Author's Note: After reading it over a few more times, I decided my first chapter didn't start with enough of a bang. So here's a bit of a prologue, to (hopefully) get people interested quickly.
King of Babylon
Dark Sploosh
Chapter 0: Good Old Days
The young king stared at the city before him, its towers rising to the heavens, the island it sat upon flat yet majestic, and the waters lapping at its edges the perfect reflection of the dark sky above. Taking it all in, all the king could do was laugh to himself. Never in his twenty years had he imagined he would rule it.
Or anything, for that matter.
Their fleet was waiting within a thick fog, the gap which the king observed the city through disappearing with the winds. It didn’t matter. The city would be his by morning.
He heard footsteps behind him on the deck of the boat.
“Master,” a deep voice said, “invasion can begin any moment. Only need your word.”
The king smiled to himself, a strong breeze blowing away the fog and sending the magnificent red cape he wore billowing about him. Fantastic clothes, an army, all the women and girls he could ever want. Soon a city, a city of his own. Life was good.
“My word, huh?” the king said, unable to take his eyes off the soon-to-be capital of his new world. “Well then. Begin.”
At that, the tall figure behind the king nodded and gave the signal. The other ships all saw, and they began the charge forward, slicing through the remaining fog. Their speed was unmatched by any other vessel in the world. This world, anyway.
The capital ship, which the king’s observation deck was situated on, held back. The fighting would be fun, of course, but the king wasn’t ready to enter the fray yet. For now, he just wished to watch his conquest begin before his eyes.
In seconds the citizens of that metropolis would see their end hurtling towards them on the dark waters, and they would have no idea what to do. An attack of this kind had never been carried out on the city. No country on Earth was that suicidal.
“It’s a good thing I don’t have my own country yet, then,” the king chuckled.
“Master,” the tall man said, “glad you’re happy. Dreams will soon come true.”
“No,” the king replied, shaking his head. “Not soon. It will take time. One city won’t make up an empire. But from here the rest of the country will fall. The world shouldn’t be much worse.”
“Read once that other humans have tried,” the man grunted. “Failed.”
“Napoleon, the Mongols, Alexander, those guys, huh?” The king sighed. His servant was a valuable ally, but he sometimes forgot the outstanding nature of their situation. “Well, they never possessed the power I have.”
“True,” the servant said. “But that was long time ago. Possible they did have it, in older days. Our gift isn’t absolute, master.”
Suddenly, the cannons fired in the distance. Bright lights peppered the city, leaving clouds of dust and smoke in their wake. If he strained his ears, the king could almost make out the screaming of the citizens under fire.
“Once our forces land, make sure they focus on the citizens over everything else,” the king ordered. “I want them all accounted for. Everyone over thirty should be killed on sight.”
“Forgive me, master, but our troops don’t know humans well. Could be hard to tell ages.”
“They’ve seen me enough, and the human slaves we already possess. Just let them guess. A few dead teenagers and children won’t bother me.”
“Yes, master. And what should we do with the those we don’t kill?”
The king smiled, turning to face his inhuman servant. He possessed the shape of a man, was tall and muscular, but had skin of an unnaturally dark color, like coal. At least it was that color here, in good light. In the darkness, the servant’s full inhumanity became obvious.
“All the males and the ugly girls should be put to work as laborers. All the attractive girls will go join the rest in my brothels.”
The servant frowned.
“Once again, master, don’t quite know what constitutes human female beauty.”
The king shrugged, walking back to his throne. Three of his slave girls were chained, naked, to the massive ivory chair. Perhaps a bit cliche, but that was understandable. Something so fun would no
doubt have been copied by any sensible ruler.
“See these?” the king said, gesturing to the girls. “These are your examples. Really, I thought most of our men had gone through all the slave girls we had before I even arrived on the scene. They’ll know. You don’t give them enough credit.”
The servant shrugged, his frown set firmly on his face.
“What’s wrong?” the king asked, taking a seat on the throne. He lazily reached out to stroke the bare skin of one of the girls. She flinched at his touch. Sighing, he pulled away.
“Want to fight, master,” the servant said.
The king stared at his servant’s smoky eyes for a moment, and then laughed.
“That’s all? You could have said something earlier. Yes, go fight. Have fun.”
The frown rose up into a grin. The servant bowed deeply.
“Thank you,” he said. Turning, he walked out of the observation deck, stepping into the night. But he could still be seen, for he had changed.
Twisting and flickering from somewhere inside his body was a flame, smoldering his skin and emitting a blazing glow. He looked almost as if he was on fire.
The people of that city will beg for their lives seeing an entire army of those charging at them, the king thought.
“Hey!” the king shouted, suddenly getting an idea. The burning head of the servant turned back.
“Master?”
“I want to use my second one, now.”
The servant nodded.
After thinking quickly of what to say, the king stood up from his throne and held out his hand.
“I wish for a magnificent tower in the center of that city, rising above all other structures in the world, from where I can live in luxury and rule all the lands I will conquer.”
The moment the final word escaped his lips, a piece of the servant’s burning flame separated from his body. It streaked towards the city like a shooting star, piercing the fog and all the piercing in its way. It disappeared into the heart of the buildings in the distance, but seconds later a deep rumbling shook air.
As the king watched his tower rise from the Earth, rocketing to its apex above the rest of the city, laughter wracked his body. He could not remember a single moment in his life before now that he had ever been this happy.
With a dismissive wave, he gave the servant permission to fight. The fiery man leapt into the ocean and began to swim towards the battle. A ridiculous act, but a testament to his species’ physical prowess.
The servant had earned his fun. The king returned to his throne, petting the hair of the girl who had earlier shook at his touch. She did not reject him this time.
The king stared at the city before him, and felt almost as if it was the return of a dear old friend the world had lost thousands of years before. He waved at the explosions of battle and his tower rising above it all, smiling.
“Welcome back,” he said.
.
.
