Final Confessions of a Goblin Emperor 4

Chapter 3

I couldn’t believe it, it was like a dream. I was in Bvellcaetia, kingdom of the elves. Everywhere I looked, nature was in abundance. Green grasses grew, flowers thrust up their stems and smiled towards the sun and all manners of forest fauna nibbled about peacefully. Though nature was a small part of what I was really excited about. Magic was the real reason I was there. The elves have a forty-five percent magical proficient population, almost half of all elves had received professional training in the mystic arts. The capitol of Bvellcaetia, Darepzeer, had the best magic training program in the world. Every year, even to this day, the council of Grand Masters convenes to discuss magic and its practices. I’ve been President of the assembly fifteen times, a record amount, and nearly every year it’s hosted at the Kiemandra College of Magic and Warfare.
With a dozen things going through my mind at once I was shuffled onto a plush royal carriage again. Admittedly, I like carriage transport almost as little as I like train rides, but there isn’t any smog so I tolerate it. When the awe finally resided I took more notice of those around me. Feiy, Letharius, Valian and Lita were all in the carriage, mercifully. I also noticed that there were several other faces who had joined our ranks. One was an astoundingly handsome young man with curly brown hair, he was obviously a native colonial, his skin was ever so slightly red. His name was Grayllin Dronts, one of the best men who has ever lived, Vasalia look down on him and protect him, he lives still, he sits across the room right now, begging me to try an immortality method. He smiles when I speak of the old days.
There was another, Iruna Silvertower, that wicked woman. She would eventually give up her human name. Most readers will not recognize her by name of course; she didn’t become famous through anything you would want your name attached to. She would go on to become Drakal Caz, or Night’s Wrath, a name everyone knows. She was the only thing in this world that was more widely feared and hated than I am. But oh, was she was beautiful. She had chocolate brown hair, with a gentle curl and a perfect gloss. Her skin was soft and colored as butter-cream, which set an excellent tone for her deep-set blue eyes. She had thin red lips that seemed to always be perfectly neutral, constantly awaiting any and every stimulation. She was of normal height for a woman. Iruna was another great moral misconception, she was beautiful and evil, and as it turns out the two are almost interchangeable.
But there was no way I could know any of that at the time, I was young, and had no moral compass. I tolerated her, and nothing was said. Our discussions in our carriage reflected our attitudes, light and uplifting, though Letharius managed to impart a more serious moment or two.
“I miss my parents,” he said, turning his face downward.
“I don’t!” snickered Lita, flipping her hands through the air for dramatic effect, “What do you need them for anyway, all mine ever did was fight.”
“I want my father,” sobbed Feiy miserably, “I can’t believe I left him at home without an extra pair of hands.”
“He’ll be fine, Feiy,” I muttered, trying to reassure her, “My parents can help him out if he can’t manage, which I think he will.”
“I still want my papa!”
The mood of our carriage was generally dour until we arrived in the school the next morning. We were in for a change.

The Kiemandra School was established in the year 6824, over a thousand years before I was born. Ironically 7997 was the first time it had opened its doors to children of common birth. It’s hard to believe that fourteen years later, a child like me, of common birth, would be attending one of the world’s foremost schools of magic and statesmanship.
I soon discovered what it meant to be born of “lower blood”. When we arrived we were treated to a round of jeers from the noble students who pelted us with cabbage and pieces of day-old bread. All the while they screamed “go home”, “wash my laundry peasants” and other brainless, plagiaristic insults. The worst was yet to come. We were each assigned a noble student as a ‘charge’, essentially we were their slaves. They justified this system considering we were receiving free room, food and tuition, whereas the nobles paid for theirs. Feiy was given to none other than Ichtamandor Shattersword, the fearsome general of the Fifth Army. He was seventeen to her fourteen at that time, though that didn’t stop him from having sex with her. He was an abuser, a drinker, and an ass, but he’d go on to marry her. He’d also go on to die by my hand, but that story will come later.
I was matched up with Nymphonae Armoredeye, a blessing to say the least. She was a beautiful, charming little thing, who surprisingly had a brain, though her common sense appeared to have been dried up by centuries of inbreeding. That’s not to say she didn’t take advantage of me. On occasion, after I’d finished scrubbing her room from top to bottom she’d use me for, let’s say, less than honorable purposes. I found it odd she never conceived, though I later found out that she frequently conceived but flushed the babe out with herbs and weak poisons. I didn’t care, surprisingly. Nymphonae, in all her dizziness did manage to get me into some of the best classes, and best of all I never had to take math. I was fast outdoing some of the students who had been training for five or six years in the magical arts. I was introduced to methods of scrying, levitation and psychokinetic principles and even the ancient art of transmutation. Transmutation was my favorite; I loved twisting things from what they should be into what I wanted them to be. Nymphonae kept a brood of falcons in her third chamber (noble students got seven room suites, where as the low-born were crowded into four rooms, two for boys two for girls). Every day she allowed me to practice the art for twenty or thirty minutes, if she wasn’t in the mood for a romp. That was always my favorite time of day, I could do whatever I wanted with them. I could make them bigger or smaller, change the shape of their beaks, I loved changing their colors, and there were a thousand other things I could do. Sometimes she would watch, though magic wasn’t her cup of mead. She was a flyer, or at least that was how she described herself. Her sole desire in life was to captain an Aeroship or a Celestial Schooner. As long as it flew she was interested in it. She was the only girl, note that I say ‘only girl’, who kept a griffin quartered on campus. She was a blessing that came with a minor curse, and I could tolerate the curse of ‘noble blood’.
I excelled in that place, despite the constant degradation by the crueler students. If I may comment, the crueler were always the wealthier, as if money were directly proportional to decency. I was soon the pride and joy of the Mystic Arts Department. I didn’t enjoy any of the perks that the other, nobler, students enjoyed though. They always had beautiful staffs, wands, glowing crystal spheres, the nicest ritual candles, though for all my poverty I still finished third in my divination exam, despite the fact that I was divining out of a shattered pane of glass. It was during that time that I met another major player in my school days (and my later life). Her name was Yathrina Ret, noted as the greatest Diviner of our time, many readers will remember her as the Buffalo Queen, a figure of minor importance in the liberation of the Northern Colonies. She disdained that title, though she actually got it while we were in school together. The other little dukes and countesses called her that in mockery, you see her father was appointed as Overseer Governor of the western part of the Northern Colonies. The location, though it spanned hundreds of thousands of square miles, had an estimated population of ten thousand, there were literally more buffalo than there were humans. She was rather disdained by the other nobles, so, without noble friends she might as well make common ones, like us. She was a pudgy thing, though not terribly; she had plain brown eyes and dark red hair. I spoke to her for the first time after that divination exam I had told you about earlier, she had finished first in the class.
“Good day to you sir,” she said, bobbing her head in an almost affectionate manner.
“Blessed morn to you, my lady,” I returned, dropping to one knee in reverence to her superior position.
“I could not help but notice your superior performance in today’s testing, sir…?”
“Good Sire Enath Brashfall.”
“A peasant? Truly? That would explain your use of that piece of trash then.”
“I do not mean to encroach on your polity lady, but we can’t all have wealthy parents, if we did then everyone would be poor, isn’t that a thought?”
“Yes, quite,” she said rather coldly, “If you are a peasant then I might be able to help you out.”
“Any help you can offer to my education would be blessed, your ladyship.”
“Walk with me,” she ordered swiveling on her heel in an unflattering manner, she took us from the classroom to the wide plaza below.
“You see,” she whispered in an undertone, when she was sure no one would be listening in on us, “some of the wealthier students don’t have charges assigned to them, but instead bring house-slaves to serve for them. Every few weeks or so the students will open up one of their suites and pay their slaves to participate in gladiatorial style games. An absolutely vile practice, imported from the Gnomes, those craggy scum bags. I was just thinking, that if you needed coins I would be happy to pretend that you were my slave, though I’d have to get you a disguise.”
“I am not a slave,” I rasped at her through clenched teeth.
“And I am not born to noble blood, but I still get treated as such because of what my father does, a similar thing may be said of you, no? I think you’ll want the money.”
“But at what cost?”
“No one will know it’s you, and it’s not like you could get killed, things never get that out of hand. All I’m saying is, that for a few bruises you could have a real scrying orb and a nice staff. Assuming you can act the part of a house-slave.”
“Have no fear my lady, I’ve been serving as one for almost three months now.”

I met with her later that night in her suite. She changed me out of my blue and purple school caftan into nothing but a pair of course leather breeches and a two of iron torques that hung at my neck to signify my slavery. I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I was in too good a shape to be a slave, so we ground some fruit peels in some red sauce and stuck the mixture in patches all over my skin, to make them think I had some manner of rash.
“Remember,” she said as she lead me towards a villa, “nothing is sacred here, fight dirty, don’t go off with anyone alone after the fighting is over or you will get raped, most of all, don’t address any of the lords or ladies unless addressed first. Hopefully they won’t be able to tell who you are, use your magic, it’ll give you an edge, though don’t use too much, a slave wouldn’t know as much as you do. Anything more powerful than a minor augmentation will be noticed. Be careful, good luck!”
With those last words we were through the door, and the hellish spectacle which would become an almost day to day experience over the next two months began. The moment we stepped through the door way I was grabbed and thrown off to the side with all the other slaves, who were being kept in, I shutter when I say it, a huge iron cage. Normally the cage was used to house three or four goats (goats are sacred to gnomes, especially their nobility), but that night they were free to roam, a lower form of life was to fill the cages. That was us, well, them. I was playing a part, and I felt violated and degraded and dishonored, I wonder how it felt to be them, the slaves, the trash that no one wanted. I can’t imagine what it must be to be considered less that a goat, more worthless than a house cat. I saw that Yathrina had done me a service by putting me in breeches, many slaves wore loincloths, or some nothing at all! I also saw that I was relatively muscular compared to these, who were purposely deprived of food to keep them weak and unrebelling. I was a wizard student of the school, I want you to note, and I was not in any excellent shape, though I wasn’t fat by any means. Compared to these creatures though, I looked like a soldier among boys. Outside the cage though, that was a different world. Everything was raucous, wild, spinning, outside that iron hell was a world ruled by liquor, noise and body fluids. I was sickened, while these poor, starving, naked souls sat waiting to tear each other to shreds for the coins to buy some extra bread; those piggish, inbred, foul-tempered bastards cavorted about throwing themselves on to (or if drunk enough in to) one another. It was lavish and evil and I hated them for it, but before my hate could bubble over, gongs began to ring signifying the first fight of the night. Another Gnomish practice, percussion instruments, intolerable clanging.
First up were a pair of a greased up boy slaves who simply slapped and batted at each other fiercely for several minutes until the smaller of the two (a little blond who looked like he might of had some goblin blood in him) slipped. The larger of the two leapt on him and brained him mercilessly with the back of his hand until he was unconscious, at which points screams of approval erupted from the tangling mass of nobles who were crowded against the far side of the room. The victorious boy went on to fight another, he won again. He fought once more, this time with an older partner, but he won again.
Suddenly I felt three or four hands wrench on to me, I was next! They threw me face down in front of the child, he must have been twelve. I drew myself up with as much elegance I could muster and, with Yathrina’s words ringing in my ears, fight dirty, I grabbed the boy by the back of the hair dug my knee into his stomach and jabbed his eyes with my free hand. He flailed back at me, managing to slash my side with his grubby nails, but it came to little avail. I had him down, and for good measure, I stomped my foot hard into the side of his stomach. As I sit here and reminisce about these horrid events I feel ashamed and guilty even, for what I did. But at the time I was only thinking about my material betterment, about my brand new crystal ball, and a nice yew staff.
Another was brought out; this one was about twenty six, but thin as a cord. He was easy to beat, yet again I didn’t have to bring any measure of my magic to bear. Five more came in sequence, each one a rather simple victory, all the while a small pile of coins was welling up at my feet. Then, my seventh battle came. I was slightly euphoric, and a little blood drunk, so I didn’t notice my opponent until I was facing him straight on. I was gazing at a pale white figure, clad in a pair of leather breeches, much like mine. Atop his head was a brilliant shock of yellow hair. It was Letharius. Someone must have suggested this idea to him as well. I cursed my luck as the spark of recognition flashed through his eyes. He was in better shape than I was though; he had joined the soldiers’ guild when he arrived in the Kiemandra School, as I had chosen the sorcerers’ guild.
Someone screamed for us to fight from the back of the room, and being eager for money, I made the first move. I charged him with an almost manic screech and tried to bowl him over. He sidestepped me and took a minor hit and dealt me a fierce punch in the side. I leaped at him again, and again my blows fell short, while my injuries amassed. I realized that I would have to use my magic if I was to prevail. As I charged at him the next time, I wove my hand in a simple little power spell. I felt my force pick up, maybe a tenth more, and the strike was just strong enough to shatter Letharius’s guard. I saw the smooth, soft white of his exposed belly. I used my powers again, I was glad I had taken the more advanced cursing class at that point. I conjured a decent weakening spell as discreetly as possible and then jammed my fist into his stomach as hard as I could, he tensed his abdomen in time to avoid serious injury, but as I drew my aching arm back (for the strike did take something out of me) I saw a delicate purple bruise beginning to form down the length of where I struck. He swung at me once more, desperately, then went down, like a bag of potatoes.
The nobles erupted in a cacophony of delight, and coins rained down on me. They must not have realized I had used magic, because one or two of the bolder ones were wagering on whether or not they could take me. I was delighted with the money, which I was scraping up in heaps, but somehow my victory felt slightly cheapened. I filled my pockets and then I scrambled over to help Letharius onto his feet. There was a strange mixture of emotions in his eyes, admiration, anger, friendship, betrayal, and a lot of pain.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered as we were shoved back into the packed cage. Our fight had apparently been the high point of the night, after that, no one had apparently wanted anything else. We had been too entertaining. Letharius smiled after my apology. He nodded his head.
The raucous violence and drunkenness of the party lasted another three hours, at which point Yathrina strolled forward with, and my jaw nearly dropped, Sardas Kolkas, my boyhood lover. He had been the one who had enrolled Letharius as it turned out. Letharius and I were manhandled out of the cage and then chained to our ‘masters’. The two of them set off the moment they could.

“So Enath,” invited Yathrina gently after we were nearly back to her own suite, “how much did you make?”
“Six-hundred and seventeen silver pieces,” I jittered back merrily, “more than enough for a nice new robe and a crystal ball. Sardas, why didn’t you tell me you were here? I’ve rather missed you.”
“I had no idea you were here, I assumed you had died of the plague, old Reverent Father Harrows did, as did many other locals. That’s why my parents sent me off to school, though I don’t attend your Kiemandra College,” he returned rather matter-of-factly.
“Oh Gods,” I murmured, downcast, “Reverent Father Harrows passed? Truly?”
“Minotaur Fever took the whole valley, I was simply told one day that you had stopped coming to school, I thought you had gone with the rest, though your family was alright. Harrows was among the last to pass away, he refused to let the ill die without their last rights, he preached until his knees popped from all the over amassed fluids. God how the people wailed, I guess you don’t know how much somebody loves something until it’s gone.”
“Did you cry for me?” I asked, in a strange, almost desperate way.
“By the time I thought I wouldn’t ever see you again I was a eunuch, so it didn’t matter.”
The other three of us stopped dead in our tracks.
“Come again?” wheezed Letharius in a cross between shock and disbelief.
“I’m a eunuch, all the boys marked for higher priesthood are. I’m the fourth son in my family, there was nothing to give me in inheritance, so my father sent me to where I would be provided for,” he responded coolly, almost effortlessly.
“So they snipped your...,” queried Letharius again, making an embarrassing gesture southward.
“I was unconscious of course, and to be honest I don’t miss the highs and lows of my human sexuality,” trilled the noble, raising his arms heavenward, in a complex religious gesture, ”or should I say the stiffs and the softs? If I keep on the path I’m on now I can be a bishop by age twenty-one, archimandrite by twenty five. I’m happier without all that, I have a new lust to fill me, and that is the lust for righteousness, and the greater glorification of the Celestial Lord and his Sons, my masters.”
“We all have our own paths to follow,” chirped Yathrina authoritatively, “and I think those paths lead us to our beds tonight. Go back to your monastery Sardas, we’ll meet again this weekend.”
He bowed, gave the symbol of the Five Lords of Heaven and went off on his way.
“As for you two,” she said, as she whipped around smiling, “you did well tonight. I’m meeting Sardas tomorrow, it is the weekend, like I just said, we’re going into Darepzeer, I want you two to come with, Enath, you need to shop for your materials anyway. Goodnight, be on time to your classes, oh, another little tourney will be hosted in four days, should I count you in again?”
We looked at each other, I shrugged, and we nodded.
“Good, and keep those breeches, I’m not made of money.”
She ducked into her room after giving us a slightly condescending nod.
“Are we really going to do that again?” Letharius asked frowning.
“Speak for yourself, slave boy, I made six-hundred silver, I’m doing it once a week,” I returned good humouredly, jabbing him in his bare ribcage.
We shared a few jokes and then trotted off to the steam baths, which we both needed direly. I hadn’t noticed it while my adrenaline was pumping, but now that my energy was down I noticed that I stunk like a stable. After cleaning up, Letharius and I walked bare-bottomed back to our dormitory while telling stories and elaborating on the night’s events. We were peasants among peasants, content to talk about the things that had already passed, walking through the empty night boulevards without an ounce of dignity preserved. I miss the days when I was young and limber and foolish, you truly don’t know what you have until it’s gone. Sardas had spoken the truth. From that day on Letharius Zybaylis was my best friend, I would share many of my greatest adventures with the yellow haired farmer-boy. Our first adventure came scarcely eight hours later, in my first, and most eventful, trip into the Elven Capital of Darepzeer.