Sing, O Muse, sing of the man with a pair of faux pearls within his eyes like that of a corpse’s. As well as you believe him to be an imitation, he is indeed of mortal flesh - with the wind around him to smell of sweet nectar, his golden hair that glistens so brightly, and his fair, rosy skin that one dares not to wound - what an abnormality that would be in vain for the finest of poets to describe, that the man himself is so secretive not to answer, offering nothing other than that sly, impish smile.
On that snow-ridden night, he strode forth from the veil of mist. The man with dead eyes bore the stance of a soldier as he was flanked by his stallion, his glistening helmet held by his waist. An old soldier awaited him in the pathway, the lines between his brows like fissures on granite.
He glared at the man with a look of distaste. “How you live for yet another dusk bewilders me to no end, Arvensis.”
“Have more faith in me, sir. To have lived for another day must prove my resilience - I’m no fledgling in the wind.”
“Stop your arrogance at once or I’ll knock that laurel crown right off your head the next time I see you in it.”
“Oh oh, you’re too cruel, General Thera.” Arvensis bantered until that delight was no more with his downcast eyes. “I’ve overworked you at your old age with worry, and you neither have asked for compensation. Do you seek no repayment?”
“How could you repay me? And you are too young to be weighed by worry. Compensation? From your penniless pockets? Forget it. Your payment for me is to live my years intact, that is your absolute duty. Sounds possible?”
Arvensis nodded and smiled to himself. His head of gold glistened and glistened like pure satin beneath the moonlight and nightly breeze. The old general pondered; with such young men, how fleeting their liveliness will be. Will he live long enough to sire children of his own, or to at the very least attain a bride? The general pondered, with such dreadful worries typical of an old man.
Recalling a night after the victory of a conquest, the chamber walls thundered with the sounds of laughter and shouts, from rowdy men of young and old. The aroma of meat roast and wine intertwined with the piercing scent of smoke and sweat floated in the air, dizzying anyone who was tempted to indulge. With a leap, the table shuttered as a booming blast reverberated across its surface. Each man lifted their head to find the young general stationed above with a chalice of mead.
"My honourable men, faithful friends - On nights such as this; my honest self, promises that your mother, father, brothers, and sisters may live yet another day with full stomachs. They'll talk of and sing our stories, for only men of virtue continue to live after death and become as fulfilled as kings and gods. And when the time comes for us all to be hurled down to Hades, let us hope what awaits us is a paradise that shelters our fallen comrades, and houses the finest of women and wine, hm? One can only hope.” Laughter erupts from below. Radiant, almost, the young general was.
“None shall weep. Do not let the dead taste bitterness, for it is a night of triumph that awaits both us and them. Fill it with applause and cheer and laughter - for we will continue to live through another midnight warmth, for another day where we shall defend our nation with tenacity. I shall forget none of you, and if you fear your legacy to be short-lived,” He extended his hand to the crowd, and they watched as if jewels were laid in his palm. He held the sincere and steady gaze of every man, no matter how red-faced they were.
“- come to me, and the whole world will know of the brave man that roamed the same earthly grounds as them.”
“So tonight, mend your wounds, sow in your delights, honours - and rejoice.” Slowly, he took off his laurel crown and set it on the head of the beaming little boy below. “Of course, let us celebrate this young man’s victory, who is the bravest of us all.” The instant his cup was lifted, the room thundered once more, roaring with shouts and applause.
“What paradise awaits those that kill in the name of conquest? In the hell that awaits us, they shall seize our voices, our bodies - for the evil that is us do not get to negotiate, do not get to flee, and do not get to cover our eyes."
“Perhaps no paradises await us, I’ve not witnessed such idealistic bliss before or now. I don’t believe in a hell either. If the gods want to punish us, they can do so while our blood is still pumping.”
“Have you no fear or doubt, General Thera? You believe in the gods but not the afterlife.”
“It is not too long before I can confirm it for myself, whether it exists or not.”
“Out of all of us, I hope that you’d be granted mercy in such afterlives, whether it exists or not.”
“Boy, I’ve taken more lives than the years you’ve lived.”
Arvensis’ gaze continued to fixate upon the crowd that flamed on and closed his eyes slowly, the chalice within his grasp full and untouched.
“Then, selfishly, just for me.”
Melody Xiong is a sophomore majoring in Illustration at SVA. Through her stories, she writes the external and internal struggles her characters face in an oppressive world.