Gemini Chapter 2: Hell

         “Sir Damien,” Lizle begged, “please get ready! The King is waiting your arrival and we both know how much he does not tolerate unpunctuality.” The short, plump man of around forty stood at the foot of a large bed. Laying in the bed was the young general and knight of the Amoretpazian army, Damien.
         Standing six feet and one inch off of the ground, Damien’s frame was that of a prize athlete. He had shaggy golden blonde hair that covered his forehead, and scruff on his nineteen-year-old face. His eyes were light green and danced with life when you looked into them. He was unusually young to be the high ranking general in the King’s army, but Damien was special.
         The young man had special powers due to a mutation by the government while he was in the womb. Damien possessed telekinetic powers; he was able to move things with his mind. But to him, the war was more of a game. The King of Amoretpaz, Arcaeus, adopted him after his mother gave birth to him and left to live the life of an aristocrat. The last he had heard of her, she was married to a wealthy trader and living on the other side of the country in Chininda.
         He knew what the government wanted of him. He knew very well of his purpose, that he was a weapon for the army; he just simply did not care. His care free sensibility aggravated the king, many of the other generals, as well as the palace staff. Especially his personal butler, Lizle. As much as Lizle wanted to quit his job, leaving the free meals, room and board behind, the one thing holding him down was the young general. Lizle basically raised Damien in the palace, and watched over him as he trained. He raised the boy to have a certain tenacity and savageness in battle, but to still remember his objective. Lizle also told Damien, at a very young age, to always have fun.
         He took that advice to heart, always enforcing it to the fullest of his abilities. He would sneak away from his training to go look at the projects that the scientist were working on. He would go to his own personal zoo behind the palace and lay with his animals.
         Arcaeus hated this, constantly scolding Lizle, telling him that though Damien is just a weapon, he was the prized property of the Kingdom of Amoretpaz; that he does not need fun or recreation, but diligent training and devotion to his country and its cause.
         The date was August 6, 2336, Damien’s nineteenth birthday and Lizle was fiercely shaking the his limp body trying to wake him up. The boy lifted his right hand slightly and Lizle rose three feet, then six, then 10 feet in the air, huffing and puffing, kicking and writhing.
         “Put me down, young sir, this instant!”, the butler ordered. “Then leave me be and let me sleep, Lizzy. I must simply have my rest to go through with tonights rigorous festivities.” Damien sat up, brushing his hair from his eyes. “Why do I have to go anyway? Who cares about my nineteenth birthday? Is it a celebration of how many men I’ve had to slaughter since I was six? Or maybe today is the day where His Majesty will present me with a brothel and tell me to pick the least ugly whore.”
         Damien hated large parties. He despised that fact that Arcaeus paraded him around as if he were an object. He may be a weapon, he may be a mutant, or in some eyes, a freak, but he was still had human feelings. Damien also thought the war was complete nonsense; 300 years of constant fighting to no avail. And when his time is up, he will drop dead, just like the others. Would the cycle never end? Is this what each side wants; to fight forever?
         The young general also hated Arcean, the Crown Prince of Amoretpaz; to Damien he was just a spoiled brat who did not deserve to be the heir to this kingdom. Kingdom which did not deserve its independance. Damien knew that even though he kill for the sport of war, they killed to kill. The Kingdom of Amoretpaz’s goal was to slaughter every man, woman, and child of the U.R.L. No mercy.
         Lizle sighed with a patient look on his face. “Alright, but since you will not be attending, you can help me clean your room!” Damien put Lizle down with a swift motion of his hand and shot up from his bed, running into his closet flinging clothes left and right.
         Later that night, a huge festival raged on just inside the palace gates. Gypsies performed magic, animals painted in loud color paraded around the grounds, people sang, danced, drank and partied into the night. In the throne room of the palace sat four giant gold chairs.
         Seated in the largest one was the king of Amoretpaz, King Arcaeus. He was a tall, well built man of sixty. His large, golden crown, studded with plenty of jewels, sat on a full head of silvery-grey hair. He sported a dark blue suit with a silver tie, and a sash decorated with dozens of medals.
         At his left, sitting in a slightingly smaller throne, sat his wife, Lya. She was a short, slender, elegant woman. Younger than Arcaeus by many years, but old enough to be Damien’s mother, she wore a platinum tiara in her long, auburn brown locks. She wore a long, light blue ball gown with shiny translucent high-heeled shoes.
         At her left was her wriggly child, Arcean. His hair was short and brown, and he wore a miniature version of his father’s suit. The boy had to be no younger than seven, but no older than eleven, for his maturity in formal situation lacked; his mother scolded him, telling him to sit still.
         All the way to the king’s right lounged Damien, the slouchy high general of Arcaeus's army. He blew the blonde hair from his eyes and slouched even further into his seat. He wore a crimson red blazer which buttoned all the way up to his neck, though he never wore it all the way buttoned, with black pants.
         Damien looked to his right, to Lizle, and pleaded, “May I leave now? You know how much I hate these things.” He pouted and crossed his arms like a child.
         Lizle looked very impatiently at the young general. “No, you may not leave. Damien, this is all for you! This is all for your nineteenth birthday! Besides, I do not have the authority to let you leave.” The old butler gestured toward the king.
Arcaeus, without looking at Damien and Lizle, said in a monotone voice, “Go, my weapon. I know how you despise joyous occasions. Guns are not to be presented at parties, why should you be?”
         The boy glared at the old man. He began to lift himself into the air slightly until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He immediately dropped to his seat. “Arcaeus, I thank you for taking me in, adopting me, treating me like a prince. I also thank you for keeping my humanity, or inhumanity as you also seem to put it, in check. I will be retiring to my chambers. Good night.” He kneeled before his king and grabbed Lizle’s arm before rushing off towards the large staircase.
         When Damien reached his room, he flopped onto his large bed. “I hate that man. I know that I am a weapon, but I am not, nor will ever be, his weapon,” He vented, “I would kill that man. The only reason I don’t is because--”
         “You value your life?” Lizle interrupted.
         “I value my bedroom. I value my very limited freedom. I value you. Especially you, Lizzy. I do not fight for him, I do not fight for this country,” he grabbed his butler’s hand, “I fight for you.”