Remembrance
History is made of moments; a series of interconnected instants that, when viewed separately, showed fragments of lives across the ages, but once considered as one greater whole, displayed tales of glory and tragedies alike that not one mere event could hope to encompass.
Nevertheless, history is also made by people, and it is their tales, their laughter and tears, that shapes it. The feelings of men have created and brought down civilisations; Troy fell because of the weakness of one man’s heart.
What tales the universe has witnessed, what love and what sorrow, is something that one person can never hope to comprehend. Nevertheless, a single of them can still be told.
If not for understanding, then for remembrance.
**
They met within a garden of glass one sweltering summer night, illuminated by the thousand artificial stars set alight by the Emperour’s grace.
He came to watch the flowers open in the morning, tired of studying the treatises of old philosophers. His soul wandered freely amongst the blossoming plants, taking in their sights and fragrances, so beautiful and enchanting.
He came to relax after his training, surrounded by the beauty of nature, the few wonders that mankind has managed to save across the aeons. His mind was a martial one; harsh and severe, yet not immune to the ephemeral splendour of the great gardens.
They met by accident; as one of them took a combat stance and started going through the motions of his daily practice to hone his flawlessly-sculpted body even further, the other took a break from his wanderings and watched him from a balcony.
He felt something move deep within him; as he saw the smooth flow of punches and kicks, of jumps and stretches performed amidst the sea of flowers, each individual muscle moving in perfect harmony, uncovered by cloth or armour, it was as if someone took his breath away.
For the longest time, he did not move, nor so much as whisper, not wanting to disrupt the wonderful moment, the instant frozen in time that was so enthralling.
Yet, he could no longer stop himself. Throwing all worries about propriety and caste aside, he jumped off the balcony, landing clumsily inside a bush.
The warrior stopped his practice, hands frozen in the middle of another dreadful blow.
The scholar stood up, wearing a lopsided grin on his face, shaking off a couple of leaves from his robes.
“Greetings, warrior. I am Euclid the fifteenth, of Nestor’s. Could you grace me with your name?”
“…Alexander.”
**
The accidental meeting soon turned into a friendship of sorts, and then, with the passage of time, into something more, as the two students, each so different in body and in mind, sought comfort and relief in each other.
As they rested together beneath the great peach tree, covered by the shadows cast by it branches, Euclid smiled, watching Alexander’s sleeping face. The genes of a warrior made him strong – so much stronger than Euclid could ever be – but he still looked so defenceless when he slept after the two of them made love.
It was like living in a dream, the unending summer haze, the warm rays of the suns and the sweat of two bodies becoming one only making it feel even more unreal, as if it was a soap bubble ready to burst.
Euclid put his book aside as he noticed that his companion woke up, his brilliant white smile slowly spreading across his face as the last bits of drowsiness faded away.
“That was great.”
Euclid returned the smile and leaned towards his lover.
“That it was. Think you’re ready for another go, oh noble warrior?”
Alexander laughed; a warm and hearty sound that made the scholar’s heart beat faster so many times.
“Are you sure you are just a scholar? You seem to have the stamina of a warrior, my friend.”
“Let’s check one more time, Alexander!”
Then the voices ceased, and the garden was filled with the sounds of laughter and pleasure alike.
**
As the years were on, so did their relationship develop. What has started out as physical infatuation slowly turned into something far deeper; a true connection between two souls, the kind of bond that last for lifetimes.
They studied together, helped each other when one of them got in trouble, comforted each other during the harsh times and enjoyed themselves when, by the Emperour’s grace, their fortunes were good.
Eventually, however, the time to part had come.
Euclid’s hand tightened around a box, his thoughts drifting towards its contents. It took him too long to decide to finally take this step – too long, and now the great Emperour Immortel’s royal command hovered over him like an executioner’s sword.
The brief physical love between a scholar and a warrior was something that could be allowed; could be safely ignored. Eros at its basest form saw little need for justification. But once it grew into something else and blossomed fully-
A love transcending castes, social roles and genetic speciation was not meant to be.
Nevertheless, in just that one brief remaining moment of time, if he could find Alexander, if they could be together just one more time, if he could explain his most heartfelt feelings to him, then he would be able to go on his woeful journey with a lighter heart, no matter what horrors he had to face.
But, by someone’s design or the whims of the fates, that was not meant to be.
**
Alexander dove aside, his armour’s artificial muscles straining to their limit, as the monstrous metal claw plunged through the air where his chest was just a moment ago. The entire armoured floor plate of his ship’s bridge folded like cheap tin foil in face of the monster’s overwhelming power.
He knew, though, that it was just delaying the inevitable. His men were dead, torn apart by the metal titan in front of him, his ship was crippled and his fleet was broken and dying. He was set forth by the divine command of the supreme specimen, the Emperour Immortel himself, but in the end, he failed and in his failure he dragged hundreds of thousands of good men to their grim ends.
He had failed them, failed the Saint-Empire and failed himelf.
With the last, futile cry of rage, he rushed the monster, his blade still glowing with its peculiar inner light. If he was to die, if the story of his life was to end amidst such catastrophe, then so be it; he would show that abomination, that cancer, that the warriors of the Saint-Empire do not die running away.
The creature met his assault and Alexander felt a tremendous pain within his chest as the thing’s claw slammed into his body, crushing him, breaking bone after bone as it closed its grasp.
His blade fell to the ground, broken and finally dead, his arms no longer able to hold it, as little help as it turned out to be.
The abomination’s lone, red eye burned into him with an intense stare, and for a moment he felt as if there was something resembling an emotion, a great sadness within the cold machine, and he could feel the monstrous grasp ease.
“Why won’t you finish me? I am defeated and broken; my men’s ashes are scattered amongst the star. Grant me at least this dignity.”
“I never stopped loving you, Alexander.”
The beast spoke in a voice that had a frightful element of familiarity to it, and memories from centuries past flooded his mind, even as his last air reserves slowly seeped through the cracks of his armour.
“…Euclid?”
“It is I.”
And with mere three words, his fears were suddenly confirmed, and tears flowed out of Alexander’s eyes unlike ever before, not even when he mourned his old friend and lover after the news of the disappearance of the expedition to the Grave World that he was sent on reached him.
“I see.” he paused for a moment, “Neither did I.”
There was so much to say, and so little time. The paths that each of them was forced to travel after their separation, the loneliness and the suffering that each of them had to go through once more, with nobody close to them who could advise them, comfort them…
So much.
But it was too late for words now, too late to stray for the paths ordained for them by the fates. Each had their pride; each chose their allegiance based on what they believed in, be that the eternal and unyielding Saint-Empire or the infinitely malleable forces of the Crumbling Tower that sought to tear apart all human society and rebuild it from the ashes. They would not dishonour each other by making light of that, of what they fought and bled for.
“…I have but one wish, my lover, if you would do a bitter enemy a favour.”
“I am listening.”
“I will soon die, one way or another. But if you could be the one to cut the thread of my life, I would be glad.”
The titan Euclid stood in silence for a moment that seemed to drag out into eternity, and then replied, great sadness in his voice.
“If such is your wish, Alexander, you who are the dearest for me.”
The great machine then drew his friend’s and lover’s body in, as if for a hug, and calmly, instantly, crushed his head.
He stood above his corpse in silence for a brief moment, then knelt beside him and left a small box within his hands, so tiny and fragile compared to the two giants.
“May you find peace in the Fortunate Isles, where there is neither winter nor war.”
He then left, leaving the corpse of his friend to float amongst the stars aboard the great derelict, one of the hundreds circling a long-forgotten star, amongst the men that he once led and with whom he died, never to return.