Purpose

  A man had to walk with purpose. If your walk carried no purpose, neither would your gaze, your handshake, your words. You lack purpose in one area, you lack purpose in all. If you had no purpose, you had no direction, no meaning.

  Purpose. You had to make it to get it.

  No other place boiled with as much purpose as The Lighthouse, the epicenter of humanity, a hub for anything and everything. The main body was a cavernous atrium, noon rays gleaming off its ivory walls and casting light on the action below through high and tall windows. Soldiers and scribes and scholars bustled about the space, white and gold laced fabric and armor weaving through the throng. Rooms to the sides teemed with life. The pleasant hubbub of voices busy at work drifted on the air. Shuffling feet moved onto pressing matters. Pages rustled. Pens scribbled. Doors creaked and slammed. Call outs to comrades and colleagues. A sea of purposeful faces.

  Ghail regarded the efficiency with a rare glint of satisfaction in his eye as he pushed against the current of bodies, a crucial matter of his own to attend to. His progress was hampered by the many jostling shoulders and elbows, which led him to entertain a fleeting thought: he could simply announce himself to the people. That would most certainly get them to make way, just as it had on occasions in the past. But, he had to admit, those were desperate situations indeed. If he could help it, he’d prefer not to obstruct the flow of business. People and systems tended to function better without too much meddling. But, to his resigned modicum of delight, those that paid attention parted before him, made it appear as if he was a rock around which the river water curled. Ghail treated them to an open smile. They gawked, gave nods in greeting, smiles with eyes full of reverence, the odd salute here and there.

  He upped his pace with the new found legroom, his route taking him up a series of stairways, people still staring after him in awe. More bodies streamed in and out of smaller corridors to the front that merged with the atrium along its length, people moving to or from different divisions of The Lighthouse. The sets of smaller corridors continuously flowed into the main chamber, its bulk diminishing steadily along with the gradually dwindling traffic the further up and along he went.

  The stairs relented and gave way to the final stretch of marble floor, the background noise fading to a whisper, then was gone altogether as his quick footsteps carried him deeper. Ghail’s joints ached from the ceaseless climbing. He harbored no fondness towards those stairs, but they did add a certain feeling of progress – it had to be said – as if striving towards a transcendent destination, the world below an afterthought. The preservation of ambience was a crucial characteristic in his mind. He guessed the climb kept him from slipping into the clutches of comfort as well, his mouth twisting in slight irritation. He’d just have to suffer the inconvenience for the greater good.

  He walked alone now, a pin prick in a vast void. The oncoming wall towered over the space, intricate carvings of stoic faces, giant trees and abstract figures blended together in a swirling mass across its surface. No side corridors or doors save for a single archway at its center that loomed near the ceiling, like some entity deeming whether you had rite of passage. It was disproportionately slim, appearing as an incision cut into the stone, six grim-looking sentinels flanking it on either side. Even having seen the place thousands of times, he still caught himself in mild wonder at the imperious display.

  Light shifted from soft-warm to brilliant-cool as he passed into the archway’s maw. Lamplight from the corridor walls bounced off the glossy surfaces and revealed fine veins of gold running through the marble and up semi-submerged pillars to converge at a point on the ceiling. He approached a set of heavy doors at the end of the path, eased his way in, the large amber ring on his middle finger turning with his wrist.

  The room beyond had an intimate feel in stark contrast to the previous colossal architecture. Wooden panels encased the interior with a dormant hearth in one corner. The design was simple yet of quality. A wall-sized window opposite Ghail streamed light across a wide desk there. The outline of a man took shape by the window, gazing out over the city beyond.

  ‘Impeccable timing, as always,’ the man said without turning.

  Ghail shrugged off his coat and hung it from the nearby coat-stand, rolled his shoulders a little to ease the tension there. ‘If not for all the stairs, I’d have a timing that carried me off into the past.’

  The man turned and greeted Ghail with a radiant smile that touched his yellow eyes. A white and gold cloak loosely hung about his slender frame, splendid white fabric underneath. He had a similar amber stone adorning his middle finger, larger than Ghail’s own. ‘It’s good to see you, my friend.’

  ‘You too, Thanner.’

  They greeted with a solid hug. It had been a while. As they pulled apart, Thanner put his hand on Ghail’s shoulder, studying him with still the sliver of a smile. ‘You look good, if not a bit weary.’

  Ghail shrugged and Thanner let his hand fall. ‘You live as long as we do,’ he mused as he made his way to the decanter cabinet, ‘weariness is a given.’

  He poured them each some whiskey, then claimed a spot next to Thanner by the window and handed him his glass. They followed up with a sip, synchronized. Bity, rich, a twinge of apple and cinnamon, then melting away to leave a subtle after taste, a true revelry for the tongue.

  They watched the city below in silence, the noon sun granting brilliant clarity. They were up so high he could spot the city walls, etched minuscule along the horizon. Mesmerizing buildings with elegant designs flowed from the base of The Lighthouse, dropping in height at a gentle gradient the further away they went. Streets – ample with space – flowed like veins, carrying its people, the lifeblood of the city, through its body. Four imposing structures loomed above the rest at the center of Delthar: The Soartide Obelisks. A metropolis so magnificent it was hard to look away.

  Perfected purpose.

  Ghail swirled his drink around thoughtfully. Thanner threw back the last of his with one gulp.

  ‘Do you remember the days when uncle Rald had brewed his own whiskey?’ asked Thanner with an absent smile.

  Ghail thought about it, milling over all those ancient memories. ‘I remember. My father always was a connoisseur of one caliber or another.’ His brows creased inward slightly. ‘Never could be idle, that man. Busy till his last breath.’

  Thanner’s smile widened, but there was a sort of sadness to it. ‘We’d sneak into his cellar, tap a barrel, then proceed to spend the rest of the day getting proper shit-faced.’ He laughed, a distant mirth to his eyes. ‘Never quite made it out in time, however.’

  Ghail took another sip, found he too was grinning now. Foggy memories – of easier times – somewhat illuminated. Or maybe it was simply a shared cheerfulness. ‘You got off lightly. The number of times I had to write out the downsides of alcohol was enough to fill a religious text with.’

  A mocking brow. ‘I’d wager you really took it to heart, those lessons.’

  ‘The upside was too tantalizing. You’re a believer too. Don’t be coy.’

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  ‘Fair enough,’ Thanner relented with a chuckle. ‘Pray tell the teachings you suffered on both of our behalf.’

  ‘Insomnia, heart failure, liver failure, slurred speech, heightened aggression,’ Ghail found himself pleasantly surprised as those scribbles drifted into his mind, listing them off on his fingers one by one. ‘Bad breath, crooked foot. Limp cock and furious lovers. Sore cock and swooning lovers. A fair share of awkward acquaintances.’ He paused. ‘Ditch-diving…’

  Thanner was staring at him. They burst out laughing.

  Ghail’s cousin wiped a joyous tear from his eye. ‘I can attest to a few of those. Ditches truly hold a special place in the heart of drunkards.’ He was still struggling to suppress the odd shake from the aftermath of laughter. ‘Was regret ever on that list?’

  ‘It was the first thing I penned as my mother sat me down,’ admitted Ghail as the shakes took hold of him again.

  Their laughter continued for a time, slowly easing away and leaving them both with a sore stomach and a stupid grin.

  ‘Feels like a lifetime ago,’ sighed Thanner.

  ‘It was a lifetime ago,’ corrected Ghail. ‘A few.’

  Thanner nodded solemnly. ‘Indeed. Only look at us now. Rulers of an Empire, giggling like little boys.’

  ‘Saints know I could use a giggle more often these days,’ he remarked as he drained the last of his whiskey.

  ‘That makes two of us. You think it’s easy standing like this all day, gazing sternly out over my subjects?’

  ‘The responsibility must be unbearable,’ conceded Ghail drily.

  The hint of a smile on Thanner’s lips. ‘It’s been too long, friend, too long. Thank you for making me laugh again.’

  It seemed as if an oppressive weight came to rest on the Emperor's shoulders then. Ghail knew him all too well to know what it meant – time for business.

  Without another word they turned, synchronously, to face the desk and the map that resided there. Ghail leaned forward, pointed out three dots in turn. Small settlements each, closer to the south, to the jewel of civilization that was Delthar. Delthar was the largest city amongst only a handful of others.

  ‘These settlements are overflowing with refugees,’ Ghail stated. ‘Refugees equally starved for food, water and safety.’

  ‘And even more terrified of the spreading Shadow, I am sure.’

  ‘The ever persistent thorn in our society's side.’ Ghail stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘It’s growing faster than before, you know, consuming whole swathes of land every month.’

  ‘I had some vague reports on the matter. But that’s why you're here, to give me clear ones.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’ Ghail traced a finger up along a line on the map, the glorious amber on his finger glinting in the sunlight. ‘The Imperial road is clogged, with many more adding to the chaos as they brave the journey south. I have posted the First Regiment along its course, the Second Regiment among the affected settlements. Even with so many soldiers to direct the traffic and hand out supplies, there is rising discourse. The infrastructure suffers, people are desperate. Growing anarchy on a scale that hasn’t been witnessed since two centuries past.’

  ‘A memory I wish I could sooner bury, along with the other lost ones,’ remarked Thanner sourly, furrowed lines on his forehead. ‘But the dark ones seem to burn themselves deep into your mind, despite their lack of warmth.’

  Ghail could only nod in silent agreement. There were things, things in his line of work, that would shake any man to the core. Things he swore would never come to pass again. But they were his alone to bear. Thanner had enough of his own demons to contend with.

  His cousin looked troubled as he stroked his chiseled chin. He was a good deal more handsome than Ghail. A fair deal more good looking than most men. Ghail had a stouter face, his body more thickly built. That frown only made the Emperor look all the more regal.

  Good news was at a premium. Bad news at an all time cheap.

  ‘Food is handed out where applicable,’ Ghail pointed out, trying to balance the scale. ‘Tents for housing are being erected. Wells are dug. Mines should see a slight rise in productivity with the new influx of workers. Those without work are in the process of getting repurposed for new professions.’

  Thanner did not look convinced. ‘I appreciate your concern for my concern, Ghail, but I fail to see the use for it. Besides, I’d hardly call that encouraging news. More like damage control.’ He sighed. ‘Give it to me, cut and dry, all of it.’

  Ghail stared at the map and grimaced. ‘In short, it’s a fucking disaster on an epic scale.’ No truer words were evident, so he settled for a simple report. ‘In long, our food supplies have already dropped to half its original volume over the course of the last few months. The loss of farmland hit us hard. This will affect Delthar in the long run. We may need to dig into the city’s reserves sooner than later. We both know how that works out.’

  Ghail glanced at Thanner, looking for some response, but when none was forthcoming, he continued, ‘Shelter is slow to be set up, considering the demand for it. Space is in short supply, disease running rampant with so many squashed in...’

  He continued for some time, listing off the troubles, each hammering the nail deeper into the coffin. Tidings of stripped land and forest. Loss of jobs and resources. A crumbling supply chain. A bleeding economy. The ever encroaching Shadow in the north.

  He paused, catching his breath and wondering what next bag of shit to unload. ‘Crime, as you might have guessed, is at an all time high out there. People fighting over scraps of food or positions of labor. Theft, rape, murder, arson, grudges, even some reports of cannibalism. Morale amongst our regiments and the general populace is lower than the shadow cast by a mole heap. Civil unrest is taking root. Gangs are forming beyond the walls and I’m not sure our military is immune to joining their ranks. If left unchecked, an uprising is as sure as my next breath.’

  ‘My, I daresay a fucking disaster on an epic scale seems rather euphemistic,’ said the Emperor without ceremony, his mouth twisted, ‘now you laid it out so neatly.’

  ‘Cut and dry, as per request.’

  Thanner gave an indicative eyebrow raise. ‘I know you have more for me.’

  ‘You might want to sit down for this one.’ Ghail gestured toward his cousin’s lofty chair.

  He waved it away dismissively.

  ‘The Black Blight has returned.’

  The Emperor, ruler of the great nation of Thond, suddenly went pale as a corpse.

  ‘It was subtle at first. We thought it might be another common disease. But then it started spreading like wild fire and the signs were clear as day. Black bulging veins, black vomit, milky eyes and taut pale skin. Days after the first symptoms emerged, people started dropping like flies, hundreds on the daily.’

  Thanner closed his eyes, then leaned forward to steady himself on the desk. ‘The Light is failing us again,’ he murmured, so softly Ghail barely caught it.

  Ghail couldn’t fault him. He had had very much the same reaction. If not with a bit more of his composure held intact, it had to be said. However, unlike his cousin, he saw those milky eyes, the black bile and deathly look on the faces of the condemned. The screams. The mountains of corpses. The rotted and burned flesh.

  After a few quiet, despairing minutes, Thanner seemed to have recovered some of his bearing, although his skin still carried that sickly paleness, not much unlike those of the afflicted. Thanner looked at him then. He held the Emperor’s eye. At that moment – carved like burning monuments – was the same unyielding determination in the depths of their eyes. Their mutual feeling might have carried a different flavor, perhaps even a different outcome, but damn it, there was purpose.

  ‘We’d best get to it then,’ said Ghail.

  ‘Indeed.’

  They hugged their farewell. Times like those, you never knew if you’d see home again.

  Thanner held him at arms length, ‘You know what must be done.’

  As Ghail made his way back into the corridor outside, a dire urgency took hold of him. It felt exhilarating, intoxicating.

  Things he swore would never come to pass again.

  He knew, better than anyone, what had to be done.