The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (6 page)

CHAPTER 6

PERSPECTIVES

Marisa entered the library for her history and philosophy lessons with Cozimo, noticing that he was engrossed in a large leather book that covered half of the t
able.

“So, my dear, let us see how much you have learned from the last lesson,” he
said.

Although she knew it wasn’t proper protocol, Marisa allowed Cozimo to address her in terms of endearment whenever they were alone. In the short time that she had known him, she had developed a soft spot for the white-haired, elderly man. He was the closest thing she’d ever had to a grandfa
ther.

Lord Cozimo Laurentine Arroyo had lived at Crocetta Castle since the age of thirteen when he was first indentured into the service of her great-grandfather, King Petrus. Now in his mid-eighties, Cozimo had served all the members of the Fiore family including Marisa’s parents and grandparents. Long after he worked off his indenture to King Petrus, he remained at the palace, teaching and inspiring the next generation of monarchs. He was the longest-serving member of the Order of the Crimson Paladin Knights, acting as its chief adv
isor.

Cozimo began the lesson by quizzing her on the final battle of the Chalcedonic Wars. Known as the Battle of Ambrogia, it was destined to be the key skirmish that would tip the balance of power back into the Fiore family’s f
avor.

“Your Highness, please be so kind as to give me a brief history of Abbadon in your own w
ords.”

“A long time ago,” she recalled, “an arrogant soldier named Rodolfo Tiamo conquered the holy city of Ambrogia by stealing the throne from the Fiore family. With the help of a group of corrupt men, he sent the Fiores into exile on an island off the coast of Terra
cina.

“As the Chalcedonic Wars raged on for many years, the Tiamo dynasty produced a long line of cruel tyrants who maintained control of the city until one of Tiamo’s descendants, Lord Berengar, made the critical error of allowing his old enemy, Petrus Fiore to escape exile. When Petrus confronted Lord Berengar and killed him in hand-to-hand combat, it was the turning point of the battle that ultimately tipped the scales back in favor of the Fiore dyn
asty.

“After Petrus had successfully recovered the throne and the holy ground of Ambrogia, he was crowned king of Crocetta and Supreme Ruler of Carnelia. He annexed the city of Abbadon to keep it from falling into enemy h
ands.

“As the first monarch of the modern Fiore Dynasty, he established the Order of the Crimson Paladin Knights. They swore an allegiance to the Supreme Ruler and to uphold the Carnelian Law under pain of death. They were men of the highest moral principles and held to a far higher standard, so much so that they were often referred to as The Incorrupti
bles.”

She glanced up from her book. “Why was the name of Ambrogia changed to Abb
adon?”

Cozimo scratched his head. “The name Ambrogia is extremely old—it dates back to the beginnings of our civilization more than five thousand years ago. According to the ancient scriptures, it was where Garon established His holy kingdom on Carnelia, and it was the center of our world in every sense of the
word.

“In the beginning, there was an age of peace like nothing else this world has ever known. The Creator of the universe came down to the mountain to commune with man in the holy place. That is, until a certain chief priest in the temple named Aurelio came into p
ower.

“Selfish and proud, Aurelio’s lust for power consumed him. He secretly plotted to destroy the temple and assert himself as ruler over all Carnelia. Aurelio managed to deceive a considerable portion of the other priests who joined his cause, and they ultimately turned against Garon. War broke out among the priests, and all of the holy men who could not be forced to turn were killed off one by
one.

“When the corrupted priests used their influence to turn the people against Garon, men and women who once worshipped Him stopped following His laws and traditions. In a righteous fury, Garon withdrew himself from Ambrogia, retreating back up into the heavens. He refused to remain in communion with those who had turned their backs on Him. He cursed the city of Ambrogia, its people and their descendants for generations to come until the day when He would at last deign to send His own son, the Defender, into the world as the redeemer and last hope for all man
kind.

“The temple of Ambrogia was destroyed right down to its foundations. In its place, a castle of darkness was erected. Conquered by an endless string of selfish, depraved men, that fortress of doom has seen much blood spilled over many years. When Rodolfo first captured it all those years ago, he changed its name to Abbadon, which literally means a place of destruction. The city and castle remain cursed even to this
day.”

He paused for a moment, pouring himself a glass of w
ater.

As Marisa watched him take a sip from the blue crystal goblet, a chill ran down her spine. She had only spent a couple of days in the dark castle at Abbadon, but, thankfully, she had been unaware of its gruesome history at the
time.

Cozimo continued. “When the city returned to the Fiore dynasty with the help of your great-grandfather about one hundred years ago, many believed it was a sign that the coming of the Deliverer was near. One of the most notable prophecies foretold in the ancient writings had predi
cted:

When the temperate flower has split the indomitable rock with a single blow, the Defender will appear in the hearts of the true belie
vers
.

“Indeed, there was a relatively short period of peace in Abbadon during the reign of both your grandfather and your mother. Your aunt Sophie ruled for only a few years and, when she perished, her husband Gregario became the illegitimate r
uler.

“From the start of his reign, things reverted back to the way they had been. Vicious, vile men regained control of the city. Many people lost their faith, openly proclaiming that the prophecies of the Deliverer were nothing but a
myth.”

“Does anyone still believe in the prophe
cies?”

“Unfortunately, my child, many have fallen away from the faith. Men and women go about their daily business, pursuing an empty life with only temporary pleasures to show fo
r it.”

She nodded. “Sounds a lot like where I’m
from.”

“Thankfully, there are still some faithful believers remaining. Your Prince Darian was raised in the faith and remains a believer to this
day.”

“And
you?”

His wrinkled face formed a gentle smile. “I have always believed the prophecies to be true and am certain of what is yet to
come.”

“How can you be so cer
tain?”

“Garon’s very essence is pure goodness—He is utterly incapable of evil. He always keeps His promises. If He says something will happen, we can be one hundred percent certain that it shall ha
ppen.”

“But those prophecies are so old. Are they even still relevant to those of us living in modern t
imes?”

He gazed at her thoughtfully. “My dear, what many in your generation fail to recognize is that prophecy is nothing more than history written in advance. Garon does not idly sit by and watch human events as they unfold with the same limited perspective that we do. Rather, He can see everything that has ever happened and shall ever happen throughout all eternity just as if it has already taken place. Prophecy is timeless truth. It is not some trend or fashion that falls out of style down through the centuries, nor does it yield and evolve with the fickle fancies and fantasies of
man.”

“But what if someone doesn’t believe in the prophe
cies?”

“A person may
believe
whatever he or she wishes—it’s called free will, which Garon bestows upon all
men.”

She stared at him bla
nkly.

“Let us say, for example, that you loved Prince Darian, but that he did not love you. But then I tell you that there is a way to put a spell on him to make him love you. Would you d
o it?”

She considered that for a moment. “I don’t thin
k so.”

“Why
not?”

“I couldn’t spend my life with some man knowing that he never had any real say in it. It would feel like I was holding him prisoner. I would want him to love me for me, not because he was being forced into lovin
g me.”

“Precisely! Although Garon loves each person more than they can ever possibly imagine, He never forces anyone to love Him back. It is our choice to accept Him or not, and that choice is called free
will.”

“Makes s
ense.”

“Whether or not one chooses to believe the prophecies is up to that individual—it is a matter between him and Garon and is for no one else to judge. However, in life there are only absolutes. Either it is, or it is
not.”

“But is life really that black and white? There must be some shades of
gray.”

Smiling gently at her, he reached across the table and slid a jar of
korrel
sugar in front of her, removing its lid. Then he drank the last bit of water from his cobalt goblet and handed it to
her.

“Your Highness, please hold this in front of your eye and keep the other one cl
osed.”

She lifted glass up to her right eye, squeezing the left one
shut.

“Now, look down and tell me, what color is the s
ugar?”

“Well, through the glass, it appears to be blue. In fact, everything looks
blue.”

He nodded. “Now I want you to imagine that you had always seen life through that blue glass. But then, one day, I tell you that the sugar is not blue, but brown. What would you
say?”

“I wouldn’t believe you. I wouldn’t even know what brown looks like since everything in my world had always been
blue.”

“Blue to you, but not necessarily
true.”

“I don’t unders
tand.”

“With the blue glass in front of your eye, you are viewing the world through a warped lens. Your own interpretation that the sugar is blue has no bearing on the actual truth of the matter. Just because there is something impairing your vision does not alter its rea
lity.”

“Oh.”

“And so I ask you again, what would you say if I told you the sugar was actually b
rown?”

“I
might
believe you, but only if I trusted
you.”

“Exa
ctly.”

“So?”

“So there is only ever one truth. Either I am deceiving you, or I am telling you the truth which would require faith on your part to believe what I say is
true.”

She shrugged. “But when I look through the glass, the sugar looks blue, so that’s what I’m going to believe. How can you blame me if I see things w
rong?”

Cozimo smiled, taking the glass from her hand. “You must remove that which impairs your vi
sion.”

“How?”

“You must live by faith, not by sight. It means believing in something you cannot
see.”

“But isn’t that just a matter of perspective? I mean, if I blow out the candles, there is no blue or brown at all—just black
ness.”

He shook his head. “No. Your lack of perception does not alter the reality. Garon is the light by which we must see the world. Without His light, we are b
lind.”

“But most people will still insist that it’s
blue.”

“That is of no consequence. Most people are wrong anyway. There is only one absolute truth—either it is blue or it is brown. It cannot be both depending on what one believes. Some people believe that Garon exists and some do not. Both cannot be r
ight.”

“It’s hard to believe in something you can’t
see.”

“Do not rely on your eyes. They will often play tricks on you. Learn to sense with your h
eart.”

“Sense with my h
eart?”

“Do you know the small voice in your head that nudges you just before you are about to do something you know you should
not?”

“Yes.”

“That is the voice of Garon. His spirit is pulling you back, guiding you onto the right
path.”

“What about the people who don’t have a conscience? The ones that do seriously awful s
tuff?”

“They have long since closed their hearts to Garon. They willfully choose not to be moved by Him. And yet, He is always there, waiting patiently in case they might return. But alas, once people start down the wrong path, most of them never turn
back.”

She traced a finger around the lip of the goblet, remembering the day she almost took her own life. That was a day in which she sensed with her heart, and she sensed G
aron.

“Up until a few months ago, I never believed that Garon even existed. Then something happened to make me realize that it could only have been the work of a higher power. I’m trying to have faith, but I still struggle with believing in something I can’t
see.”

He smiled. “Give it some time to grow. Like a fine vintage, it needs time and exposure to the elements in order to mature. But remember, you only need a small seed of faith to move mount
ains.”

“A small seed is all I’m going on right
now.”

He gazed out the window. “Do you believe in
wind?”

“Of co
urse.”

“How do you know that it ex
ists?”