Solomon

There was a famous method of psychological torture employed by Meridian Churchmen of the 10th century. Though never given an official name due to its discontinued practice, it would later be called Solomon .

Though, calling it a game was rather misleading. It was something closer to a humiliation ritual. A private execution.

Players would draw a flash card from the deck, then write a number between one and ten on said card underneath the table. At the start of each round, they would guess the opponents number.

The difference between the guessed number and the hidden number determined how many pills the loser would swallow.

Twenty pills were split between two participants. Within each pill was a powdered poison, odorless and flavorless. It wouldn’t kill you, at least not immediately, but the accumulation of seven or more pills meant irreversible nerve damage. Ten meant death.

“So, boy…what’ll it be?”

The elderly man known as Athene Noctua, Divine General of the Fifth Seat, sat before me with a condescending smirk, beckoning me to the gamble.

Two days had passed since the seizure of the Gaulf Strait. With Mai’wen unavailable and our forces weakened, Lieutenant Sahyat was temporarily granted the status of General. We marched through the ruined strait and circled around to District 18, meeting Athene Noctua and ending the deadlock.

With our combined forces, we rode along the Marthide River to the higher districts in preparation for the final battle. Under these circumstances, I’d usually take time to myself, burying my head in the closest novel I could find. However, it seemed that today was not my lucky day.

An unpleasant man, a deplorable man, had beckoned me with the wave of a hand, his offer, a friendly game. He sat in the small, green tent with the eyes of a devil.

It was a stupid idea, an activity I'd usually dismiss as a pass time of fools, yet this man’s presence was strong, oppressively so. Every word was laced with boastful confidence and nonchalant detachment befitting an overgrown child. Never too serious, yet entirely too serious. How could a successful man harbor such an abhorrent self-view? An ego to surpass even the highest of warriors.

Thus, I could not dismiss his call. This man was attacking me with a lethal blow, a blow to my very being . Backing out felt impossible. Retreat was no longer an option.

I had been tainted by the devil’s wiles.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “They’re sugar pills. Nothin’ to worry about. So why not humor this old man?”

“Alright then,” I replied. “Let’s play.”

“Kehehehe…” His laugh was nasal and high-pitched; its very emanation triggered a guttural reaction of disgust. “Say, kid. You look like a smart one. So how about this. My first number will be 5.”

“...”

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“Is it necessary to talk with you any further? I dislike banter (with you, at least).”

The old man did not relent when faced with my crassness. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it. “‘Course it is! Games are no fun if there ain’t a little banter. Let’s crack loose and have fun, eh?”

“Very well then. I will also draw 5.”

“...”

“...”

Seconds of stiff silence seemed to stretch for eternity.

“Check,” he said. We revealed our cards, each bearing the number “5.”

“He! Seems you’re more cool-headed than I thought,” He snarled. “I pegged you as the emotional type, little hero.”

“You must have gotten a false impression of me at the Royal Castle. I am more than capable of restraint.”

“Ke…Kehehehe! You know, any ordinary person would have overthought my declaration of ‘five.’ What if I lied? What if I told the truth? They start skittering like rats, thinkin’ stupid shit like that. From there, its easy to fuck with ‘em.”

“And what exactly have you ascertained about me?”

“Well, you ain’t an idiot, that’s for sure, but you ain’t all that intelligent.”

“I can neither affirm nor deny your assessment.”

“Then let's get started, shall we?”

The second round began, and with it, our declarations.

“I will draw five once again.”

“...Boring guy, huh? Alright, then I’ll go with eight.”

We revealed our cards. Mine was 7, and he was 10.

“Yikes! Looks like ya got an unlucky kid. You got a deviation of five; you’re what that means, yeah?”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.”

I grabbed five of my ten pills from the line up, swallowing them whole. Athene swallowed one. It seemed I had misread the situation. No, it wasn’t that. He was the one who read me. Seven. A number chosen by countless people who wished to appear neither reckless nor timid. Before I had realized it, my hand had already written it.

It must have been a subconscious choice, a reaction built upon preconceived notions. He knew that I would choose seven, or perhaps any high number, and reacted accordingly.

The old man shook his head. “Yeah, just as I said. Not too dumb, but not too bright.”

“...Do you get some sort of pleasure out of irritating me?”

“More than you think.”

“I can see why you don’t get along with anyone.”

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve?”

“...” I deigned to reply.

“Kehehehe!”

My fingers tightened at the edge of the table. “Would you stop that incessant laughter? What about me is so funny?”

“What about you isn’t laughable, little hero?”

“...”

“You parade around as this grand savior. The strong man. The righteous man. The sort of fool who thinks history bends around his footsteps. But that ain't you. If you’re asking me, you would've been happier if nobody had ever expected anything from you. Not saying that a bad thing, of course. An average, upstanding man is alright in my book, but you refuse to walk away. Why is that?”

“Am I obligated to give my reasons to you, sir? You know my purpose well. I will become the Legendary Hero. I have nothing more to say to you.”

“Bullshit.” His voice was harsher than before. Sharper. “That ain’t you. If it were, then why aren’t you satisfied with yourself?”

“...Excuse me?”

“Oh come on. Do I need to explain everything to you? I can tell that it’s weighing on your mind. The strait, I mean.”

I lowered my gaze. “I suppose there’s no point in keeping it a secret then.”

“So, what? What do you feel about it? Let me hear it. I already know the answer anyway, just wanna hear it from your mouth.”

“...” I felt no obligation to share anything about my personal life with this man. Her very presence was slick and toxic like poison. I’d be best to focus on the game. “Draw your card.”

“See? Doin’ it again kid. Running away the moment things become inconvenient.”

“Draw.”

“You wanna play the hero? Go ahead. Won’t stop ya. But don’t go around sobbing about it like a woman.”

“...Draw.”

“Heros must triumph over evil. That’s just the way it is, and you can’t go around whining about every little person you can’t save, or even worse, every little person you kill. A hero should laugh as he runs his enemies through, knowing that his way was just, was righteous.”

“...”

“Or hell, maybe you like killing. Hell, that’s fine too! But if you love it so much, then indulge a bit more, would ya? Torment your victims a little. Laugh at them as they cry for mercy.”

“—!” My body sprang up with an electric jolt, skin covered in cold sweat. “I’ve had enough of this game. It was a waste of time.”

“Well, if that’s what you want, then I ain’t gonna stop ya, but answer me this,” he said, hand stroking his chin. “Do you like killing?”

I froze. “No…not in particular.”

“Heh! We really won’t get along then. I just adore killing.”

“...” I ignored his harrowing words and left the encampment, my head lowered in defeat.

I lost.

Unequivocally.

Undeniably.

That man, Athene Noctua, had played me for a fool, and I could do nothing to stop it.