*** Three years later ***
Zenkhald sat in a spacious office opposite the King of Mount Slick and five of his n. Zenkhald's appearance had changed: his hair was now a vibrant red, his eyes a piercing crimson, and triangular fangs, like those of a predatory beast, were visible in his mouth.
The King slamd his palm against the table and jumped up. "HOW DARE YOU! I am your King! I hold power granted by the gods!"
The five n beside him sat with tense, disapproving faces, drilling their gazes into Zenkhald.
"Man, man, keep your voice down," Zenkhald winced. "My head hurts as it is, and I still don't understand why I'm here, where I'm supposed to go, or why."
The King sank heavily back into his chair. The man sitting to his left took the floor: "You are to march with the army of Growtar and Lant to the south. A swift seizure of the lands by the southern rivers is planned."
"And so?" Zenkhald asked calmly.
"AND SO?!" the King exploded again. "You don't even know how to communicate! We are sitting before you! If we wish, we can ruin your entire life. WE DON'T CARE that you are among the mages! You are on the territory of Mount Slick, SO DEIGN to perform your duty!"
Zenkhald looked away, staring at the floor to his left. It seed that interesting patterns were forming in the barely visible cracks. "Do you see that too?" he asked, pointing a finger. "There are eyes there, and there is its body... there's part of an arm."
One of those sitting opposite grew interested, craned his neck, and peered closer. "What do you see there?" he asked. "You don't see it?" The advisor stared at the floor, found nothing, and sat back down in disappointnt.
The King tried to stand again to voice another threat. He opened his mouth, but no sound ca out. The ruler gasped for air, his lips moving actively, but absolute silence reigned in the office. Suddenly his legs gave way, and he slumped back heavily, hitting the table. The five n flinched, trying to jump up, but their legs wouldn't obey, as if the lower half of their bodies had simply been switched off.
Zenkhald leaned back in his chair. The backrest, which wasn't ant to lean, creaked plaintively and gave way. "A weak form of democracy is running on Mount Slick," he mused. "Which king are you in the elections? The third or the fourth? The first was removed because he passed so new law and the people revolted. The second died choking on his own spit. The third, I think, was also removed... but none of that matters. I think I even rember you. How long have you been King? Two years and change? You shouted beautiful, loud speeches. Captured all the crowd's attention."
The five advisors tried unsuccessfully to move their legs.
"Democracy. A good word," Zenkhald continued. "It's when power is in the hands of the people, they choose their own ruler, and so on. But here’s the question: exactly what power is in the people's hands? To speak? Freedom of speech? Or to make decisions? Isn't all of that established by the King? A triangular puzzle. And the whole problem is that the people are still uneducated. Despite free schools, people still believe those who speak louder and more beautifully. Not those who actually understand the essence of the problem. Because those who understand what the problem is—they are smart. And it’s hard for the smart among the stupid. Sothing like that. The smart have to explain everything so the stupid understand, because there are many stupid people. And that irritates the smart."
Zenkhald shifted his gaze to the immobilized advisors. "What are your nas? Doesn't matter. I recall that during these two years, you executed fifteen treasurers and assistants. Accused them of theft and state conspiracy. Claid they weren't handling their tasks. I don't rember a single ti when you, King, personally or in your own na said anything bad. Soone else always spoke, and then you executed them. What's that little sche called? 'Good King, bad assistants'?"
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Zenkhald sighed heavily. "Is your land not enough for you? Treasures for several centuries lie beneath the depths of this mountain. You even have your own shipyard, you build your own cannons! I kind of want to go ho... and at the sa ti, I don't. You ask
to solve a problem that doesn't even exist. For so reason, for us, two plus two equals five, even though it should be four. And we don't even try to figure out why it cos out as five. There’s one thing I can't understand: are you commanding ? Why should I follow your instructions?"
Zenkhald's aura began to leak out. The candlelight flickered, and the shadows in the office began to grow rapidly. Cold shrouded the room.
"Justice, is that what you want to say?" Zenkhald asked. The King nodded convulsively.
"You don't even believe in it yourself. Fine, justice is a strange thing. Who even invented justice? Weaklings. Only weaklings need justice. They always need to be equal to everyone because they are weaker. Is it just to compare a strong loner and a weak, stupid person? They live in the sa mountain, go to the sa job, but receive the sa salary. Just? Is any of this just? You won't find an answer, because justice is a fiction. Justice for miserable fools."
Zenkhald grimaced slightly. "I hear soone thinking too loudly. Can you be quieter? Why should I—a being who can kill you with a snap of my fingers—listen to you? A King who is worth nothing himself? Why?"
Zenkhald's teeth bared predatorily. "Fear. I feel fear." He leaned his hands on the table and began to slowly loom over them across the tabletop. A quiet laugh broke out. "Weak... Fear. I want your fears so much."
It seed Zenkhald was about to pounce and tear them apart when suddenly... BANG! With all his might, Zenkhald slamd his own forehead against the table. The wood cracked and broke through.
"FOOL!" Zenkhald shouted to himself. "Justice is needed, for we are all weak! Society—you are part of society! No matter how you run, you are still connected, it's one system, everyone is connected!"
And imdiately his voice changed, filled with insane rage: "NO! WE DON'T NEED ANY OF THAT! ALL OF IT WAS IMPOSED UPON US! A-ha-ha-ha-ha!"
Zenkhald collapsed to the floor and began to roll from side to side. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! On whom are you wasting ti?! These people, people, people... beings! It makes no difference who: human, elf, demon—it's all the sa! To us, they are all one, because we are strong! We can! We can! They are just afraid of you because they cannot control you! They begin to doubt you. They think you are an extra elent of the system. WE ARE NOT AN ELENT OF THE SYSTEM! They fear what they cannot explain and control! Why did we even co here?!"
Suddenly he fell silent. Lying on the floor, Zenkhald stared at the ceiling. "The bird is so stupid, but so free," he said quietly. "Maybe freedom ans becoming stupid? Does the bird even understand what it lives for? Most likely, it doesn't even ask such stupid questions. It's just that we are spoiled and trying to comprehend what shouldn't be comprehended. I understand... I don't understand... I understand... I don't understand..."
His voice grew quieter and quieter.
A chair creaked. One of the advisors tried to stand. Snap. The invisible pressure vanished. The delusion dissipated. All six jumped up in horror and pressed themselves against the wall.
"Forgive us... forgive us... forgive us!" they babbled in panic. "We... we understand! Everything! We promise that... that..."
Zenkhald slowly rose from the floor and looked at them.
"Why did you take off your masks? Put them back on; they were much more interesting to ." — @Zenkhald.
Scene: Before Zenkhald's Reset
"The ti has co," Alastia pronounced.
"Ti for what?" Mira didn't understand.
"Ti to stop loving Zenkhald. Alas, it must be done. After the reset, he will no longer be able to look at
the sa way as before. And so that it doesn't hurt , it's ti to let go of these feelings."
Mira slowly lowered her hand. The air around her grew heavy and seed to vibrate slightly from the mounting tension.
"So, you used him, and now you're just throwing him away?" Mira said coldly.
"Yes," Alastia answered in a level tone. "I am grateful to him and will keep these monts in my head for an eternity. But it's ti to stop loving him; it will be better for everyone. The children, admittedly, won't understand, but that's not a problem. I will preserve these mories forever."
Mira didn't utter another word. She silently rose from her seat and left.
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