TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering Read online

  Behind the throne was an enormous block of translucent white quartz, quarried from the flames of Mount Volcano by the titans in remote times. This crystal had been dug, transported and placed in the fortress, when the fortress was nothing more than a pile of stones. The piece of quartz had multiple functions. Being hollow it was used as a stove. In fact, a crowd of silent and respectful monks constituted a small army of servants with the simple task of feeding the flames inside the crystal, day and night. These men were dressed in poor brown jute habits, falling to their feet and their bald heads were covered by wide hoods that made them difficult to recognizable even between themselves.

  The huge flame-filled quartz lit the room, making the Emperor seem like the source of light and heat in the large room. This was clever trick designed to create awe in the less learned and a sense of submission to the Emperor's omnipotence.

  The enormous ceiling of the huge room was covered with precious golden stuccoes and frescoes, as of unimaginable beauty. The pointed arches of the vaults soared to dizzying heights so it was difficult, if not impossible, to observe the all of the precise and minute details of these works of art.

  The columns, made of the characteristic black stone as was the rest of Titan, were of disproportionately huge dimensions, but despite this, they appeared to be slender, stretching towards the heavens. Eight rows of columns divided the room into eight smaller aisles flanking a main central nave. Each column was enriched and reinforced by three spiral pillars, composed of three very long, pure white marble snakes, wrapped around each other. The three serpents embraced the black columns in their coils until, at the top, their wide-open jaws formed the reinforced ribs of the vaults as with their tongues as well.

  Each column had three burners to give heat and light, placed at about a quarter of their height. These large metal braziers were placed away from the columns so that the pure white of the pillars was not horribly blackened. The walls of the room were covered with pillars, arches and capitals imitating the external decoration, on a smaller scale.

  Inside, the decoration was also in white marble with carved detailing and golden inscriptions framing niches with statues of precious white marble, portraits of heroes and human Emperors. On the wall of the entrance there were portraits of the most important heroes of men. The work was from the best craftsmen's workshops showing high technical skill, able to make hard stone look soft. The statue of Trondheim, Thor's son, stood out with his torn knitted tunic and dented body armour, though it was elegantly decorated. The hero was carved with his right arm raised towards the heavens, wielding his mighty hammer, while the tight fist of his left hand held the long hair and what remained of the head of Kmur, Lord of the barbarians of the Goat-Horn Mountains.

  The wall was covered with splendid similar masterpieces, all more or less war-like, to about half the height of the walls. The empty area of the remaining half made it appear unadorned and unfinished. The reason for this lack of decoration was the difficult path which must be taken to become a hero. It was fraught with danger, while it was much less difficult to die in the attempt to rise to such a noble position. The side walls and the wall behind the throne were more crowded. The statues adorning these walls depicted the first human Kings and Emperors, who, in these more recent times, tended to live quietly and long. But in more distant times Emperors often lasted a year, perhaps two, because of the devious conspiracies and jealousies rising between crowned heads and family members.

  The least fortunate was Grigor Seeker, ancestor of the Lord in golden armour. This ancestor had the sad record of only one day of reign. Despite a very limited time of government, his heir, Auror Seeker, Grigor's firstborn, had a statue of his father made in a noble pose, upright, with his arms outstretched, holding the hilt of the sword. It wasn’t long before Auror took his place on the wall next to his father. His was the only imperial statue whose helmet had a lowered visor. This stratagem used in an attempt to make posterity forget the face of the traitor, but not the plot, which had been devised by a son behind his father’s back. In fact, the helmet had the inscription ‘Patricide’ on the visor. Many Emperors had been murdered by their children, but only Anscent Seeker, Grigor's second son and Auror's brother, offered a public gesture of loyal and enduring love, avenging his father.

  The magnificent grand hall of the High Tower of Titan was crowded with nobles, princes and guards, who were lined up evenly along the hall from the entrance door to the foot of the throne. All these people were there for show, part of a campaign to give the illusion of a beloved Emperor adored by the nobility of the Citadel. In truth he was too selfish and cold to become attached to anything or anyone, apart from his Kingdom.

  "So many people," commented High in an undertone.

  "So many self-seekers," Godwin specified, expecting yet another sarcastic or offensive comment from Grigor.

  But this did not happen, since the shimmering Grigor was now overwhelmed by the admiring and malevolent glances towards him from these nobles, seeing him pass by in his golden armour.

  Once in the middle of the room, in the middle of the enormous transept, the Great Chamberlain ordered quietly:

  "My Lords, stop here!"

  He took four more steps, leaning heavily on his the stick. The Great Chamberlain stopped and, clearing his throat, he beat the stick three times on the floor, making a powerful sound, which spread throughout the large hall, silencing the audience. Albion turned to one side, proclaiming:

  "His Imperial Highness Marius Taccer, Emperor of the United Men, Light in the Dark Ages, Emperor in Titan and the Emerging Lands, Guardian of the Just and Protector of the Faith welcomes his favoured guests!" Albion took a moment's breath, beat the stick again three times and announced: "We welcome with honour in order of age." He took another breath and glanced at High with a half smile, that the God-Slayer did not understand immediately. The Lord of the East realized only later that the presentation was deliberately wrong, because age was not something to be taken into consideration by protocol.

  The Great Chamberlain repeated himself, aware that he would be rebuked, but not fearing the consequences:

  "We welcome with honour Grigor Seeker, second of his name, First Western Standard, Liberator of the Citadel, General of the West Valley, Lord of the White Castle and the City of Abovemountain, Guardian of the Pass of Abovemountain." Albion stopped again to catch his breath, then resumed: "We welcome with honour High Marshal, called the God-Slayer, Lord of the East, Hero of the Citadel, General of the East Wall, Destroyer of the Ardils, Regent of the Fortress of Fate and the city of Black Portal." The old Great Chamberlain, shaking his head slightly, resumed: "We welcome with honour Godwin Wellinton, called the Righteous, Lord of the South, First Vassal of the South, Protector of the Citadel, Hero first class of the Gods, General of the South Wall, Lord of the Golden Castle and of the city of the Sepulchre of the Gods, Guard of the Sepulchre of the Gods." Albion approached the three regal gentlemen again and whispered: "Now go to the Emperor. I will have to drain the entire bottle to recover from your thunderous titles. May they go to the devil, possessions and titles!"

  The three crowned heads smiled and began their procession towards the Emperor.

  The Emperor was seated on his throne of finely worked solid gold, adorned with ornate reliefs which depicted Emperors and heroes, in the same theme as the whole hall. The throne was placed at the top of a staircase of ten large, beautiful marble steps with gold inlays on the risers, mosaics of sparkling precious stones. The throne itself had undergone adaptations during the ages to suit the human rulers.

  A man-sized throne had been built inside the original giant seat. The new seat and backrest gave support with comfortable cushions in burgundy velvet decorated with buttoning. Each of the large buttons, which had the characteristic diamond shaped padding, had a huge diamond set in the centre to enrich the display. Three steps were added to three sides around the throne so that human legs could reach the seat smoothly and not give the impression that t
he Emperor was a child sitting on an adult’s large chair.

  On the first marble steps, the General of the Imperial Army stood to the right of the Emperor and the Commander of the Imperial Militia to the left. The first was quite old, but with a vigorous body, standing straight and rigid to attention with look lost to the horizon, as if he was still on watch. The splendid satin-finish steel plate armour revealed his origins as a warrior. This image was furthered by a series of dents proudly worn on bracelets and shoulder straps.

  High and Godwin also appreciated the humble, military and style without any frills or precious metals distinguishing the armour of the elderly General. The only exception was a gold inscription beautifully worked on the body armour, bearing the motto of the imperial army ‘Ave Imperator’. The old warrior had grey, well-kept hair and was holding the pommel of the sword, tied to his belt, with his right hand.

  "A left-handed man!" Godwin whispered. High nodded his head, intent on listening to the petitions that some dignitaries were reading to the Emperor.

  Godwin was a man of action and paid little attention to detailed, protocol-filled ceremonies. He turned his attention to the Commander of the militia, who was staring at him arrogantly. The militia Commander was a short, fat man, well past the flower of youth, even taking into account his sedentary lifestyle and close attention to all the best the table offered. These habits can alter appearances and thus be misleading.

  The man who stood in front of them was certainly not a warrior. His flaccid, corpulent body forced his squire to invent ways to tighten the already sizeable body armour. It was straining to contain the generous roundness of its owner. Despite the efforts made by his servants, the body armour refused to close at the sides, allowing glimpses of the straps used to keep it all together.

  The same inglorious fate befell the strap for the thigh protectors, kept in its place thanks to the use of an extension to that covered the entire circumference of the waist. The most absurd thing about this man was that he tried to wear the throat cover, which was narrow and partially covered by soft rolls of the Commander’s double chins. This lardy excrescence lay like goatskin water bottles clinging to the sides of horses. The Commander, purple in the face and squeezed by his armour, seven-sizes too small, but polished to mirror-shine, attracted glances with his slightest movement, which did not do much for his image as a knight.

  A little further above, standing still on the fourth step, was the Commander of Emperor's private guard. Once it had been an elite body, where only the strongest and most valiant in war could hope to enter, now it was a nest of vipers, the mostly the young sprigs from families of crown financiers and nagging politicians.

  However, the Commander looked handsome in his shining armour, which was almost identical to that of the guards at the entrance and the in the hall. The most visible difference was in the black cloak, with the twelve-pointed cross in the centre, embroidered in gold thread. Another big difference was the helmet, which had an awkward anthropomorphic visor, folded upwards to show off the proud black moustache that grew lush under his long nose. This proud man also placed his hand on the pommel of his sword, which hung on his left.

  Going up four more steps, it was best not to catch the eyes of the first imperial counsellor. He was a perfidious mercenary, a sibylline and Mephistophelean being. He was, of course, in the pay of the richest or the best willing to cross his palm with coin. The first counsellor was an old acquaintance of High and his deceased father, who had been sent to the east because of this counsellor’s careful advice. This disgusting person was called Dicius. He was a thin and tiny man, physically unable to fight to survive, so he made an art of his own ability to cheat and twist people’s minds.

  His eyes moved rapidly, as usual, studying every detail of everything he looked at. His dry and knotty clasped hands were adorned with large and precious rings. He was dressed in the latest fashion, using splendid fabric, whose colour changed from red to blue in the light. He wore a white belt with a buckle that was identical to that of the Crown prince.

  Prince Calvin had meanwhile reached his father and, tired of standing and listening to the petitioning nobles, had taken a seat to the right of the Emperor.

  Boredom also overwhelmed High, who was fed up with listening to problems of social distress explained by nobles who had no oratory ability and could not tell a story. The lack of attention from those present was clear. They did not care about anything outside themselves and their possessions. The God-Slayer whispered smiling at Godwin:

  "See the girl sitting next to Calvin?"

  "Yes," Godwin replied, adding playfully: "But she's too young for you!"

  "Ha, ha! Have your fun!" High replied, stopping for a moment, pretending to notice nothing as he realized that Grigor had begun to listen to them, no longer paying attention to the complaints of the nobles.

  The God-Slayer went on to Godwin as soon as Grigor was no longer listening:

  "King Godwin, the girl did not enter my thoughts as my second wife, but as your son's first wife!"

  "Who, my Elder?" the South Lord asked in a low voice.

  "Yes," replied High.

  "No, no! Elder is doing very well for himself on his own. He often goes to Rome. Maximus, Lord of the city, sent a message asking for consent for his daughter Azul to be courted by my Elder, permission that I have obviously granted," Godwin was very proud of his third child.

  "Then Dimer might do! You always say that he behaves in a manner not suited to a prince and is not very skilful with women. Help him by introducing him to the imperial princess," insisted the God-Slayer.

  "Dimer is a nuisance, but I would not wish for any of my children to have a wife with Taccer blood. Far be it from me the idea of favouring such a fate," Godwin abruptly closed the conversation.

  High was convinced that that young, wealthy and charming girl could represent a good match for one of Godwin's sons:

  "But, my dear friend, have you noticed the grace of the girl?" he began but was interrupted by Godwin, who asked:

  "But why do you want to marry off that one there to one of my children?"

  "My dear friend, I am only thinking this because you have an army of children," replied the God-Slayer, but Godwin did not like the answer very much:

  "Why not with one of yours?"

  "My own?" exclaimed High totally surprised. "You know that my Alderecht has been married for a long time and both Jens and Jorgen are promised," stated High with the certain pride of a happy father.

  "Vladimir is free!" Godwin exclaimed in a low voice.

  "Vladimir? But are you mad, Lord of the South, do you know what he is called?" High asked. The tone of his voice was so loud that it attracted the attention of Grigor, who was willingly recalled to their discussion.

  Godwin was sorry for the indelicacy he had shown, but he was unaware of the rumours that touched on the honour of High's son and whispered:

  "Forgive me, Majesty, I know nothing of the problems caused by your youngest son."

  The Righteous would have liked to know the reason for the worries bothering his friend, but preferred discretion to knowledge.

  After hours of long and boring stories, by now the martial bearing of the event was lost and protocols began to lapse. The Generals were sitting on the steps to the throne, looking like pigeons sitting on a cathedral. The Empress rose saying softly:

  "I apologise, but my children and I must leave, with the permission of the Emperor, of course."

  The Emperor, lolling on the throne with his chin resting on the back of his right hand, looked glassy-eyed and bored. He gave a slight nod, without even looking at his wife. The Empress and her children quickly disappeared behind the great quartz crystal, like cockroaches surprised by the light.

  Her Majesty was a beautiful woman with long ash blonde hair and deep green-brown eyes. She was a very intelligent woman, considered dangerous by all, well-versed in political arts, learned from her father Grigor. The Empress was, in fact, Heaven, Grigor Lo
rd of the East’s second daughter: she married out of necessity, was a good mother as a duty and a good wife perhaps, but certainly Empress with a lust for power. Neither High nor Godwin had ever had the pleasure of talking to the Empress for long, but because of the little they had seen and heard, they preferred to keep the relationship frosty.

  Finally the last supplicant was called. He came to the front of the greatly diminished audience of nobles. He was fearful and respectful as he bowed and began his supplication:

  "My Emperor, I ask for your help," he stopped for a moment. His face was sad, his eyes shiny and reddened. He quickly rubbed the sleeve of the beautiful yellow and blue jacket on his eyes, before resuming his plea. "My daughter, my only, beautiful daughter, vanished in the lands of Varius."

  When the Emperor that heard name pronounced, he felt a chill down his spine. He was no longer bored and distracted. Interrupting the noble he repeated:

  "Varius, you said?"

  "Yes, my Emperor! I am one of the inhabitants of Varius. My daughter has not returned to the cottage for a week, I have looked for her, but alone I am not able to cover the vast territory," the noble answered.

  Before arriving on the throne of the High Tower, the Emperor had possessed the title of Sovereign of the Kingdom of Varius. Currently, the management of the business of the city of Varius, full of merchants and wealth, among the most important of the Kingdom, was entrusted to the fourth son of the Emperor, Braxton Taccer.

  "Did you ask for help from the ruler?" the Emperor asked. The question was rhetorical, from a still distracted but curious Emperor. He had placed his trust blindly in his son Braxton.

  "Yes, Your Majesty, I have addressed my complaints to the correct authorities," the noble answered, hanging his head.

  "Strange, I find it unbelievable that Braxton ignores his subjects!" the sceptical Emperor replied, as every good father would.