Every young man at one point desires an older man to take him under his wing and train him to become a better man. Whether we have a father or not, all men want to see true leadership in their lives when they are not yet capable of leading.

  Arn of the West had no such mentor. He had a patron in the Emperor whose seat was in the ancient city of Ji. With no life of his own and owing all he had to the Emperor, Arn did as he was bid to do. Such heinous crimes were committed with these hands. Payment for treachery highest among them. Yet, he felt that he was a traitor.

  As a storm raged outside of the palace, he cowered in fear comforted by Princess Li of Ji. She knew he would be like this, though the reason was not clear to her. Arn had always been afraid of storms.

  Arn was a man from Germania, pale and of an odd complexion in the eastern world. The ancient nation of Han looked far different, even the palest among them. They looked at him like they would a barbarian, tall and handsome but foreign. It was a wonder how Arn could speak and understand their language, a wonder to himself.

  To say that clutching the dear Princess would be a scandal, even when in such a meek and panicked state, would be unfitting. Only death could atone for that, by both people.

  “Be calm, Arn. Be calm.” She said to him as she petted his back. “The storm is fading. It will pass.”

  There was no answer. He just huddled closer and waited. The night dragged on and the princess slumbered, but Arn remained awake until the storm passed. When it did he let go and moved away from the woman. His breath slowed and the world slowed with it.

  I am a coward. He thought eyes downturned to his body. A fit and muscular one, maintained at the behest of his patron so he could be a decorative piece in the throneroom. Men from the nations surrounding Han would come to the palace and gawk at the treasures of the most powerful man in the east. At the center of the wealth, the Emperor’s throne and two statues of Jade carved in the shape of Yudi, the god of kings. Near that, his daughter and concubines. After them, creatures of uncommon looks and great rarity. At the center of those sat Arn, a western.

  As such, his name was known affectionately as Arnold the Westlander, palest and rarest of all beasts in the east. No man east of the Himalayas had seen a westerner, pale or dark, in a hundred years. The men from the east who had seen them never returned from their travels, or so the story goes. The roads from Ji still stood from where they were five hundred years ago, and the trade still flowed. Less than it was before, but it still flowed.

  Arn was a prize piece of the Emperor’s collection, a rarity none would ever find on this end of the earth. And yet, Arn was an item which held many values, the greatest being his tongue. Upon this earth, there was no word nor writing which Arn could not decipher. Not even the greatest polyglots in the Empire of Han could understand how he could hold such vast knowledge. Arn could not either.

  For such a gift, the Emperor used him greatly to understand when foreign men would try to take from his purse or deal honestly. When there were lies in a language the Emperor could not understand, Arn extracted payment. With a sword in hand, that payment was made in blood.

  Such power and honor bestowed upon a man who did not believe in Yudi, who did not hold fast to the mandate of kingship offered to his greatest follower. Power given to a man who believed in truth, not the emperor.

  Yet with all that was given, with all that Arn held to, he still found himself alone with a woman who was not promised to him. A traitor and a coward, that is what Arn was, and that was who he knew himself to be.

  What should I do? He searched in his mind for an answer. The world became clearer. Fine silk and woven tapestries rich with red and verdant colors, adorned with jewels that were priceless to the citizenry. All of this surrounded Arn’s plush bed in the small room he called his home. And upon that bed was the girl he knew for thirteen years while he was a client of the emperor. Have I not suffered enough? Why must I persist in seeing her?

  In the night, the princess would steal away to him to opine about their love, one that he truly did share. Time from childhood had made their hearts grow closer, yet never close enough that they became one. Arn would not allow it. What little piece of him that had not given up and resigned himself to be a piece of the emperor’s collection, it constrained him.

  Certainly the feeling of her calming hands during the thunder soothed him, but what would that lead to? Treason of the highest order. Against the people of Han, the nobles, the emperor, and himself.

  With that final thought, Arn resigned himself to follow conscience, to follow his god, against his better judgement. He dressed in the garb given to him by the emperor and made for the throne room, leaving a sleeping princess alone in his room.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  When he arrived he called for an audience, one of the earliest recorded in the history of Han. In the dead period where he stood before the throne, quiet and solemn, guards with their spears slowly trickling into the room, he prayed. Arn prayed for absolution, the same prayer he offered since he woke up thirteen years ago. Perhaps there would be absolution in Ji.

  Emperor Qi of Ji entered the room, his family name old and storied just as his shrinking frame was. As the young heir, he led armies to victory in the name of his father. The crown was uncontested when he claimed it, and the whole land named him emperor. Arn had heard from many who write histories that Emperor Qi’s reign will be remembered as one of the greatest in the history of the empire, save one thing.

  He produced no heir but his lone daughter. Every wife he took was barren or died during childbirth, taking the poor child with them. Many in the land would whisper about how this was an omen from Yudi that the era was changing, favor from his heavenly hand had been rescinded and a new family— even a new god perhaps— might take the throne. What will he think when I tell him?

  The wrinkled and grayed man took his seat upon his throne next to the statues of his god. When he looked, he saw the many red columns upholding the roof, the floors made of fine stone that were smooth to the touch, and his prize possession.

  “Westlander, why have you called an audience?” Emperor Qi spoke in a slow and harsh way.

  “I could not wait another moment to speak with Your Imperial Highness.” Arn said in tongue he did not feel truly familiar with. Yet, it flowed off his tongue like a rushing river. The emperor said nothing, so Arn continued. “I have betrayed you, and I can no longer continue.”

  “What have you done?” The emperor asked, motioning for the guards to stand at attention. His elderly body was taught, and whatever weariness was in him vanished.

  “I have done nothing but kept a secret. I have become enraptured by your daughter, and though I never pursued her, I allowed her to come closer to me.”

  The old ruler stood suddenly, as fast as he had in years. His face flush with anger and worry. Arn knew then that there would be no mercy from his patron.

  “You lie. You must.” The emperor said, shocked. “My daughter would never debase herself to you, you craven. You are an insignificant possession, and she is my loyal daughter. I will have your tongue and hang your body in the streets.”

  “She is in my chambers as we speak.” Arn said, loud enough to be heard over Emperor Qi’s rage. He bowed his head in shame. “She came to comfort me in the storm. She has for years.”

  “Go, go find her. Take her to her chambers.” Qi yelled at one of his guards. “Take him and strip him. Give me your spear.”

  Half-a-dozen men descended upon Arn and took him. They tore his garments and cast him upon the floor naked and cold. There would be no comfort anymore. When Arn tried to push himself from the ground, his back was cut by the side of a spear. The Emperor had descended and was beating him with a spear. He had not stabbed Arn yet, but he feared that such a kindness would soon end. One of the guards who had left to find the princess returned to the room.

  “The princess was there, Emperor.” He said, breathing hard from his rushing. “She pleads for this man’s life.”

  “You have defiled her!” Qi struck Arn harder and harder. “You disgrace me. I took you in and gave you riches no man could possess but me. I gave you sanctuary, and you betray me.”

  Soon, the beating stopped, and Arn laid bloody on the floor. He was alive and not yet broken. The Emperor cast away the spear and returned to his throne.

  “Do not let my daughter leave her chambers.” He said without question. Qi glared at the pale man who had served him for so many years. “You disgust me. You were not even fit for the spear I held to touch you. Why did you come to me? Did you not have the dignity to flee?”

  Arn did not speak at first. He focused on his breathing, attempting to regain his senses fully. After a moment, he forced himself to his stomach and pushed his chest off the floor before he spoke.

  “I did not flee because I owe my life to Your Majesty.” He answered, raising his eyes to see the old man. “I did not flee for your daughter’s honor, which has not been defiled. A husband will still have her and be the first to have her. I stayed to assure you of that.”

  The Emperor said nothing, just staring into Arn’s light eyes. Their gazes met, and there was no love between them. No amount of service nor patronage could bridge the true gap between them.

  “Let all who are here witness, this man, Arnold the Westlander, has betrayed his emperor. He and his god have lost favor with Yudi, and I as Yudi’s most favored man. I will cast this craven into the depth of darkness until I dispense true justice upon him. Take him. Take him away.”

  Arn felt hands take his shoulders and arms and drag him away to a dark room where guards stood inside and out. His consciousness faded until cold water was thrown upon him. In that room, Qi stood over him with a look of disgust.

  “You are only alive because you spoke the truth. The followers of Guanyin have begun to cry for mercy after my daughter’s purity was assured.” He kicked Arn in the side lightly before speaking again. “You are a stupid man. A stupid, stupid man, without any honor to speak of. Know this, you are only alive because you spoke the truth. I will not execute you, but I will brank you with a mark, and all of my empire will know that to kill you is to receive a great reward. Soon the whole of the world will know you as a bounty to be collected.”

  The Emperor turned and walked out, and the same guards who drug him into this dark room took him outside the palace and dumped him into the dirt of the street before it. Arn’s feet never again stepped upon the stones of Ji’s palace. Before dawn had yet risen, the westerner forced himself to his feet and ran into the darkness of the city, and eventually into the wilderness outside of its walls. He stole clothes from the poor citizens to hide himself, but not the mark upon his neck, given to him while he slept in captivity.

  Arn disappeared, never to be seen again in Ji, though rumors of his travels in the west would soon make their way back to the Emperor and his court. The whispers of the town spoke of him as a pale ghost who stole from town to town, seducing fine ladies and stealing from their fathers. No matter if the truth was that Arn had never debased Princes Li of Ji. The whispers of the people of Han spoke of him as a philanderer thief, one who would escape the sword of the empire.