"I care not where my body may take me,

  as long as my soul is embarked on a meaningful journey."

  - Dante Alighieri

  Nicodemus did not respond; he stared him down, crossing his arms, the look on his face spoke a simple word, 'Annoyed'. Micah tried to get up—even he knew it was impolite to not face the emperor—all the same he was pulled down by the chains on both his wrists and waist. He fell on his knees in response with his chest and face hitting the floor, he grunted before turning his head over. Blood dripped out of his nose and stained the entire left side of his face. Nicodemus kept his eyes on him, with a curious expression, almost as if expecting him to react violently after being pulled to the floor. Testing a man’s pride always had a result, except when your chances of winning or getting away with something were little to nothing. He’d rather keep the little dignity he had left.

  The guards waited for a command, the man holding the whip placed his boot on Micah's back. Squatting down, the emperor tapped the guard's boot off. He leaned his head slightly and made eye contact with Micah. Micah hated eye contact, he also wasn't much of a fan of the emperor's green eyes. They looked sad, gloomy even. Nicodemus had a few distinguishing facial features; his high bridged nose that slightly curved downward, the mole under his left eye, his skin was loved by the sun and he had dark black hair. Nicodemus was tall, with an athletic build he was elegant, and he carried himself in such a manner, that of someone with high status and nobility.

  "You are Alvonian? Which house do you come from?" Nicodemus finally spoke, it caught Micah almost by surprise, he blinked a few times before realizing the question just asked required an answer. He knew better then to act up now, if he behaved, a boot would not be set on his back. Being a personal step stool was another stab at his ego, and Micah had a huge ego at that.

  "Power." he responded carefully. Micah made sure not to answer to fast, nor too loud.

  "House of Power? What's your reason for entering my home? You certainly don't have any business here." He got up and crossed his arms still looking down. Micah rolled his eyes and spit a blood clot out his mouth, accidentally having it land on the Nicodemus' boot. Nicodemus peeped down at the spit and sighed, the air in the room turned dark. Micah felt a soft form of satisfaction, nevertheless he did try to hold it back from showing.

  "I do, for I needed a word with her majesty."

  "She's dead, whatever you must speak to her, you can say to me"

  "How tragic. Avernita broke the treaty of peace with Alvonia, seems to be your late mother’s fault." he frowned, quickly he felt a boot stomp his upper back, holding him down again. The guard pulled the chains up and Micah's arms snapped causing them to dislocate.

  There was a loud scream. Nicodemus turned his head to the side and closed his eyes, his hands became fists. Micah gasped, staying on the ground from the pain, his eyes widened as he gritted his teeth. The pain was so sudden and unbearable. His cheeks and back felt hot. The guard pulled the whip out and snapped it in the air before aiming it to Micah. Nicodemus winced from the sound alone forcing him to react by quickly catching the whip mid-air before it touched the man’s back. Micah closed his eyes expecting a stinging pain, yet the emperor pulled it away making his hand bleed. The leather marked his arm up like vine.

  "Your majesty, my apologies, sir-" the guard swiftly removed his foot off of Micah, backing away into a corner, he started to tremble in fear. Hitting someone of any high status was unthinkable, usually resulting in life in prison, yet hitting the emperor, death himself would open the doors for you.

  "I said, that's enough!" Nicodemus hissed, "First, you disobeyed my orders. Second, did I tell you to dislocate this man's arms?" He rubbed his own arm seeing the red marks from the whip. The guard fell to his knees bowing down. He was shaking in fear unable to say a word.

  "Answer me." Nicodemus commanded, his voice was harsh and it echoed in the room. Micah flinched, he turned slightly, and looked at the guard. Nicodemus, stepped over Micah on

  the floor, now having his back to him, he felt almost guarded. The same way a hungry dog protects its meal. His eyes made their way to the the emperor’s arm and hand. 'The fuck? He caught the whip for me.' Micah thought. He stayed quiet, not once did he think the emperor would have such a reaction, especially for someone who did break into his home. Perhaps he just hated being disobeyed, even if by his own men.

  Micah's pain became numb, he couldn't escape as he had no way of getting up. His body ached from being whipped and tossed around earlier. The emperor's men and guard were extremely rough with him, catching him almost blindsided, covering his mouth with cloth and throwing him onto the concrete. He didn't know what was worse or scarier: Nicodemus or his men. Micah felt conflicted; just a few minutes ago, he was being yelled at, and beaten to a bloody pulp. Now, he was protected? No, that couldn't be it, he felt confused, it all felt too much like a fever dream. Obviously, getting hit in the head and losing an almost deadly amount of blood causes one to hallucinate.

  "Your Highness, we will lock him up for disobeying you. Thomas, for touching his royal highness in malicious intent you have now been sentenced to death by Avernita's law." a guard spoke up, he turned and glanced down at Micah. "And what punishment must this scumbag face?" He motioned his group to pick up the guard who was now finally named, locking him in similar chains. Micah definitely didn't like the sudden mood switch, Thomas and this new guard, were sharing a laugh and taking turns with the whip. Now, that papa bear is in the room, like feuding siblings they are quick to betray one another for the sake of not getting yelled at.

  "No. One month in prison, I do not need someone else passing away this week, as for the Alvon, take him to my personal physician, Buer. Have his arms placed back, just make sure to cover his mouth, the last thing I want to hear is screaming. After, lock him up in a guest room." Nicodemus turned to look at Micah.

  "Consider this an apology. Freed you are not, nonetheless you did not deserve all that." Nicodemus stepped over Micah again, signaling everyone to get moving, he leaned and whispered something to the new guard, there was a nod and a bow. Micah kept his gaze on Nicodemus, both relieved no further damage was done to him, although absolutely terrified of what possibly awaited him next. He felt his blood dripping down, his back was wet and the cuts stung worse now that he had let his guard down.

  The men swiftly picked him up, he felt his skin being unpeeled from the floor, blood dripped down his neck and more onto his shirt. Micah felt light headed, even more confused yet relaxed, the two men carried him in a gentle manner, the complete opposite of the way he was brought into this entire mess. A sharp stabbing pain hit his neck, he groaned in pain. The pain extended downward to his upper spine and onto his shoulders, he lost all control where is head landed. Micah closed his eyes, trying his hardest to ignore the ache that took over his entire body. He was alive, that's all that mattered to him, perhaps he would soon meet death, although for now he was alive. In conclusion, he did not know which option was worse.

  . . .

  Micah wasn’t at all aware for how long he was trapped in the new bedroom. He had passed out before leaving the cell he was kept in. Maybe, weeks passed or worse months. Micah then realized he was being a tad bit dramatic, only a day or two since he had yet to form any facial hair, even in the worst situations, his appearance mattered to him quite a bunch. He did notice he was cleaned up, his hair was brushed and he was wearing an Avernecian styled shirt with detailed blue embroidery and soft beige linen pants. He felt weird in his new clothes, he was much more used to the Alvon style of which had more fitted clothing, and thicker fabrics due to its extremely cold winters and mountains.

  He felt homesick, Alvonia was miles away now. Truthfully, he did not even know if anyone back home was looking for him. Micah laid in bed looking around the new room, he could admit it was quite nice, long tapestries were hung from the celling down the walls, there were beautiful stained glass windows and even a small fire place with new wood. Sunlight was barely visible, he couldn't tell if it was night, morning or evening. He wished he had a balcony of some sort or perhaps a clear window, but alas, it was better to make a heaven out of the hell he felt confined in.

  A light knock on the door announced the presence of a girl. She was thin and pale, had freckles on her face and skin, her hair was a light brown with curls that escaped her pony tail, she carried a woven basket full of supplies. Micah smiled at her.

  “Hello friend.”

  The girl waved and got closer, she pulled a chair beside Micah's bed and prepared what perhaps was an antidote. He didn’t like the smell, he could smell ginger, turmeric and rosemary and many other herbs. She carefully crushed them with a grinding stone and bowl, until it was all mixed and turned into a small paste-like substance. She grabbed a small glass bottle of water and poured it into a smaller bowl, adding the paste she mixed it in.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Drink it.”

  “No.” Micah replied.

  "Please."

  "Absolutely not."

  She frowned, “It won’t kill you. The Emperor asked me to make it in-front of you for this reason.” She took a spoon full and pointed it at Micah.

  “Does his royal majesty know I’m deathly allergic to ginger? If so, wouldn’t this be me just taking poison?” he questioned, he noticed how she pulled back slightly.

  “I feel like you're lying, but if thats the case-” She did not seem to be in the best of moods to argue, she even seemed a bit conflicted on what to say.

  “I’m teasing you. It just smells awful. I guess if he commands it.” Micah took the spoon and bowl out of the girl’s hand, he gagged a bit before finally taking in a spoonful. He waved a finger at her to get closer. She pulled back frowning. Yeah, she definitely was not having a good time here with him.

  “Relax, would you? I took your poison I cannot hurt you. What’s your name?”

  “Ruth.”

  “Ruth, I’m Micah. Pleasure to meet you.” He slightly turned to her, moving was a lot harder than he remembered, he managed to extend his hand for her to shake. Ruth took his hand firmly and lightly squeezed. She saw how much pain he was in, shaking it wouldn't be a wise choice.

  Ruth relaxed her back slightly, she leaned in and took the bowl from his hands. Micah didn't fight it. He smiled at her. She added a bit more water into the mixture, mixed it once more before placing it back near him.

  "No way in Heaven did you just make more for me to take despite the fact that I was almost finished with the first half." He pouted.

  "The water is to dilute the taste, besides it's still the same amount of paste. The water will allow your body to easily digest it."

  "It still tastes bitter."

  "Because it has bitter ingredients." Ruth snapped back.

  "Young lady, I am not a fan of your attitude."

  "Well, I am not a fan of listening to you being in pain and yet refusing to take medication that could help you. So, either follow my advice or shut up."

  The door opened, Ruth quickly got up and held the bowl in her hands. Micah shifted and sat up in bed, his arms barely holding his own weight. Nicodemus walked in and froze for a moment, he seemed to observe the room, noticing how tense the air was between Ruth and Micah.

  "Am I interrupting something?" he asked. Ruth quickly bowed and shook her head. She finished gathering the supplies and ingredients, placing them back into the basket. Micah dramatically sighed, Ruth looked up and glared at him visibly displeased. Nicodemus waited at the door, he leaned by the frame with his arms crossed, closely paying attention to the both of them. Micah cast a long, direct glance towards the other man. This would be the first time they were alone, and Nicodemus was incredibly hard to read. One thing he did notice was his change of clothes. He wore something casual, a forest green button down shirt, the buttons only up to his lower chest, and black pants. How scandalous.

  It gave Micah a small hint of what time of day it was, definitely nothing too fancy. If he calculated correctly, the emperor's coronation has passed making Nicodemus officially his public enemy if things went wrong. This would be the first or second day of the week. He slightly fixed his posture and felt the scarred skin stretch; it felt almost like thread being undone, confirming his hypothesis from earlier: two or three days have passed. He was pleased with how just with something as simple as an outfit change he could calculate time. If he could confirm it, it would give him time to fully plan out an escape or at least another chance of survival.

  "Just ask." Nicodemus said. Micah didn't notice how deep in thought he was, he didn't even pay enough attention to notice the emperor stood right in front of him.

  "Is that girl your wife?" he in fact did not have a question.

  "Excuse me?" Nicodemus was taken back, his face scrunched.

  "Ruth?"

  "I know who you're talking about."

  "Then answer my question." Micah said. The air felt heavy, he felt silly for the question yet at a moment like this, his mouth moved before his brain processed it. Nicodemus rubbed his temples, his mouth opened to speak before a small smirk appeared on his face. He took a moment to think of what to say before responding.

  "She is not. I will say, she is super gifted. A lot of your healing is all thanks to her. Let’s just say, that if she fixed you, my personal physician would agree on taking her as his apprentice. She even bathed you."

  "She did what now?" Micah mouth dropped, grabbing the sheets he was quick to cover his chest. He noticed how Nicodemus covered his mouth and his shoulders began to bounce. Micah leaned in and saw a huge smile on his face.

  "YOU!"

  "Relax, it was only a joke. As if I’d let her. Buer took care of it. She did heal you back to health." Nicodemus finally showed his face and sat down on the chair Ruth had left. Micah's face turned red, he turned his head the other way not wanting to face Nicodemus.

  Micah pushed himself back into the bed and under the sheets. A tiny laugh was heard from the outside. He was confused, how long has it been? He cautiously peeked from under the sheets, and made eye contact with Nicodemus once again.

  "I wont hurt you. May we just talk?" Nicodemus asked, his voice was soft. For once, Nicodemus did not seem so scary, he noticed his boyish charm. The emperor still had his adolescent features. 'He's my age.' he thought. The conversation felt casual, like two friends catching up. Micah's guard vanished, and whatever Nicodemus wanted to ask, he would answer.

  "We can talk." Micah replied.

  "My mother, I wanted to ask you about her. What is this treaty she broke? Our two nations never got along, although we also haven't been at war in over 20 years I-I'm assuming." Nicodemus began to stutter, he noticed the way he played with the tips of his own hair, his eyes were sad, as if the words pained him to speak. Despite his height and status, this wasn't Nicodemus the emperor. This was a confused, and curious young man.

  "I came here looking for her." Micah admitted, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

  "Why?"

  "I thought she would have the answer. I only found out about her passing after I was captured by your guards. If anyone could explain what was going on it would have been her. I misspoke when I said it was her fault. Truly I have no idea what is going on. However, the treaty break is true." he looked down to the floor, most of his head still covered by the sheets. Nicodemus stayed silent for a moment. There was a long pause in the conversation, Micah felt a wave of guilt fill his stomach. He felt stupid and ashamed, many times has he said the wrong thing, but he has never gone so low as to blame the dead. He reached out and squeezed Nicodemus’ hand, and he glanced over. If Nicodemus dared to cut his hand off at this moment, he might have well deserved it. Sure, it was a daring move, stupid even nevertheless Nicodemus didn't move it, he was like a startled puppy.

  "Thank you." Micah whispered.

  "May I ask what for?" The two of them made eye contact. There was a small innocence in the air, two young men, and a few things left unanswered. Nothing was said, in spite of that both understood each other loud and clear.

  Nicodemus left the room a while later, he had helped the other replace the bandages and put new ointment on them. They continued some small talk, and Nicodemus spoke to him about the coronation, how it was small and quick. Nicodemus was never a fan of crowds, he told Micah about how the bishop’s breath smelled like black coffee and he had to hold himself back from gagging. The new item he now possessed, his mother had left him her black high-carbon steel sword named Apostle, Nicodemus seemed to be a huge fan of swords, he knew the best metals, the different cuts and even how high their maintenances could be.

  The two men shared their fondness for weapons and different styles of martial arts they had trained growing up. Micah had trained with monks, and Nicodemus had a personal instructor named Marchosias. Micah told him about how he was captured, the exact tunnels he took and how he almost could have gotten away with sneaking into the castle if he didn't make the mistake of trying to steal a snack. Nicodemus shared the secret hallways he would use when sneaking in and out of the castle, the different tunnels, and how only a small number of times did he actually get lost.

  Micah knew he wasn't free, they didn't mention the cuffs still on his wrist and ankles. There was small moment in time where they were just boys. Sharing their adventures, giving each other tips. The emperor was still a mystery to him, he wanted to speak to Nicodemus again. In another life time, Micah hoped that Nicodemus and he would meet in better terms.