The Tales of Tamil - Uh, Talimor

"I told you so," Tarra says.

Tarra makes arrangements with Sara, your assigned servant, to bring lunch. While you wait, the three of you remove Tarra's armor, and set to work on removing your ornate plate. Halfway through the process, the food arrives, and you sit down to eat while still wearing your platelegs. Tarra and Mia join you for lunch.

"So am I the King now or what?" You ask. Picking through the delivered delicacies.

"The Triumvirate will be convening to hold the vote right now." Tarra says. "Only then will you officially be the successor, and then there's a whole coronation to make you actually king."

"You're my King," Mia interjects.

"Well thank you, beautiful," You smile at her, excited and happy. For the first time since arriving, you're starting to form a plan, and come up with a way to execute said plan.

"So I've been thinking... about what I'll do once I'm in charge." You say. "From what I saw, the standard of living in the city is pretty bad. I think everyone should have access to running water..."

You stop speaking, listening intently. Faintly, you hear a sound. Tarra and Mia hear it too. Everyone turns to the door. It's distant, an echo almost, a vibration from a long way off. Walking to the door, Tarra throws it open, stepping into the hallway. She walks across the hall to a set of windows, pulling them open, and the sound hits you.

"They're singing," You say, shocked. Joining Tarra at the window, you gaze out, Past the palace walls, in the streets of the city you haven't really even seen, crowds of people have gathered. There's as many as thousands of them, standing between the brick buildings shoulder to shoulder. They're singing a hymn in Volvish. It's quite hard for you to understand.

"They're worshiping their god," Mia exclaims, falling to her knees next to you.

Tears spring up in your eyes. Your stomach revolts, and a bitter fear creeps into your soul. There's thousands of people out there, actual people, who are expecting you to be their King. Their Mesiah. And they've all been lied to.

"I don't know if I can do this." You walk back into the apartment, dropping down at the table. Tarra and Mia join you quickly. "I can't... possibly meet that expectation. Keep up this charade." You explain. The sound of their praises continues, reminding you of their expectations.

"It's not a charade," Mia sits beside you, grasping your hand in hers lovingly. "You are the Mesiah. It's been decided. You were divinely sent by your uncle," She's so earnest, so sincere in her belief, that it breaks your heart.

"It's not true," You fight back tears. "You've been deceived. You... your religion is a lie,"

Probably not the most compassionate way to phrase that, but you're very upset.

"I know you don't believe it," Mia says, eyes wide with adoration, "But it's true." You start to object again, but Tarra cuts you off, yelling.

"To hell with the truth!" She shouts. "To hell with belief. That doesn't matter now. You can't pass this up." She says. You shake your head, trying to listen to your conscience.

"I can't keep up a lie, Tarra. The people have a right to know. If I pretend to be a divine Mesiah, I'll be no better than Uncle Dave." You try to explain.

"Shut the hell up." She says.

"I'll say his name if I please, Tarra, he was a drunk and an idiot!" You exclaim, remembering that the people in Volvsvaer hold Dave's name as sacred. Tarra shakes her head.

"That's not what I meant. I don't give a damn about Dave or any other religion. Shut the hell up and listen." She replies. Closing your mouth, you do as she asks. Mia looks between the two of you, scared and confused.

"You have to do this. You have to accept this. No one else can fix Volvsvaer. You were talking about pumping water to the city? That's just the start of the problems. Your Uncle destroyed this world, and you are the only one who can fix it." Tarra explains.

"Tarra!" Mia cuts in, ready to object to the blaspheming of her Mesiah. For the first time since you met either of them, Tarra speaks unkindly to Mia.

"Just be quiet for once in your life, Mia!" Both you and Mia sit silently, shocked. Tarra's face is twisted into a whole new type of anger. She continues berating you.

"No. No, if you pass this up, if you step aside when you have a chance to fix this, then you'd be no better than your useless uncle. This beautiful-," She fights through a sob, "This beautiful, kind, innocent woman was going to be killed." Tarra gestures to Mia, tears in her eyes.

"Murdered by old men who think their 'god' wants a virgin sacrifice. And then more after her. And you can stop it. You're a coward if you walk away." Tarra's rant is leaving you speechless.

"I need to show you something," Tarra says. Standing in front of you, she quickly pulls her shirt off, dropping it on the ground. The pants she wears soon follows, and the Warrior Woman stands in front of you completely nude.

Your eyes trace the lines of the scars you had seen on her neck and chest. The blemishes strike back and forth across her body, a horrible zigzag of destroyed flesh. Whatever caused the scars, the damage is focused on her crotch and each breast, where the lines of the scars converge into a mess of healed, but permanently disfigured skin. So thick is the scarring on her left breast, her nipple is completely gone.

Tarra stares at you, stern, cold, and unblinking.

"I was a nun in the same monastery as Mia," Tarra says. "Before they chose one of us to be 'betrothed' to the Mesiah, I met a boy. I liked him, and he wanted to have sex with me. That's all it really takes for kids. I got caught in the act by one of the priests. The priests who serve your Uncle. This was my punishment, followed by ejection from the monastery." Tarra points to her body, showing the scars. "All of this, done so a virgin can be needlessly killed for your uncle. But you know what? I got lucky. My classmate was selected, and she's dead now. So don't tell me you can't lie. Don't tell me you won't pretend, or 'they have a right to know'. They can all go to hell. Don't you dare walk away from this." Tarra finally stops, breathing heavily. You stare at her body, full of pity.

"Tarra... I had no idea," You say.

"I don't want your sympathy," She says. "I want you to fix it."

Slowly, Tarra collects her clothes from the floor, dressing herself. She sits across the table from you, clenching her jaw. The three of you sit in awkward, all encompassing silence for a moment. The only sound comes from the hymns of those gathered in the streets, praising your uncle. Their song is an ironic and sad punctuation of Tarra's story.

"Alright," Eventually, you speak, making up your mind. "I'll fix it. I'll pretend to be whatever I need to pretend to be, and I'll make this right." You say.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Mia." Tarra says. Mia is clearly upset, her face red and her eyes watery.

"This isn't what he wants," Mia says. "He wants us to be happy. He is good." You can't tell if she's trying to convince herself, or convince you and Tarra.

Time to drop the bombshell.

"He doesn't want anything now," You say. "He's dead." Tarra's eyebrows raise just a bit.

"Huh," She says. Mia does not take it nearly so well, Her face equal parts shock and rage.

"That's not possible," She stammers a bit. "Gods do not die."

"I attended his funeral. Maybe six months ago." You say. "I didn't want to mention it because... well, you know." You gesture broadly to the people outside.

Mia leaves the room, sprinting into the bedroom. Tarra shrugs.

"She'll get over it," The warrior says. Both of you sit quietly, listening to Mia's sobs in the adjacent room. Slowly, she fades to silence.You're about to speak when the door to your apartment bursts open. Both of you jump in shock, and Tarra pulls the knife from her boot as quick as lightning.

Entering the room is one of Ratzinger's servants, breathing hard, as if he had just run a great distance. You recognise him as the man who had brought you clothing on your first night in the palace.

"Ratzinger has died!" he shouts. "We were assisting him down a flight of steps, and he misplaced his foot. He fell down the whole flight. His body couldn't handle it," He speaks quickly, panicked.

You're surprised, but do your best to gather your thoughts.

"Oh, no. That's terrible. I'll um, send my condolences to his family." You say, trying to sound compassionate and kingly. Tarra groans, cursing.

"You're missing the point, -Your Majesty-, the confirmation vote hasn't been held yet!" She swears again.

"But they already agreed they'd confirm me." You say, hopeful. Tarra Clenches her fists tightly, closing her eyes.

"It doesn't matter until they vote. And with two Bishops left, Law can be a tie-breaker. He's the chairman. He'll vote no, and then break the tie. "

You remember when you saw Law's face in the courtroom. How he had cried when you'd won the trial.

"[Oh, fuck.]" You whisper in English.

"Mia! Get out here!" Tarra yells into the back of the apartment. Mia stumbles out of the bedroom, her hair a mess, red faced.

"I've been thinking about what you said-," She stops herself when she sees Ratzinger's servant. "What's going on?"

"Ratzinger's dead. We should get out of town," Tarra explains, and Mia's face falls. Tarra slides her knife back into her boot. "You should flee too." She tells the servant. "You've been loyal to the Mesiah. Law will not forgive your goodness." She says. The man nods, bolting out the door.

You don't move as Tarra grabs as much food as she can carry, preparing to run.

"We have the people on our side. If we escape alive, we can come back with a militia. It's our only hope. Law will send his people for us." She speaks frantically. You still don't move as she grabs Mia by the wrist, dragging the young woman from the apartment. They stop in the hallway, looking back at you.

"Are you coming?" Tarra demands.

Have you begun to believe it yourself?

Have you begun to believe, against all reason, that you are the Mesiah? The Chosen One? Is it really your destiny to fight off evil, to save the day, to marry Mia?

"No," You answer sternly. "I'm not running. But you should go. Keep my wife safe." You order Tarra.

"They'll kill you!" Mia objects, terrified.

"They'll try." You reply. "If I leave now, if I run... I'm not really the Mesiah. They'll know I'm a fake."

"That's very noble," Tarra says, "But stupid. What are you planning to do?"

You retrieve Excalibur, strapping the blade to your hips. You tug on the loosened part of your leg armor, tightening the greaves. The armor doesn't look complete without the hauberk, but it'll have to do.

"I'm going to go talk to Law. Man to man." Both women look at you in stunned silence. Mia lets out a squeak, pulling her hand from Tarra's grasp and wrapping you in a hug.

"My Mesiah. My King. My husband." She whispers in your ear, squeezing you tightly. "I love you," Your wife says.

"I love you too," You reply. Mia releases you, backing away with admiration in her eyes.

"When we get back, I want to have sex with you." Tarra says, her face neutral.

"Sounds good," You reply. "Keep her safe."

"I will. I always do." Tarra turns to leave, pulling Mia with her. Your wife watches you until the last possible second, her eyes filled with tears.

You're alone in the apartment. Alone in the palace. It feels like you're alone in the world. Stepping out into the hallway, you take stock of yourself. You're armored from the waist down. From the waist up, you've got a loose fitting undershirt on, open at the cuffs and collar. It's not the best protection, but you feel free, comfortable.

Realizing you've no idea which direction to go, you pick a hallway, and take off at a jog. For a few minutes, you turn down confusingly long hallways, hearing the clatter of your armored legs across velvetine carpet. Suddenly, you come upon the main entry hall, where you first saw the palace. By the doors, two soldiers in their bright white armor stand guard. You approach, calming your breathing and acting casual.

"Good afternoon, gentleman. I need to find Bishop Law. Can either of you help me?" You ask. One of them responds. He steps forward, bowing slightly.

"I can, Your Majesty. Is everything alright?" He asks.

"Of course. I just need to speak with him. Urgently, if you don't mind." You try to play cool. It seems likely these guards haven't yet heard the news of Ratzinger's death, and still believe you'll be the next king.

"Yes, Your Majesty." He replies, taking off at a quick jog. You follow him up a set of stairs and into a wing of the palace you've never seen before. Despite the newness of it, each hallway and corridor looks the same to you.

Turning a corner, you see a set of double doors, flanked by two more guards.

"This is his tower, Your Majesty. He may be here, If the vote has concluded." Your guide explains.

You clench in fear a bit as you approach the guards, preparing to bluff your way past the two men.

"I have business with the Bishop," You announce as you approach them. The two men tense up a bit, looking at you with trepidation.

"Sir, uh, Majesty," One of them says. "We have orders to arrest you on sight," He explains.

"What?" Your guide exclaims, shocked.

"The vote was negative," The guard at the door explains. For a few tense seconds, the men eye you, clutching their spears. The one who guided you, turns to look at you, shocked. You put a hand on your sword, backing up a few steps from your guide.

"I have no desire to hurt you. And I'll respect you if you try. But we all know I'm walking through those doors." You say.

Your hope is that they'll support you. That Tarra was right, and the decision made by the Bishop was unpopular. But you wouldn't be so lucky.

"I'm sorry," one of the men at the door steps up, holding his spear in both hands. "Drop the weapon." He orders.

"Have it your way." You reply, jumping forward. Simultaneously, you duck under his spear thrust and draw excalibur. Catching his spear with one hand, you yank it from his grasp. The force of your pull tugs him forward, and you catch him with a knee to his chest. The second one tries to catch you with his spear you deftly block with your sword, cutting the head of his spear clean off. With a vicious backhand, you smash the pommel of Excalibur into the guard's face.

The one who originally guided you still stands, looking on in shock. As the second soldier collapses to the ground unconscious, you face the last man, your sword drawn.

"Don't make me do this," You beg him. He turns to run, sprinting down the hallway.

Wasting no time, you wheel about and kick the double doors open. Instantly you spot Bishop Law. The old man is standing calmly behind a desk, a dagger in his hand. The room he's in is a study, maybe a library, with rows of books surrounding the two of you. Some of the shelves are adorned with trinkets, globes and model weapons. His desk is large and heavy, and he stares you down from behind it. Law doesn't seem afraid or angry. Rather, he looks tired, defeated.

"I thought I might see you here," He says, evenly. "When I voted today, I thought it would either be you alone who came to my door, or an angry mob."

"I don't want to kill you," You reply, raising your sword.

"But you will, to accomplish your goals. Right?" He asks. You only have to think for a second to agree with him. Remembering the cruelty that Tarra had endured to earn her scars, you're resolved.

"If I have no other choice, then yes. I'll kill you." you say. Law studies the dagger in his hand for a moment. He tosses the blade aside with a shrug.

"I suppose that won't help much. I've seen you fight." You approach slowly, sword still at the ready, expecting a trick.

"Why did you vote no after all you saw?" You ask. Bishop Law looks you straight in the eye. His face looks even more aged than normal, sallow, with rings under his eyes.

"I will be dead and in the ground before I see another Mesiah take the throne," He replies, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

You're completely shocked. Law has admitted to, in his culture, what is both simultaneously treason and blasphemy. He must really believe that you're about to kill him.

"I've spent my life in secret defying your uncle. I'll spend my death openly defying YOU. Come. I'm ready." He sits in his chair, arms spread wide in invitation.

You pause. Did he just say he'd spent his life defying your uncle?

"In what way?" You ask. "In what way did you defy my uncle?" You lower the sword, eyeballing him curiously.

"They kill a young woman every fourth year. In your name. Or his name, it doesn't matter. They tie her out on a pyre and burn her. I've been there, Mesiah, I've heard the screams. And I did everything I could to stop it. You've no idea how impossible it is to overturn the edicts of man who is believed to be a god." Law shakes his head gently, glaring at you with pure hatred.

You stand in stunned silence, your eyes wide.

"And now it's your turn!" His voice raises, startling you a bit. "Your turn to start endless wars with Volvsvaer's neighbors, to victimize the helpless daughters of your compatriots, to starve the poor in the name of your vanity projects. No, I'm done hiding. Pretending like I'm devoted to a monster. I will risk everything to defy you!" He shouts, standing from his desk.

Your heart hurts. Your hands shake. Guilt that shouldn't be yours swells in your chest.

Sheathing your sword, you walk slowly to the desk. Law watches you curiously, his face wrinkled in disgust.

"If your goal is the undoing of my uncle's evil, then I will step aside and let you do it." You say.

Behind you, one of the guards has recovered his senses, perhaps startled by Law's shouting. You glance at him as he tries to collect his short spear. The Bishop is confused, startled a bit by what you said. But he's curious enough to hear you out.

"Close the door," He orders the guard. The guard does.

Once the two of you are alone, you point to a chair in front of Law's desk.

"May I?" You ask.

"Please." He glares at you, stone faced and very grave.

"Would you be so kind as to repeat what you just said?" He asks. You take your seat, hands still a bit shaky.

"If your goals are to undo the evil of my Uncle Dave, then I will step aside and let you." You say. He's shocked, but his face is skeptical.

"You know that this is blasphemy, don't you?" He asks. You laugh, shaking your head.

"No, don't give him that. He doesn't deserve that."

You proceed to tell the story of Uncle Dave. The real story. You tell Law about his drinking, his gambling, all of Dave's vices. You tell about his narcissism, his lying and abuse. You tell about how everyone hated him. You even tell the story of Dave dying alone in a hospice, unloved by his family. You explain the Journal, and how it got you here, and everything that's occurred to you since then. You include Tarra's story and scars, describing how sick with anger you were. How you were willing to kill if it meant putting an end to such cruelties.

You fear at times that you are over sharing, but it's oddly relieving to dump this on someone. You tell Law things you didn't even tell Mia and Tarra.

And lastly, you tell him about the Tales of Tamilor.

Law is quiet throughout, interrupting only briefly to ask clarifying questions. When you conclude, he sits thoughtfully.

"I don't know what hurts more," He finally says, "To believe this harm has been done to my people by a god, or by an ordinary man who fooled us all." Law is deflated.

You can't help but feel guilty. Sure, it's not your fault that Uncle Dave was a horrible dictator. But he's your family. In a weird way, you feel responsible.