LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void 2/Despair, Ye Mighty!
The explosions were distant, but the closest detonations' wrathful roars reached the barrier-sealed balcony where Chen sat. They instilled almost imperceptible ripples in the energy field's surface. He contemplated their tranquil artistry while he waited for the call to come. It wouldn't be long now. Things were drawing to a conclusion which fate might soon make inevitable.
"Poet."
He stood up, turned around, and bowed. The lone guard was one he hadn't seen before. She held out the cuffs. This time no gun pointed at his chest, but that only signified that he was in the eye of the storm. He took them from her and put them on. Glowing blue bands encircled his wrists.
The palace was different. Servants and warriors ran to and fro in the ornate passages, the former like headless chickens and the latter with grim determination written on their faces. The word "Culthana!" came from many lips as whisper, curse, shout, or warning. Chen's own guardswoman said nothing -- but she exchanged the occasional nod with a battle-sister on the way to the Tyraness' relaxation room.
As before, sixteen screens parted the chamber. Battles raged on every one of them. Mobs of civilians hurled flaming bottles through windows, or charged to their destruction against amazonian warriors. Rival aircraft streaked the skies with spiraling contrails and flashing blasts of light. Seven foot tall women sprayed gunfire or clashed with one another in savage melee combat. Some had daubed gold paint on their armor to mark their allegiance.
A vase flew from the assorted images like treasure spat out by the sea. Chen moved aside and let it smash on the floor. The holographic projection disappeared, revealing the Tyraness in her plush seat -- looking around for something else to throw. Only a pair of guards were in the room this time, one on either side of the chair. Zhao Chen had heard enough to know that the others were off bolstering the defenses or else fighting in the streets.
The poet crossed the room. His escort followed.
"Poet! It's about time you got here!" the Tyraness said. She looked at the guardswoman who'd brought him. "You -- go do something useful. Culthana's traitors are out there! Kill them! Bring me her head!"
"But, Tyraness, I-"
"Go!"
She nodded and left. The Tyraness returned her attention to Chen.
"Have you read any Aristophanes, poet?"
"Of course, my mighty ruler queen,
Many of his works have I-"
"He said children have teachers to instruct them, but adults have poets. So teach me! Share your wisdom. And it had better be good, or I'll have them pull out your brain so I can smash it with a hammer!"
Chen winced. His wrists itched beneath their bonds.
I spoke with a free woman once a slave,
Who told me that a fair visage lay smashed,
Mid the vain magnificence of a grave,
A haughty smirk from stone features long dashed,
Submerged beneath mocking time's drifting wave,
Where frivolous whim ruled and men trembled,
Quaking at each vile and monstrous decree;
Savage legions had there been assembled,
But a worn dusty epitaph now reads:
"I forbid bubblegum, listen to me,
Whose unyielding edicts govern your deeds!"
Yet who remembers such lunatic laws,
Or the proud monuments smothered by weeds?
The unthinking sands have buried her claws.