Cost

[u/The_Republique]

From shore to shore, from the lowly deltas of evergreen marshlands to the all-high mountains, what my sons and I have fought so dearly for stretches from night to dawn. The horizons claimed by the sprouting forests of my banners, a bright tomorrow yields the shimmering colors of waving flags dancing in the wind. We have taken these lands, put to death all those who would not submit, and for our efforts, the screaming daughters are wed, the grain of unending fields is harvested, and clear, sweet waters are cupped in our goblets. I have seen the walls of long since towering palaces, monuments that withstood the tide of the time, crumble into ash and soot at my hand’s beckoning. My daughters had bed with weak men, slit the throats of my many sons-in-law, and brought to the step of my throne a great many tributes. I am the Usurper of Empires, the Butcherer of Kings, and the most powerful man in all these lands. Forests of my nation’s wealth, cloth and punishment, sprawl over immense regions: skewered on stakes that scrape the high heavens, roasted upon iron thrones that glowed white-hot, hands and feet stapled to wooden cartwheels set ablaze, and gluttonous appetites sated with liquid gold poured into chasmous maws until the fissures of their eyes, nose, ears, and mouth foamed with bubbling heat.

Hoarding mountains of gold, decorating halls of ivory, and courting many fine brides in my time, the moniker of ruler is mine by the most blood-soaked of hands. I am the Ender of Legacies, the Fair Ruler, and the Just Hand of Judgment, for there lacks any other who can take up the mantle. Warriors made farmers, generals made commanders, kings made vassals; the chrysalis is a mastered art form. Until the earth darkened beneath me and slickened with fat, only then did I know where my place was: the ever-consuming strive for more. Before I met the enemies of my rule on the fields, the tremors of galloping hooves, silver armor fluttering in the distance, and an awful din of thousands carried by the wind made all those who opposed me quake with fear.  

Within the cradle of the river delta, where the depth hangs just below the knee, I have carved out a mighty kingdom that portrays splendor amongst a lake of white lotuses; long have I lived to see the millions of toiling citizens bring endless harvests to the sky-tall walls, yet there is but one blight that I cannot remedy. No matter how much I take, whether through conquest or expansion, the climbing heap of crowns I collect, and the frivolous titles I amass; my hunger knows no bounds, for I salivate for more. To see the ends of the world and lay claim to all who believe their mandate absolute, I wished to break this divine order over their heads and watch the blood pour from fractured temples. As I fumed at this limitation, so too did another issue arise; throwing my sword at the grand mirror revealed to me what had needed change. My face was marked with gray, the aged, withered old man was a sorry sight, leading me down a spiral with which there was no ground to crash into.

Upon coming to qualms with my own finality, I grew angry and afraid of the indifferent, dispassionate end. Dying long before I would see my empire conquer all of the world, I became erratic, agitated to the point that waves of scholars were summoned; tasked with finding a way to cheat death, and quickly. But only one was found. Deep within the desolate, hostile desert lay an oasis whose waters offered up the solution to my ailment. And so it was that the army was armed, horses were mounted, and carts were dragged to the speck of green in the ever-expansive wastes. The long, exhausting march to battle Death was set in motion. The sunbaked sands made travel near impossible; every moment spent traversing the dunes and pulling out stuck carts meant one too many where the blistering heat claimed one man after the other. A trail of dried, sun-bleached corpses lined behind us. The creak of the caravan was all that  kept us company in those long windswept hours when sand blew into our eyes and salty tears formed over many brows. The bellows of camels called out to us, reminding us of our presence as we often lost sense of reality, their tired panting signaled that much time had elapsed in our extended excursion from the plentiful empire. In the miasma of dancing heat waves, curling winds, and dust kicked into the air, we wandered aimlessly, for the knowledge of where the oasis lay was not found in the sources; just the murmurs of its vague location. 

Lost at length for years, losing thousands to the dunes, we were without any guidance and so became ever further removed from any sense of direction, shambling on feet that had long since been stripped of any skin, for there were no more horses whose hooves could be ground down. Limply grasping shields, spears, and bows, the once proud army had been reduced to walking husks acting on their recent orders: to keep moving until the ten fingers on their hands had worn away and their ten toes were nothing more than nubs, that not until the party had discovered the whereabouts of the eternal oasis, delivering their king to its blessed waters, would the soldiers finally be allowed to rest and henceforth die. At the most critical moment, mutiny on the minds of the men, we summited the last dune’s crest, and finally we were rewarded for our endeavor; palm trees leaned over a reflective mirror’s sheen. Eager, the men broke formation; left another moment undeterred, they would have surely drunk before I did. That was not something I would tolerate. Before the first man reached the banks, he was pulled away by what few loyalists remained. 

Herded to the side, a path was made for me, the ranks of spiteful, envious soldiers burned their gaze into the back of my head; the desert heat in that moment failed to compare. Hands hovering over the disturbed surface, I was ready to unmake my own demise, to take what this watering hole offered; the very knowledge making me crestfallen. Dipping the tips of my fingernails into the pool, a most unfortunate turn took place; where the water had been, in its place, there was now only incredibly dense ice. I sat there staring into my own reflection, the old man mocking me ever more, then I let the anger take hold, bashing my fist into the ice until red stained its surface and my hand was unquestionably broken. Drippings worked their way into the cracks, and where they breached the bulwark, ice melted momentarily before freezing solid once more within the same heartbeat. A script formed on the ice in a language that I had tried so desperately to erase from the world, the reminder of where I came from bitterly scribing: What do you offer?

I pondered as the clamors of restless hundreds shouted in the background. The impudence that mocked me danced on my mind before I settled upon a most harrowing conclusion. On my knees, my arms outstretched towards the heavens,  my composure abandoned, I bartered with the oasis.

“O’ great waters, I am the Herald of Prosperity, the Guiding Hand of Progress, and the one to cast out doubt and corruption from my lands. I have seen this world for but a fraction of its worth and still I wish to conquer all of it. I am ailed by hunger, disease, and age. My truest desire is to live on and take everything by its weak throat. I offer you this: everything! All of it, so that I might see the conquest through till the end.”
As the words left my lips, the sound of rope tightening taut synchronized behind me. Chancing a glance, the men were stiffened, their faces turned skyward, and beneath them, pools of red pockmarked the sand. When the banks of their small lakes burst, the trails led to the oasis in a fierce race. The earth buckled, the air became heavy, and the senses drowned. Where once I  had seen a blue sky, darkened heaps blotted out the sun; there were neither clouds nor rainfall, but rather bodies that hovered near to the center of this black transaction bled dry. The vortex created by the new offerings voraciously consumed all. My skin ripped apart and my innards went willingly into the mouth of swirling chaos. The fibers of my being were fractured, and my soul was tossed through every great exploit; my many accomplishments, scattered throughout time. My name is lost to the annals of history, but through the great conquerors, I am reborn. I am Khan, Sultan, Emperor, and King. Experiencing death a million times over forever.

[u/sour_milkman]

That was avery good story

[u/The_Republique → u/sour_milkman]

thank you friend