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ritterum · 1 year

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How Lutessa Found A King

(cw sexual assault, gore, monarchism)

Fair Lutessa was not always the cradle of kings, and before its austere temples and marble effigies came to dominate the horizon, Lutessa was a village just like yours or mine. But the Wheel turns, and Lutessa’s idyll shattered as she grew. Her people came to bicker and fight more and more often amongst themselves, over even the smallest of things! Things such as: whether this man had sold his neighbor the right amount of flour, or whether the miller’s children had pushed the blacksmith’s children into the marshes, or whether the inn-keeper’s wife was allowed to dine with the tavern-keep. Since Lutessa had yet no magistrate or ruler to call her own, the townspeople, fresh from a brawl, clamored for adjudication at the doors of the Martyr-God’s prophet.

“Prophet! Grant us your wisdom,” they cried, rattling the gates of the temple. “Settle our disputes; we want for a judge!”

The prophet, who was sweeping the entrance, replied, “Settle your own arguments! Rule you not amongst yourselves? I have my God’s work to do - now, begone.”

The people, unsure what to answer, retired to their houses and conferred between themselves; however, the following day, they returned with bloodied noses and bruised eyes. “Prophet! Our minds are filled with chaos and we are unfit to rule! Bring us under your command, that we may live in harmony!”

The prophet, who was lighting incense by the altar, said: “Cease your mewling! Be ye babes or men? I will not judge you, for I am neither of you nor above you; judge yourselves.”

The people once more took the prophet’s words home and discussed them, but besought him a third time the following morning, again battered and beaten-up.

“O Prophet!” they cried out as one. “We are unworthy to rule ourselves! Grant us a king! Grant us a king!”

On and on they shouted, “King! King!” louder and louder until the prophet, supping on bread and wine, could tolerate it no longer.

“Seeing as they are of one mind, which they have never once been before,” said he, “who am I to deny them my intercession?” So he rose from his seat and entered the holy-of-holies, and as he communed there, the breath of the Martyr-God came down from on high, and joined with his statue in the square. And lo! the statue became as flesh, and turned its countenance toward the heavens; and it removed its head from its shoulders and threw it far, far into the distance, where it flew brightly across the sky like a shooting star. (And this is why today, when you see the statue of the Martyr-God outside the great temple of Lutessa, you will see that it has no head.)

Then the prophet left the divine chambers and addressed the people gathered outside. “As you have asked, so is it given. Wheresoever the sign of the Martyr-God shall lead, there you shall find your king; and you will know him by the sign he gives, for it is the sign that the Godhead has shown you. I have spoken!” The people, marveling at the miracle they had just witnessed, left him many grateful words and many precious gifts; and finally, they left him also at peace.

Now the townsfolk took the quickest and hardiest amongst themselves, and sent them in the direction of the new star, which was east and north. The scouts rode, inquiring at every village and hillfort about the sign the Martyr-God had shown, and each time they were turned away empty handed. This went on for fortnight after fortnight until it seemed that they would exhaust all the tribes of Ferrancha. But at the last, two of the riders came upon an ancient citadel, where dwelt a fierce clan of giants. These giants had bear skins draped around them like cloaks, and long beards that stretched down to their knees, and they growled in a speech that was scarcely recognizable as human. But one towered above the rest of them and wore as a sign of his authority a necklace of purplest stone.

This one said: “Who comes to challenge Sea-Bull [1] in the home of his people?”

The scouts answered: “None but two humble riders, come seeking a sign from the Martyr-God.”

Then Sea-Bull leered and bade them come closer; and when they had drawn within an arm’s length, he seized one and tore the head off him, and he threw the bloody thing at the other scout, saying:

“There is your god’s martyr! And this is the only sign you shall have from me.”

The surviving rider fled from the giants’ mocking laughter, and rode without eating or sleeping for ten days. In that time, he covered a fortnight’s distance, and when he passed through the gates of Lutessa, the people first mistook him for a scarecrow atop Death’s horse, for his hair had gone white and ragged from fear, and the flight had consumed so much of him that his skin now clung to his bones. Whatever warning he would have proffered went unheeded, for as he fell from his horse, the head of his companion rolled out of his satchel, and the people, beholding it, exclaimed:

“The Martyr-God has given us back his sign! The prophecy is fulfilled!”

So they bore the scout to the temple of the healers, cheering, and sent word for the riders to return home. They prepared the town to welcome their new king, even as they worried how to find him or even to recognize him, for the power of speech had deserted the scout and he could no longer direct them to their ruler. Yet they need not have worried, for Sea-Bull in his curiosity had sent trackers after his visitor, and, hearing of the manner in which his threat had been received, became desirous of ruling these toothless people and their lands. So he gathered his clan and broke camp, and each giant sat astride a great-ox, which they commanded as we do camels and horses, and they made for the bounty which had been laid out for them.

When they arrived in Lutessa a fortnight later, Sea-Bull divided up the town among his strongest warriors and bid them take wives for themselves from among the daughters of the village. Then he shackled the men and forced much work upon them, including that a hall be built for him and his clan. He tore down the statues of Lutessa’s gods as well, since they offended him; but that of the Martyr-God he left alone, for this was the deity that had granted him conquest. And he set a watch all around the temple of the Martyr-God, that no harm may befall it or its prophet.

Sea-Bull reigned for many years, during which he sent out warbands and brought also many other villages under his rule. He ordered that in each of them should be hung necklaces like his of purplest stone, which anyone passing had to bow before and kiss, and he ordered that any who disobeyed be put to the sword. In Lutessa he was strictest of all: he would take silver and fine cloths from those families which offended him, and seize their farms, so that his great-oxen might have more land to graze on. He would furthermore take their daughters and lie with them against their will, and some he would take as concubines while others he would return to their households; but for none of them did he ever pay a bridewealth. And of those families which had displeased them the most, when their daughters did bear him child, he would gather them to his hall and swallow the newborn whole before them, in order that their misery might be prolonged by seeing it.

II.

Now there was a maiden named Snow-Iris, for she was as fair and unblemished as winter’s first snow. It happened that Sea-Bull took a liking to her, and wished to have her as his own. But her father, hearing of this, woke her in the night and snuck her far outside the village, leaving her with some provisions and a cloak, so that she might not die in the wilds.

Then Snow-Iris’ heart was filled with anger and dread, and she cried out to the Martyr-God, saying: “What kind of trespass have we committed against you, that you repay our faith with punishment? We came seeking a guardian; why did you send us a butcher instead?” And she wept in the fields until gentle sleep overtook her.

But hearing her, the Martyr-God took pity and came to her in her slumber; and she dreamed that his voice rang out from the star he had set in the heavens, which shone more clearly and brilliantly than ever it had. “Child,” he said, his voice suffused with tenderness and dread. “‘Twas your folk who betrayed our compact, not I. I set my sign up above, that it might guide them towards noble and unsullied spirits; yet they rooted around in the base earth like swine digging for worms. But now see: I desire that the suffering of your people shall end, for I am faithful and ever-merciful, and your cries have softened my heart. Therefore follow my Star, and when you draw nigh, I will cause it to descend upon your true king, and he will know to expect thee at his gate. And you shall know him too by his company, for he will keep in his retinue men of metal; and by his attire, for his brow shall be ringed with heavenly iron. Until you find the king, no harm shall befall you; only do not stray from the path, for perdition will claim your soul. This I vow.”

The star beckoned still on the horizon when Snow-Iris awoke, bathing her in a ray of heavenly light, and though Sea-Bull’s men scoured the hills and fields in search of her, they could not see her behind the veil of light. Seeing the violence in their manner, she knew that she would have no more place in Lutessa until the arrival of the true king. So she began her pursuit to the north-east, sometimes falling in with traders, sometimes with hunters, sometimes tarrying summers in bustling towns, sometimes passing winters in stone ruins. On many occasions, temptation visited her and tugged at her heartstrings, offering her purest love, or the wealth and dominion of lords, or the restful seclusion of the hermitage. And for some of them, she wrestled many hours with herself; but in the end, rejected them all, for the Martyr-God had made good on his side of the pledge, and she wished to make good on hers.

One evening, as Snow-Iris rode through the passes of the High Forest with a caravan of merchants, a terrible roar filled the air, shaking the trees and the very ground, and it was as if the doors of heaven had been slammed shut. And at this unearthly herald, night turned briefly into day, and the rivers ran uphill for a few seconds, and (it is said) many men of wicked repute dropped dead in the streets. Then Snow-Iris beheld that the star of the Martyr-God descended and streaked through the sky, and she knew that she drew nigh to the true king.

“What town lies yonder?” she asked, pointing where the star had fallen. But her companions, seized with fright, ran about her in mad circles just like the horses they were riding, and none could answer her properly.

So she left them and rode on by herself, inquiring about the falling star at several hamlets along the way. They all told her to head for the town of Accisgrand, where a miracle had occurred recently, and whose mayor sought the bearer of a sign; and they described to her the appearance of Accisgrand, that she might recognize it from afar. So she continued for some days until she came upon a town that matched the description, with high stone walls and manned by sentries clothed in raiment of metal. As she approached the gate, the guards barred her entry; but she said:

“I am Snow-Iris of Lutessa, and I seek the man who received the sign of the Godhead.”

At this, the guards exchanged looks, and instructed her to wait. She began to set up camp, thinking that she would be made to pass the afternoon; but scarce had the first noon hour [2] come and gone than a scribe appeared at the gate to escort her within. They passed through halls of arched marble with glass windows as tall as the ancient trees, which Snow-Iris marveled at like a young girl. But it was in a humble room of wood that the mayor received her.

“Tell me your name and the sign that you seek,” said the mayor. But Snow-Iris could not answer immediately, for as her eyes traveled up his imposing figure and silken cloak, they came to rest on the circlet of graceful iron girdling his brow. “Tell me your business,” he said again, impatient.

“Your Grace,” she replied with a curtsy. “I am Snow-Iris of Lutessa. Many years ago, the Godhead placed a sign in the heavens by which we might find someone wise to rule us. We misread the sign, and were punished. However, the Godhead is merciful, and has brought me here to seek the true ruler, who will deliver us from this ordeal. I seek the one to whom he has shown his sign.”

The mayor nodded. “Your story rings true; therefore I will tell you mine. Not a week ago, a god spoke to me in a dream, saying that a maiden would arrive from far-away Lutessa to ask for deliverance from a false king, and that I would know her by the sign of the Godhead, which would be granted unto me. Come: there is something I must needs show you.”

Then he stepped forward and took her by the hand, and together they walked out, through a courtyard of fragrant trees and pruned bushes, to a lofty temple of vaulted stone. And lo! the head of the Martyr-God sat on the altar - no longer the cold gray of stone, but the lustrous gleam of iron.

Seeing this, Snow-Iris knelt and kissed the hand of the mayor. “You are indeed the one I seek,” she said, “and by your leave, I would grant you your kingdom.”

“Let us put off talks of kingship until later,” he answered with a smile. “First I must fulfill the sacred duty granted unto me and deliver your people from despotic rule.”

So he gathered an army of twenty thousand soldiers and five thousand knights and marched towards Lutessa, under the banner of the Martyr-God. When Sea-Bull heard of this, he howled in anger and ordered his warriors to burn down the villages between him and Accisgrand, for he wanted none of their riches to go to this man. But his warriors persuaded him otherwise, for even though they were giants and their prowess in combat was unmatched, still their numbers were few, and they could ill afford to spread their forces thin. And while both mayor and Sea-Bull could claim divine favor, only one could be assured of his mandate - he who asserted his rule according to prophecy. [3]

I will not sing of battle, although their clash was great - many songs have already been given to that day alone. For this mayor was indeed the hero named KING [4], who in the Northern tongue is called Krol or Korol, and is known to all peoples as “Great”, because he drove out the giants and slew Sea-Bull, and, under his just rule, united all the tribes of Ferrancha from the Pannonian Woods to the Uttermost Sea. With Snow-Iris as his queen, he began the lineage of monarchs that would turn Ferrancha into a vast and magnificent realm - who would, despite their humble origins, erect monuments and metropoles to rival even those of Akbal himself (may he ever be remembered!).

Though KING eventually set his throne in Accisgrand, sweet Lutessa forever held a fond place in his heart. And so, as his children came of age, he would bid them dwell in Lutessa and take the manner and custom of its people as their own; and when one of those children became king, that one would in turn send his children to Lutessa. So this tradition carried on until it was a tradition no longer, for the descendants of KING so came to love Lutessa that they moved the throne there, pledging their faith to the city just as the city had placed its faith in them.

Runao’s Commentary:

Iron is the metal of the gods, and so it is the symbol of mandate, authority, and justice, which only the gods are allowed to bestow. Pretenders can only steal the insignia of the past and defend them with violence; true rulers receive their legitimacy directly from the divine. This is how the keen-eyed subject knows which master to follow.

Footnotes:

[1] Burton gives this as “She-Bull” in the 1888 edition, and it was retained in editions until 1913. Garcìa (1964) theorizes that this name may be a fanciful rewording of “Mare-Bull”, which was a common mistranslation at the time; Humbert & Luis (1991), however, consider it a printer’s error, as Burton left no indication in his extensive notes that he was aware of this erroneous translation.

[2] Incidentally, the hour of Iron.

[3] This sentence was almost certainly added by Runao, as it is not present in alternative forms of the story. See Quirin Egidius, Prophets of the Times: Bronze-Age Divination in Runao’s Book of Hours (2001), p. 67.

[4] The name given here is the literal word for ‘king’, in the honorific form. Although it is unclear whether the honorific was added by Runao or existed in the original Illapartian language, we can say with relative certainty that the King’s name most likely became synonymous with rulership in the geographical area corresponding to his kingdom (similar to ‘Caesar’ becoming the word for ‘emperor’ in many European languages), before being transmitted to Illapars via cultural osmosis. Ibid, p. 51.

#fiction i guess #hour of iron #iron #loom of hours #older fic

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