What was I doing, I was complaining despite being a king, shame on me.
“You can’t visit the war! Are you to say you shall not eat healthy O king?” My queen seemed sad to imagine me fat.
“No I shall eat my meats, I am not picky.” I struggled to open the leathery skin of the tangerine with my bare hands.
Was this polite? It felt out of place in this grand dining hall empty aside from a dutiful cook doing their best to ignore the two gremlins who had first acted like two immature teenagers, and then two hungry
animals.
Pawn to F four?
Pawn to F four from F two was the safer move I concluded. Avoid letting the knight of steel block it, I could always threaten B five with the knight, provided nothing blocked my… I mean our… path...
Shout-out to the service industry, I could never manage the queen and I.
“You have a sweet tooth I fear for you my lion!” She really had no idea what I was thinking right now, which I guess was a comfort after a sort. “Can I have some pork!?” she appended the question to the end of her statement.
I suppose I had no idea what was going on in her mind either. First she wants me to eat meat, then she wants to steal it from me. I suppose she isn’t thinking about food groups or nutrition stats like I do.
Of course she could have some pork, but I changed the subject.
“How do we climb the mountains? Is it close?”
“Only a brief horse ride, We can take a carriage! Then we travel up the mountain of the shallow star and above the clouds I shall render my telescope.”
A pretty slick date, hiking into survey, was she proposing it or was I? Suddenly I was self conscious.
“By day we shall observe the land and by night the stars.” The queen was dreamy now, clearly considering it as romantic as it sounded to me.
But this was the design of…
I would have proposed this in some long ago mental state, this was too specific and idealistic, it was some male’s fascinated picturesque date for an idealized crush, there was no way it would be perfect.
She had planned it not me, which broke cardinal narrative rule of romance. I could only disappoint her, which while acceptable and comedic if a woman disappoints a man’s carefully planned date, a man disappointing a women’s planned date was outside my understanding of media.
Was I insane? Was this a narrative function I was imagining?
Male disappoints woman is normally an inciting indecent, woman disappointing man is the low point of a hero’s journey.
She leaned into me, “Maybe I can teach you about the stars!” She, no it, was intoxicated by the idea.
It was reminding me too much of some younger version of myself. Who also liked astronomy and geology and geography. I would have planned this date a long time ago. I was dating some evil twisted version of myself.
I guess I really am evil because suddenly the world was even sicker and more twisted than it was yesterday night.
“Survey.” It even kept the cold and deceptive language I had grown to hate.
“Don’t fight the demon…” I thought to myself. The voice of wisdom? Worldly wisdom? Same voice as sin in a wicked world.
I wanted to like her, she clearly liked... well if not me, the lion. I was willing to try a toxic relationship, but well… In hell you date yourself I guess. That was just gross and incestuous, this was a sick joke. Purgatory indeed, hell in fact. A hell of my own creation.
How can I escape this, how can I surrender my identity and quit focusing on my stupid self?
This was murder on my poor under-socialized heart but I hugged back anyway. Tomorrow it might all be gone.
Our first order of business after breakfast, of course was that the instant gratification of our plans.
But instead, church.
A lesson from the sages as administered by the Pontifex that is the light square bishop.
It could only be good for our souls. So the queen reasoned.
Very optimistic of her.
I am into the tower first my queen had told me she had paperwork to attend to, pious as she is.
I’d rather suspected she was instead of changing clothes, her old ones probably weren’t very comfortable and maybe that was a contributing factor to why she was so grumpy this morning
The tower of the pontifex, the tower to my right as I exited my castle. What is the mix of ostentatious and humility? For it was what I perceived before me.
I entered under a brick archway and transitioned from the verdant and tempered mountain greenery of the keep into colder stones of a regal and otherworldly main chamber.
Plain looking, but finely crafted wooden pews had been arranged in the ring around the central podium. A rainbow of light projected from stained glass at the top of the tower trickle down through impossibly polished mirrors till it was nothing but bright and synthetic processed light that enshrouded the pulpit. The ray did not shine like a spotlight, but rather illuminated and set aglow the center of the room.
Access to the higher levels of the tower did not come from this church interior, which may have taken up three to four floors but instead outside the tower.
Which made me think that perhaps this tower was a way in and out of the castle that was not at first apparent.
The church, the order of radiant light or whatever sort of belief system existed in this world was clearly aware of, if not the power of illusion, the power of perception
I was early suppose, I didn’t have very many responsibilities. I could afford to be early.
Only the truly faithful were here before me. And one of them was a women my age, How fortunate and odd.
Fashionably late means by the way, you were busy and therefore important.
No, I didn’t know a specific time that this was also supposed to start but the bishop politely informed me when I asked that he didn’t have a pet time. He simply began to perform when there were enough people.
Slowly, Denizen's of the keep trickled inward
The Fletcher, some Royal guards, a stable hand, two cooks, a Porter
That stood near the center awkwardly next to the bishop and looked up the mighty tube of mirrors that formed the central axis of this tower.
The rainbow was visible at the top through speckled glass, but it became nothing but a dim imitation of white sun as it’s descended.
Perhaps I shouldn’t do this. Maybe it’s awkward for the people to see their king so fascinated.
I must’ve looked a fool, staring at a flashing LED light.
Maybe a king should be a fool.
I stepped back partially because I had suddenly become aware of myself partially because I wanted to imagine in my mind’s eye what the seasons the time of day looked like in this chamber.
My trope soured mind examined the nooks and crannies of this chamber for any hint of a secret door that should open on some solstice. Or some magic stone that show except the light on some Astral alignment. Perhaps some secret text that could only be read by Moonlight...
Maybe I was on the wrong side of the board. All this seemed more like something that black instead of white would worry about. Light was too honest for trickery. Too aggressive to need to deceive.
“Oh lion of brilliance!” said the Pontifex. Please have a seat you’re making me nervous
Anxiety is contagious I know
I figured that it would not do to follow my instincts. I resolved sit in the back as a king.
So I stretched myself out the row of pews, sitting right in front of the bishop.
Only now did I notice the north doors were a diagonal exit for this church the bishop pointed straight ahead, but he could not leave his podium. Where is this building with a 45° angle?
Oh, that’s funny
I guess he is a bishop after all.