Dark Armor: Thoughts of Escape

If I could just leave... 

That was the thought that had haunted Pallian for the last three years. The crypt had been isolated, and even with supplies and some sort of mount, he would never have made it far enough to escape his father. He would either have wound up dead, or he would have been reclaimed and then lectured to at length, possibly while trapped in the Tomb of the Living. That had always been something he wanted to avoid, and now that he'd spent some time in the Tomb he wanted to avoid it even more. 

But the Obsidian Citadel was nestled deep in the heart of the Imperial City, and if he could use his newly-attained Smoke initiation to escape, he could possibly find food and transport there, and be gone long before his father realized. Having the Royalty of Edrias present would hamper his father's ability to launch any sort of search, too. 

This might turn out to be his best opportunity, but it couldn't be tonight. If he didn't arrive for the dinner, the Wizard-King would call out everyone to look for him, with no regard for how this might look to the Royalty of Edrias, and either have him dragged back for execution or executed the moment he was found. If he could somehow get back to the armor, he could at least put up a fight; but even in the armor he wasn't strong enough to defeat his father. And defeating his father wasn't the point, anyway. Not like that.

No, what he needed to prove to his father -- and to himself -- was that he wasn't a tool, wasn't a toy, wasn't one of his father's possessions. He wanted to become someone that his father couldn't touch, and more than anything else he wished to never have to think about the Wizard-King of Teregor ever again.

Such were his thoughts as he stepped into the banquet hall, and he must have been thinking them far too loudly; for Counselor Barias turned away from a well-dressed servant with a silver tray. The Counselor was smooth-skinned and utterly hairless, dressed in robes of an elegant dark purple which contrasted sharply with the polished bronze skull-cap and chain-belt he had chosen for this evening. He caught Pallian's eye by gesturing towards him with his wine-glass, and Pallian slowed. 

Quiet, Prince, came the voice in Pallian's head. You should not think such thoughts. They are unbecoming, and show your lack of proper filial piety.

Pallian took a quick step closer, so that he could reply without raising his voice. "I lack nothing of the sort. My actions and my service clearly demonstrate the respect and loyalty I hold for my father, and thoughts are merely thoughts."

Counselor  Barias nodded, but the voice in Pallian's head said: To the contrary, Prince, thoughts are far more than that. Thoughts are everything. And you must learn to guard yours better.

Pallian, who had spent his entire life training himself to do exactly that, forced his shoulders to relax and his jaw to unclench and his thoughts to settle into a wordless blankness. He nodded back, and turned away. 

I'm not angry, he thought, and then repeated it to himself until the anger was safely sealed away again. He couldn't afford to be angry, not here. More than that, though, he thought -- as he had several times over the years -- that Counselor Barias meant him well. If Barias could hear his thoughts three strides away, then his father -- always and ever alert for any sign of disloyalty -- might read them from his movements, his gestures, his expressions. 

And that would be a disaster. 

So he straightened, looked around, smiled politely across the room at the Counselor, and went to find a drink of his own while he awaited the arrival of the House of Edrias. Being exiled to the crypt, however honorably, had given him too much room to lower his guard; he needed sharpen those old defensive habits again.