From the Blood of Phalaris

[Despotism]

Chapter 1- Reign of the Despot
Pavlos and his advisors had gathered in the new fortress-capital of Sicily in Monreale. The castle was flooded with workers and servants, given the task to transition Monreale into the capital for the entire kingdom. The Despot had decided that because the area had more fertile soil and far more defensible against a naval invasion, the primary concern of Sicily at the moment, it was a far more suitable capital. Within the council chamber, the lords of Sicily discuss the future of the nation. "You return from Constantinople earlier than expected my lord, were you successful? Are we to rejoin the Empire and our Roman brethren?" spoke the Sakellarios Eirenaios. "No, I shall never bow to the Basileus, and we are no longer Romans. The Roman Empire has fallen to heresy, the lords and clergy of Constantinople have grown greedy and opulent, and the Ecumenical Patriarch has declared Iconoclasm heresy. They can no longer be trusted." responded Pavlos, then Patriarch Kallinikos "That is absurd, the Iconoclast Patriarchate would stand for this..." "There is no Iconoclast Patriarchate, not anymore." Eirenaios became panicked, "Our people need protection against the Muslims, we are Romans at heart, we must renounce our heretical ways and-" "They are the heretics!" exclaimed Pavlos, quite infuriated by his Sakellarios, who quickly sunk back into his chair in silence, his eyes now keeping a permanent vigil over the stone floor.

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After the administration of the Kingdom had been taken care of, all were dismissed except the Prostrator, Count Nikolaos, and Bishop Andreas, current Magistros of Sicily. "My lord," spoke Andreas, "If we are to secure our independence from the Romans and Arabs, we must expand our realm. The Duke of Benevento has an ambitious younger brother, utterly desperate to rule. I have contacted him, and he has agreed to swear fealty to you if we grant him his birthright." Nikolaos disagreed, "This is folly, our forces can make quick work of Benvento, but they pay tribute to the Lombards, and Lombardy will not sit idle while we attack. We cannot possibly face their armies." A sinister grin creeped it's way onto the Magistros's face, "Indeed, we cannot hope to face the Lombards alone, but we have more than just Sicily at our disposal... We have a prince and princess; there are powerful allies to be gained from marriage. The Khan of Bulgaria has a son the age of princess Zenobia-" Pavlos interrupted, "My daughter shall not marry some pagan horse nomad..." "My lord, they are fellow Christians, they follow the guidance of the Pope in Rome, not the Patriarchs, but they are a Christian Kingdom now... and more importantly, they would be useful allies against the Romans, we need them just as much as they need us." Pavlos snarled, "You said there were others?" "Yes my lord, Bavaria is in a good position to deal with Lombardy, and the King's daughter will one day make a fine bride for Lazaros." "Fine... see it done." Pavlos finally agreed, albeit reluctantly. Pavlos thought to himself, "Who would have thought Greeks would join with descendents of Steppe nomads and Germanic barbarians against the Roman Empire?

After the plans had been made, Pavlos decided to retire for the day, desperate for rest long overdue. The Despot traveled to his bedchamber; luckily, his wife would not arrive with the children for at least a week, for once he would enjoy peace and solitude. Their marriage had been nothing but heated disputes, she would call him a monster, and she is the only one who could say such things losing her life. He did not detest her with all his being, but she certainly irked him at times with her disapproval at his recent streak of brutality. Shameem was the daughter of the Muhallabid Sultan that once ruled over Sicily; she is twelve years older than Pavlos, Zenon used leverage on the Sultan to arrange a marriage between her and his late brother Zenobios. With Zenobios's death to a disease, Zenon then remarried her to Pavlos, in the hopes of smoothing relations between Sicily and their Muhallabid overlords once Pavlos succeeded him, ultimately a pointless endeavor. Pavlos finally arrived at his room, he opened it only to find the Queen of Sicily standing in the center of the room awaiting him. Pavlos let out a deep sigh before asking, "Why are you here? I thought you were staying in Syrakousa until the capital is ready." "I come bringing important news, I am with child again." she said to him, unsure of what to expect. "You did not need to trouble yourself by coming all the way here, a letter would have sufficed." Her tempered mood quickly turned bitter, "Is there nothing in this world you care about? Clearly not innocents, your own subjects, me, and now I even doubt you have love for our children!" "What do I care about? I care about God's will, that I carry it out to the best of my abilities. I care about the people of Sicily, as even now I spend every waking hour trying to defend it from invaders. Even if you will never believe it, I even care about you; it is well within my power to annul our marriage, and find a younger and more beautiful wife, who would love and support me, and not spend her days sinfully gorging. Instead I have kept the vow I made to you before God; I have stood beside you while you spit upon me and my name at every opportunity." "Perhaps you do not deserve my respect; I wasn't always like this, bearing your children caused my afflictions. Your words are hollow, you may say you care, but your actions tell a different story; your blood is ice and your heart black, what would Zenon say if he could see you now?" Pavlos moved closer, putting his arms around her, but the embrace was not loving, it was dominating and harbored a threatening nature... "You know well you shouldn't invoke that name... You should thank the child that now rests in your womb, it is yet to be born, but it may have saved your life." After informing the Queen how thin the ice she walks on actually is, he released her from his grip. "The hour grows late, you should not begin your journey back to Syrakousa to retrieve the children until sunrise, you can stay here with me or in one of the guest chambers, it matters not to me."

Not long after, a son was born, named after his grandfather, Zenon. The Despot decided the young prince should be instructed in humility so he doesn't threaten Lazaros's rightful rule.

Many years had passed Pavlos had made his initial plans to seize Benevento from the grip of the Lombards, and now, the armies would tomorrow the armies Sicily would begin their march. Pavlos was alone in the council chamber preparing when little Zenon entered. "Father? Father, you promised to play with me today." "That was an idle promise." "But... but you said you would!" "Come here child, let me impart some wisdom upon you." Pavlos crouched to meet his son eye to eye. "My son, life isn't meant to be enjoyed, happiness and pleasure are distractions the weak fall prey to. The real purpose of life is to leave your mark on this world... to scar it so deeply that even many millennia later, your name is still imprinted in the blood and earth of this land. I have no time for your distractions; tomorrow I will lead the Kingdom to victory against our enemies." The child was unsatisfied by this answer, "You're a liar, father!" Pavlos snapped, "Begone, little imp! See yourself to your chambers, you will not see me again until I return victorious from the war." Silent tears fell from Zenon's face as he fled, defeated and rejected.

The Despot stood over his first victory against the Duke of Benevento, in awe at the efficiency his men had while dispatching their enemies. One of his soldiers came to him, "My lord, a messenger has arrived, a Bavarian." The messenger did not wait for introduction, "Despot Pavlos, King Theodorich of Bavaria wishes you to know he has joined in your righteous cause, but he also wishes to tell you Menia, the child-Queen of Lombardy is already on the move." "Very good, see that this man receives provisions to make his trip back to our allies." Pavlos had called Bavaria into the war, but not Bulgaria; he was sure that was all he would need, and the Despot also needed Bulgaria to be ready to mobilize if the Romans launch an attack. None of this news was a surprise, things were proceeding as planned, no, better than he had planned.

As the Sicilian army laid siege to the capital of Benevento, Pavlos made plans with Nikolaos within the war camp outside the castle. Inside their tent, the two had spent the evening discussing the Lombard threat, as they would arrive before their Bavarian allies. Amidst the discussion, Nikolaos offered a drink; Pavlos did not often drink, but he was feeling exhilarated, like he had felt when he waged war on the Sultan Faruk, when he had fought among the desert lands of the heathens. However, Pavlos had a sickly feeling after his drink, "Nikolaos... you...you..." Pavlos could no longer speak as he laid in pain upon the floor of the tent paralyzed by pain. "Save your breath, 'my lord,' I will meet you again in Hell. You should know I was not the one who brought this plan together, I am simply the executioner." As Pavlos faded away, he feared for his Lazaros; if he could not survive the machinations of his court, how could his son? Lazaros was not ready to fight a war and lead the kingdom... Pavlos spent his last moments in complete agony, until he fell into the arms of Death, who had an embrace as cold as the Despot's.

 

[Despotism]

Chapter 2- The Death of Innocence
News of Pavlos's murder spread quickly throughout the kingdom. The Queen had been designated regent by Pavlos, though they were never fond of each other, he knew she was the only one he could trust have their children's best interests at heart. Shameem had taken the news of her husband's death well, perhaps a little too well; she had already begun asserting her power, making sure the council knew she was in charge. Interestingly, she had made no attempts to investigate the Despot's death, despite the overwhelming evidence of foul play. However, Sicily's attention was diverted from their monarch's death by troubling reports from the war in Benevento... The Lombards had arrived, catching the now disorganized Sicilian army off guard while an old general, Christophoros tried to rally the soldiers and bring order to the chaos left in Pavlos's wake.

The new Despot was not yet old enough to lead Sicily, but already saw himself as the rightful lord of all he saw. He regularly berated nobles and servants alike, giving out commands as if he was already ruler; while nobility did not yet have to answer to the child, any lowborn that did not follow his instructions to the letter were punished with public humiliation. Everything changed when a suspicious young maid arrived at court; Lazaros began following her around like duckling, all under the nose of Shameem, too distracted with matters of the court. One unforgettable morning, Lazaros had followed his idol into one of the towers that was unguarded at the current hour. "My prince, the tower roof must be cleaned... but it is quite a ways down, I'm not sure I can do it..." Lazaros grinned from ear to ear, the perfect opportunity to win her heart. "I'm not afraid, I'll do it!" he exclaimed, "Oh! You are truly a brave prince, I am forever in your debt!" Lazaros made his way toward his task he began to climb out the window when he felt a shove and then... Falling!

The Queen-mother was shattered when she heard the bloodcurdling shriek that morning, but she knew she couldn't grieve yet, not while Zenon is now in danger. She knew who had done this, even if she couldn't prove it. The Doux of Calabria was a Kalopragmon, and in line to inherit after Pavlos's sons, the current mystikos of Sicily, she had even helped him kill her husband, but now he killed her child, they were allies no longer. She began her own scheming to end this threat, but God had different plans. Divine punishment came down upon the Doux when he came down with dysentery shortly after Lazaros's death, he confessed to the killings on his deathbed, begging for forgiveness from his Lord. This brought no small vindication to Shameem, and it was not the end of their fortunes. The tune of the news from the war had changed as well, the Bavarian armies had united with the remnants of the Sicilians and they struck a critical blow in a great battle against the Lombards. Not long after, the Duke of Benevento announced his surrender. The long war had finally paid off as the new Doux swore fealty to his despot, Zenon; celebrations erupted across the kingdom.

So much was changing for Zenon; he was told by his father to step aside so Lazaros could take his rightful place on the throne, but now his brother was dead, and he heard the adults speaking of the affairs of the kingdom; he did not understand much of it, but he gathered that he was to be Despot when he is older, and that he would take his brothers place as the groom of the Bavarian princess... whatever that meant. Mother did not want him wandering, she said it was too dangerous, so he spent most of his time reading and studying with the Patriarch. Some days, when his mentor was distracted by clerical duties, he would sneak out to explore the castle. It was on one of these adventures he met Shameem; a few years older than him and shared a resemblance with his mother, she even shared her name. Exploring and getting into trouble with her became one of his favorite activities, until one day he told her he liked her; the following silence was the most scared he had ever been, but then a bright smile came upon her face, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek... "What a wonderful day." thought Zenon.

As he grew older, his understanding of his duties and his future role as Despot increased. The matters of the court began to weigh heavier on his shoulders. the weight was becoming too much to bear. He hated his tutelage under the Patriarch, who pushed Zenon to his limits, and then kept pushing. Zenon felt as though he carried the world on his back, and knew not how to endure it all. Even worse, it seemed Bavaria was marching to war against France, some religious dispute that did not concern Sicilians, but their alliance dragged their armies into the war between them. It was when he went to the local church. After he confessed to God that he did not believe he was worthy of the title of Despot, he found the pressure that surrounded him was lighter when he held God closer to his heart.

Troubling news arrived at court the other day, the pact between Sicily and Bulgaria is broken! The marriage between Zenobia and the Khan's son is no longer possible; the Khan is dead, and his son refuses contact, in hiding while he rules Bulgaria from the shadows, even murdering his own brother to keep power. Zenobia would remain unmarried for some time, in case the new Khan decided to reconsider and marry Zenon's sister, forging a pact between them to fight their mutual enemies, the Romans. This news did not seem to upset Zenobia however, quite the opposite, oddly enough she was ecstatic when she learned she would be waiting to marry.

Zenon was almost of age to take the throne now, take the reins of the nation from his mother, but he was still too busy thinking of the past to look to the future. He was plagued by dreams of his friend... He lusted for Shameem's embrace, and it disgusted him; how could he be so depraved? He was promised to Wulfhilde, and here he was breaking that vow of eternal loyalty before it had even been made. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to declare his love for her, but he knew these feelings were a travesty, a vile and repulsive betrayal. He felt ill as his mind waged war on his body; his primal desires and deepest emotions fought against his unbreakable discipline and unwavering faith. Zenon could not kill his feelings so easily, so he suppressed them as best he could. He could not be a weak child anymore, moved by on a whim by his wants; if he was to be Despot, he would have to sacrifice himself for his kingdom, for his people.

Today was the day; he stood in the throne room as the crown was placed upon his head. He felt like his whole life had been in anticipation for this moment, it was hard to believe this was supposedly the beginning of his journey, he felt as if he had already come so far. After the coronation, a great feast was held, a feast which he took little part in. He instead departed while the masses of nobles were distracted by merriment; he had arrangements to make before he could be Despot. The war in France was not faring well, even with the Sicilian armies backing their allies, and Zenon would be departing for Bavaria to marry the future Queen of Sicily, where King Theodorich would undoubtedly ask for more support. The war was massive drain on the soldiers and coffers of Sicily, but they had to press on, lest they lose their most valuable and only ally. Before any of this could be done, however, there was still one task to be taken care of. Zenon summoned Shameem to the castle shipyards. "You are no longer bound to this place, my father kept you here as leverage against the Sultan of Africa; I realize that even though you have been well taken care of here, you are still a prisoner here. I wish to rectify that, you are free, I have arranged a ship to take you back to your home." "I don't understand... This is my homme, I've grown up here, I speak Greek and worship God; I'll never be accepted back in Africa." "Your father will take you in, I hear he is a wealthy Emir, you will have a good life there, you may have to convert, but that shouldn't be hard for you." he said in a disparaging manner. She moved closer, putting her arms around him, he found himself unable to stop her, "And if I don't want to leave?" "That is precisely why you must... You cannot be here when the new Queen arrives; it tortures me to be so close, yet never able to be with you. This is the only way this ends, Sicily comes before all." "So this is goodbye, Zenon?" "Forever." With one last hug, one last desperate cling to the past, to their childhood, to what could have been, she departed. He watched her ship as it sailed into those seemingly endless seas. A single thought came across his mind, "Life isn't meant to be enjoyed, happiness and pleasure are distractions the weak fall prey to. The real purpose of life is to leave your mark on this world... to scar it so deeply that even many millennia later, your name is still imprinted in the blood and earth of this land." Zenon spoke to the spectre that haunted him, "Well Father, time to make my mark."