I Hope I Live Long Enough To Be Wealthy And Not Long Enough To Regret It

Fires burn throughout the city. The excruciating cries of people being torn apart and eaten make King Decimus Metallicus cover his ears.

From their vantage point above the city, King Decimus and General Gaius Regulus hold back their tears as they watch a winged creature swoop down from the sky and gut a woman trying to protect her baby.

The creature crushes the baby’s skull with its powerful talons and swallows it whole.

A second creature lands on the back of a horse, which tries to bolt free. The creature jabs its talons into the horse’s neck, tearing away its flesh. Whinnying in pain, the horse collapses.

“I am responsible for this carnage,” King Decimus says, whimpering. “My need for power and wealth was my undoing.”

Decimus’s weary, bloodshot eyes focus on twenty-two-year-old Gaius, his former second-in-command, and the newly appointed General of his invincible army.

“King Servius Maximus and Queen Lavinia became vile creatures, but Pax was the epitome of evil, sadistic, and calculating. I never should have trusted her.”

“She thought she could control the Atheons,” Gaius replies. “Now they control us…”

The crowd cheers as King Servius Maximus triumphantly enters the Colosseum in his chariot.

“I’ve never seen a ruler who generates more admiration and support than Servius, and I’ve worked for six of them,” Pax says derisively.

Pax’s ageless, shapely beauty is enticing yet cold. The sorceress has a slanted, mysterious, reptilian gaze, and her obsidian eyes seldom blink. She’s awash with amulets, bracelets, and rings and wears her long locks piled high on her head.

King Servius Maximus waves at the crowd. Roses thrown by the crowd land around him.

A towering six feet plus, King Servius Maximus has the muscled body of a gladiator, thick curly hair, tranquil grey eyes, and handsome features.

With Servius in command, in the space of forty-five blood-soaked days, Paledon pummeled their enemies, the Selk, into surrender.

His jealousy apparent in the tone of his voice, General Decimus Metallicus says to Pax, “King Servius is a kind, benevolent ruler. I commanded the army that defeated the Selks, but Servius devised our plan of attack and led our troops into battle. That black powder you created helped us, Pax. When it exploded, it killed fifteen men at a time. The powder and the King’s leadership were instrumental in our victory. I watched him cut down ten men like they were blades of grass. I was impressed with his skills and bravery.”

Pax lets out a disgruntled huff. “Now that the war is over, King Servius has no use for us. He’ll reduce your army to a few troops of palace guards, and he’s hinted he’ll outlaw magic.”

“Then we must find a way to show our worth,” Decimus replies. “Servius is not like his father. He rules for the people first and foremost. Whenever King Lucius Flaccus did something good for the people, he did twice as much for himself.”

“One reason Queen Lavinia poisoned her father-in-law.”

“And proof she is not as virtuous as her husband. Perhaps we should make her queen,” Decimus says.

“No. She shares the King’s views on magic,” Pax replies. “I was thinking our next king should be someone who wants to conquer the world while ensuring he and his court get rich.”

“You are talking about insurrection and treason,” Decimus warns.

“Not if it’s done correctly. Kings can pardon themselves, you know.”

Decimus studies Pax’s crafty smile.

“I don’t trust you, sorceress. And I like you even less.”

“I’m not asking you to be my friend or lover, only my partner.”

The next day, Decimus walks into Pax’s room with his answer.

He freezes, his breathing quickening nervously when the dozen snakes emanating from Pax’s body snap at him.

“You should announce yourself,” she says as the snakes retract.

“I would have missed the great reveal. What are you, a succubus?”

“No. That requires having unnecessary sexual intimacy with my victims.”

“A loss for the male populace, then,” Decimus replies. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“All you need to know, buster, is that I’m both blessed and cursed with a long life, and I’m far from home, living in a time period that’s foreign and prehistoric to me. It’s my punishment.”

“For misuse of your power, no doubt,” Decimus says.

Pax nods her head approvingly. “Perhaps you’re not so primitive after all. Have you considered my offer?”

“I still think you are better suited to rule.”

“The rules regarding my exile make it impossible. I had a prominent position in King Lucius’s government. That’s all I ask for in return for helping you take over.”

“Agreed. I like the sound of King Decimus Metallicus. But Servius Maximus has the loyalty of our military forces, as well as the fealty of our enemies. How can we defeat him?”

“Leave that to me.”

Decimus and Pax steady their horses. Dismounting, they join Decimus’s men hiding in the woods.

“Lavinia is in Winter Haven judging a flower show,” Decimus notes. “It will be her last act as Queen. My men will capture her when she leaves the show to return to the castle. Then she will be our guest in her own dungeon, along with her husband.”

Pax smiles shrewdly. “You’re certain the mercenaries you hired will follow your orders?”

“They have been paid handsomely and know that if they betray us, they will be the ones occupying the dungeon.”

King Servius’s royal carriage moves down the narrow dirt road with a dozen guards.

Decimus and his men charge out from their hiding places. The four men closest to the carriage draw their swords but are quickly cut down by arrows. Three others are overwhelmed and killed.

King Servius leaps from the carriage. In a flurry of steel, he slays four of Decimus’s men.

He lays down his blade when he sees Decimus and the other men holding swords against his remaining guard’s throats.

“That’s what I like most about you, sire. Always thinking of others,” Decimus says.

Pax swoops into the throne room.

“Your subjects are angry and on the verge of rebellion.”

“It has barely been two weeks since our coup. I told you it was too soon to increase taxes, persecute Muslims, and confiscate half the farmer’s animals.”

“We’ll need those animals soon for my work. Until then, you’ll have to show your people you rule with an iron hand. Take a random fifty peasants and crucify them.”

“That is too extreme,” Gaius says.

“I didn’t ask for your input, G.I. Joe.”

“You need to listen to someone, witch, before you wind up getting crucified yourself.”

Decimus raises his hand, hoping to quell the argument. “General Regulus makes a good point. If the people are angry with me now, nailing them on poles for the crows to pick at could start a rebellion.”

“The peasants are your enemies.”

“I am beginning to wonder who my real enemy is.”

“I can erect a cross for you if you want to argue about who’s really in charge here.”

Decimus covers his nose and mouth with his monogrammed handkerchief as his royal carriage meanders along the grimy, cobblestone roadway.

The stench of the rotting corpses hanging from poles outside of the city makes him gag.

Gaius pulls his window shade down. “They have been hanging there for three weeks. I think you and Pax have made your point.”

“Yes, you are right,” Decimus replies, frowning as the carriage hits a rut. “When we reach the palace, send out a detail of men to take those bodies down.”

“I hope we do not end up in a mass grave like them.”

“Steel yourself, Gaius. We will get through these hard times and be wealthy beyond anything you have ever imagined.”

A rock hits the side of the carriage.

Decimus leans out of the carriage window and is hit with a rotten tomato.

Wiping it from his face, he asks Gaius, “What manner of rebellion is this?”

“Just a few peasants expressing their displeasure with your policies, sire,” Gaius replies.

Decimus leans out the window, shaking his fist at the peasants lined up along the road. He’s hit with a barrage of tomatoes and rotten fruit.

“You think you are poor and hungry now? You have not begun to suffer!”

Gaius pulls Decimus back into the carriage. Yelling, “Speed up!” to the driver, Gaius pulls down Decimus’s window shade as rocks rattle off the side of the carriage.

“I hope I live long enough to be wealthy and not long enough to regret it,” he says to Decimus.

Pax looks down at the middle-aged guard lashed to the table.

“What’s your name, guinea pig?”

“Roderick Eagleton, mum. I was a royal guard for twenty years.”

“Perhaps you’ll be mentioned in songs when we re-write the history of this dreary country. Cut off his legs.”

Bewildered, Pax’s two centaur assistants, Bip and Bop, stare goggle-eyed at her.

“Would you four-legged fools like to be known as Peg Leg and Hoppy? Do as I say!”

Squinting, nearsighted Bip picks up a saw from a nearby table loaded with tools.

“Anesthetic?” Bop asks.

Picking up a hammer, Pax hits Eagleton over the head.

“I was thinking something less painful, but that’ll work.”

The two centaurs saw off the unconscious guard’s legs.

Each of them holds up a leg.

“What do we do with these?” bald-headed Bop asks innocently.

“Toss them aside. We won’t be needing them. Now, pick up the ostrich legs on that table and attach them to Eagleton.”

Bip laughs until he realizes Pax isn’t laughing along with him.

“We can’t just screw his legs on. That’s not how it works with humans. Perhaps you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be human.”

Exasperated, Pax balls up her fists. “I’m beginning to regret conjuring you two up. You two materialized when I asked for creatures with four arms, not four legs. Do what I say, or I’ll turn you into dog food. Sew the legs on!”

Bip and Bop bring the condor legs over to the table.

The two centaurs look at the pool of blood collecting on the floor.

“It’s not going to work,” Bip says uneasily.

“Who’s the four-hundred-year-old sorceress here?”

“It won’t work because he’s dead.”

Bip and Bop pull on the wires holding Walton Waverly’s eyes open.

“I really need to blink,” King Servius’s former guard says.

Pax puts a large jar on the table next to Waverly. Two large red eyes swim in a solution.

“If this works, you’ll have infrared vision.”

“What’s that?”

Feeling a hint of guilt, Bip lies to Waverly. “You’ll be able to see maidens without their clothes on.”

“Anesthetic?” Bop asks meekly.

Pax picks up the hammer, smashing Waverly between the eyes.

“I meant for me,” Bop says. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to see this.”

“Hold his head up,” Pax commands.

Picking up a pair of pliers, Pax latches onto Waverly’s left eye, grunting, twisting, and turning until she pulls it out. Blood spurts out of the empty socket, splashing onto her embroidered tunic.

Mumbling in a foreign tongue, she twists out Waverly’s right eye.

Blood dips from Waverly’s empty sockets.

“Bop, hand me the jar with the eyes.”

Bop complies. Reaching into the jar, she extracts one of the eyes, pushing it into Waverly’s empty right socket. She repeats the process with the left eye.

Bip swallows hard. “That didn’t bother you?”

“I used to grab a lot of pickled eggs out of jars for lunch when I was a kid.”

“I’ll never be able to eat pickled eggs again.”

Standing back, Pax crosses her arms, looking at Waverly.

“Well?”

Bop scratches his bald head. “They’re too big for one thing. What creature did you get them from?”

“A wild-eyed Borneo Boar,” Pax replies.

The eyes pop out, rolling across the floor.

“The eyes have it. The subject has rejected his infrared orbs,” Bip notes.

Pax holds up a long syringe. “The people talk about the legend of the Atheons. We’re going to bring the legend to life.”

Bip cantors over to where King Servius stands suspended by ropes and checks if he is still breathing.

“Unlike our last ten subjects, he’s still alive. So, you say there’s a serum in that glass, and when you stick that pointed end into King Servius, he’ll transform into an Atheon?”

“We’ll have to do some additional cosmetic work, but yes, this will help transform him.”

“And poking people with that implement is something that’s done all the time where you come from?” Bop asks.

“Yes. People take needles to improve their health or to feel euphoric,” Pax replies, jabbing the needle in King Servius’s arm.

King Servius groans, shaking.

“Is he having a fit?” Bip asks.

King Servius’s red eyes burst open. The wings grafted onto his back spread, and he gnashes his pointed teeth.

“Congratulations, gentleman,” Pax says. “We’ve created the first member of our invincible army of Atheons.”

“The people booed me at the games today,” Decimus wails, slamming his fist off his throne.

“Perhaps it was because you gave their favorite gladiator a thumbs down and had him executed after he won his match,” Gaius points out.

“When someone spits in my eye, I spit back,” Pax interjects.

“No! The people have suffered enough for your greed and vanity!” Gaius shouts.

“You should control your dog, King Decimus, or I’ll euthanize it,” Pax snarls. “Or maybe I’ll tell the people that Gaius’s grandmother was a Muslim and let his lynching take its course.”

Gaius looks away from Pax’s persistent stare.

Decimus wrings his hands. “Perhaps we should give the peasants food rather than take it away and give them back their animals. Milk, cheese, and meat production has dwindled to almost nothing. Our economy is collapsing.”

“It will rise again when your invincible army conquers the surrounding countries.”

“Then the first Atheon soldier is ready?”

“He’s in the dungeon, tied down, ready to take his aggressions out on our foes.”

The creature’s red eyes stare at Decimus with burning hatred. It has Servius’s benign looks and muscular body, but it also has large golden-colored wings, a long, sharp beak, and pointed teeth. In place of its hands and feet are a predatory bird's large, sharp claws.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” Decimus jests.

Servius snaps at him, growling.

Tied up next to him is a smaller Atheon. It weeps, closing its eyes and turning its head when the trio inspects it.

Decimus gasps in recognition.

“Queen Lavinia! I thought you killed her!”

“She’s too weak to serve as a soldier, but I found a use for her. We’ll need a female to help the male Atheons reproduce. She also serves as collateral should Servius try and rebel.”

Gaius takes out his handkerchief, wiping away the Queen’s tears.

“What are you doing, you weak little dog?”

“She is in pain. Have you no compassion? Of course not. You are a worse abomination than they are.”

“Decimus, do I have to endure this whiny mutt trying to undermine me at every turn? I’d change him into an Atheon, but he’s too puny.”

“Calm yourself, Pax,” Decimus says. “If I provide the men, how long will it take you to produce more Atheons?”

“Seven days by your calendar. Creating their bodies won’t be a problem; it’ll be commanding their minds. Even now, the former King resists me. He’s hard to control, but I’ll break him down.”

Gaius looks into Servius’s defiant stare, mouthing, “…I am sorry, Your Majesty…”

He walks behind the imprisoned monarchs, pretending to be looking at the tools on a nearby table.

The tools are all covered in blood. In a wooden container next to the tools are intestines, livers, and arteries.

Decimus and Pax move away from Servius and Livinia. Pax proudly shows Decimus a schematic detailing how she created the Atheons.

Gaius loosens the clamps binding Servius and Lavinia.

He quickly moves toward the door, pulling Decimus with him.

Irate, Pax yells, “I’m talking to the King! How dare you interrupt me! What’s so important that you’re taking him away from me?”

“Ask them,” Gaius says, pointing at Servius and Lavinia.

The two Atheons move toward Pax.

“Reap what you have sewn, demon,” Gaius says, closing the door.

Pax’s screams echo throughout the dungeon.

“What do we do?” Decimus asks, shivering.

“Run.”

Servius and Lavinia fly overhead, landing on the path leading to the cave.

Servius sniffs, pointing up at the cave.

Decimus looks down at his former king and queen.

“I suppose saying I am sorry would not be enough.”

The two Atheons start climbing the path.

Decimus retreats inside.

“Did you spread the black powder?” he asks Gaius.

“Enough to sheer off the top of this mountain.”

“Then light it.”