Post by devilinthedetails on Apr 14, 2018 4:45:38 GMT 10
Title: Prince and Pawn
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 900
Summary: Ozorne is a prince and pawn in Master Chioke's game.
Warnings: References to politically convenient deaths and spoilers for Tempests and Slaughter.
Prince and Pawn
“I would say the world has turned upside-down but that would make it sound as if the rules were the same and just flipped so that up became down, but everything is more complicated than that.” Ozorne clutched at the arm of his chair with knuckles white as ivory as if it were driftwood, and he were a sailor on a ship wrecked in storm like the one that had killed cousin Stiloit. “Stiloit is dead.”
“A tragedy nobody could have foreseen and everyone in Carthak mourns, Your Highness.” From behind his desk, Master Chioke gave a grave nod.
“I’m not certain everyone in Carthak mourns Stiloit’s death.” Ozorne’s eyes narrowed as he studied Master Chioke, who remained inscrutable as stone. “I find it strange that Stiloit drowned in a storm strong enough to destroy his fleet after Faizy, our expert on mysterious lightning snakes, is enticed away from the university with a secret but lucrative offer she can’t refuse, and then she is found dead and almost unrecognizable under spells designed to make her almost impossible to discover, don’t you, Master?”
“Sudden, violent deaths leave many unanswered questions.” Master Chioke’s stare was devoid of all emotion, and Ozorne knew the deaths of Stiloit and Faizy would never haunt him, making him awaken lonely and weeping over the loss of their lives in the middle of the night. Part of Ozorne wished he could be so hard while the other loathed Master Chioke for his callousness, his cold calculations that placed no value on lives that were no longer beneficial to him. “To try to answer those questions with conspiracies is the path to paranoia. I would caution against treading it.”
“It’s not paranoia if it’s true.” Ozorne like a braying hound on a hunt refused to be put off from the scent of blood. “You saw the power of lightning snakes when they touched Arram as did I. They would be strong enough to ruin a fleet, and you know it.”
“If I knew such a thing, I would never dare to voice it aloud, Your Highness.” Master Chioke’s expression was a locked door that left Ozorne fumbling for the key. “Nor should you. Princes have been charged and executed for treason for less loose tongues.”
“I would only say such a thing in your office, Master.” Ozorne’s eyes flicked around Master Chioke’s study. “I’m aware that you have protections against eavesdropping woven into the walls.”
“Spells aren’t infallible.” Master Chioke’s jaw clenched. Ozorne could hear it in his tone, which was rough and broken as gravel. “The questions you’re asking are dangerous even in my office.”
“Because they lead back to you?” Ozorne arched an eyebrow.
“I won’t suffer your suspicions.” Master Chioke’s fist pounded his desk. “After everything I’ve done for you, the least you can do is show me the respect of keeping silent.”
“Keeping silent about what, Master?” Ozorne’s chin trembled whether with rage or grief he didn’t know and couldn’t contemplate. “What have you done for me?”
“A favor you could never have brought yourself to ask for but that I sensed you wanted because I could see every day how your ambitions mounted, how your craving for power grew like a weed in a garden.” Master Chioke leaned forward in his chair as Ozorne flinched back in his, denying his dark desire for the throne and the deaths of the heirs that had mocked him. The knowledge that Master Chioke had orchestrated Stiloit’s death would be enough to destroy him without the understanding that Master Chioke had done so in response to Ozorne’s unspoken wishes. “A favor Arram and Varice could never do for you, though I know that the only reason you chose them as friends was because you imagined their power might be useful to you one day.”
“That’s a lie.” Ozorne massaged his temples, wondering if his fervid words were addressed to Master Chioke or himself, and hating Master Chioke for drawing out his dark side and entangling him in a deadly secret he would have to keep if he enjoyed having his head attached to his body. “And you haven’t done me a favor. The closer I get to the throne, the more miserable I am, the more the anger and the paranoia overtake me. You’ve helped yourself, not me, Master.”
“Regardless”—Master Chioke’s small smirk was reminiscent of a cunning chessman a brilliant move away from capturing the opposing king, and Ozorne had the disconcerting epiphany that, though he was a prince climbing ever closer to the throne, he had never been more than a pawn in Master Chioke’s game—“we are bound by life and death now, Your Highness. Nobody would ever believe that you were an innocent in a plot against the ill-fated Stiloit. Everyone would understand that everything I did, I did for you, so, you see, it’s best for you and for me if you keep quiet and take advantage of the opportunities my maneuvering will present you.”
“Perhaps I will so long as you never maneuver against me.” Ozorne didn’t blink as he made this threat so that Master Chioke understood that anyone who played with his fire would feel his burn. “If you dare to move against me, Master, you will discover that I’m not a pawn but a prince in this great game we’re all playing.”
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 900
Summary: Ozorne is a prince and pawn in Master Chioke's game.
Warnings: References to politically convenient deaths and spoilers for Tempests and Slaughter.
Prince and Pawn
“I would say the world has turned upside-down but that would make it sound as if the rules were the same and just flipped so that up became down, but everything is more complicated than that.” Ozorne clutched at the arm of his chair with knuckles white as ivory as if it were driftwood, and he were a sailor on a ship wrecked in storm like the one that had killed cousin Stiloit. “Stiloit is dead.”
“A tragedy nobody could have foreseen and everyone in Carthak mourns, Your Highness.” From behind his desk, Master Chioke gave a grave nod.
“I’m not certain everyone in Carthak mourns Stiloit’s death.” Ozorne’s eyes narrowed as he studied Master Chioke, who remained inscrutable as stone. “I find it strange that Stiloit drowned in a storm strong enough to destroy his fleet after Faizy, our expert on mysterious lightning snakes, is enticed away from the university with a secret but lucrative offer she can’t refuse, and then she is found dead and almost unrecognizable under spells designed to make her almost impossible to discover, don’t you, Master?”
“Sudden, violent deaths leave many unanswered questions.” Master Chioke’s stare was devoid of all emotion, and Ozorne knew the deaths of Stiloit and Faizy would never haunt him, making him awaken lonely and weeping over the loss of their lives in the middle of the night. Part of Ozorne wished he could be so hard while the other loathed Master Chioke for his callousness, his cold calculations that placed no value on lives that were no longer beneficial to him. “To try to answer those questions with conspiracies is the path to paranoia. I would caution against treading it.”
“It’s not paranoia if it’s true.” Ozorne like a braying hound on a hunt refused to be put off from the scent of blood. “You saw the power of lightning snakes when they touched Arram as did I. They would be strong enough to ruin a fleet, and you know it.”
“If I knew such a thing, I would never dare to voice it aloud, Your Highness.” Master Chioke’s expression was a locked door that left Ozorne fumbling for the key. “Nor should you. Princes have been charged and executed for treason for less loose tongues.”
“I would only say such a thing in your office, Master.” Ozorne’s eyes flicked around Master Chioke’s study. “I’m aware that you have protections against eavesdropping woven into the walls.”
“Spells aren’t infallible.” Master Chioke’s jaw clenched. Ozorne could hear it in his tone, which was rough and broken as gravel. “The questions you’re asking are dangerous even in my office.”
“Because they lead back to you?” Ozorne arched an eyebrow.
“I won’t suffer your suspicions.” Master Chioke’s fist pounded his desk. “After everything I’ve done for you, the least you can do is show me the respect of keeping silent.”
“Keeping silent about what, Master?” Ozorne’s chin trembled whether with rage or grief he didn’t know and couldn’t contemplate. “What have you done for me?”
“A favor you could never have brought yourself to ask for but that I sensed you wanted because I could see every day how your ambitions mounted, how your craving for power grew like a weed in a garden.” Master Chioke leaned forward in his chair as Ozorne flinched back in his, denying his dark desire for the throne and the deaths of the heirs that had mocked him. The knowledge that Master Chioke had orchestrated Stiloit’s death would be enough to destroy him without the understanding that Master Chioke had done so in response to Ozorne’s unspoken wishes. “A favor Arram and Varice could never do for you, though I know that the only reason you chose them as friends was because you imagined their power might be useful to you one day.”
“That’s a lie.” Ozorne massaged his temples, wondering if his fervid words were addressed to Master Chioke or himself, and hating Master Chioke for drawing out his dark side and entangling him in a deadly secret he would have to keep if he enjoyed having his head attached to his body. “And you haven’t done me a favor. The closer I get to the throne, the more miserable I am, the more the anger and the paranoia overtake me. You’ve helped yourself, not me, Master.”
“Regardless”—Master Chioke’s small smirk was reminiscent of a cunning chessman a brilliant move away from capturing the opposing king, and Ozorne had the disconcerting epiphany that, though he was a prince climbing ever closer to the throne, he had never been more than a pawn in Master Chioke’s game—“we are bound by life and death now, Your Highness. Nobody would ever believe that you were an innocent in a plot against the ill-fated Stiloit. Everyone would understand that everything I did, I did for you, so, you see, it’s best for you and for me if you keep quiet and take advantage of the opportunities my maneuvering will present you.”
“Perhaps I will so long as you never maneuver against me.” Ozorne didn’t blink as he made this threat so that Master Chioke understood that anyone who played with his fire would feel his burn. “If you dare to move against me, Master, you will discover that I’m not a pawn but a prince in this great game we’re all playing.”