Heng VII

PA 1 – March

The meeting between the leaders of the Scarlet Tree Tribe and the White Mammoth Tribe was set up midway between the two camps. As a ceremonial ‘first meeting’ of the tribes, only the chieftains were allowed to go, as both a means of building trust and a means of insurance. If one of the two tribes betrayed the truce, then only the chief was lost, giving the rest of the tribe time to prepare to fight or flee.

Personally, Heng didn’t like this tradition, though he’d admit that stemmed mostly from the fact he’d be the one dying if things went wrong.

Also, apparently, it was traditional that they had to be naked for this? It was some symbolic thing where both chiefs would ‘bare their secrets to each other, revealing all that is hidden so that they may cooperate free and unburdened in the future!’ Nudity, apparently, promoted cooperation.

It took him several hours, but he managed to talk the Elders down into allowing him a pair of linen underwear (under the argument that the other chief certainly wouldn’t be following that custom and wouldn’t expect him to either). He did not manage to talk them into allowing him anything else.

That had been, somehow, the most controversial demand he’d ever made as chieftain. He still wasn’t sure why.

And so, with not even the clothes on his back, Heng arrived at the meeting place; a small, practically nonexistent hill situated between the two tribes. And there, kneeling between the waist-high grass in wait, was the Chieftain of the Scarlet Tree.

He was… less impressive than he’d expected, yet somehow felt almost more dangerous for it. He was, for one thing, completely naked, making Heng somehow feel even more awkward about all this. That lack of clothes in turn revealed pasty white skin covered from head to toe in both freckles and strange, bloody-red tattoos. A long mane of wild scarlet hair fell freely down to his waist. He was thin and lanky, with long arms and legs that, when crouched down as he was, made him look almost inhuman.

They locked eyes, and Heng coughed awkwardly. “…Um, hi?”

The man grunted. Like, a full-on, animalistic grunt. “So, you are the chieftain of the White Mammoths? …Funny, you’re shorter than I expected.”

Heng blinked, uncertain how to respond to that.

“Well, no matter. I see a man before me who has followed the traditions of the local tribes.” Then the other chief glanced down. “…Well, to the extent you are comfortable with, at least. Mark me curious. I wonder, why did you do so? For what reason do you have for following this tradition?”

…This was not going how Heng had expected this to go.

“Um, the Elders told me it was important? I mean, I didn’t really want to, but they were all adamant about it so…”

The other man cocked his head to the side. “…Fascinating. Why did you come here like this, if you didn’t want to? You’re the chief, are you not? The King? Couldn’t you have just ordered them to let you come as you please? Why did the King bow to the peasants?”

“…I don’t appreciate you calling my people peasants,” Heng frowned, pushing down a sudden surge of annoyance. It wasn’t so much about that in particular, but about everything this meeting had become. Wasn’t this was supposed to be a peace meeting, not an interrogation? “And I am not a King.”

For some reason that felt like the wrong thing to say. Or, perhaps, the right thing to say. The other chief’s eyes suddenly locked onto his, real interest sparkling in them. “Oh-ho? Not a King, you say? If you are not a King, then what are you?”

“Um, ah, I’m a chieftain? Like you?”

“So you are a chieftain, but not a King? What an odd distinction. Aren’t those just different words for the same things?”

“…I mean, I guess? But a King is just… not what I am. I’m in charge, yeah, but I’m not like, a King, you know? The Elders still do most of the heavy lifting running the tribe, y’know? …Is that, is that not how it works in your tribe?”

The red-headed chieftain stared silently up at Heng from his place on the ground. Then, quietly, he began to laugh.

“I see!” he chuckled lowly. Then, with a swift movement, he stood up, revealing his tall and lanky body to be even taller and lankier than Heng had thought. He towered over Heng, the Asian man only barely reaching his chest. “I see! And here I had thought this world was filled with nothing more than tyrants and dictators! To think, I would meet a fellow like-minded individual after so long a search!”

“…Um,” Heng asked, totally lost. “What?”

“Ah, I’m getting ahead of myself,” the other man shook his head. “I apologize for forgoing introductions earlier, I’d assumed I’d be killing you today. I am Michael, Chieftain of the Scarlet Tree Tribe. May I have your name?”

“Heng. Also, what do you mean you were going to kill me!?”

“Semantics,” Michael waved him off. “I’m no longer going to, anyway. You see, Heng, the conversation we just had has shown me to be in error. Now, I am looking for something much more important than death. I am looking for an alliance.”

“…Okay, I know I still don’t get all this politicking stuff,” Heng began slowly, raising his hands in a ‘time-out’ gesture. “But how did you go from wanting to kill me to wanting an alliance?”

Michael sighed, but didn’t seem overly disappointed. “I’m sorry, I should have guessed it wouldn’t be as obvious to you as it was to me. But you don’t seem too far gone, yet at least. Very well, I’ll enlighten you. You see, Heng of the White Mammoth tribe, we both remember the old world, yes? That rotting, corrupt, catastrophe of a planet on the verge of crumbling under its own weight?”

“Yes…? I don’t know if I’d go that far, but…”

“I would,” Michael shook his head slowly. “That world was dying. The environment was dying. People were dying. Morality was dying. Untold people suffered every day in that world, nothing more than slaves, both corporate and traditional. Senile and corrupt politicians ruled nations, selling their own people to corporations to satisfy their petty greed. Racism, sexism, and so many other types of hatred ran unchecked, people beaten in the streets of every nation for the crime of being different! There was no freedom, no safety! It was tyranny masquerading as democracy!”

Heng blinked, wide-eyed. “Um, I…”

“But then I was brought here!” Michael shouted, throwing his arms wide. “Here to this world! This beautiful, breathtaking world, unsullied by man! Where people lived free lives of bliss and happiness, unbound by societal conventions! No laws, no corporations, no taxes! Just man in his natural state!”

Heng swallowed, unsettled by the other man’s… enthusiasm. “But then why did you say you wanted to kill me, if you were so against that in the old world!?”

“Ah…” he blushed lightly, seeming contrite. “That’s because I was foolish. I judged before I had even known you—before I realized you could be salvaged. You see, a little while after I arrived in this world, I met another like us. Another Immortal. But he… he was a tyrant,” Michael snarled. “He’d embraced his newfound powers with gusto. He instilled foreign laws and cultures on his subjects, treating them more like toys than actual people. He called himself a King, waging war for territory and plopping down borders on poorly drawn maps without hesitation. Without a care in the world, he brought back every awful institution that ruined lives in the old world without a second’s hesitation! He was a cruel, despicable tyrant.”

Michael’s eyes glinted dangerously, and a scowl spread across his face. “And so, I killed him.”

“You… killed him?” Heng whispered numbly, that menacing number in the back of his head suddenly rearing its way to the forefront of his mind. He wondered, suddenly, which number the man this Michael had killed had been.

“Yes, I did.” The man let out an almost tired sigh. “Please, don’t think less of me for it. I hate that it happened, but it had to be done. You see, if there’s one thing I’ve realized over these past few years, it’s that civilization was a mistake. Nothing good had ever come from it, only pain and suffering for the vast majority of humanity. And it is a mistake I will not allow us to make again.”

“But then… why do you want an alliance with me? If you don’t want civilization, then…”

Michael scowled, turning to glare off into the distance. “…It’s unfortunate, but that man was not the only one of his kind. To the east there is a great river, one which all others flow into. And it is drenched with the stain of civilization. …However, I am not arrogant enough to believe that I could destroy them alone. So I have been building up an army. Hundreds of men and women from across the plains have already agreed to my cause, especially after I freed them from their tyrannical dictators. But I am only one man, one leader, and there is only so much I can do. But with you however…”

The other Chieftain gave him a solemn smile, holding out a hand. “You are no tyrant. I see it in the way you speak, in the way you talk of your own people. You are no more lord than any of your Elders. You chose the path not of the King, but of the man. And I admire you for it. So, Heng of the White Mammoth Tribe, I ask you once again. Would you join me as an ally, to fight against the oppressive tyranny of the God-Kings? Would you join me, in my righteous crusade against all civilization?”

Heng stared down at the hand for a long moment. He had never given much thought to what was going on outside his little sphere of influence. The Elders squabbled, the people worked, and he lived each day as they came. But now, with this man and his grand ideals…

Slowly, he raised his own hand, and shook it firmly. “I don’t really want to fight. However… if I must be with you or against you, I choose to follow you. So long as we fight to end the suffering of everyone, then I’ll be your ally.”

Michael smiled, relieved and ecstatic. “Don’t worry, my new friend. For I will fight for that cause until my dying day.”

‘I hope you do,’ Heng mused. ‘Because I fear you enough as you are now. A war against tyranny or not…’ Heng thought back to all the people of his tribe. Of the Elders, Chayton, Hotah, Chaska, and Wapasha. Of his friends, Ehawee, Šóta, and Lakota. Of his wife, Wachiwi. And of his pet mammoth, Mohu. And thinking of them, he came to a conclusion. His first true decision as King in this new world. ‘…should you stray from your path, should you harm those I care for, then I will cut you down where you stand.’

9,879 God-Kings Remain