The Empress of Beasts, page 55
part #13 of The Wandering Inn Series
Fetohep looked amused at her insistence. The Quarass fell silent, but Trey jumped in.
“But my world does have things to offer, King Fetohep. Things your citizens might want. Maybe they’re bored of life in Khelt.”
“Bored?”
Fetohep looked offended at the very suggestion. His tone darkened as he looked at Trey. He gestured to the young woman who was waiting next to Trey.
“Tell me, my child. Do you want for anything?”
“No, Your highness.”
She shook her head instantly. Fetohep nodded.
“Do you ever wish to leave Khelt?”
“No!”
She looked alarmed at the very notion. Fetohep turned back to Trey, triumphantly.
“You see? My people are beloved among all the world’s nations. They live. They flourish, safe in my borders, free of suffering or fear of monsters or attack. And they die. And it is they who guard Khelt, forevermore. The finest of entertainments flood my nation in every variety! [Bards] come to sing tales of old! Stories abound in my libraries! What could they possibly want?”
“Um…this?”
Trey pulled out his smartphone. Fetohep paused, stared at it, and then, as Trey hit the power button, the glowing screen. He stared at Trey. The young woman stared too, entranced by the foreign, artificial light.
“…What is that?”
“A device from my world, your Eternal Majesty. It’s a phone. A smartphone. It doesn’t run on magic. It’s an artifact with many functions.”
“How is it made? How does it work?”
Fetohep peered at the screen as Trey unlocked it. His eyes focused on the apps, the words. He wasn’t a fool. He could read and Trey saw the Quarass nodding at him covertly.
“Would you like to inspect it, Your Majesty?”
“Perhaps. Do you simply…touch the screen? And…”
“Yes. Like this. And uh, it has a password. You just turned it off, so if you want to use it—it’s 4467.”
“And this—”
“It has pictures. Videos. Games—”
The young woman edged over to stare at the phone, entranced. King Fetohep paused, as Trey began tapping on apps. The Quarass waited, and then yawned openly. Fetohep glanced up, distracted, and she bowed.
“My apologies, Fetohep. This body is young. And the hour is late. I must beg your forgiveness—”
She yawned again. Instantly, Fetohep rose.
“Ah. A child’s stamina. I forget youth. Let us retire then, Quarass. Your rooms await. My people shall take you to them. Trey Atwood as well. It is already—”
He paused. Trey was yawning too; it wasn’t even an act after seeing the Quarass. The golden gaze went towards him and Fetohep nodded.
“Close to midnight. Yes. I feel we must adjourn.”
He looked disappointed. Trey knew it was his turn again and gestured to the iPhone that Fetohep still held.
“Um, Your Majesty, you could keep my phone. I won’t need it as I sleep.”
“This?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. If you’d like to use it.”
Fetohep hesitated. But then he nodded regally.
“I accept the gift. It will be returned to you as you rise. An intriguing device. Attendants. The Quarass and Trey Atwood shall slumber.”
They came forwards, bowing. The young woman who’d waited on Trey smiled mischievously as she led him to the door. She leaned over and whispered.
“Would you like me to visit you in your rooms, guest?”
“What?”
Trey jumped. That wasn’t part of the plan. The young woman cocked her head.
“It would be my pleasure.”
“Uh—”
Trey glanced back at Fetohep. The [King] looked up for a moment and the young Kheltian woman shook her head.
“It is freely given, guest. Many would like to see you. Visitors seldom come to Khelt and I would be honored to entertain a vassal of the King of Destruction.”
Social prestige. Trey turned bright red. He stammered as he backed away.
“Uh—um—I’m fine. Thank you!”
She looked disappointed and he instantly second-guessed himself. But the Quarass was giving him a look. Stick to the plan. But then the second young woman among the group smiled at him.
“Would you like me to visit you, then?”
“Or me?”
That came from the young man. Trey tried to stammer again, and Fetohep glanced upwards.
“Attendants. Leave him be. Four shall remain upon my will and that of my guests. The rest of you will disperse.”
The attendants sighed, looking disappointed. Trey fled as the young woman led him and the Quarass towards their rooms. She looked very disappointed, staring at Trey as the Quarass tried to stop yawning in front of her room. She pointed at Trey, fixing him with a glare between jaw-cracking yawns.
“I will—tomorrow—before he meets Reimarch—negotiate.”
She cursed.
“This young body! I must rest. You have done well, Trey Atwood. But he is not convinced. Pray that he wishes us to remain another day. Either way, we have done all that is possible. I will speak to you on the morrow. As for tonight—”
She gave him a meaningful look. Trey nodded and stepped into his own room. He wondered if the Quarass’ plan would work. He thought of the way the young woman had stared at the iPhone. And then he thought of Fetohep. Perhaps there was a chance. After all…
He still had Trey’s smartphone.
——
Smartphone. Tablets. Electronic applications. Touch technology. Call it what you will, but it was a feature of the modern age. It was so easy to use that children could make use of the simple interface.
In fact, it was a known fact of Earth that a monkey could, with time, learn to use basic apps on a tablet or phone. There were even videos of them surfing through photos. Evidence of their ability to use technology in that fashion either proved that humanity had advanced their technology and simplified it to a point where even distant relatives of their species could comprehend and pick up usage of such applications—or that Humans really hadn’t come as far as they thought.
Both theories were probably true, but the point was that the same held true of this world. A Goblin child could, in thirty minutes, control an iPhone by using various motion commands like shaking it to shuffle music—a feature its owner, Laken Godart, had not made use of himself. And if Goblins could do it, anyone else could too.
A Dragon was snoozing in his cave. He woke up now and then, but he wanted to sleep. So, casually, he conjured a simulacrum, a smaller avatar to touch the tiny phone in front of him. It was constantly charged, and while he had toned down the brightness, he was by now adept at using it.
The thing about smartphones was that they were, well, dense. Each one, even the older models, could contain countless applications, constructs of data, and so on. In practice, it mattered very little on Earth where the connected web could provide virtually unlimited amounts of the same. But here? Each smartphone was different. Unique.
The one lying before Teriarch was Ryoka Griffin’s iPhone. A copy, rather, made by magic, but a perfect copy. And, as such, it held music, applications, and other data relevant to her interests.
Teriarch had perused all of it already. And, notably, if you looked at the row of neatly organized apps coded by alphabet—something that was missing on the iPhone Ryoka Griffin owned—an absence of a certain app was notable. Cookie Clicker, the game, had been deleted, and it was irrevocably lost without access to Earth’s internet. It was for the best. There had been…incidents.
Now however, the Dragon tapped a few times and yawned. A sound began to play from the iPhone and he magnified it. Several voices played in his cave. Talking quietly.
It wasn’t music, but the Dragon smiled sleepily. The speakers were discussing a topic, speaking with almost perfect clarity, as if they were in the room with him. He had no idea about half the topic they were discussing, even after listening to this particular podcast…fifteen times.
“Rhmbm…forklifts…keep an eye out. Can’t stand…lawyers…hrmfph…”
The Dragon muttered under his breath, going along with the flow of the conversation. He liked the background noise, and the content for that matter. It was entertainment he could get behind. Sometimes he even forgot the podcast, so it was fresh again. And the soft, calm tones of some of them…was…so…
The Dragon began to snore.
——
Across the world, in Khelt, King Fetohep did not sleep. He could not. And rather than pass the night as he usually did, monitoring his kingdom, perhaps walking the dark halls or attending to some other lesser concerns, he was instead sitting on his throne. A lurid glow from the object he held lit up his face. It was rather unsettling, if anyone were to watch the dead face lit in the darkness.
But no one was watching. And Fetohep was absorbed in his task. Like a Goblin child, he was more than capable of figuring out most of the smartphone’s functions at once. He was perusing Trey’s photos; he had no time for games. Or rather, he’d spent two hours on one already—just to see what it was like! And now…
The withered finger paused as it came to a word that Fetohep wasn’t familiar with. He paused, and then tapped on the odd icon. Instantly, a list came up. Fetohep stared at the title. He stared at the contents of Trey’s phone.
He’d found the movies app. And what he was looking at was…Fetohep focused on a picture. No—a scene? Intrigued, he tapped on it. Instantly, there was sound. A moving figure. The [King] jumped on his throne. Then he stared.
This was no homemade movie. Nor was it some short clip either. It was Sherlock, the TV Series. And Trey had all of Series 1 and two episodes of Series 2, on his iPhone. He’d downloaded them illegally and gotten them on his iPhone so he could watch it during commutes. Of course, that had been ages ago, and Trey had since caught up on all of the series. He’d just forgotten to delete the videos.
And there they were. Fetohep stared at Episode 1 as it began playing. Trey had paused it halfway through and the [King] saw the tiny bar moving. He tapped on the screen and the scene froze. Awkwardly scrolled back to the start, watching the time code change. Tapped again. And he watched. He listened.
…After a few hours, Fetohep realized the sun was rising. He glanced up, stared down at the iPhone, and rose. It was still early, but he clapped his hands and one of his attendants instantly appeared. The weary man bowed as Fetohep looked at him.
“Attendant. Send for the child, Trey Atwood. Provide him with a Second Day Potion. I request his presence.”
——
The Second Day potion was like liquid energy. Trey sat with Fetohep, having a proper English breakfast and talking with the [King]. He hadn’t had enough sleep, but he felt awake enough to run a race! It wasn’t nervous energy either; he was simply refreshed beyond belief. Fetohep looked just as energized. He was showing Trey the TV series and the embarrassed young man was trying to explain it.
“No, it’s a show, Your Majesty. An act.”
“A drama? A historical reenactment.”
“Er—no. It’s all fiction.”
“All of it? Then the people I witnessed—they are—”
Fetohep struggled for the words.
“Actors, Your Majesty.”
“Actors. I know of performers, but this feels different. I have seen dramas, but the style of this is completely—and the recording! It can be watched again and again!”
The [King] savored the word. Trey nodded. Fetohep changed the iPhone—he’d already mastered it, much to Trey’s surprise—and brought up the pictures.
“This—device. These pictures! Is this indicative of your world, Trey Atwood? I see no famine in the faces here. In fact—they are well fed. Beyond so, in some cases.”
He pointed to one of the pictures on Trey’s phone. The young man hesitated. Compared to the skeletal Fetohep, it certainly was a dramatic…he nodded.
“Everyone has one, Your Majesty. We watch stuff on it. All the time. And play games.”
“A powerful artifact.”
Fetohep looked flustered. Then he drew himself upright, and interjected a note of authority into his voice.
“Your world has some amenities my people lack, Trey Atwood. But know that my people may travel the breadth of my kingdom at will. Undead carriages will transport them at will, without cost.”
Trey didn’t look impressed.
“We have that. We call them cars—they don’t need horses, they just move when you press down on a lever. And uh, we have elevators too. They’re boxes that go up and down like magic. You saw them in the TV show, right?”
The undead [King] wavered.
“I…did. Yes. And the elevators? Ah, similar to flying carpets. And I have heard of Pallass’ experiments. I considered implementing some in Khelt, but the cost in mana stones was far too exorbitant.”
He paused. Trey nodded along, trying to be helpful.
“We also have escalators, Your Majesty.”
“Escalators?”
“Moving floors. They’re like…”
Trey tried to explain the concept. Fetohep stared at him.
“You mean—they move you faster to your destination, which you are travelling to on foot? In fact, you may simply stand as the floor moves you to where you wish to go?”
“…Yes? I mean, you can probably sit too. Some people do.”
And the ones who stood still on the walking side deserved to die a horrible death. Now Trey was saying it out loud, it sounded a tiny bit lazy. But it was convenient! It wasn’t like they were everywhere. He squirmed, but Fetohep was just staring at Trey. At last, he opened his mouth and spoke faintly.
“That’s hedonism.”
“What? No. Not really.”
Trey blushed. Fetohep just shook his head. He looked rattled. Trey had no idea why. The [King] had to get up and pace.
“There are a people more luxuriant than my own? No. No. This device—”
He looked at one of his servants. The young woman’s eyes were locked on the glowing screen; she’d edged around to watch as Trey showed Fetohep some of the features. Trey saw Fetohep watching his subject, and the entranced look on her face. And he saw Fetohep, for the first time, looking jealous.
For a long while, Fetohep sat with Trey as he offered the iPhone to the young woman and she fumbled with it. He looked at her, and at Trey, and the young man held his breath. At last, though, Fetohep shook his head.
“The Quarass is clever. Even in the body of a child, she can be as clever as any serpent.”
“Er, yes, Your Majesty?”
Trey turned beet red as Fetohep gave him a knowing look. The [King] shook his head.
“Or perhaps it is—no. Never mind. I concede her point, at least. Your world fascinates, Trey Atwood. But there is still not enough reason for Khelt to ally with Reim. Tiqr’s fate has proven that to refuse to declare the King of Destruction as an enemy is to be a target.”
He raised a hand as Trey hesitated.
“You need not reply. I know your response. I can imagine that insufferable child’s words. Yes. Khelt bows to arrogant nations in allowing their will to dictate my actions. It is an affront, but one I suffer for my kingdom.”
Fetohep shook his head. And he sat, looking distant. Old.
“Nothing is eternal, Trey Atwood. Khelt is a fragile blossom. Someday, whether under my rule or a hundred thousand years from now, it will fall, and dust will consume my kingdom. While I remain, Khelt exists. And my people endure. Until the end of my days. That is my purpose. What reason have I to risk my nation?”
He looked up expectantly then, pensive, the weight of his world upon his shoulders. Trey hesitated. He opened his mouth, raised a finger—looked down.
“I don’t know.”
King Fetohep of Khelt paused. He waited, and then made a sound like clearing his throat.
“You have no arguments?”
Trey shrugged helplessly.
“Not any good ones. I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I’m not a good negotiator. I don’t know why King Flos sent me.”
“I see.”
Fetohep looked disappointed. Trey bit his lip, but he really didn’t have anything the Quarass couldn’t already say. Khelt was beautiful. All it lacked was…
Both he and Fetohep looked at the young woman who was laughing at something. The picture of Flos, as it turned out. Fetohep lifted his hand and she reluctantly gave it back. He stared at the image of Flos Reimarch.
“He has changed. At least in appearance. I remember that feckless boy of old. He was so…”
One finger touched the screen. Trey looked at Fetohep, and a burst of inspiration seized him.
“Your Majesty, would you like me to take a picture of you?”
“A picture? Of me?”
Fetohep looked surprised. But then he nodded.
“It is a rare opportunity, one you may never have again. I shall allow it.”
He straightened upon his chair as Trey lifted the iPhone. The young woman hurried out of the way, watching with anticipation. Fetohep could not know it, but he unconsciously adopted a pose much like the one Flos had taken with Teres. Straight-backed, his face still. Trey hesitated.
It could have all gone the way of Teres’ photo. But he glanced at the iPhone, at Fetohep, sitting there, and then had another flash. He looked at Fetohep; the [King] was watching him, waiting.
“What about a selfie, Your Majesty?”
“A what?”
“A picture of both of us. If you’ll allow it. Like this.”
Trey edged his seat over. He ignored the ridiculousness of what he was proposing, and put his head next to Fetohep, turning it towards the camera. The undead [King] glanced at him, surprised. But Trey didn’t shudder; he was intent on the picture. The [King] glanced up and saw them together. Trey tapped the iPhone and the screen flashed.
“Not bad!”
He showed Fetohep. The undying [King] stared at it. It was an image of him and Trey. The young man had a decent smile and Fetohep had a death’s grin. He was captured there. The ruler of Khelt stared at the image.
A picture, a recording on a boy’s phone. Fetohep stared at it and saw something close to immortality. A piece of data, stored in ways he didn’t understand. A fragile thing yes, but possibly eternal. But you had to work at it, guard it. Save it and keep it, but you could theoretically let it endure forever. But it had to be maintained.
“But my world does have things to offer, King Fetohep. Things your citizens might want. Maybe they’re bored of life in Khelt.”
“Bored?”
Fetohep looked offended at the very suggestion. His tone darkened as he looked at Trey. He gestured to the young woman who was waiting next to Trey.
“Tell me, my child. Do you want for anything?”
“No, Your highness.”
She shook her head instantly. Fetohep nodded.
“Do you ever wish to leave Khelt?”
“No!”
She looked alarmed at the very notion. Fetohep turned back to Trey, triumphantly.
“You see? My people are beloved among all the world’s nations. They live. They flourish, safe in my borders, free of suffering or fear of monsters or attack. And they die. And it is they who guard Khelt, forevermore. The finest of entertainments flood my nation in every variety! [Bards] come to sing tales of old! Stories abound in my libraries! What could they possibly want?”
“Um…this?”
Trey pulled out his smartphone. Fetohep paused, stared at it, and then, as Trey hit the power button, the glowing screen. He stared at Trey. The young woman stared too, entranced by the foreign, artificial light.
“…What is that?”
“A device from my world, your Eternal Majesty. It’s a phone. A smartphone. It doesn’t run on magic. It’s an artifact with many functions.”
“How is it made? How does it work?”
Fetohep peered at the screen as Trey unlocked it. His eyes focused on the apps, the words. He wasn’t a fool. He could read and Trey saw the Quarass nodding at him covertly.
“Would you like to inspect it, Your Majesty?”
“Perhaps. Do you simply…touch the screen? And…”
“Yes. Like this. And uh, it has a password. You just turned it off, so if you want to use it—it’s 4467.”
“And this—”
“It has pictures. Videos. Games—”
The young woman edged over to stare at the phone, entranced. King Fetohep paused, as Trey began tapping on apps. The Quarass waited, and then yawned openly. Fetohep glanced up, distracted, and she bowed.
“My apologies, Fetohep. This body is young. And the hour is late. I must beg your forgiveness—”
She yawned again. Instantly, Fetohep rose.
“Ah. A child’s stamina. I forget youth. Let us retire then, Quarass. Your rooms await. My people shall take you to them. Trey Atwood as well. It is already—”
He paused. Trey was yawning too; it wasn’t even an act after seeing the Quarass. The golden gaze went towards him and Fetohep nodded.
“Close to midnight. Yes. I feel we must adjourn.”
He looked disappointed. Trey knew it was his turn again and gestured to the iPhone that Fetohep still held.
“Um, Your Majesty, you could keep my phone. I won’t need it as I sleep.”
“This?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. If you’d like to use it.”
Fetohep hesitated. But then he nodded regally.
“I accept the gift. It will be returned to you as you rise. An intriguing device. Attendants. The Quarass and Trey Atwood shall slumber.”
They came forwards, bowing. The young woman who’d waited on Trey smiled mischievously as she led him to the door. She leaned over and whispered.
“Would you like me to visit you in your rooms, guest?”
“What?”
Trey jumped. That wasn’t part of the plan. The young woman cocked her head.
“It would be my pleasure.”
“Uh—”
Trey glanced back at Fetohep. The [King] looked up for a moment and the young Kheltian woman shook her head.
“It is freely given, guest. Many would like to see you. Visitors seldom come to Khelt and I would be honored to entertain a vassal of the King of Destruction.”
Social prestige. Trey turned bright red. He stammered as he backed away.
“Uh—um—I’m fine. Thank you!”
She looked disappointed and he instantly second-guessed himself. But the Quarass was giving him a look. Stick to the plan. But then the second young woman among the group smiled at him.
“Would you like me to visit you, then?”
“Or me?”
That came from the young man. Trey tried to stammer again, and Fetohep glanced upwards.
“Attendants. Leave him be. Four shall remain upon my will and that of my guests. The rest of you will disperse.”
The attendants sighed, looking disappointed. Trey fled as the young woman led him and the Quarass towards their rooms. She looked very disappointed, staring at Trey as the Quarass tried to stop yawning in front of her room. She pointed at Trey, fixing him with a glare between jaw-cracking yawns.
“I will—tomorrow—before he meets Reimarch—negotiate.”
She cursed.
“This young body! I must rest. You have done well, Trey Atwood. But he is not convinced. Pray that he wishes us to remain another day. Either way, we have done all that is possible. I will speak to you on the morrow. As for tonight—”
She gave him a meaningful look. Trey nodded and stepped into his own room. He wondered if the Quarass’ plan would work. He thought of the way the young woman had stared at the iPhone. And then he thought of Fetohep. Perhaps there was a chance. After all…
He still had Trey’s smartphone.
——
Smartphone. Tablets. Electronic applications. Touch technology. Call it what you will, but it was a feature of the modern age. It was so easy to use that children could make use of the simple interface.
In fact, it was a known fact of Earth that a monkey could, with time, learn to use basic apps on a tablet or phone. There were even videos of them surfing through photos. Evidence of their ability to use technology in that fashion either proved that humanity had advanced their technology and simplified it to a point where even distant relatives of their species could comprehend and pick up usage of such applications—or that Humans really hadn’t come as far as they thought.
Both theories were probably true, but the point was that the same held true of this world. A Goblin child could, in thirty minutes, control an iPhone by using various motion commands like shaking it to shuffle music—a feature its owner, Laken Godart, had not made use of himself. And if Goblins could do it, anyone else could too.
A Dragon was snoozing in his cave. He woke up now and then, but he wanted to sleep. So, casually, he conjured a simulacrum, a smaller avatar to touch the tiny phone in front of him. It was constantly charged, and while he had toned down the brightness, he was by now adept at using it.
The thing about smartphones was that they were, well, dense. Each one, even the older models, could contain countless applications, constructs of data, and so on. In practice, it mattered very little on Earth where the connected web could provide virtually unlimited amounts of the same. But here? Each smartphone was different. Unique.
The one lying before Teriarch was Ryoka Griffin’s iPhone. A copy, rather, made by magic, but a perfect copy. And, as such, it held music, applications, and other data relevant to her interests.
Teriarch had perused all of it already. And, notably, if you looked at the row of neatly organized apps coded by alphabet—something that was missing on the iPhone Ryoka Griffin owned—an absence of a certain app was notable. Cookie Clicker, the game, had been deleted, and it was irrevocably lost without access to Earth’s internet. It was for the best. There had been…incidents.
Now however, the Dragon tapped a few times and yawned. A sound began to play from the iPhone and he magnified it. Several voices played in his cave. Talking quietly.
It wasn’t music, but the Dragon smiled sleepily. The speakers were discussing a topic, speaking with almost perfect clarity, as if they were in the room with him. He had no idea about half the topic they were discussing, even after listening to this particular podcast…fifteen times.
“Rhmbm…forklifts…keep an eye out. Can’t stand…lawyers…hrmfph…”
The Dragon muttered under his breath, going along with the flow of the conversation. He liked the background noise, and the content for that matter. It was entertainment he could get behind. Sometimes he even forgot the podcast, so it was fresh again. And the soft, calm tones of some of them…was…so…
The Dragon began to snore.
——
Across the world, in Khelt, King Fetohep did not sleep. He could not. And rather than pass the night as he usually did, monitoring his kingdom, perhaps walking the dark halls or attending to some other lesser concerns, he was instead sitting on his throne. A lurid glow from the object he held lit up his face. It was rather unsettling, if anyone were to watch the dead face lit in the darkness.
But no one was watching. And Fetohep was absorbed in his task. Like a Goblin child, he was more than capable of figuring out most of the smartphone’s functions at once. He was perusing Trey’s photos; he had no time for games. Or rather, he’d spent two hours on one already—just to see what it was like! And now…
The withered finger paused as it came to a word that Fetohep wasn’t familiar with. He paused, and then tapped on the odd icon. Instantly, a list came up. Fetohep stared at the title. He stared at the contents of Trey’s phone.
He’d found the movies app. And what he was looking at was…Fetohep focused on a picture. No—a scene? Intrigued, he tapped on it. Instantly, there was sound. A moving figure. The [King] jumped on his throne. Then he stared.
This was no homemade movie. Nor was it some short clip either. It was Sherlock, the TV Series. And Trey had all of Series 1 and two episodes of Series 2, on his iPhone. He’d downloaded them illegally and gotten them on his iPhone so he could watch it during commutes. Of course, that had been ages ago, and Trey had since caught up on all of the series. He’d just forgotten to delete the videos.
And there they were. Fetohep stared at Episode 1 as it began playing. Trey had paused it halfway through and the [King] saw the tiny bar moving. He tapped on the screen and the scene froze. Awkwardly scrolled back to the start, watching the time code change. Tapped again. And he watched. He listened.
…After a few hours, Fetohep realized the sun was rising. He glanced up, stared down at the iPhone, and rose. It was still early, but he clapped his hands and one of his attendants instantly appeared. The weary man bowed as Fetohep looked at him.
“Attendant. Send for the child, Trey Atwood. Provide him with a Second Day Potion. I request his presence.”
——
The Second Day potion was like liquid energy. Trey sat with Fetohep, having a proper English breakfast and talking with the [King]. He hadn’t had enough sleep, but he felt awake enough to run a race! It wasn’t nervous energy either; he was simply refreshed beyond belief. Fetohep looked just as energized. He was showing Trey the TV series and the embarrassed young man was trying to explain it.
“No, it’s a show, Your Majesty. An act.”
“A drama? A historical reenactment.”
“Er—no. It’s all fiction.”
“All of it? Then the people I witnessed—they are—”
Fetohep struggled for the words.
“Actors, Your Majesty.”
“Actors. I know of performers, but this feels different. I have seen dramas, but the style of this is completely—and the recording! It can be watched again and again!”
The [King] savored the word. Trey nodded. Fetohep changed the iPhone—he’d already mastered it, much to Trey’s surprise—and brought up the pictures.
“This—device. These pictures! Is this indicative of your world, Trey Atwood? I see no famine in the faces here. In fact—they are well fed. Beyond so, in some cases.”
He pointed to one of the pictures on Trey’s phone. The young man hesitated. Compared to the skeletal Fetohep, it certainly was a dramatic…he nodded.
“Everyone has one, Your Majesty. We watch stuff on it. All the time. And play games.”
“A powerful artifact.”
Fetohep looked flustered. Then he drew himself upright, and interjected a note of authority into his voice.
“Your world has some amenities my people lack, Trey Atwood. But know that my people may travel the breadth of my kingdom at will. Undead carriages will transport them at will, without cost.”
Trey didn’t look impressed.
“We have that. We call them cars—they don’t need horses, they just move when you press down on a lever. And uh, we have elevators too. They’re boxes that go up and down like magic. You saw them in the TV show, right?”
The undead [King] wavered.
“I…did. Yes. And the elevators? Ah, similar to flying carpets. And I have heard of Pallass’ experiments. I considered implementing some in Khelt, but the cost in mana stones was far too exorbitant.”
He paused. Trey nodded along, trying to be helpful.
“We also have escalators, Your Majesty.”
“Escalators?”
“Moving floors. They’re like…”
Trey tried to explain the concept. Fetohep stared at him.
“You mean—they move you faster to your destination, which you are travelling to on foot? In fact, you may simply stand as the floor moves you to where you wish to go?”
“…Yes? I mean, you can probably sit too. Some people do.”
And the ones who stood still on the walking side deserved to die a horrible death. Now Trey was saying it out loud, it sounded a tiny bit lazy. But it was convenient! It wasn’t like they were everywhere. He squirmed, but Fetohep was just staring at Trey. At last, he opened his mouth and spoke faintly.
“That’s hedonism.”
“What? No. Not really.”
Trey blushed. Fetohep just shook his head. He looked rattled. Trey had no idea why. The [King] had to get up and pace.
“There are a people more luxuriant than my own? No. No. This device—”
He looked at one of his servants. The young woman’s eyes were locked on the glowing screen; she’d edged around to watch as Trey showed Fetohep some of the features. Trey saw Fetohep watching his subject, and the entranced look on her face. And he saw Fetohep, for the first time, looking jealous.
For a long while, Fetohep sat with Trey as he offered the iPhone to the young woman and she fumbled with it. He looked at her, and at Trey, and the young man held his breath. At last, though, Fetohep shook his head.
“The Quarass is clever. Even in the body of a child, she can be as clever as any serpent.”
“Er, yes, Your Majesty?”
Trey turned beet red as Fetohep gave him a knowing look. The [King] shook his head.
“Or perhaps it is—no. Never mind. I concede her point, at least. Your world fascinates, Trey Atwood. But there is still not enough reason for Khelt to ally with Reim. Tiqr’s fate has proven that to refuse to declare the King of Destruction as an enemy is to be a target.”
He raised a hand as Trey hesitated.
“You need not reply. I know your response. I can imagine that insufferable child’s words. Yes. Khelt bows to arrogant nations in allowing their will to dictate my actions. It is an affront, but one I suffer for my kingdom.”
Fetohep shook his head. And he sat, looking distant. Old.
“Nothing is eternal, Trey Atwood. Khelt is a fragile blossom. Someday, whether under my rule or a hundred thousand years from now, it will fall, and dust will consume my kingdom. While I remain, Khelt exists. And my people endure. Until the end of my days. That is my purpose. What reason have I to risk my nation?”
He looked up expectantly then, pensive, the weight of his world upon his shoulders. Trey hesitated. He opened his mouth, raised a finger—looked down.
“I don’t know.”
King Fetohep of Khelt paused. He waited, and then made a sound like clearing his throat.
“You have no arguments?”
Trey shrugged helplessly.
“Not any good ones. I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I’m not a good negotiator. I don’t know why King Flos sent me.”
“I see.”
Fetohep looked disappointed. Trey bit his lip, but he really didn’t have anything the Quarass couldn’t already say. Khelt was beautiful. All it lacked was…
Both he and Fetohep looked at the young woman who was laughing at something. The picture of Flos, as it turned out. Fetohep lifted his hand and she reluctantly gave it back. He stared at the image of Flos Reimarch.
“He has changed. At least in appearance. I remember that feckless boy of old. He was so…”
One finger touched the screen. Trey looked at Fetohep, and a burst of inspiration seized him.
“Your Majesty, would you like me to take a picture of you?”
“A picture? Of me?”
Fetohep looked surprised. But then he nodded.
“It is a rare opportunity, one you may never have again. I shall allow it.”
He straightened upon his chair as Trey lifted the iPhone. The young woman hurried out of the way, watching with anticipation. Fetohep could not know it, but he unconsciously adopted a pose much like the one Flos had taken with Teres. Straight-backed, his face still. Trey hesitated.
It could have all gone the way of Teres’ photo. But he glanced at the iPhone, at Fetohep, sitting there, and then had another flash. He looked at Fetohep; the [King] was watching him, waiting.
“What about a selfie, Your Majesty?”
“A what?”
“A picture of both of us. If you’ll allow it. Like this.”
Trey edged his seat over. He ignored the ridiculousness of what he was proposing, and put his head next to Fetohep, turning it towards the camera. The undead [King] glanced at him, surprised. But Trey didn’t shudder; he was intent on the picture. The [King] glanced up and saw them together. Trey tapped the iPhone and the screen flashed.
“Not bad!”
He showed Fetohep. The undying [King] stared at it. It was an image of him and Trey. The young man had a decent smile and Fetohep had a death’s grin. He was captured there. The ruler of Khelt stared at the image.
A picture, a recording on a boy’s phone. Fetohep stared at it and saw something close to immortality. A piece of data, stored in ways he didn’t understand. A fragile thing yes, but possibly eternal. But you had to work at it, guard it. Save it and keep it, but you could theoretically let it endure forever. But it had to be maintained.
