Chapter 152: Xendros And Faestien
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Faestien was very fascinated by the story presented by this stranger. He understood it, on a deeper and more personal level.
For he himself had been a Man standing in the middle of Life and Death throughout his life.
There is something about the way he presented the tale that is not just entertaining, but rather, something that will touch you not in an emotional level or anything. Entertainment relies heavily on the emotional response of the spectators. But that does not seem to be priest's goal upon presenting his tale. His goal is not to evoke emotion or thought.....
But a sort of transcendental understanding only for those who can understand it. For those who can fathom it.
Not knowledge, not wisdom. But something higher that could not be put into words or comprehended.
He wanted to approach him, but must be seated in his own throne besides the King and Queen of Ilvedia. He must be seated perfectly the whole time, no muscle out of place, and no quick, uncivilized movements. He was so good at it that he can fade from the public's attention despite being right there. He is nothing more than a doll on display, nothing to see here.
He wondered if this curious individual from a faraway land have noticed his presence?
And if so...
What does he think of him?
Maelle bowed gracefully in front of them, much to the people's surprise. This piqued Faestien's interest in him more.
He saw him approach another intriguing individual that Faestien had the privilege to make acquaintance with not so long ago. That person was Old Xenophon's biological son, who he gave away to the Santimieda Chapel and has now become a priest. His name is Xendros, and Faestien never heard from him if he knew about his father, yet he was sure of it while they were at the old man's burial. He can feel it, that very same emotion that Xendros withholds, like an empathy link.
Even when that stranger is inexpressive, Faestien still knows what he is hiding inside and everything about him. He finds great joy in it for some reason.
Do be just naturally connected to someone.
Him, who felt empty his whole life. Who felt like he could not make any real connections besides lies and more lies. Flattery, deception, falsehood. He thought that was the only way to have a relationship with someone.
Old Xenophon was like that too, though not as natural as his son. It had grown from continuous interactions and gradual understanding of two empty, lonely people. They can sympathize with each other.
Their friendship started as early as when he was 4 years old.
That certain night, little Faestien ran away. He was bored. So deeply bored by his parents who don't play with him, and all the silent people around him who do not say a word, not even when he greets them nicely.
He had ran barefooted all the way to the boundaries and the bridge over the moat of the Ilvedian Palace. That palace glistened even at the night, trying to surpass the stars and the moon above. Little Faestien hates that pretentious palace to the core.
Then, he heard the crying of a baby.
He doesn't know what entranced him at the sound. He followed it, looking for the source all alone and in the dark. He was very lucky not to be mugged or be abducted for ransom, as many thieves and plunderers had increased in the streets of all the Thirteen Kingdoms. At a young age, he was already aware and wary of them, though not really scared.
In fact, he partially wanted to be abducted.
He had heard that these thieves may be working for scientists, scholars, and even practicing sorcerers... Finding bodies of children to be used on their studies for knowledge and powers. They would cut the bodies up in half and spread them out, poking and prodding at the organs and making observations. Some even put the body parts in jars to use as medicine to feed to their patients.
That's not the only theory. There were also slave masters and merchants. Prostitute peddlers. They would sell children and put prizes hanging over their necks, and chain their hands and feet. Because young Faestien is naturally-born hungry for all kinds of knowledge, he knows what prostitutes are and what is being done to them if they got sold.
Hearing these fascinating stories gave him a twisted yet also innocent desire of wanting to experience it for himself. Twisted because of the immortality and debased thoughts, innocent because he was just a child, and he could never control his desires at the time.
As he thought about this while walking, he had finally reached the source of the sound. It was the Chapel he was brought to several times.
He saw that the crying baby was in a basket by the door. There was a man bent over to shush it and comfort it, his voice a little perturbed as well and unhinged. It was like every second and comforting word he spend with the crying baby is like a stab on his bent back.
But years later, Faestien realized he was wrong. What pains the man is not the presence of the baby....
But the future absence of it.
The man turned and saw him. They locked eyes.
Blue eyes.
This calmed Old Xenephon. He kissed the baby's forehead, and brought the basket over to the little runaway prince.
"Big Brother, take care of my little Xendros for me." He asked with a bit of desperation, his eyes tinged red and his smile lopsided due to his sobbing. "Please, Big Brother. Make sure he gets a good life."
Faestien tilted his head to the side. To be called 'Big Brother' by this old man, who must be eight to ten times his age.... It's a little funny to him.
But he did not dare laugh. He solemnly took the basket, and nodded. "I will. Good evening."
The man was deeply relieved, and turned to leave. He thought Faestien was one of the orphans in Santimieda Chapel because of his blue eyes. Little did he know that he promised his child's life to the wrong person. There is no way for the little prince to take care of young Xendros with the responsibilities he has, and his great uncaring attitude toward those responsibilities.
Faestien looked at the baby, who stopped crying and was now sleeping. He wondered what it would be like to put his hands on that sweet child's neck.....
And squeeze.
What does it feel to take away life?
Hmm...... No. He doesn't really feel like doing it, only curious about it. Both his desires and morality align: He will not harm that child and let him live a good life.
When the old heaving and weeping man had left his line of sight, he placed the basket by the doorstep again. Then, he ran back home, dreaming of being abducted by thieves and moving far, far away from this stupid country with that adorable baby in the basket.
What life would it be, if that really happened? If he and this baby were suddenly snatched in the dark, and put on a wagon leading to lands beyond Ilvedia. Then, he would jump and escape, finding ways to survive and raise the child with him, like a big brother. They would be inseparable and....
This baby would love him all his life.
Genuinely.
Truly love him, unlike everyone else.
He encountered Xenophon once more at mass when he was 8 years old. This is when the aristocrat learned that the person he entrusted his child with was in fact the very prince. He was strangely undettered by this. He must have felt something from Prince Faestien's knowing gaze when they locked eyes once more, several pews apart.
When the monarchs are busy conversing with Bishop Pontificus and other staff, Faestien approached him with hands behind his back.
"Big Brother...." The kneeling Xenophon began. "You are the prince?"
"Yes." He answered in a tone that is too dignified and mature for his age. "And you are Xenophon, The Insane Duke."
There was a pause between them. Then, Xenophon spoke, his voice cracking. "What about my Xendros?"
"What about him?"
Xenophon just looked down, not heavily affected by the news, only further distraught. This news is like a drop in the ocean to him. Nothing can break him any more than he already is.
Faestien narrowed his eyes. "Are you sad? I am also sad."
"Why?" The old man slowly looked up.
"I don't know..... I want my little brother back. That baby. I am also looking for him, but no one looks like him here." He admitted, genuinely forlorn. He said to the man with full sincerity. "Let's look for him together."
And so, every mass, these two men, one young and one old, would try their best to look for a dark-skinned and purple-eyed orphan.
And after a decade and a half of searching..... They found him.
And so, Xendros may not know Faestien, but they are more connected than he thinks.
His brother for a night. His brother in his dreams. And now...
His brother in his grief for a lost friend.
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Faestien was very fascinated by the story presented by this stranger. He understood it, on a deeper and more personal level.
For he himself had been a Man standing in the middle of Life and Death throughout his life.
There is something about the way he presented the tale that is not just entertaining, but rather, something that will touch you not in an emotional level or anything. Entertainment relies heavily on the emotional response of the spectators. But that does not seem to be priest's goal upon presenting his tale. His goal is not to evoke emotion or thought.....
But a sort of transcendental understanding only for those who can understand it. For those who can fathom it.
Not knowledge, not wisdom. But something higher that could not be put into words or comprehended.
He wanted to approach him, but must be seated in his own throne besides the King and Queen of Ilvedia. He must be seated perfectly the whole time, no muscle out of place, and no quick, uncivilized movements. He was so good at it that he can fade from the public's attention despite being right there. He is nothing more than a doll on display, nothing to see here.
He wondered if this curious individual from a faraway land have noticed his presence?
And if so...
What does he think of him?
Maelle bowed gracefully in front of them, much to the people's surprise. This piqued Faestien's interest in him more.
He saw him approach another intriguing individual that Faestien had the privilege to make acquaintance with not so long ago. That person was Old Xenophon's biological son, who he gave away to the Santimieda Chapel and has now become a priest. His name is Xendros, and Faestien never heard from him if he knew about his father, yet he was sure of it while they were at the old man's burial. He can feel it, that very same emotion that Xendros withholds, like an empathy link.
Even when that stranger is inexpressive, Faestien still knows what he is hiding inside and everything about him. He finds great joy in it for some reason.
Do be just naturally connected to someone.
Him, who felt empty his whole life. Who felt like he could not make any real connections besides lies and more lies. Flattery, deception, falsehood. He thought that was the only way to have a relationship with someone.
Old Xenophon was like that too, though not as natural as his son. It had grown from continuous interactions and gradual understanding of two empty, lonely people. They can sympathize with each other.
Their friendship started as early as when he was 4 years old.
That certain night, little Faestien ran away. He was bored. So deeply bored by his parents who don't play with him, and all the silent people around him who do not say a word, not even when he greets them nicely.
He had ran barefooted all the way to the boundaries and the bridge over the moat of the Ilvedian Palace. That palace glistened even at the night, trying to surpass the stars and the moon above. Little Faestien hates that pretentious palace to the core.
Then, he heard the crying of a baby.
He doesn't know what entranced him at the sound. He followed it, looking for the source all alone and in the dark. He was very lucky not to be mugged or be abducted for ransom, as many thieves and plunderers had increased in the streets of all the Thirteen Kingdoms. At a young age, he was already aware and wary of them, though not really scared.
In fact, he partially wanted to be abducted.
He had heard that these thieves may be working for scientists, scholars, and even practicing sorcerers... Finding bodies of children to be used on their studies for knowledge and powers. They would cut the bodies up in half and spread them out, poking and prodding at the organs and making observations. Some even put the body parts in jars to use as medicine to feed to their patients.
That's not the only theory. There were also slave masters and merchants. Prostitute peddlers. They would sell children and put prizes hanging over their necks, and chain their hands and feet. Because young Faestien is naturally-born hungry for all kinds of knowledge, he knows what prostitutes are and what is being done to them if they got sold.
Hearing these fascinating stories gave him a twisted yet also innocent desire of wanting to experience it for himself. Twisted because of the immortality and debased thoughts, innocent because he was just a child, and he could never control his desires at the time.
As he thought about this while walking, he had finally reached the source of the sound. It was the Chapel he was brought to several times.
He saw that the crying baby was in a basket by the door. There was a man bent over to shush it and comfort it, his voice a little perturbed as well and unhinged. It was like every second and comforting word he spend with the crying baby is like a stab on his bent back.
But years later, Faestien realized he was wrong. What pains the man is not the presence of the baby....
But the future absence of it.
The man turned and saw him. They locked eyes.
Blue eyes.
This calmed Old Xenephon. He kissed the baby's forehead, and brought the basket over to the little runaway prince.
"Big Brother, take care of my little Xendros for me." He asked with a bit of desperation, his eyes tinged red and his smile lopsided due to his sobbing. "Please, Big Brother. Make sure he gets a good life."
Faestien tilted his head to the side. To be called 'Big Brother' by this old man, who must be eight to ten times his age.... It's a little funny to him.
But he did not dare laugh. He solemnly took the basket, and nodded. "I will. Good evening."
The man was deeply relieved, and turned to leave. He thought Faestien was one of the orphans in Santimieda Chapel because of his blue eyes. Little did he know that he promised his child's life to the wrong person. There is no way for the little prince to take care of young Xendros with the responsibilities he has, and his great uncaring attitude toward those responsibilities.
Faestien looked at the baby, who stopped crying and was now sleeping. He wondered what it would be like to put his hands on that sweet child's neck.....
And squeeze.
What does it feel to take away life?
Hmm...... No. He doesn't really feel like doing it, only curious about it. Both his desires and morality align: He will not harm that child and let him live a good life.
When the old heaving and weeping man had left his line of sight, he placed the basket by the doorstep again. Then, he ran back home, dreaming of being abducted by thieves and moving far, far away from this stupid country with that adorable baby in the basket.
What life would it be, if that really happened? If he and this baby were suddenly snatched in the dark, and put on a wagon leading to lands beyond Ilvedia. Then, he would jump and escape, finding ways to survive and raise the child with him, like a big brother. They would be inseparable and....
This baby would love him all his life.
Genuinely.
Truly love him, unlike everyone else.
He encountered Xenophon once more at mass when he was 8 years old. This is when the aristocrat learned that the person he entrusted his child with was in fact the very prince. He was strangely undettered by this. He must have felt something from Prince Faestien's knowing gaze when they locked eyes once more, several pews apart.
When the monarchs are busy conversing with Bishop Pontificus and other staff, Faestien approached him with hands behind his back.
"Big Brother...." The kneeling Xenophon began. "You are the prince?"
"Yes." He answered in a tone that is too dignified and mature for his age. "And you are Xenophon, The Insane Duke."
There was a pause between them. Then, Xenophon spoke, his voice cracking. "What about my Xendros?"
"What about him?"
Xenophon just looked down, not heavily affected by the news, only further distraught. This news is like a drop in the ocean to him. Nothing can break him any more than he already is.
Faestien narrowed his eyes. "Are you sad? I am also sad."
"Why?" The old man slowly looked up.
"I don't know..... I want my little brother back. That baby. I am also looking for him, but no one looks like him here." He admitted, genuinely forlorn. He said to the man with full sincerity. "Let's look for him together."
And so, every mass, these two men, one young and one old, would try their best to look for a dark-skinned and purple-eyed orphan.
And after a decade and a half of searching..... They found him.
And so, Xendros may not know Faestien, but they are more connected than he thinks.
His brother for a night. His brother in his dreams. And now...
His brother in his grief for a lost friend.
Faestien was very fascinated by the story presented by this stranger. He understood it, on a deeper and more personal level.For he himself had been a Man standing in the middle of Life and Death throughout his life. There is something about the way he presented the tale that is not just entertaining, but rather, something that will touch you not in an emotional level or anything. Entertainment relies heavily on the emotional response of the spectators. But that does not seem to be priest's goal upon presenting his tale. His goal is not to evoke emotion or thought.....But a sort of transcendental understanding only for those who can understand it. For those who can fathom it. Not knowledge, not wisdom. But something higher that could not be put into words or comprehended. He wanted to approach him, but must be seated in his own throne besides the King and Queen of Ilvedia. He must be seated perfectly the whole time, no muscle out of place, and no quick, uncivilized movements. He was so good at it that he can fade from the public's attention despite being right there. He is nothing more than a doll on display, nothing to see here.He wondered if this curious individual from a faraway land have noticed his presence?And if so...What does he think of him?Maelle bowed gracefully in front of them, much to the people's surprise. This piqued Faestien's interest in him more.He saw him approach another intriguing individual that Faestien had the privilege to make acquaintance with not so long ago. That person was Old Xenophon's biological son, who he gave away to the Santimieda Chapel and has now become a priest. His name is Xendros, and Faestien never heard from him if he knew about his father, yet he was sure of it while they were at the old man's burial. He can feel it, that very same emotion that Xendros withholds, like an empathy link.Even when that stranger is inexpressive, Faestien still knows what he is hiding inside and everything about him. He finds great joy in it for some reason.Do be just naturally connected to someone.Him, who felt empty his whole life. Who felt like he could not make any real connections besides lies and more lies. Flattery, deception, falsehood. He thought that was the only way to have a relationship with someone.Old Xenophon was like that too, though not as natural as his son. It had grown from continuous interactions and gradual understanding of two empty, lonely people. They can sympathize with each other. Their friendship started as early as when he was 4 years old.That certain night, little Faestien ran away. He was bored. So deeply bored by his parents who don't play with him, and all the silent people around him who do not say a word, not even when he greets them nicely.He had ran barefooted all the way to the boundaries and the bridge over the moat of the Ilvedian Palace. That palace glistened even at the night, trying to surpass the stars and the moon above. Little Faestien hates that pretentious palace to the core.Then, he heard the crying of a baby.He doesn't know what entranced him at the sound. He followed it, looking for the source all alone and in the dark. He was very lucky not to be mugged or be abducted for ransom, as many thieves and plunderers had increased in the streets of all the Thirteen Kingdoms. At a young age, he was already aware and wary of them, though not really scared.In fact, he partially wanted to be abducted.He had heard that these thieves may be working for scientists, scholars, and even practicing sorcerers... Finding bodies of children to be used on their studies for knowledge and powers. They would cut the bodies up in half and spread them out, poking and prodding at the organs and making observations. Some even put the body parts in jars to use as medicine to feed to their patients.That's not the only theory. There were also slave masters and merchants. Prostitute peddlers. They would sell children and put prizes hanging over their necks, and chain their hands and feet. Because young Faestien is naturally-born hungry for all kinds of knowledge, he knows what prostitutes are and what is being done to them if they got sold.Hearing these fascinating stories gave him a twisted yet also innocent desire of wanting to experience it for himself. Twisted because of the immortality and debased thoughts, innocent because he was just a child, and he could never control his desires at the time.As he thought about this while walking, he had finally reached the source of the sound. It was the Chapel he was brought to several times. He saw that the crying baby was in a basket by the door. There was a man bent over to shush it and comfort it, his voice a little perturbed as well and unhinged. It was like every second and comforting word he spend with the crying baby is like a stab on his bent back.But years later, Faestien realized he was wrong. What pains the man is not the presence of the baby....But the future absence of it.The man turned and saw him. They locked eyes.Blue eyes.This calmed Old Xenephon. He kissed the baby's forehead, and brought the basket over to the little runaway prince."Big Brother, take care of my little Xendros for me." He asked with a bit of desperation, his eyes tinged red and his smile lopsided due to his sobbing. "Please, Big Brother. Make sure he gets a good life."Faestien tilted his head to the side. To be called 'Big Brother' by this old man, who must be eight to ten times his age.... It's a little funny to him.But he did not dare laugh. He solemnly took the basket, and nodded. "I will. Good evening."The man was deeply relieved, and turned to leave. He thought Faestien was one of the orphans in Santimieda Chapel because of his blue eyes. Little did he know that he promised his child's life to the wrong person. There is no way for the little prince to take care of young Xendros with the responsibilities he has, and his great uncaring attitude toward those responsibilities.Faestien looked at the baby, who stopped crying and was now sleeping. He wondered what it would be like to put his hands on that sweet child's neck.....And squeeze.What does it feel to take away life?Hmm...... No. He doesn't really feel like doing it, only curious about it. Both his desires and morality align: He will not harm that child and let him live a good life.When the old heaving and weeping man had left his line of sight, he placed the basket by the doorstep again. Then, he ran back home, dreaming of being abducted by thieves and moving far, far away from this stupid country with that adorable baby in the basket.What life would it be, if that really happened? If he and this baby were suddenly snatched in the dark, and put on a wagon leading to lands beyond Ilvedia. Then, he would jump and escape, finding ways to survive and raise the child with him, like a big brother. They would be inseparable and....This baby would love him all his life.Genuinely.Truly love him, unlike everyone else.He encountered Xenophon once more at mass when he was 8 years old. This is when the aristocrat learned that the person he entrusted his child with was in fact the very prince. He was strangely undettered by this. He must have felt something from Prince Faestien's knowing gaze when they locked eyes once more, several pews apart.When the monarchs are busy conversing with Bishop Pontificus and other staff, Faestien approached him with hands behind his back."Big Brother...." The kneeling Xenophon began. "You are the prince?""Yes." He answered in a tone that is too dignified and mature for his age. "And you are Xenophon, The Insane Duke."There was a pause between them. Then, Xenophon spoke, his voice cracking. "What about my Xendros?""What about him?"Xenophon just looked down, not heavily affected by the news, only further distraught. This news is like a drop in the ocean to him. Nothing can break him any more than he already is.Faestien narrowed his eyes. "Are you sad? I am also sad.""Why?" The old man slowly looked up."I don't know..... I want my little brother back. That baby. I am also looking for him, but no one looks like him here." He admitted, genuinely forlorn. He said to the man with full sincerity. "Let's look for him together."And so, every mass, these two men, one young and one old, would try their best to look for a dark-skinned and purple-eyed orphan.And after a decade and a half of searching..... They found him.And so, Xendros may not know Faestien, but they are more connected than he thinks. His brother for a night. His brother in his dreams. And now...His brother in his grief for a lost friend.
