The Hissy King

A Planetside Story

By Ché Monro

I, Cheng, Emperor of all the Hermaphrodites – Well most of them, anyway – stood atop a blighted ridge of dried mud, exposed to the full glare of the sun and the sting of the dust carried by the blasting wind. My generals stood behind and behind them was arrayed the full force of my army.

“This is your final chance. Surrender now and I will grant you my mercy. You may continue to rule paying only a tribute to me. Refuse and I will destroy you utterly.”

The slave at my side raised his crude megaphone to his lips and bellowed into it. It magnified the sound, the slave Jarl said. Perhaps he was right. The slave with the megaphone had been picked for the loudness of it’s voice, and not the sweetness of it’s tones. It was loud, and ear-twistingly coarse, as the brute bawled out my words loud enough to echo from the red walls of the city in front of us.

“..A TRIBUTE TO ME! REFUSE AND I WILL DESTROY YOU UTTERLY!”

The echoes rolled away. I mopped my brow as I peered across the barren plain and the sun-parched, animal trampled fields around the city wall. The canine king on the wall opposite screamed out his own reply, disdaining any civilized implement such as a voice slave or a megaphone. It was, as usual, full of stupid abuse. Idiotic stuff that revealed a very raw, crude male sexuality. The everpresent wind carried it away, bringing only fitful snatches of obscenity to my ears.

“….go and **** yourself! Dung eating get of….”

Most of it failed to be particularly rude, or even applicable to hermaphrodites, but that last was obscene – as well as anatomically impossible.

I had made a mistake here, all along, in assuming that I was dealing with reasonable people. It was an error that had cost me dearly but one I was not going to repeat. I gestured to the slave and spoke carefully, because, truth be told it wasn’t the sharpest arrow in the quiver.

“On the third blast of my trumpets, your walls will fall.”

The slave dutifully yelled my words to the armies assembled on the ridge and along the walls of the city before us, just out of bowshot. The canines and humans seemed to think it a great joke. The walls would fall. They’d better fall. I pointed to the human slave Jarl and made the prearranged gesture – one webbed thumb, turned down. He ran off and ducked down into the tunnel. The walls would fall. They had better fall or it would be his life to pay. I had a lot of face riding on this.

I raised my hand and swept it down dramatically. The trumpets blew.

“BAAAAAAAARP!”

As a musical composition it was not one of my best, but it what it lacked in sweetness and subtlety was made up for by loudness and drama. And fire, most definitely fire. I had been promised fire, and what I am promised, I get – Or else!

In spite of all the demonstrations that I had been shown I will confess to a moment’s doubt. It’s one thing to make smoke and flames – any cottage sorcerer can do as much – and exploding a few pots and barrels is a cute party trick, but to genuinely bring down the ancient red walls of Harazan? When we had waited here for four months in vain? I confess to a moment’s nervousness.

“BAAAAAAAAARP!”

The trumpets rang out again. The generals and army behind me stood rigidly to attention. I could feel their tension, and frustration. When we had arrived in this sun baked desert at the beginning of spring it had seemed simpler. Once upon a time I had been the Duke of Cheng, but at nineteen I had decided to put an end to continual warfare by uniting all of the hermaphrodite states under my rule. Others had disagreed, they were now dead.

It had taken fifteen years, hard years of battle, subterfuge and diplomacy, but now I ruled an empire of the hermaphrodites such as the ancient tales told. My reign secure, my heirs safe in the palace at Cheng, could the Gods not forgive me if I dared to look further afield? At thirty nine could I not still ask for one last campaign? One last world to conquer?

So we had trooped up to Harazan with armies from all of my ninteen provinces and a pack train miles long. And siege engines, of course. It wasn’t so much that I wanted Harazan as such – don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t say no to another city, even such a small and dusty one as this – but it wasn’t Harazan I wanted so much as the road. And the oasis. The road and the oasis were the only reason for Harazan’s existence, and certainly they were the only reason I went there.

Scholars tell me that once the centre of our world was filled with a sea, but thousands of years ago the sea dried up, leaving us with this enormous patch of useless sun scorched desert. I don’t know if that’s true, perhaps it was once a sea – there are certainly enough tiresome miles of blinding salt plains out there – more than anyone should ever have to tramp across. In any case it’s a desert now and that’s all that mattered. Harazan stood right in the way of the best road across the desert to the moist, muddy, fertile lands on the other side, where millions, literally millions of hermaphrodites toiled in slavery under the yoke of foreign oppressors.

When my army arrived they would rise and overthrow their masters and join the Hermaphrodite Empire in thanks and freedom. Well, at least, that was the plan.

I couldn’t have known that Harazan’s soldiers would charge out riding running animals – these horses. I certainly didn’t foresee that they would burn our siege engines and scatter our baggage train out into the endless, trackless desert. If I had known about this cavalry I would have, well, done something. As it was I could only count up expensive losses and order up expensive re-supply trains while I sat on my **** with my army for four long months.

And it might have been longer, it might have been much longer if it hadn’t been for the human slave Jarl and it’s helpful suggestion and it’s helpful little demonstration of the powder that burns and the miners with their clever little tunnels. Such a helpful slave, the human Jarl.

“BAAAAAAAAARP!”

There was a long moment. Nothing. And nothing. Sudden mocking laughter from the enemies on the wall.

“Take that human and remove it’s…” I turned and screamed at my guards, pointing at Jarl as it emerged from the tunnel. And so I missed it, what all the poets tell of, I missed it. The earth rocked there was a rumble like distant thunder. I saw the fountain of wind and dust that emerged from the tunnel mouth, but by the time I turned back there was only a cloud of dust where the city had been. There was nothing to see, nothing at all. No sign of the canine king or his army, just the slowly clearing dust where the wall had once been.

My army ran past me, screaming at the top of their lungs. They didn’t even wait for my signal, just thundered down the hill in all their armour towards the city and all the slaughter and plunder that I had promised them. What I promise, I deliver – Believe in it.

I turned to my majordomo and gestured towards my tent. “A bath. And something cool to drink. And have the slave Jarl brought to my tent. Tell it to wash it’s smelly human hide first.”

I dusted off my hands and smiled to myself. It seemed enough for one day’s work.

*

It was at my southern mines that I came across the human slave, Jarl. It was hot, the mine site was dusty and a foul wind came from the surrounding jungle. I was inspecting the work camp with my mine overseers and my entourage, trying to understand this unfortunate thing: Production was down, expenses were up and the overseers said they needed more of my precious resources.

I own a lot of mines, both in my own right and now with my ascension to kingship, through the royal treasury. Mines are vital to the economy of the empire. Without mining there would be no stone for buildings and roads, no coal for heat and industry, and of course no metals.  Inevitably mines are run by slave labor and convicted criminals, because no free person would want to work in such a dangerous, back breaking environment.

When my courtiers brought me the news that production in my southern coal mines was falling off, I hurried south by barge and carriage to see the situation for myself, as a dutiful owner should. Coal is nasty, dirty stuff, but it’s vital to the economy of empire – It heats our homes, but most important, it’s used in smelting and forging other metals. Without coal there would be no bronze and iron for weapons and armor, and no pretty silver and gold jewelry either! The shortages from the coal mines were pinching my treasury and blocking the growth of my armies – all of which threatened my plans for imperial expansion.

And so here I was walking across the dusty wasteland that is the mine’s entrance and work camp, deep in the heart of the southern jungles – living proof that a smelly, oily, dusty black rock can move even kings and emperors. Already I was longing for the coolness and peace of my palace in the north, on the shores of it’s serene lake, surrounded by forests of clean smelling pine. I was worried about the lack of progress in my marriage negotiations with the Hong clan, a marriage that would secure my power base and provide a suitable sire for my children and heirs. But now that was all a world away.

An overseer or engineer was speaking, talking about opening up new, deeper seams, tunneling through rock, needing extra slaves, more money, more resources – all the things that engineers usually say in these situations. I was gazing at the plans of the mines which Lin, my majordomo, was holding out to me.

“Why, this is like a honeycomb of passages in the rock,” I said, as the fact struck me for the first time. “A crossing of tunnels through a solid layer of coal, with these bits left in the middle.”

“Yes Sire, pillars, we call them. Pillars of coal. These mined out sections show where the coal has been removed and the pillars are left in between. Now with the new mine section…”

“Wait,” I held up my hand for silence. “I have an idea. Instead of opening new mines at such great expense, we will direct our slaves to excavate the remaining coal in these ‘pillars.’ It will be much cheaper and production can increase immediately.”

There was stunned silence in response to my words, which I took as simple tribute to my brilliance. Then words came from a most unexpected source – one of the slaves at my feet.

“No! You mustn’t, Sire, you mustn’t remove the pillars!” It was the slave Jarl – although I didn’t know it’s name then. It was just a rat faced male human slave groveling in the dirt at my feet. My guards quickly moved forward to cut it down or beat it away, but I waved them back.

“Whatever do you mean by this? Speak, slave. Why do you tell me what to do in my mine?”

“Sire. I’m sorry. The pillars hold up the roof. Mine the coal in the pillars and the roof will collapse and everyone will die.”

“Is this so?” I stared hard at the plans again. These coal honeycombs… they were like pillars, holding up the roof. “It is so, isn’t it? Why didn’t somebody tell me?” I looked around at my entourage but nobody would meet my gaze. Nobody had dared to tell me an unpleasant fact except for this dirty, groveling human slave.

I frowned and shook me head.

“So, Sire?” the engineer asked doubtfully. “Will we return to the plans for mining the deeper seam?”

“Um…. No. I don’t think so.” I shook my head again. “It's still cheaper to mine the existing coal pillars. Even if a some slaves die in the process it’s still cheaper than opening the new mine. Mine the coal pillars, start work immediately!”

“Yes Sire! It shall be as you say!” Engineers and overseers scuttled off to do my bidding.

“And have this slave punished for it’s impertinence,” I added, nodding at the human groveling at my feet. Then I turned and swept away to inspect the mine proper and the overseer’s quarters, feeling quietly confident and happy that I had made a productive decision.

*

It was late that night when I stumbled back towards my tent across the dusty ground with the firm support of Lin, my majordomo. It was dark, but the pin-point moon shone alone in the middle of the sky, casting it’s unforgiving hard silver light over everything. I had drunk a little too much rice wine, accepting the flattering toasts of mine overseers and administrators. All the while troubled in my heart with secret thoughts of miners trapped and dying alone in the dark because the roof fell in.

“’s not fair,” I complained to Lin. “Someone has to make the hard decisions. Nobody understands. Everyone sees the gold, the jewelry, the clothes, the fine food, the palaces…”

“Yes Sire.”

“But they don’t understand. I have to make hard decisions. It’s for the good of the empire. It’s for everybody. And they all blame me when things go wrong.”

Staggering across the barren floor of the work camp in the moonlight we came across a human body draped from a post set in the ground. It was the final straw – the rice wine, the trapped miners, now a dead slave chained to a post. It was too much. I broke free from Lin’s supporting clutches and threw myself across the smelly body of the dead slave, bawling like a baby.

“Nooo! I didn’t say to kill it! I said punish it! They didn’t have to kill it!”

“There, there, Sire. It’s just a slave. Leave it and let’s go and put you to bed.”

“No! It’s dead. I didn’t say to kill it! I never told them to kill it!”

“Um, Sire? Actually it still seems to be breathing. I think it may still be alive.”

I wiped my tears on my sleeve and examined the slave more carefully. Yes, it was filthy and covered in blood and welts, beaten savagely on my own orders. But it was still alive. “You’re right.” I let it go and began wiping off my robes.

“Now please let’s get you to bed Sire.”

“No!” I held up my hand commandingly. “Have the guards cut this slave down and bring it to my camp. Have my doctor see to it and heal it’s wounds. Have it washed.”

“Yes Sire. But.. What will you do with it?”

“It shall be my slave, Lin. I mean, it already is my slave – I already own it and all the slaves in this mine. I will take it with us and make it one of my household slaves. See to it, Lin.”

“Yes Sire. It shall be done.”

With that I permitted Lin to lead me away to my much needed rest. The slave was brought to my encampment and treated by my doctor. For several days it hovered between life and death before slowly showing signs of recovery. It was a confounded nuisance in fact – forcing me to spend another week in that hellish place surrounded by dust and coal and fetid jungle. This is what happens when you adopt stray pets.

But although I resented it, I tried not to begrudge the time and inconvenience I was caused by my decision to act on my own compassionate impulse – After all I have so few of them.

The slave Jarl recovered and eventually learned to fit in and become a useful part of my household. It proved to have a willing manner, an intelligent mind and a great thirst for knowledge, combined with abilities far beyond what one would have expected. It learned to read and write quickly and became useful for record keeping and planning. One day I really must sit down and ask it how it ever came to be in such a hellish place.

Jarl is one of the few people who dare to tell me that I am wrong – in spite of what it might cost him. Of all those around me only Jarl can be relied upon to say “No, Sire. It is not right. It is impossible. You go too far – that way is madness.” Perhaps this comes from having looked Death in the face and yet having survived. I don’t always follow his advice, but I always listen to it.  Such people are rare as diamonds and just as valuable - treasure them.

The miners mined out the remaining coal in the “pillars.” I understand that they worked out ways to hold the roof up with logs or something. Still, some slaves were lost – fewer than expected and much fewer than would have been required to open the deeper coal seams. For a while I had dreams about miners trapped and alone underground. I seemed to hear their voices calling for help in my sleep. But I haven’t had any dreams like that for a long while now.

In all only a few thousand slaves were lost. Certainly not much more than that. A thousand slaves die each week across the empire – from disease, mistreatment, and malnutrition. The life of a slave miner is not usually a long one in any case. So what is a few thousand lives more or less when weighed in the balance? The coal continues to flow, the forges burn, and my armies march. Expansion of the empire means a better life for all – more slaves, more coal, more metal, more wealth. What is the life of a slave worth when balanced against all that?