Part VI: The Great Escape
Chapter 2: The Twins
Timeline: AO 295
With Baldur’s life about to be in shambles, let’s turn our attention back to his children. Truth be told old Baldur didn’t figure much more into my plans and I was ready to get rid of him. It was his kids who are far more interesting to me…
Hecla knew she was dressed a bit risqué for a princess. Her dress, a daring creation of black silk, clung to her curves, the fabric shimmering with each subtle movement. Her neckline plunged provocatively, and the hemline flirted with immodesty, leaving just enough to the imagination. The jewels around her neck and wrists sparkled in the dim light, drawing attention to her every gesture. As she reclined on the divan, her fingers traced lazy patterns on her exposed thigh, her eyes never leaving Hacktor, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
[Ah, my dear Hecla – although Hacktor was my star-student, I couldn’t have accomplished all my plans without his beautiful twin. Let me give you a taste of her mind as well – trust me, you won’t be disappointed].
The twins were sitting in Hecla’s parlor, one of the many rooms within her apartments in the palace at Rhokki Pass. Unapologetically elite, the room was a testament to the princess’ refined tastes, an opulent haven filled with rare treasures from across the realms. Rich tapestries, depicting the beauty of the mountains, adorned the walls, their colors vibrant in the flickering candlelight. The soft glow from the candelabras reflected off gilded frames and polished marble statues, casting intricate shadows that danced across the room. The scent of exotic spices and incense wafted through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of burning wood from the grand fireplace, adding a layer of sensory richness to the already sumptuous surroundings as the wealthy Drokka princess was half reclining on an expensive divan she’d had imported from far away Regalis Forest. The couch, stuffed with rare pazzierra leaves, was comfortable beyond compare and had cost Baldur a pretty penny to acquire.
“Father would never agree to war.” Hacktor shifted uneasily in his chair, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the armrest. He avoided Hecla’s gaze, his eyes drawn instead to the dancing flames in the fireplace. Hecla watched as he fought to maintain his composure, but the wily princess knew that the sight of her provocative attire and her sultry demeanor made it increasingly difficult for him. Every word she spoke, every gesture she made, pulled him further into the web of temptation and conflict.
“Perhaps not.” Hecla ran a finger up her leg. “Unless he was forced to.”
“I asked him point blank and he denied me. Would you have me threaten him? That’s absurd.”
“You mistake me, brother. Expand your horizons beyond just yourself for a moment — consider, if father believed the Derrka posed a real threat, he would have no choice but to go to war to protect our kingdoms, right?”
At that Hacktor finally looked at his twin, yet not with the desire Hecla wanted to see. Instead her brother’s face displayed only irritation. “Look, I realize that you’ve been on father’s council for more than a year, sister, but that hardly makes you an expert on war. The Derrka are always a threat, at least those of us in the know realize this, yet why would the great Baldur the Bashful change his mind now when he is so proud of his bedroom diplomacy instead?”
I shall overlook your insults, brother…for now, Hecla stewed inside, before replying, “What if our enemies had a weapon so powerful, one capable of such massive destruction, that it could threaten our very way of life? Would not father be forced to take military action then, General Hacktor?”
“Do they have such a weapon?” The prince suddenly showed a genuine interest in what his sister had to say – for he had a faith which made him ready to believe anything that served his purposes and left no room for doubt to dim his desires.
[Don’t you see why Hacktor was the perfect pawn for me? In men like him, doubt never undermines their capacity for action because a powerful faith is joined to a narrowness of thought – it is in this soil that Fanaticism flourishes – especially with a gardener like me!]
You are too easy. Hecla lightly brushed a hand over her dress to cover her legs. “Perhaps they do.”
“Please tell me you’re not talking about Monty and Thork’s insane plot to kill people with the ‘shrooms and Duktyr’s deadly Quvid herbs.”
“Hardly.” Hecla laughed, waving that absurdity away. “On that I think we agree – Fukbyl Gaatz and Duktyr Fowczi should have their heads removed for their crimes.”
“Instead they are praised by the merchants and I fear father is going to be sucked into their plans. Baldur is robbing our people of the glory of the afterlife. Should a man die in battle, he’ll go to Kawkawzuz to help Rhokki in his quest to defeat Baal – my war can provide them that glory. Yet Monty and his minions would see them die in ignomy – whether that be through poverty, old age, or even Duktyr’s herbs – its all the same. And we both know Lord Aric’s family will profit from the pain. Don’t you see – our people are losing their souls under Baldur’s reign.”
Hecla shrugged. “Losing our souls, brother? That’s a bit much don’t you think? Can’t you see Monty and Thork are merely playing the games of the elites under the guidance of The Ruks. What’s their current game – too many people? What does it matter? Whether the population is really out of control is besides the point. If the wealthy want to remove a few peasants and steal their money, it won’t affect us.”
“But don’t you care about the people? They adore you, Hecla.”
“I am a royal – I show the people my face a few times a year and they worship me. That’s the extent of my relationship with the rabble. The only thing I care about is our family – and by that I mean you and I. We’re living in dangerous times. Let’s not deceive ourselves. Our family may hold the throne, but we don’t have all the power. Baldur may be Kon-Herr, I may be on the High Council, and you may have Mirkir’s ear, but the fates of our family are still ruled by those ancient families who prefer to stay out of the limelight – with the Ruks, Busz, and the Naves chief among them. Our father believes he rules this kingdom and that the elites do his bidding, but he is a fool – Kon-Herrs will do the bidding of the ancient families or else they be removed. You need only look at the Boma’s and Kyndyz to confirm that.”
“If I ever become Kon-Herr, I’ll break that cycle. I won’t be ruled by the rich or poor. I’ll do what Rhokii commanded us or die trying!”
“I believe you, Hacktor.” Hecla’s eyes shined with passion. “And I want to help you get what you want.”
“How, sister? Quit the games and tell me what you know! Will there be war or not?”
“I will tell you all, brother, if you will only listen. But first I must know – do you still trust me, brother?”
The prince did not immediately reply, yet for the first time since he’d returned to the palace more than a month ago Hacktor looked his sister in the eye — and with that unspoken connection only shared by twins, Hecla was certain that her brother still cared for her… still wanted her. So Mirkir has not succeeded in burning the fire out of you? Well perhaps I have that much to be thankful for. And the princess trailed a lazy finger down the trim that lined her bosom.
Yet Hacktor’s next words surprised her. “Hecla, why would you want to help me? Why should I trust you? And for Kalypzo’s sake, put some clothes on.”
The princess pouted, Mirkir’s hold is stronger than I hoped. “Hacktor, what happened to you? To us? Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten me? Once I heard that Mirkir was setting you free, I thought that surely you’d come rushing to me the moment you returned. It’s been too long, my dearest. Ten years without you. Yet you’ve always been on my mind. We’ve lost so much time. I’ve missed you. Please say the same.”
Hacktor looked away, avoiding the desperate gaze of Hecla’s green eyes. “I can’t. What we did was wrong.”
“Did you tell Mirkir about us?” Hecla felt at once repulsed and betrayed. “By Baal, you did! Hacktor how could you?”
“The Wyze One knows all. It wasn’t hard for him to figure that out about us. He knew without my having to tell him.”
“Ha, he tricked you into telling him. The old letch. It was a sin to separate us. Nobody understands you like I do, Hacktor. Don’t you remember our pact?”
“That we shall rule Mittengarten — as Kon-Herr and Queen — the greatest the world has ever known.”
“Nobody can stop us unless you let them, Hacktor.” Hecla stood up, walking slowing towards her brother. The political stakes were high and their family’s power hung in the balance. Yet, beneath the political maneuvering, Hecla could still feel a raw, personal undercurrent – the air between them was charged, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down like a heavy mantle on what was in the past, and what could still be in the future. Her words dripped with seduction as she added, “The world is ours for the taking. And I am still yours — I always have been. Come, let’s partake of each other in the way we’ve both longed for.” And Hecla tore open her dress, revealing herself to her brother, “Take what you’ve been missing for so long.”
The Apocrypha of Azazel 