge in such things while she is living just off the food I have given her.

The emperor has already finished his dessert. My father doesn’t breathe when he eats. An unfortunate trait for him. I try to mimic mother’s manners. It has helped me earn her favor from a young age. Perhaps I should have suggested that to father the other day going off of mother’s stare of disgust when he burps.

His advisors applaud and mother glares at the row of them seated together. Their mouths shut as they remember their wives at home which mother has been known to target when she’s in the mood for a “luncheon”.

I pity the advisors sometimes, but then I remember the whips they carry and their generic praise of my father’s enslavement of our people. I don’t know if they all truly support it, but they definitely all support his success. In which, would never have happened without the slaves doing his work. Many of his soldiers were born slaves as well and by joining his army have gain freedom.

Knowing I design the structures he wishes built by the slaves has sat well with me, but I refuse to be out there on the streets supervising them like Urdmin. The job has been offered to me more than once.

“You all belong in the stables,” Mother comments.

She turns her gaze from the advisors to me. I nod my head in agreement earning a scoff from Urdmin, the only one who didn’t join in on the laughs.

Father gives her a rare loving gaze melting mother’s harsh glare immediately. She looks back down at her plate with a small blush and then wipes her mouth with her napkin. When she looks up, Adler’s stare has already left her as he resumes talking in deep discussion with his advisors.

She normally is not included in their discussions of politics and war. She usually isn’t interested in the topics either, but that doesn’t keep her from trying to enter the discussion. Father doesn’t mind her opinions, but the advisors are the ones who speak over her unless her opinions are aimed at them.

Each night usually ends in argument. If mother does not leave, then the advisors do or visa versa. It is the main reason I prefer breakfast and lunch. Both meals I usually have to myself whenever I have the time to spare. I prefer eating in my study anyway. It is easier to think in the quiet space and I enjoy my solitude.

I want to show Greta it sometime, once this mess clears up that is. I think she would like to look through my books and my chemist lab. I have some taxidermy of the creatures of the desert.

Mother leaves the table after she finishes eating half of her desert.

The emperor stands up quicker than I’ve ever seen. “Where are you going, dearest?”

“What concern is it of yours? If you must know, I’m fetching a drink at the tavern,” she brushes the sleeve of her silk white dress. The red ruby of her diamond necklace catching the eye of every man in the room as the servant holding the door open for her flicks it with suggestion.

“The wine here is too weak. I ask an advisor’s company. I hate dragging my personal guards with me everywhere. Urdmin, will you escort me? I assume you will be in the observatory tonight anyway, Adler.”

“I must keep watch-”

Urdmin interjects father surprising us both. “It would be an honor, empress Femke.”

Father sits down giving the advisor a respectful nod, but the moment his back is turned his face turns into a grimace. Mother and Urdmin leave the room, Adler’s face calms. He and his advisor’s conversation continues exactly where it left off.

Adler remains quiet though staring straight ahead at mother’s empty chair with a faraway look. The corner of his lip quirks up when his gaze moves in my direction. He lifts his cup up and I do the same.

I was to kill Urdmin, but father understood the complications that would arise if I chose to do so after he was attacked again in the public. So I have been forgiven of my delay in taking action. The task, for now, has been returned to father and I am glad to be relieved of it. I do not wish to get between Urdmin and mother.

“Enoch, before you leave, have new wine brought up to the kitchens.”

“Yes, emperor Adler,” I reply evenly.

New wine may please mother, but it will not make her love him. His efforts are in vain. Her heart is already set on Urdmin and toying with him. It is a game to her that I don’t entirely blame her for playing. He denies it, but he considers himself a god among men. He has a reputation of killing anyone who looks him in the eyes. It is why his advisors sit at his sides.

I’ve never seen a man or woman touch him, but my mother. He does not like to be touched. His back was the only thing he ever offered to guide me with other than his cynical advice. As a child, I naturally looked to mother, and she, as a result of father’s neglect, raised me on her own.

He was mostly out of the city during those times anyway.

He is much different with mother. When he wants to be that is. I will give him credit for being faithful to her, but I think that is only because he recoils from the touch of everyone. It makes me wonder if something traumatic happened to him as a child. His revulsion of everyone he rules must have not just come from nowhere.

There must be some unearthed fear he keeps locked away from others in the stagnant depths of his mind.

In his temple, he harbors in his solitude swimming in the worship of those outside the walls of his temple if he isn’t in his observatory. The only people allowed in those two places are those he trusts. Women are not allowed in mostly because of mother’s worries. I have never heard talk of father being with or desiring another woman other than mother. She is known to be the most beautiful one of our city and the rumor does do her justice. Her personality though is another matter.

She is nothing like Greta. In fact, when I first saw Greta inside our city walls, I thought her to be an elder. The desert has marred her skin the shade of a corpse. It’s smooth but feels thinner than it should be for someone as young as her and I. Her hair is already as grey as the older folk of our empire.

The desert has increased and advanced her aging significantly ahead of me.

She should look younger, but there is no helping it. I tried to powder her skin to make it look tanner and healthier. I new wearing it made her uncomfortable though and I wasn’t surprised to find her having washed it off on her own. Her hair can always be died though to match the black ashy tone at her roots from her original color rather than the dead grey strands.

Both of my parents look younger than her even. It’s a real shame.

Sometimes I would look at her and wonder if she was lying about her age. After being near her though, I grew to believe her story...the little she shared. Her eyes are full of life and it gives me hope for her future. A future with someone else possibly other than me.

She would never be suited for this life I endure. I would never want to risk making her suffer mother’s wrath. No woman besides her has even entered our palace, except her lawmakers – who are only permitted in the library and courthouse.