'Royalty' Series - All Liturgies

PSALMS

BOOK I

———————–

I. ROYALTY

-YS ATUN VRAMA PRESH-

-THE SEVEN SYLLABLES OF ROYALTY-

1. YISUN said: let there not be a genesis, for beginnings are false and I am a consummate liar.

2. The full of it is this – the circular suicide of God is the perfection of matter.

3. YISUN lied once and said they had nine hundred and ninety nine thousand names. This is true, but it is also a barefaced lie. The true name of God is I.

4. Living is an exercise of violence. Exercise of violence is the fate of living

5. Violence is circular. Perception is not circular and lacks flawlessness- therefore, rejoice in imperfect things, for their rareness is not lacking!

6. Love of self is the true exercise of the God called I.

7. Only an idiot cannot place his absolute certainty in paradoxes. The divine suicide is a perfect paradox. A man cannot exist without paradox – that is the full of it.

II.

THE KING IN THE TOWER

1. YISUN is the supreme king. It is impossible for YISUN to have any rivals – you will see this. YISUN does not aspire to royalty: YISUN is the two-syllable name of the seven syllable name of royalty revealed. Only those who can invert a path can know the secret name of YISUN.

2. It was once said that YISUN had many names. This is true, but all of them are false save the name YISUN, which in itself is a paradox.

3. YISUN is the weakest thing there is and the smallest crawling thing, and the worm upon the earth and in the earth.

4. YISUN is capable of contemplating nothing.

5. To speak general truths about YISUN is to lie intimately; in truth one must learn the tongues but the matter remains that YISUN is the unparalleled master of the fundamental art of lying. The best practice of lying is self deception.

6. YISUN once said: ‘Selfish tongues revolt and refuse to invert the contents of their brains – even if it were a lie, this insurrection of our flesh would do us great offense.’

7. YISUN is the untouchable and prime master of all seven syllables of royalty and once told four lies.

i. The lie of the giant and the ant

ii. The lie of the iron plum

iii. The lie of the water house

iv. The lie of the small light

III.

THE GRAND ENEMY CALLED I

———————–

i. The lie of the giant and the ant.

YISUN sat once with his disciple Hansa in YISUN’s second clockwise glass palace. Hansa was one of his most ardent students and a grand questioner of YISUN. Unlike Yisun’s other disciple, Pree Ashma, he had no hunger in his heart for dominion of the universe, but a miserly scrutiny and a heart of iron nails. He was not an aspirant for royalty, and thereby attained it through little effort.

Hansa’s questions were thus:

‘Lord, how must I question space?’

‘With an age, an ant may encircle a giant five million times,’ spoke YISUN.

‘Lord, how then may I question time?’

‘A giant’s stride takes an ant a week to surpass.’ YISUN spoke and smiled in the 4th way.

Hansa was discontent with this answer and rubbed the stem of his long and worn pipe which he always kept with him and would eventually lead to his annihilation. Since he was royalty, he knew this, and kept it close to him as a reminder of his circular death.

‘Lord, then which should I be, the giant or the ant?’

‘Both,’ spoke YISUN,’ or either, when it suits you. Destroy the grand enemy called ‘I’.’

Hansa contemplated this in silence. Later he would recount this proverb to his daughter.

———————–

ii. The lie of the iron plum

There was once a king named UN-Payam who sat at the right hand of YISUN’s throne and ruled a palace of burnished gold and fire and dispensed justice in all things. It was let known once that Payam had grown an extraordinary plum – enormous in size, with adamant skin that was burnished as a breastplate and fifty times as hardy. Payam was desirous of a pillow friend of fiery heart and excellent skill with their mouth and let know that whosoever could break the skin of that plum with their teeth he would swear to share his bed with for three nights in whatever disposition they may desire.

Many gods were in attendance at Payam’s hall on the first day, and even more on the second day, but by the third day of this strange contest few remained who had not tested their mettle, for the plum remained implacable and immaculate and turned many away with sore teeth and roiling frustration in their brains. A great cry rose up and YISUN was called forth from the twenty third clockwise palace of carbon where YISUN had been meditating on the point of a thirty acre long spear of crystallized time. In companionship with YISUN was Hansa, who followed along.

“See this Payam!” cried the gods, “He deceives us! He cruelly abuses our lustful hearts!”

YISUN was very fond of plums and immediately grasped the iron plum and took a long, succulent bite, praising its merits to the amazement of all.

“How!” wailed the attended.

“Why, it is a plum of flesh, and quite ripe as well,” said YISUN plainly, and indeed, it was apparent to those gathered that it was the case. The plum was passed around and touched and indeed it was sensual and soft and pliant. Hansa was not so convinced. “It is still a plum of iron,” said he, “there is some trickery here, oh master of masters.”

“Indeed, it is so,” said YISUN, and it was again apparent to those gathered that the flesh of that plum was as hard and impermeable as a fortress. “How can it be so?” said Hansa, “How comes this fickle nature? Plums and the fifty winds are not so alike I think.”

YISUN said, “I told you of this and, believing it, it was so. In truth, it is whichever you prefer. In truth, there is no plum at all, just as there is no YISUN. A plum has no shape, form, or color at all, in truth, but these are all things I find pleasing about it. A plum has no taste at all for it has no flesh or substance, but I find its sweetness intoxicating. A plum is a thing that does not exist. But it is my favorite fruit.”

“A pipe is a thing that does exist, and it is my favorite past time,” said Hansa, lacking understanding, and growing in cynicism.

“What a paradox!” said YISUN, smiling, “I shall share my love tenderly with Payam.”

———————–

iii. The lie of the water house

YISUN and Hansa walked the king’s road once, drinking plum wine. They were enfleshed as maidens at the time, for boastful, drunken Ogam swore on his high seat at the speaking house that any feat accomplished by his brothers he could redouble seven times again. Hansa, of crafty mind, and bearing little love for a brother whose raucous singing frequently interrupted his philosophical fugues, immediately saw an opportunity to deprive Ogam of his prized and well-boasted-about manhood for a fortnight, and challenged him to a contest of womanly love-making, sewing, and hearth sweeping, and for a time there was great mirth in the Red City.

“Dearest Un-Hansa,” spoke YISUN, after a moment, as they strolled along an expanse of fractal glass and cold fire, “Art thou not flesh of my self love? Springst thou not from my recursive womb?”

“Sprung I from your brow, for it is my lot in life to beat my hands against it in return for ejecting me,” said Hansa, in jest, but in truth he listened.

“Knowst thou the meaning of my name Y-S-U-N is the true name of sovereignty?” spoke YISUN plainly.

” I do,” spoke Hansa, for it was true.

YISUN then assumed a speaking form that was bright and very cold, from her breath she inhaled the void, and when she exhaled, beautiful water came forth from her pliant lips in great rushing gasps, and there was a sound like a clear bell that meant emptiness. Hansa was very moved by this display and watched as the shining water curved and bent upon itself and crystallized, and suddenly before the pair was a great, beautiful house, translucent and all filled with light of many colors.

“Observe my work,” said YISUN, pleased.

“It is an astounding work,” said Hansa, clearly impressed. They strode inside the house at YISUN’s bidding. The walls were clear and smooth as crystal, and warm to the touch. It had a wide hall, and a full hearth, and was full of light and air, and the openness of the place with the starkness of the void was incredibly pleasing. Hansa would have given half his lordship for such a house, in truth, for his own was a dark and cramped tomb of iron and dust.

“Observe again,” said YISUN, with a keen eye. Hansa did, and as he looked closer, he saw the walls, the floor, the vaulted roof, the wall coverings, and even the altar with the flowers in the visiting hall were all made of water – water as clear and still and solid as smooth and perfect glass.

“Water, lord?” spoke Hansa, sensing some purpose.

“What,” spoke YISUN playfully, “is the meaning of this allegory?”

They reposed for a while as Hansa thought, in the resting hall of that great water house, and gazed through the shining rim of that house across the great void, where the empty sky was perfect in its nothingness. The house rung gently like a bell and it was pleasing to Hansa as he sat in his woman’s flesh and thought.

After a while, he said this:

“The house is a man’s life.”

“Why this?” answered YISUN, as was the fashion.

“Because although it is very beautiful and filled with many fine things, it is only water, after all. It would be poor to rely on its existence – it is only water pretending to be a house. In truth, there is no real house here at all, just as there is no Hansa, or no plums.”

“This is a good answer,” said YISUN, and made a small motion with her long white fingers, and smiled.

“It is an infuriating answer,” said Hansa, his mood darkening, and his borrowed brow furrowing, “As is common with you. How can one grant themselves the pleasure to enjoy such a fine thing? It sparkles and shines like a gorgeous jewel, but its sparkle is an intimate falsehood.”

“Death is my gift to you,” spoke YISUN in reply.

“What’s the point,” spoke Hansa, bitterly,”Of such a fine house, if it is only a lie? What is the point of Hansa, if Hansa is only a lie?”

“I am a fine liar,” spoke YISUN in reply.

Hansa was silent a moment.

“It is a beautiful house,” he admitted, after some time, “It is a beautiful lie.”

“Our self-realization is the most beautiful lie there is. I am the most conceited and prime liar. Lies are the enemy of stagnation and my self-salvation. How could we appreciate the shining beauty of my house of lies,” spoke YISUN, arching her supple back, “if there was always such a house? How could we appreciate Hansa if there was always such a Hansa?”

They sat in stillness a while longer.

“In truth, we would get very bored,” said Hansa, after a while.

“In truth, we would,” said YISUN.

———————–

iv. The lie of the small light

Hansa was of sound mind and proud soul and only once asked YISUN a conceited question, when he was very old and his bones were set about with dust and bent with age. It was about his own death.

“Lord,” said Hansa, allowing a doubt to blossom, “What is ending?”

It was said later he regretted this question but none could confirm the suspicion.

“Ending is a small light in a vast cavern growing dim,” said YISUN, plainly, as was the manner.

“When the light goes out, what will happen to the cavern?”

“It and the universe will cease to exist, for how can we see anything without any light, no matter how small?” said YISUN. Hansa was somewhat dismayed, but sensed a lesson, as was the manner.

“Darkness is the natural state of caverns,” said he, vexingly, “if I were a cavern, I would be glad to be rid of the pest of light and exist obstinately anyway!”

“Hansa is observant,” said YISUN.

YISUN walked with his disciple PREE ASHMA in the garden of bones and plums, which was one of YISUN’s more favored places to walk for it set the mind at unease.

PREE ASHMA, who knew the syllables of royalty and the seven intonations and could smile in the first, third, fiftieth, and twentieth ways, was very proud in her accomplishments. Thinking herself wise, she posed a question to YISUN. “Are you a giving master, oh one of ones?”

YISUN, who was in the mood for games, plucked a plum and bit into it. “I am consumed with love for myself.” PREE ASHMA knew the syllables of royalty so she knew this to be a yes. Cleverly, she posed a question to YISUN, prancing with delight.”Then, oh flesh of all flesh, may I (who would never ask you anything) ask you this: what is your secret name?”

YISUN smiled at this question for it was a clever one. PREE ASHMA knew that the Secret Name of God was immensely powerful and in her breast she had long nurtured to the point of gluttony a growing red hunger for dominion.

“Why it is known by all,” spoke Yisun, and as they walked but two paces further they came upon a handsome red buck with ten antlers who was the ancient protector of the garden and had slain seven million of YISUN’s white children.

“O handsome son of mine,” spoke YISUN gently, “do you know my secret name?”

“Of course,” spoke the buck, and bowed mightily. “Tell me,” implored PREE ASHMA eagerly, but the buck would not. “You know not?” said he with a tone of surprise. “It is known by all, and it is not in my nature to know how to say otherwise.”

YISUN smiled in the third way at this response while PREE ASHMA’S heart roiled with discontent. YISUN reached out with a soft gesture and plucked a sparrow from the sky. “Let us ask another,” said YISUN, “-my small son, do you know my secret name?”

The sparrow nodded and bowed his head, but was quiet, for he was old and the winter would come soon. “Tell me!” said PREE ASHMA, but the sparrow could not for he was weary. PREE ASHMA fumed, and in irritation struck at a plum tree, which recoiled in ash.

“Let us ask one more,” said YISUN. “Oh mightiest of mighties,” said PREE ASHMA, hot with frustration,” if I can not find out I will go mad! You, the most generous and merciful will deny me this small indulgence?” YISUN spoke not but reached upon the plum he held and PREE ASHMA beheld a small and humble flea there.

“Do you also know the secret name of God, you wriggling thing?” screeched PREE ASHMA. The flea bowed, and said nothing. PREE ASHMA turned scarlet with frustration. “How the world has conspired against me!” she spat, “Oh master of masters, you play a trick on me! How could you torment your daughter thus? You maker of false promises!” YISUN was disappointed in PREE ASHMA, for her face was as ugly as those of  the white children in her rage. In her tantrum great gouts of fire consumed one beautiful plum tree after another, and their bows withered in ash. YISUN was saddened at the nascent ruin of the plum garden and held up the hand of YISUN in a small gesture that meant disappointment and cessation.

“Will you reveal this to me now, oh Queen of Queens?” hissed PREE ASHMA, her beautiful face contorted into furrows of intense longing. “Reveal it to me, I demand you!” The grip of dominion had reddened her flesh.

YISUN was saddened, and spoke the seven syllable secret name of royalty, which is YS ATUN VRAMA PRESH, and assumed a universal form. The blood drained instantly from PREE ASHMA’S face for she saw her gift was a suffering she was not prepared for. Before she could avert her gaze, the winds of YISUN’S body scoured her flesh with deep grooves and lashed at her pretty face, disfiguring her with shrill screams.

With mighty hands, YISUN grasped the spokes of the Universe, which is the WHEEL, and wrenched it on its side with no more force than a feather fall. PREE ASHMA then beheld the Universe from its side and in that moment understood the secret name of God and laughed at her stupidity. Her eyes flashed like drops of water in a pan and were gone instantly for she had willingly hungered after what was hers all along. Her beauty was lost and her flesh scoured, the blood pooled around her small white feet and she spoke the secret name of God aloud.

“I”.

Psalms: 10:26

YISUN sat once with his disciple Hansa in YISUN’s second clockwise glass palace. Hansa was one of his most ardent students and a grand questioner of YISUN. Unlike Yisun’s other disciple, Pree Ashma, he had no hunger in his heart for dominion of the universe, but a miserly scrutiny and a heart of iron nails. He was not an aspirant for royalty, and thereby attained it through little effort.

Hansa’s questions were thus:

‘Lord, how must I question space?’

‘With an age, an ant may encircle a giant five million times,’ spoke YISUN.

‘Lord, how then may I question time?’

‘A giant’s stride of a moment takes an ant a week to surpass.’ YISUN spoke and smiled in the 4th way.

Hansa was discontent with this answer and rubbed the stem of his long and worn pipe which he always kept with him and would eventually lead to his annihilation. Since he was royalty, he knew this, and kept it close to him as a reminder of his circular death.

‘Lord, then which should I be, the giant or the ant?’

‘Both,’ spoke YISUN,’ or either, when it suits you. Destroy the grand enemy called ‘I’.’

Hansa contemplated this in silence. Later he would recount this proverb to his daughter.

What makes a knight?

A shining blade or bloody battered steel?

Let us name the Orders Four and the truth within reveal.

THE GEAS KNIGHT unknown by name, the seeker proud and true,

His endless quest hath rent the stars yet known is he by few,

THE PEREGRINE, whose bell always rings the crack of breaking day,

It’s nameless peal will drive the ceaseless evil from the ways,

THE BLOODY KNIGHT, belligerent, her edge tastes skulls and lives,

The viscera of common men and royalty besides,

THE MENDICANT, the beggar knight, roughly clad and shod,

He lives as though he were a beast, but fights he as a God.

– Children’s Rhyme.

Meti’s Sword Manual

Argument

1. Glory to the Divine Corpse, o breaker of infinities

2. I am Meti, of no house but myself. In my 108th year I am surrounded by fools. My compatriots cling obsessively to their destiny, and my only apprentice is an idiot speck of a girl with more talent for eating than skill with the blade. Therefore I have decided to die drowning in the boiling gore of my enemies, of which there are many.

3. My master was the greatest lord general to the king Au Vam, Ryo-ten-Ryam, who first coaxed me into learning the ways of turning men into ghosts. As his interest quickly turned to the wholly uninteresting and most useless parts of my body, I returned the favor and relieved him of his.

4. It is my personal opinion the straight sword is best if you can obtain one, but I also favor the sabre. The spear, stave, or club are peasant’s weapons of which I am wholly unfamiliar and so will not speak on them.

5. Upon meeting me, you might find that my appearance is quite dreadful and unkempt. I have been spat upon by priest, king, and merchant alike. I have no retainers, and possess nothing except a straight sword six hand spans (5 and a half kret) long (this is the proper length). This is because I am Royalty and the undisputed master of the principal art of Cutting. I will fight naked with ten-thousand men.

6. From the age of thirteen I practiced every day with the straight sword. I followed a strict vegetarian regimen, and harsh training of barefoot sprints (five) between cities, squats and breathing exercises (two bells), and sword drills and resistance training (three bells).

7. By the age of sixteen, my body was a steel edifice. I was so often mistaken for a man I began to wear my hair long with no pins and unbind my breasts. I could break stone with my hands with no effort, I could sprint between the Yellow City and the Lunar dominions in a day or less and barely strain my breath. My mastery of the sword complete, I enlisted in the Middle Army’s third legion, where I was widely respected as a swordswoman of incredible power.

8. When it came time to face my first real opponent, the Colossus of Pardos, in my youthful pride and immense skill, I brought all my training and mastery to bear. Scarcely half a day passed before my sword was shattered into thirty pieces, my right leg was almost torn from its socket, and my honed body was broken pathetically in a hundred and forty places. I defeated him by gouging his brains out through his breathing valves. My thumbs, in this case, proved far more useful.

9. At that moment, with my thumbs in his brains, I had a revelation. I had trained far too broadly. Existence and the act of combat are absolutely no different, and the essence of both, the purity of both, is a singular action, which is Cutting Down Your Opponent. You must resolve to train this action. You must become this action. Truly, there is very little else that will serve you as well in this entire cursed world.

10. I hope that by reading this manual, you will be thoroughly encouraged to become a farmer.

Meti’s Sword Manual

Mastering the sword

1. YISUN’s glory is great, and you may know this by two paths, the sanctioned words, and the sanctioned action

2. The sanctioned words are YS ATN VARAMA PRESH. The meaning of these words is YISUN and their attainment is Royalty.

3. The sanctioned action is to Cut.

4. To Cut means division by the blade of Want, that parer of potentials that excises infinities.

5. To train with the sword, first master sweeping. When you have mastered sweeping, you must master the way of drawing water. Once you have learned how to draw water, you must split wood. Once you have split wood, you must learn the arts of finding the fine herbs in the forest, the arts of writing, the arts of paper making, and poetry writing. You must become familiar with the awl and the pen in equal measure. When you have mastered all these things you must master building a house. Once your house is built, you have no further need for a sword, since it is an ugly piece of metal and its adherents idiots.

The 18 Precepts

1. Consider: there is no such thing as a sword.

2. Your stance must be wide. You must not be spare with the fluidity of your wrists or shoulders. You must have grip on the handle that is loose and unstrained. I heard it said you must be tender with your sword grip, as though with a lover. This is patently false. A sword is not your lover. It is a hideous tool for separating men from their vital fluids.

3. Going onwards, you must adjust hands as needed, do not keep the blade close to your body, keep your breathing steady. This is the life cut. You must watch your footwork. Your feet must be controlled whether planted on fire, air, water, or earth in equal measure.

4. Breathing is very important! Is the violent breath of life in you not hot? Exhale! Exult!

5. You must strive for attachment-non-attachment when cutting. Your cut must be sticky and resolute. A weak, listless cut is a despicable thing. But you must also not cling to your action, or its result. Clinging is the great error of men. A man who strikes without thought of his action can cut God.

6. To cut properly, you must continually self-annihilate when cutting. Your hand must become a hand that is cutting, your body a body that is cutting, your mind, a mind that is cutting. You must instantaneously destroy your fake pre-present self. It is a useless hanger on.

7. A brain is useful only up until the point when you are faced with your enemy. Then it is useless. The only truly useful thing in this cursed world is will. You must suffuse your worthless body with its terrible heat. You must be so hot that even if your enemy should strike your head off, you shall continue to decapitate ten more men. Your boiling blood must spring forth from your neck and mutilate the survivors!

8. You must never make ‘multiple’ cuts. Each must be singular in its beauty, no matter how many precede it. You must make your enemies weep with admiration, and likewise should your head be shorn off by such an object of beauty, you must do your best to shed tears of respect.

9. When decapitating an enemy, it is severe impoliteness to use more than one blow.

“The power drawn from strength is mighty indeed. All men respect the sword.

Greater still is the power drawn from ultimate weakness. When a man has nothing to cling to, he has taken the first step to becoming Royalty”

-Words of Dyon, Knight Mendicant (est. third century post second-conquest)

“Oh! The day was bright. A sound came upon the earth, and the Ardenwood itself bent and screamed, and the sky was rent with light. Such a tear it was, horizon to horizon, and from that fiery scar, a great heavenly host rode forth on steeds of smoke and ash. And at the head of that host was enthroned a bright queen, and her hair was like liquid gold, and star-fire was on her brow.

The great masters of this world drew up their spears and locked forearms in alliance. They rallied their armies to them, and girded themselves with battle lust. Ten times ten thousand men rode out to meet that host, all thick-armed soldiers from the seven great nations of this world. They rattled the earth with their passing, by God. I still remember the sound.

And all those ten times ten thousand men were rent into pieces and the pieces were tramped into the earth, and the soil was burned, and their bones were smashed to powder and fed to the soil. For that Queen was true Royalty, and not the pale and sluggish imitation of our former kings. Within her blazing tongue was the power of the holy Septagrammaton, and it’s name was the Glory.”

– Excerpt from Age of Fire, attributed to the sage-poet Avsa Galman. Said to be an early account of the conquering of his world by the god-queen Mother Om.

And YISUN came forth from the plum garden and spoke a Word called Royalty, and that word had seven parts, and each part shone equally with the brilliance of Law and the ripeness of Chaos, and the heat was unbearable to all those that were there. No man could stand before it, and no god either, and all the beasts of sky, sea, and star, and all the crawling things of the earth, and all the hungering potentates; all the argent saints and hell-forged heroes were bent to the dust by it’s enormous blast. For the Heat of the Word was the Heat of YISUN’s Voice, and it was fed by the Flame Immortal.

-Spasms

Het and the Three Companions

Part 3

The golden-haired woman had no fear in her heart at all, and so her feet were quick and true. Bellowing a mighty cry she raised her gleaming blade to strike. But since she had no fear in her, her blow was rash and prideful and full of none of the self-preserving wisdom of longer-lived warriors. The beast was a twisted and hateful thing, and it took the blade upon its flesh and hacked up bloody spittle as the cold metal dug deep into its shoulder. But there the blade lodged, and as the golden-haired warrior struggled to pull a new weapon from her collection, the beast shrieked and lifted her into the air with unholy strength, and cracked her rib cage and sucked her guts out in a second, and that was that.

The priest gave out a cry, and swung his lantern at the demon, for dogma had taught him that such creatures hated light above all things. And indeed, dogma had taught well, for the beast spat a frothy spittle and recoiled from the lantern, and the priest struck out with his preaching rod, as he was taught to do. But while confidence guided the priest’s blow, it was an illusory confidence, driven by his refusal to accept fear. The shaking of his limbs that he had so long ignored turned his blow, and it struck wide. The sweat of his palms greased his grip and his weapon flew from his hand. He tried to utter a prayer, but found to his surprise he could not speak a single word. He cried out as his head was split and devoured, and his lantern was knocked aside and snuffed, and that was that.

With the other two dead, and having little regard for Het, the beggar had absolutely no reason to continue to appear brave, and ran shrieking into the pitch black, where he was set upon and torn apart as he tried to scrabble over a low wall. And that was that, and only Het remained, quaking with terror, unable to see beyond her nose, and clutching a torn shred of the beggar’s cloak.

The demon ceased its screaming, and prowled in circles as it licked its gory chops, for Het was surely easy prey. Het could scarcely control the shaking of her limbs as she heard the click-clack of its nails, and felt the charnel heat of its breath staining the night. Finally, tired of toying with its prey, it fell upon Het all at once with its limbs splayed out, and its eyes all aflame, and its lips ripped open in an awful shriek.

But it what it could not have known (and neither could Het) was that Het had not denied fear a place in her heart of hearts. It was an uncomfortable guest, but a familiar one. Unlike the golden-haired woman, fear quickened Het’s step and pumped through her blood, refining her purpose. Unlike the priest, she knew the ways in which it tugged at her, and contorted her senses, and so she made extra effort to straighten her back and steady her hand. And unlike the beggar, Het cared little for the appearance of bravery, for she did not think herself brave. Lacking an audience to impress, her resolve had not wavered in the slightest, for Het was an aspirant to Royalty, and her mind was as a mighty Tower, with walls a hundred thousand paces high.

So it was that as the monster dove at Het, and reached out with all its hooks and nails and instruments of death, Het struck out with her eyes and limbs all filled with lightning. She swung with a purpose sharpened by fear into a perfect cutting edge, and smashed the demon’s brains out with a single fantastic blow. So powerful was the impact of Het’s stave upon the demon’s skull that the earth itself shook and the villagers who huddled inside their low and lonely dwellings thought the end of the world was upon them.

The demon was flung fifty paces, where it shrieked and died in spurts and spasms. And that was that.

After some pains, Het re-lit the priest’s lamp, and waited and shivered there until morning as the corpse of the beast cooled and froze, and the faint warmth of the sun bled over the horizon. Then she dragged it to the town square, and made to take down the skins hung on the great tree.

When at last the curious villagers emerged, they were exuberant, and lifted Het upon their shoulders, and spat upon the corpse of the great beast. A party was sent to find and bury the three other travelers, and the rest of the grisly display was taken down from the old tree. Het was fed thick gruel with honey, and the light and heat of the town grew in strength with the day, so that by noon, the fires in hearths were roaring, and the houses steamed in the cold, the dogs pranced in the streets, and children emerged to goggle at and pick at the monster’s corpse with sticks.

For her part, Het was happy to see a little life return, and relieved for the light of the day. She slept much of that afternoon, and through the night, and in the morning set again upon the road, glad to be rid of that place. But she took its memory with her, and kept fear a close and intimate friend. Later it would serve her well on the road.

But that is another story.

Aesma and the Red Eyed King

Part 1

Once, and always, there was Aesma Ten Yondam, who was a very powerful goddess. She had anywhere from two to forty five arms, she was exceptionally strong, and had an insatiable red hunger for dominion. She knew five ways of smiling, ten of the forty five forms, and all the syllables of Royalty, though she understood none of them. In her blackened heart she let many wicked schemes and plans ripen and kindled an endless rage against the inadequacy of the universe, which made her one of YISUN’s favored companions. She was poor at Patkun, could not tolerate pedantry, and her ribald jokes and raucous behavior frequently got her thrown out of YISUN’s speaking house.
On one such occasion, Aesma was thrown out long before she could get at the wine. Her wailing and pounding at the doors of the speaking house drew nearly two score of pilgrim-saints, who were passing on the King’s road. When they approached to inquire about her distress, she engaged them in a ferocious battle that lasted the better part of five hours, as was her custom. The battle was so fierce that it cracked two roaming moons and threw part of one into a primal sea, which boiled away to steam.

“That’s better,” sighed Aesma, when the dust had settled and the sea had finished boiling. “Hey,” said Aesma to the battered and bloodied pilgrims as an idea struck her, “Where can I get some wine about here?”
“Foul creature! If it’s nourishment thou seeks, get thee the great and holy Temple of the Disc of the Sun,” croaked a furious pilgrim. “Drink thee of the consecrated wine there, not thy common lecher’s milk, and purify thy fetid soul!” Aesma was grateful, and turned the man into an exceptionally large golden fish as way of saying thank you, for she was fond of well-colored fish. She grabbed a strand of frozen light and broke it into the shape of a door. This was an old and popular trick which the god Un-Kaon had taught her in return for Aesma stealing sweets, for Kaon had a terrible sweet tooth. It was called Division, for it was a cutting art, of which there are thirty and one.
Aesma leapt out of her skin and through the door, and then back into her skin, which was waiting on the other side, through a tangle of twisted planes of space. As she emerged, the temple of which the man spoke lay directly ahead of her. It was a grand and stately building, with sandy white columns, and the Holy Sun Disc enshrined there was visible for fifty or sixty leagues about, so bright it was.
The priests offered libations and chants to the great altar of the Sun there, and payed homage to the stars, and studied in minute detail the nature of a man’s soul. Each was a scientist and philosopher of clean and manly visage, who wore a neatly pressed apron. He discarded ostentation and valued virtue above all else. Members of the temple spent many hours contemplating the proper roles for women and men, the just ways of proper rulership, and the ways in which a man’s perfect qualities could be compounded in his body as in his mind. They had there a great golden scale, with which the head priest measured the weight of a man’s vice against his virtue. It was a place of great influence on the enlightened thinking of the time, a temple of grand seriousness and moral import.
For this reason, of course, Aesma immediately hated it. She lasted about thirty minutes in the public service. “I can’t stand it!” howled Aesma, “Your elegies are dull! Your saints are all liars. Your youth are pallid and weak, and your wine tastes like piss. One cannot as much fart in here without being preached at.”
“Out, demon!” said the Hierophant, and brandished his stave of authority. A score of priests stood beside him, robed in their aprons and strewn about with their golden chains. The light of good and righteousness sharpened their noble features and rugged eyes.
“Were violence not forbidden in this most holy temple, we would have thee out by the stave,” boomed the head priest. “I pity thee, crawling thing, for thy black heart is all shriveled and malnourished without the guidance of moral authority!”
“At least I’m not being sucked on by old men!” spat Aesma at the holy congregation. She then pulled down her loincloth and mooned them, to great dismay. Then the staves came out after all, and she was thrown out of the temple in a short order.
“Get thee a husband!” said the exasperated priest, and slammed the door shut. Aesma thought this was not a bad idea at all. Husbands were rumored to be better than dogs. She set off, her quest for wine quite forgotten.
Aesma looked far and wide for a husband. She broke a sunbeam fifty times by Division and split her mind into fifty shards and hurled those shards, molten, through the gaps therein. This was a trick she stole from Ovis by watching her bathe. Each shard grew into a splinter-clone of Aesma’s evil body, and did great mischief as it ravaged the earth, befouled the land, frightened the populace, and scoured the nations of the universe for husbands. But after five hours had passed this way, Aesma grew frustrated and annihilated all her extraneous selfs in godsfire. It took some effort, for their accomplishments in such a short time had been exceedingly high, and one had even installed herself as queen.

Exasperated, she resolved to ask the God Un-Ogam, who she often came to with difficult questions. Ogam was in his White Aspect, and thus a little more contemplative. However, he was a ferocious god of battle, and not a philosopher, and thus rarely gave good answers. Aesma liked visiting him anyway, as he was older than her and loved to spar. So Aesma rode her chariot to the gore-soaked battlefield where Ogam was doing battle with a dozen minor gods of justice, and landed it amidst the melee “Ogam!” shouted Aesma, “Find me a husband! Surely you have a slave that will do?” Ogam couldn’t hear Aesma at first, as he was in a berserk rage, bending the great stave of the bird-headed god of Law UN-Ghum in half. When the stave snapped, Ogam hurled Ghum into the sun and calmed down a little. He and Aesma were very close friends.
“I have many slaves,” said Ogam to Aesma, “but none will do for you, little sister. None are your equal. Come back later, and I will find you a great, roaring god for your spouse, hung like a bull and with muscles like an elephant!”
Aesma was discontent, and smacked Ogam in the forehead. Ogam hardly noticed, as his skull was thicker than a fortress wall. This was one of his excellent qualities, in Aesma’s view. “I’ve waited enough!” fumed Aesma, “Why, just now I was preached at just for wanting a drop of wine! If you can’t find me an equal, tell me, who is my equal?”

Aesma and the Red Eyed King

Part 4

Aesma was in such a great rush when she arrived at the battered iron gates of the Crucible that she made a very ungainly landing and sent the whole fortress swaying side to side. She rushed through its dreary halls, thick with the howling of the evil beings imprisoned within, and arrived with great haste at the tiny red-hot cage of the Red Eyed King.
“I’ve come back!” gasped Aesma, out of breath.

“What are you doing?” said the Red-Eyed King, for indeed he saw Aesma was trying to accomplish something that she seemed to greatly struggle with.

“I’m trying to prostrate myself,” said Aesma. It took her the better part of the morning, and even then she could only manage it for five seconds at a time. But in those five seconds she said this: “I promise you that if I become your wife, I will tend to your meals, and darn your clothing, and obey your every command without question. In return, you must be my protector, guide, and counselor, and you must not lift your hand against me in violence.”

The King mulled this offer over, and saw that there were many fine things for him to exploit, for his wicked mind was as twisted as Aesma’s, and he too could bend the world into shapes to his choosing. This was the source of his power.

“I accept,” he said, and his evil red eyes burned every brighter. Aesma could barely contain herself, and jumped for joy, which only sent the entire fortress swaying and shaking more violently. “What should I do, oh husband of mine?” said Aesma. “Let me out of this cage,” said the Red Eyed King. So Aesma struck the cage with all her might, and bent the bars asunder with a shower of sparks. The bars were very hard and white hot, and Aesma was burned quite badly, but Aesma was so love-struck she hardly noticed.

“Ah, I am so weak,” whispered the Red Eyed King as Aesma carried him out of the cage. And Aesma saw that this was true, for the King’s form was charred and pitifully thin from his confinement, so that he could barely stand. She cradled him and fussed over him. “Oh what I can I do for thee, my husband?” she said, desperate for his affection. “Please make for me my favorite meal,” said the Red Eyed King.

“Your favorite meal?” said Aesma, who hadn’t anticipated ever having to actually cook.

“Yes,” said the Red Eyed King, and his eyes flashed with an evil glare. “It is a plum from YISUN’s private garden. I used to eat them all the time when I was free, and I crave their sweetness now. If it is thy wish to be my wife, then that is the succor I crave.”

“Oh, that’s easy!” said Aesma, who was privately very relieved she wouldn’t have to cook, and didn’t give one thought to what the king had asked for. For the plums of YISUN’s garden could grant eternal life, and their juices nourished the flame of the body to an immense, roaring brightness, so that any who ate one would be almost impermeable to harm. Aesma dropped the Red Eyed King with very little ceremony and leapt to it, and very shortly she had returned with a glistening plum from YISUN’s garden, plump and ripe. Normally the garden was guarded by a red ten-antlered buck, who was resolute in his duty, exceedingly calm, and the most powerful fighter in the universe, for the wide trunks of the plum trees were littered with the bones of his foes. But when Aesma had arrived there and asked for a plum to please her husband, the buck had been so taken aback by the notion of Aesma submitting to marriage that he was completely stunned for a whole three seconds, which was more than enough time for Aesma to snatch a plum and leap out.

“Ah, excellent,” said the Red Eyed King, “Now feed it to me, wife.” And Aesma did, bit by bit. And bit by bit, the Red Eyed King fleshed out, and the char and scabs fell away from his flesh, and his wounds sealed, and he grew more and more in stature until he stood three times Aesma’s height. And Aesma saw that he was a tyrant king with night-blue skin and a wild mane of hair like a tangle of shadows, and great fangs and tusks jutting from his black lips. His nails were wicked claws, his arms were like corded iron, and his hands were large so as to easily snap men’s necks. For this reason Aesma fell in love just a little bit more.

“Oh but husband,” said Aesma, blushing and giggling, “You are quite naked.” She was thoroughly enjoying being a wife so far.

“Yes,” boomed the King, and gave a mighty evil laugh. “Wife, attend me!”

“Oh what can I do for thee, my husband?” said Aesma. “Mend my clothing!” commanded the Red Eyed King, “I had one time a hauberk made from the scales of the Ur-serpent that coils beneath the ash of the world. The feathers of the screaming Roc I took for my mantle, my shield was of the tail-hide of the Leviathan that haunts the deep, and my sword was carved from the bone that is found in the heart of a World Tree.” This was all a fantastic lie, of course, for the King had never had such fine or rare clothing. And if he had been girded in such armament, so empowered by the plum he had eaten, the Gods of justice would never have had any hope at all of defeating him in battle. He would have laid such waste to the universe had never been seen before, and burnt it to a cinder, so that his red eyes could lay their baleful gaze on only smoldering ashes. This was his one and true desire, for like Aesma, he was an idiot and did not understand the true nature of Royalty.

Aesma, of course, did not detect his hidden intentions, for she was smitten with love. “At once, my husband!” she said, almost tearful in her joy, and strode off to gather what she could. She was so focused in her matrimonial bliss that she scarcely gave any thought to the monumental scale of the tasks she was accomplishing. First she dug until she found and tugged upon the tail of the mighty Ur-Serpent, whose body was thicker around than a city. Yanking it from the earth, she wrestled with it for three days, during which she bashed enough scales from its body for her purpose. Then she dove into the black and limitless ocean, and swam until she found the leathery and ancient Leviathan of the deep. Aesma was very bad at fighting underwater, and couldn’t hold her breath for very long, so the battle went very poorly for her at first. But very shortly, she became so fed up that she summoned a score of transcendental fist arts and rained such horrific blows upon the water around her that she beat it back for a full day, turning the bottom of the ocean into dry land for a short while. The Leviathan was very slow on land, so Aesma bludgeoned it into unconsciousness and stole it’s tail while it slept.

Next Aesma tracked the Roc, and clung to its back for a full week while it pecked her viciously, but she was able to pluck enough feathers to make a fine mantle. Then she rode her chariot to the edge of the universe, and fought through the howling winds, the scouring cold, and the limitless demons that poured in from the edge of existence there. And after a harrowing journey, she was able to hack out a heart-slice of the fourth World Tree that held up creation using a vorpal shard of void-ice. The tree was mighty enough to withstand its mutilation, and it recovered in time. But until that time it was injured enough to bow, just a little, so for a while an entire corner of the universe sagged quite terribly. This caused great consternation in YISUN’s speaking house and among the multitudes of star-gazers, astronomers, sorcerers, and techno-saints that measured such things, but Aesma was scarcely aware of this. In a fervor, she fled to Koss’s workshop and stole his lesser chisel when he wasn’t looking. Then she crouched over a public hearth for a full week and banged her husband’s armaments into shape.

When Aesma returned, she was truly a terrible sight. Her skin was puckered and swollen from the venom of the world serpent, she was frost burned from her trip to the edge of the world, and she was bitten and punctured all over from her great battle. But she was beaming, for she was still terribly lovesick, and in her arms she had a great hauberk of shimmering dark scales, a glorious feather-mantle, a mighty hide shield, and a white and curved sword carved from the iron-hard heartwood of the world tree.

“Here is your armament, O husband,” she said, out of breath and beaming with joy. “This is a sword that will cut thirty six ways at once!”

The king was greatly pleased at the gullibility of this poor fool, and he donned his impermeable garb.

“Oh what else can I do for thee, my husband?” said Aesma, totally consumed with love.

“I am not thy husband yet,” said the satisfied King. “I think it is time for my return to the surface world. Who are the sorry fools that sent thee?”

“Oh yes, I almost forgot!” said Aesma, prancing about in joy, “Will you return to the Temple of the Disc of the Sun with me and join me in marriage? We can have a massive wedding ceremony and I’ll invite everyone in YISUN’s speaking house to attend.  No, everyone in creation! We can have drinking, and dancing, and fighting, and fighting and dancing, and afterwards I can build us a great big house and we can have lots of magnificent and gigantic children!”

“Yes, let us attend this ceremony,” said the King. “Make of thee a beast I can mount and we will be there promptly.” And Aesma did. She turned herself into a massive black beast with wings of the darkling sky and talons the size of a man. And the king sat astride her back and rode her out of the pit, his red eyes flashing the entire way.

“You will know the rulers of the cosmos by two signs: first, the star in their brow, which is the mark of their lordliness, and shows you that they are my kin. Second, you will see that their chariot wheels are oddly shaped. Their rims are made of rough and heavy iron or steel, not at all like the polished and gilded rims which you see carrying mundane royalty. Do not be deceived by their simplicity. They are built this way for the express purpose of grinding the bones of men into a fine powder.”

-Au Vam, address to his councilors (dated 264 BSC)

Lord Intra gathered his retainers, who were hungry for tutelage. “Lord Intra!” said his sandal bearer, “What is the first step on the path to Royalty?”

“There are no steps,” replied Intra, “It is zero-sum with your reality. It is not measured in finger-lengths.”

“Lord Intra,” said his bodyguard, “Is the path to Royalty the path of struggle, then?”

“No,” said Intra, “One may attain it without any effort at all. It is, in fact, the antithesis of struggle.”

Intra’s steward was very discontent with his master’s evasiveness. “Lord,” he said, “Allow us lowly men some small measure of understanding. For sympathy’s sake, and the sake of we good and loyal servants, please tell us in plain language the nature of Royalty.”

“I will tell you precisely what Royalty is,” said Intra, “It is a continuous cutting motion.”

-The Song of Maybe

THE SHAPE OF ROYALTY

1. The very tip of a swallow’s wing as it cuts the air.
2. The sword that splits the plum, pit and all.

These are said to resemble Royalty. It is not curved in the slightest. Turn the wheel on its side and you will see its shape. Cut the wheel in half and you will see its shape between the two halves. This is its purest expression, in the non-space. Observe how it extends forever, and look how it glitters!

“There is only one step on the path to royalty. It is the idiot’s step, and it stretches to the horizon.”

-Ya’at death poem

“Ox faced, black-tongued, the Wheel Turning King is master of terrestrial powers and war arts. His dominance is unchallenged and he crushes the kings of mankind using only three of his fingers. He wields the legacy of the crimson eyed god with a blazing will and a heated brow. His mighty body is a gate to hold back heaven.

He will never touch royalty.”

-Psalms