Chapter 4: Enlightened

There was no softer bed in the kingdom than that of the Prince’s; the King and Queen’s

bed was much bigger, but none were as relaxing and pleasant as the one Mark spent the night

in. It didn’t help. All night, Mark tossed and turned, failing to find a path to peaceful slumber.

Nightmares paraded through his mind, though none chilled him like the vision of the dead

world Lansig’s magic had put in his head.

It wasn’t until one of the royal guards pounded on his new bedroom door that a groggy

Mark Beta knew he was in the right place. Jumping out of bed, he rummaged for his

underclothing. Within moments, the chamber door was opened to the confused look of one of

the elite guardsmen.

“Prince Marcus,” he said in a tone filled with obligation, “your father has requested your

presence in his chapel.”

“Yes, ok. Just wait here,“ Mark replied nervously.

Without thinking, he slammed the door shut.

Within a second, he reopened it to once more look at the bewildered guard.

“Wait, his private chapel?” Mark asked.

“Yes sire, his private chapel,” the guard answered.

Once more, Mark closed the door in the guard’s face.

Frantically, he looked over the room for his clothes; any other time and he would know

exactly where everything was. For some reason, he couldn’t find anything he was looking for.

Another knock came from the door.

“Sire, do you require any assistance?” The guard’s voice sounded a bit rougher than

before, it was clear he was not use to being an assistant to the Prince of Safera.

“No, I am fine, thank you. One more moment, please.”

The room was familiar, but something escaped him as he tried to get his bearings. A

flash of brilliance came as he realized that he had never seen the room as his before, but as a

place of toil. Thinking as though he were seeking out the clothing of his former master gave

Mark the sense of clarity he had been missing. Soon, Mark opened the chamber door once

more, fully clothed and carrying a smirk of achievement on his face.

“I am ready,” he said happily.

“Wonderful,” the guard replied with a tone that bordered on the sarcastic.

The sun was higher than it normally was when he had awoken his master. It was later in

the day than he was used to waking up to; Mark grimaced as he looked out of the castle’s

hallway windows.

“What hour is it?”

“It is after 9, Sire.”

Mark shook his head as he began to walk.

Soon, Mark found himself before the king’s chapel; he stared at the sacred room’s

doorway.

“I am sorry, Sire, but as you know I cannot enter with you; I am an Unborn,” the guard

remarked softly.

“I know. I just…need a moment; you are dismissed. ”

The guard bowed to Mark ceremoniously before turning to walk away.

Thoughts raced through Mark’s head as he contemplated what he was about to do.

The young doppelganger rubbed his hand against his side as he focused on the door for

a moment. Cautiously, deliberately, Mark moved toward the door; once his hand held its

handle, he looked to the ceiling curiously. Without another word, he opened it and found his

way inside.

For years, the décor of the King’s chapel had been a mystery that only the royal family

had the answer to; it was a place forbidden by the gods to any Unborns. Surprisingly, the

fantastic room was drab and lacking in any prestigious decoration. All that stood on its walls

were hollowed out places in the stone where candles would sit. Before some of the candles

stood metal pieces like miniature statues, whose shape blanketed the wall opposite of it.

The mix of light and shadow danced together as though they were locked in a ballet for

room of the chapel walls. Chaotic, unpredictable motions swayed Mark, putting him at ease,

until, out of the corner of his eye, one shadow moved in a manner of order. Quickly, Mark

turned to see nothing more than the shadows dancing as they had been doing.

“My son?”

Mark turned to see the King standing before him, with a curious look on his face.

“Yes, father. I am here as you requested.”

“A great thing has happened, my son.”

“And what is that, my father?”

“The Gods have spoken to me; they have made it clear what I must do.”

Mark’s eyes grew large as he listened, his left hand clenched his clothing.

“And what is that, my father?”

“I must make an example of your Unborn. Though he was our most loyal and respected

servant, he must be dealt with as if he were any other criminal.”

“How shall we make an example out of his?”

The King smiled peacefully.

“We shall place him in the J’Tor river as we do with our most outrageous offenders.”

Mark instinctively stepped back from the King.

“The J’Tor? Father, are you sure that is the answer?”

“More sure than I have ever been, my son. The Gods themselves have whispered this

wish into my ears as I prayed to them. It was clear, they wish for your servant to receive the

most severe punishment I can hand down.”

Mark looked past the King, thinking of what was to become of his former master. He

noticed on the wall behind him one of the metal statues placed before the candles. It was in the

shape of a bat with its wings spread in flight.

“What should I do, father?”

“We will leave for the river this afternoon. I am about to send for the executioners; send

word to your servants to attend so that they may stand beside us as a testament to the

solidarity of our decision to make him the first Unborn to be placed in the J’Tor.”

“Yes, father, of course. I shall make sure all is ready.”

“Good, my son. We stand at a defining moment for our country and our race; for

centuries, the Gods have stayed silent on the issue of the Unborns. Beyond the handful of rules

set down by Roslin,” King Turucho pointed to a statue shaped like the most powerful of all the

gods: Roslin, the Dragon, “we have had little in the way of an answer from them.”

“What have they said, father?”

Placing a hand on Mark’s back, the old king walked with him over to the altar where he

knelt down. Mark quickly followed suit, taking in the plain look of the bare stone walls around

him. The altar was just as simple, being nothing more than a raised section of floor with a small

idol shaped like the dual, opposing crescent moons that symbolized the time of Safera’s

founding. Mark closed his eyes, faking a prayer as his father’s indiscernible whispers lightly

touched his ears.

His words grew more distant with each syllable until they seemed to disappear.

“Don’t open your eyes!”

Mark jumped in place, but did as he was told. The words had come out of nowhere as

they had in the world of the dead, though this voice was very different from the previous one

he had heard. It was scratchy and harsh; as soft and embracing as the first voice had been, this

one was just as chilling.

“I know what you are, I can smell it on you. I can smell it in you, you are an abomination

that I will not allow.”

Mark felt the King’s hand on his shoulder once more; the frightened Unborn flinched as

he opened his eyes wide.

“See? Did they speak to you, my son?”

“Ye-yes, father, they did.”

“Good, now go, go get your servants ready. We are about to fulfill our holy task;

perhaps all will be forgiven and we can live in the peace once more.”

Mark nodded his head as he stood. He made his way through the small, dimly lit chapel

until he came to the chapel doors. Once there, the corners of his eyes played tricks on him once

more, showing him a shadow that seemed to move with purpose, with desire. It made him turn

his head quickly only to once again find a bare wall devoid of shade.

As he waited for his Unborn brothers in the Prince’s personal library, Mark looked

through some of the books that had been placed there. Among other things that were

renowned about the Prince, he was known for being well-read. There were hundreds of books

packed into the library in every available spot; the amount of information in such a collection

would be awe-inspiring if not for the hypocrisy that Safera had no system of public education

for its youth.

Each book had a distinctive look to it whether it was its spine, its color or its dimensions;

some looked to be as old as the castle itself, while others were brand new. One book in

particular stood out to Mark, it was a detailed history of the automaton. Mark smiled as he took

the book down and began to thumb through it.

Stopping on a page randomly, Mark began to read.

“Over 86% of the advances in automation have been accredited to the singular drive of

the Empire of Cabis to perfect clockwork life. It has been noted that within six years of this

book’s expected print date, Cabis expects to have a clockwork mind-center which will be as

advanced as any Trueborn’s mind.”

Mark stopped, looking around the room.

“I’ve wanted to read this book for over a decade. No, I must have read this somewhere

else.”

He picked up another and began to read it.

“One particular area of concern for the governing of the masses is the need for constant

focus of attention. For this reason, traditions and patriotic fanfares must be utilized to keep a

singular value system in place for the whole of a population. Without these, a populace would

identify with the whole of mankind instead of its national identity. Because of this, any

responsible leadership must project the land they rule as uniquely superior to maintain proper

governance.”

He threw the book down.

“No. Why?”

A knock came from the library’s door.

“Yes, come in,” he answered, not looking away from the bookshelf he was searching

through.

“My lord, is everything ok?” Mark knew that voice well.

“Everything is fine, Gamma. Please sit down for a moment; I need to find something.”

The doppelganger sat in a chair across from the shelf where Mark was preoccupied.

After a moment of frantic searching, Mark turned to his Unborn brother and dearest

friend. The servant smiled a forced smile.

“Name a subject on which you have no knowledge,” Mark commanded.

“Sire?”

“Anything, what do know nothing about?”

“Hmmm, hydroponics would be a good example, Sire. I have no idea how our food is

grown in such a way.”

Mark closed his eyes for a moment.

“Neither did I yesterday, but today I do. Why? Why is that?”

“Sire, I am not sure what you are saying. Are you in need of a doctor?”

Mark looked at his Unborn brother and shook his head slightly.

“I’m not supposed to know these things, I’ve never studied hydroponics or monarchal

governing theory or,” Mark looked at the book that started him on his bittersweet journey of

realization, “or the history of the automaton.”

Mark walked around the library reading the titles of the books in a near mumble; he

stopped and pulled another off the shelf.

“Here, read this; any random page.”

He held the book out to Gamma, who slowly took it from him and opened it.

“The main advantage to hydroponics is that food supplies can be grown in virtually any

area that can be sheltered against outside influences of nature. Because of this, food can be

grown without the need for soils; using water and nutrient supplies, a much larger than average

yield can be cultivated in a relatively small space.”

Gamma looked at his brother inquisitively.

“Have you ever read this before?” Mark asked.

“No, I have not. Thank you for letting me read it, Sire.”

Mark shook his head.

“Do you know this information before you read it?” He continued.

“N-no, Sire.”

The newly made Prince sighed softly.

“I did and I have never read this book, either.”

“Sire, are these not your books? Have you not read them before today?”

Mark looked his perplexed younger brother in the eyes.

“I can’t do this to you, Gamma, not to you. Come with me.”

Mark led his younger brother out of the private library and through the castle’s

hallways. An autumn breeze made its way through the more opened passages, wafting a

relaxing sensation over them both. Smells of baked pumpkin bread mixed with the dry scent of

dying leaves. Both of them wore a miniscule smile when the other could not see them.

Soon, the stand-in Prince knocked on the door loudly.

“Lansig,” he called out.

After a few moments, the door opened to reveal the old mage dressed in his light brown

robe; Mark wondered if he only had one that he never took off. A look of curious surprise

adorned the old man’s face.

“Gentlemen, how may I help you,” he asked.

“Lansig, we need to talk; I know there are rules and I know what’s at stake, but I will not

leave Gamma in the dark about what is going on,” Mark stated resolutely.

“I see,” Lansig said softly, before taking a moment to think on Mark’s words. He glanced

behind the door as though he were looking for something, then turned back to the identical

pair.

“Then I think it best if you gentlemen come in for a bit. After all, we have no need for

everyone to hear, now do we?”

Mark perked up a bit contrasting his brother’s slumped over look of confusion.

Both men entered Lansig’s doorway to find the room to be unmistakably boring. The

simple one room chamber seemed more like a servant’s quarters than a mage of his abilities. A

soft, but unkempt bed and an old worn down writing table were the only pieces of furniture in

the room. Even the fabrics used on the bed and as curtains seemed old and faded.

“Lansig, your room, what happened?” Mark asked quietly.

“Ah, I apologize, my lord. It is not up to the standard for a royal visit. If I had known you

would be by, I would have cleaned up a bit.”

The old man sat down in the chair at his writing desk slowly, moaning softly as he tried

to relax.

“No, Lansig, I mean—,”

“Shh,” the old man replied. His attention was now focused on something out the

window. Both Mark and Gamma moved to get a better look out the window. As suddenly as

they had leaned forward, an eagle landed on Lansig’s windowsill, spreading its wings wide. It

screeched so deafeningly that Mark didn’t notice his brother jump behind him and onto

Lansig’s bed.

The old mage smiled at the raptor sweetly.

“Thank you, old friend,” he said as he pulled a sliver of meat from his robe sleeve as

though he were some common magician entertaining a party. The eagle took the meat greedily,

then turned around and took flight once more.

“Lansig,” Mark asked with a cracking voice, “what was that?”

“That was an eagle, my lord,” he said resolutely.

“I know that, Lan—,” Mark stopped, looking at the bed where Gamma was sitting, still

wearing a look of shock. “Iron warrior, you are.”

“Sorry, my lord, I just…,” Gamma said, looking as though he had just been beaten.

Mark snorted, then laughed uproariously. Gamma strained not to answer his laughter,

but soon became infected with it. Even Lansig chuckled a bit, though not for very long.

“Lansig, what just happened?” Mark asked, finally regaining his composure.

The room began to become intangible as though it were melting away; as it began to

fade, the room Mark had known so well began to emerge. Its never ending walls stretched

behind each man, the furniture faded into nothing, leaving Gamma to fall to the floor with a

thud, and the stars, so recently muted by sunlight, twinkled all across the rooms ceiling.

“You both have questions and, while I would like to keep this as quiet as possible, it

seems I have been trying to throw you into this blindly,” Lansig said as an aura of energy

surrounded him.

“Lansig, what’s going on? Why did that eagle fly in the way he did?”

“My liege, I think it’s better for everyone if we start with Gamma’s most pressing

question.”

Both men looked at the visibly shaken Unborn. As he sat on the cold stone floor, he

couldn’t help but express his fear.

“Me?”

“Yes, Gamma. You have a very pressing question you have been struggling over. You are

safe here; I promise. Ask your question,” Lansig said in a calm, soothing voice.

The now trembling young man looked into Mark’s eyes.

“Ar—are you my brother? Are you Beta?”

Mark smiled softly. “Yes, I am Beta. I’m sorry I had to put you through this, but I was told

to tell no one.”

Gamma jumped up from the floor, tackling his brother in an almost violent manner.

“Beta, oh thank the gods!”

“The gods had nothing to do with it, young man, trust me,” Lansig said seriously.

“I thought you were going to be executed,” Gamma said, ignoring the glowing mage.

“Wait, that means Prince Marcus is going to be put on trial in your place.”

“Yes, he is; Lansig switched us in the strictest of secrecy,” Mark answered, standing up

and looking at his elder. “Now for my question, Lansig: why?”

“There are two reasons for my swapping you with your Trueborn ‘Master.’ The first is

that he deserved it, plain and simple. Prince Marcus has never been told no; his parents, the

privileged class, even you lot have turned a blind eye to his actions, to his atrocities. I couldn’t

stand by while he let you take the blame for his growing sickness.”

Mark tasted blood in his mouth; it took him a moment to realize he had bitten his

tongue.

“And the second reason?” He asked poorly masking his anger.

“The second reason is much more complicated to explain. Even I don’t understand it all,

but I do know that something big is coming; something that scare the gods themselves and I

have been tasked with making sure certain events take place as they have always been fated to

do.”

“And why did you wait for that eagle? What was that about?” Gamma asked.

“That was a messenger from one who I herald; one who I am not allowed to explain to

you. That is Roslin’s task.”

Mark and Gamma stood frozen before Lansig for what seemed like ages. Finally, Mark

found the strength to respond.

“Roslin’s task?”

“Yes.”

“It’s the ‘task’ of the eldest brother of the gods?”

“Yes,” Lansig answered, furling his brow.

“Wha—umm, ok. Wow, that’s not what I was expecting,” Mark replied awkwardly. “So,

why do I know every passage of every book in the Prince’s library?”

“Because, you silly young man, you wouldn’t pass as the Prince unless I had given you

the knowledge he had. I transferred as much of his knowledge to you as I could, though some

of it will need a spark to completely reveal itself. In the meantime, you should have enough to

fool those who need to be fooled. I gave you his scars, his knowledge, his body as best as I

could; you have to be able to be him when the time comes.”

“Well,” Mark said, looking at Gamma. “I don’t think there is much more we can ask that

would make any more sense. Gamma?”

“Nope, you lost me at Roslin. Can we go before he tells us anything else?”

“Yes, thank you, Lansig. We are sorry to have bothered you.”

Lansig frowned intensely.

“Very well, just know that I can tell you no more. This is the very last time I can speak of

this to you. The power I have to use to keep this a secret is a gift that will not be given a third

time. All must be settled now.”

“We understand,” Mark said, still looking at the old man cautiously.

“Then it is time for you to meet your father for the journey to the J’Tor river; he is

waiting for you and your servants.”

Mark looked as though he had been hit on his back; he turned to his Unborn brother.

“Where are Epsilon and Delta?”

“They went out this morning with the hunting party, Sire. I apologize but I did not know

they were going with them or I would have said something. They wanted to help prepare the

feast for Princess Akendra’s arrival next week.”

“Of course they did; my ‘father’ tells me to summon them so that we can stand together

during the sentencing and they have run off to kill pheasants.”

“The sentencing?” Gamma asked subtly.

“I will explain on the way, but I need you to promise me that you will address me as Sire,

Master or Sir from now on. You put everything into jeopardy, if you don’t.”

Gamma nodded his head.

“Good,” Mark responded. “Now, we have to go watch a part of us forever been torn

away from us and act as though we approve of it.”

“I think if we were given the world, it would sour the moment it touched our hands,”

Gamma said as the two headed out of Lansig’s room.